Another day, while he was still very ill, Biron and his wife made bold to

enter his room on tiptoe, and kept behind his curtains, out of sight, as

they thought; but he perceived them by means of the glass on the chimney-

piece. Lauzun liked Biron tolerably well, but Madame Biron not at all;

she was, nevertheless, his niece, and his principal heiress; he thought

her mercenary, and all her manners insupportable to him. In that he was

like the rest of the world. He was shocked by this unscrupulous entrance

into his chamber, and felt that, impatient for her inheritance, she came

in order to make sure of it, if he should die directly. He wished to

make her repent of this, and to divert himself at her expense. He

begins, therefore; to utter aloud, as though believing himself alone, an

ejaculatory orison, asking pardon of God for his past life, expressing

himself as though persuaded his death was nigh, and saying that, grieved

at his inability to do penance, he wishes at least to make use of all the

wealth he possesses, in order to redeem his sins, and bequeath that

wealth to the hospitals without any reserve; says it is the sole road to

salvation left to him by God, after having passed a long life without

thinking of the future; and thanks God for this sole resource left him,

which he adopts with all his heart!

He accompanied this resolution with a tone so touched, so persuaded, so

determined, that Biron and his wife did not doubt for a moment he was

going to execute his design, or that they should be deprived of all the

succession. They had no desire to spy any more, and went, confounded, to

the Duchesse de Lauzun, to relate to her the cruel decree they had just

heard pronounced, conjuring her to try and moderate it. Thereupon the

patient sent for the notaries, and Madame Biron believed herself lost.

It was exactly the design of the testator to produce this idea. He made

the notaries wait; then allowed them to enter, and dictated his will,

which was a death-blow to Madame de Biron. Nevertheless, he delayed

signing it, and finding himself better and better, did not sign it at

all. He was much diverted with this farce, and could not restrain his

laughter at it, when reestablished. Despite his age, and the gravity of

his illness, he was promptly cured and restored to his usual health.

He was internally as strong as a lion, though externally very delicate.

He dined and supped very heartily every day of an excellent and very

delicate cheer, always with good company, evening and morning; eating of

everything, 'gras' and 'maigre', with no choice except that of his taste

and no moderation. He took chocolate in the morning, and had always on

the table the fruits in season, and biscuits; at other times beer, cider,

lemonade, and other similar drinks iced; and as he passed to and fro, ate

and drank at this table every afternoon, exhorting others to do the same.

In this way he left table or the fruit, and immediately went to bed.

I recollect that once, among others, he ate at my house, after his

illness, so much fish, vegetables, and all sorts of things (I having no

power to hinder him), that in the evening we quietly sent to learn

whether he had not felt the effects of them. He was found at table

eating with good appetite.

His gallantry was long faithful to him. Mademoiselle was jealous of it,

and that often controlled him. I have heard Madame de Fontenelles ( a

very enviable woman, of much intelligence, very truthful, and of singular

virtue), I have heard her say, that being at Eu with Mademoiselle,

M. de Lauzun came there and could not desist from running after the

girls; Mademoiselle knew it, was angry, scratched him, and drove him from

her presence. The Comtesse de Fiesque reconciled them. Mademoiselle

appeared at the end of a long gallery; Lauzun was at the other end, and

he traversed the whole length of it on his knees until he reached the

feet of Mademoiselle. These scenes, more or less moving, often took

place afterwards. Lauzun allowed himself to be beaten, and in his turn

soundly beat Mademoiselle; and this happened several times, until at

last, tired of each other, they quarrelled once for all and never saw

each other again; he kept several portraits of her, however, in his house

or upon him, and never spoke of her without much respect. Nobody doubted

they had been secretly married. At her death he assumed a livery almost

black, with silver lace; this he changed into white with a little blue

upon gold, when silver was prohibited upon liveries.

His temper, naturally scornful and capricious, rendered more so by prison

and solitude, had made him a recluse and dreamer; so that having in his

house the best of company, he left them to Madame de Lauzun, and withdrew

alone all the afternoon, several hours running, almost always without

books, for he read only a few works of fancy--a very few--and without

sequence; so that he knew nothing except what he had seen, and until the

last was exclusively occupied with the Court and the news of the great

world. I have a thousand times regretted his radical incapacity to write

down what he had seen and done. It would have been a treasure of the

most curious anecdotes, but he had no perseverance, no application. I

have often tried to draw from him some morsels. Another misfortune. He

began to relate; in the recital names occurred of people who had taken

part in what he wished to relate. He instantly quitted the principal

object of the story in order to hang on to one of these persons, and

immediately after to some other person connected with the first, then to

a third, in the manner of the romances; he threaded through a dozen

histories at once, which made him lose ground and drove him from one to

the other without ever finishing anything; and with this his words were

very confused, so that it was impossible to learn anything from him or

retain anything he said. For the rest, his conversation was always

constrained by caprice or policy; and was amusing only by starts, and by

the malicious witticisms which sprung out of it. A few months after his

last illness, that is to say, when he was more than ninety years of age,

he broke in his horses and made a hundred passades at the Bois de

Boulogne (before the King, who was going to the Muette), upon a colt he

had just trained, surprising the spectators by his address, his firmness,

and his grace. These details about him might go on for ever.

His last illness came on without warning, almost in a moment, with the

most horrible of all ills, a cancer in the mouth. He endured it to the

last with incredible patience and firmness, without complaint, without

spleen, without the slightest repining; he was insupportable to himself.

When he saw his illness somewhat advanced, he withdrew into a little

apartment (which he had hired with this object in the interior of the

Convent of the Petits Augustins, into which there was an entrance from

his house) to die in repose there, inaccessible to Madame de Biron and

every other woman, except his wife, who had permission to go in at all

hours, followed by one of her attendants.

Into this retreat Lauzun gave access only to his nephews and brothers-in-

law, and to them as little as possible. He thought only of profiting by

his terrible state, of giving all his time to the pious discourses of his

confessor and of some of the pious people of the house, and to holy

reading; to everything, in fact, which best could prepare him for death.

When we saw him, no disorder, nothing lugubrious, no trace of suffering,

politeness, tranquillity, conversation but little animated, indifference

to what was passing in the world, speaking of it little and with

difficulty; little or no morality, still less talk of his state; and this

uniformity, so courageous and so peaceful, was sustained full four months

until the end; but during the last ten or twelve days he would see

neither brothers-in-law nor nephews, and as for his wife, promptly

dismissed her. He received all the sacraments very edifyingly, and

preserved his senses to the last moment: The morning of the day during

the night of which he died, he sent for Biron, said he had done for him

all that Madame de Lauzun had wished; that by his testament he gave him

all his wealth, except a trifling legacy to the son of his other sister,

and some recompenses to his domestics; that all he had done for him since

his marriage, and what he did in dying, he (Biron) entirely owed to

Madame de Lauzun; that he must never forget the gratitude he owed her;

that he prohibited him, by the authority of uncle and testator, ever to

cause her any trouble or annoyance, or to have any process against her,

no matter of what kind. It was Biron himself who told me this the next

day, in the terms I have given. M. de Lauzun said adieu to him in a firm

tone, and dismissed him. He prohibited, and reasonably, all ceremony; he

was buried at the Petits Augustins; he had nothing from the King but the

ancient company of the battle-axes, which was suppressed two days after.

A month before his death he had sent for Dillon (charged here with the

affairs of King James, and a very distinguished officer general), to whom

he surrendered his collar of the Order of the Garter, and a George of

onyx, encircled with perfectly beautiful and large diamonds, to be sent

back to the Prince.

I perceive at last, that I have been very prolix upon this man, but the

extraordinary singularity of his life, and my close connexion with him,

appear to me sufficient excuses for making him known, especially as he

did not sufficiently figure in general affairs to expect much notice in

the histories that will appear. Another sentiment has extended my

recital. I am drawing near a term I fear to reach, because my desires

cannot be in harmony with the truth; they are ardent, consequently

gainful, because the other sentiment is terrible, and cannot in any way

be palliated; the terror of arriving there has stopped me--nailed me

where I was--frozen me.

It will easily be seen that I speak of the death (and what a death!) of

M. le Duc d'Orleans; and this frightful recital, especially after such a

long attachment (it lasted all his life, and will last all mine),

penetrates me with terror and with grief for him. The Regent had said,

when he died he should like to die suddenly: I shudder to my very marrow,

with the horrible suspicion that God, in His anger, granted his desire.

CHAPTER CXIX

The new chateau of Meudon, completely furnished, had been restored to me

since the return of the Court to Versailles, just as I had had it before

the Court came to Meudon. The Duc and Duchesse d'Humieres were with us

there, and good company. One morning towards the end of October, 1723,

the Duc d'Humieres wished me to conduct him to Versailles, to thank M. le

Duc d'Orleans.

We found the Regent dressing in the vault he used as his wardrobe. He

was upon his chair among his valets, and one or two of his principal

officers. His look terrified me. I saw a man with hanging head, a

purple-red complexion, and a heavy stupid air. He did not even see me

approach. His people told him. He slowly turned his head towards me,

and asked me with a thick tongue what brought me. I told him. I had

intended to pass him to come into the room where he dressed himself, so

as not to keep the Duc d'Humieres waiting; but I was so astonished that I

stood stock still.

I took Simiane, first gentleman of his chamber, into a window, and

testified to him my surprise and my fear at the state in which I saw M.

le Duc d'Orleans.

Simiane replied that for a long time he had been so in the morning; that

to-day there was nothing extraordinary about him, and that I was

surprised simply because I did not see him at those hours; that nothing

would be seen when he had shaken himself a little in dressing. There was

still, however, much to be seen when he came to dress himself. The

Regent received the thanks of the Duc d'Humieres with an astonished and

heavy air; he who always was so gracious and so polite to everybody, and

who so well knew how to express himself, scarcely replied to him! A

moment after, M. d'Humieres and I withdrew. We dined with the Duc de

Gesvres, who led him to the King to thank his Majesty.

The condition of M. le Duc d'Orleans made me make many reflections. For

a very long time the Secretaries of State had told me that during the

first hours of the morning they could have made him pass anything they

wished, or sign what might have been the most hurtful to him. It was the

fruit of his suppers. Within the last year he himself had more than once

told me that Chirac doctored him unceasingly, without effect; because he

was so full that he sat down to table every evening without hunger,

without any desire to eat, though he took nothing in the morning, and

simply a cup of chocolate between one and two o'clock in the day (before

everybody), it being then the time to see him in public. I had not kept

dumb with him thereupon, but all my representations were perfectly

useless. I knew moreover, that Chirac had continually told him that the

habitual continuance of his suppers would lead him to apoplexy, or dropsy

on the chest, because his respiration was interrupted at times; upon

which he had cried out against this latter malady, which was a slow,

suffocating, annoying preparation for death, saying that he preferred

apoplexy, which surprised and which killed at once, without allowing time

to think of it!

Another man, instead of crying out against this kind of death with which

he was menaced, and of preferring another, allowing him no time for

reflection, would have thought about leading a sober, healthy, and decent

life, which, with the temperament he had, would have procured him a very

long time, exceeding agreeable in the situation--very probably durable--

in which he found himself; but such was the double blindness of this

unhappy prince.

I was on terms of much intimacy with M. de Frejus, and since, in default

of M. le Duc d'Orleans, there must be another master besides the King,

until he could take command, I preferred this prelate to any other. I

went to him, therefore, and told him what I had seen this morning of the

state of M. le Duc d'Orleans. I predicted that his death must soon come,

and that it would arrive suddenly, without warning. I counselled Frejus,

therefore, to have all his arrangements ready with the King, in order to

fill up the Regent's place of prime minister when it should become

vacant. M. de Frejus appeared very grateful for the advice, but was

measured and modest as though he thought the post much above him!

On the 22nd of December, 1723, I went from Meudon to Versailles to see

M. le Duc d'Orleans; I was three-quarters of an hour with him in his

cabinet, where I had found him alone. We walked to and fro there,

talking of affairs of which he was going to give an account to the King

that day. I found no difference in him, his state was, as usual, languid

and heavy, as it had been for some time, but his judgment was clear as

ever. I immediately returned to Meudon, and chatted there some time with

Madame de Saint-Simon on arriving. On account of the season we had

little company. I left Madame de Saint-Simon in her cabinet, and went

into mine.

About an hour after, at most, I heard cries and a sudden uproar. I ran

out and I found Madame de Saint-Simon quite terrified, bringing to me a

groom of the Marquis de Ruffec, who wrote to me from Versailles, that

M. le Duc d'Orleans was in a apoplectic fit. I was deeply moved, but not

surprised; I had expected it, as I have shown, for a long time.

I impatiently waited for my carriage, which was a long while coming,

on account of the distance of the new chateau from the stables. I flung

myself inside; and was driven as fast as possible.

At the park gate I met another courier from M. de Ruffec, who stopped me,

and said it was all over. I remained there more than half an hour

absorbed in grief and reflection. At the end I resolved to go to

Versailles, and shut myself up in my rooms; I learnt there the

particulars of the event.

M. le Duc d'Orleans had everything prepared to go and work with the King.

While waiting the hour, he chatted with Madame Falari, one of his

mistresses. They were close to each other, both seated in armchairs,

when suddenly he fell against her, and never from that moment had the

slightest glimmer of consciousness.

La Falari, frightened as much as may be imagined, cried with all her

might for help, and redoubled her cries. Seeing that nobody replied, she

supported as best she could this poor prince upon the contiguous arms of

the two chairs, ran into the grand cabinet, into the chamber, into the

ante-chambers, without finding a soul; finally, into the court and the

lower gallery. It was the hour at which M. le Duc d'Orleans worked with

the King, an hour when people were sure no one would come and see him,

and that he had no need of them, because he ascended to the King's room

by the little staircase from his vault, that is to say his wardrobe. At

last La Falari found somebody, and sent the first who came to hand for

help. Chance; or rather providence, had arranged this sad event at a

time when everybody was ordinarily away upon business or visits, so that

a full half-hour elapsed before doctor or surgeon appeared, and about as

long before any domestics of M. le Duc d'Orleans could be found.

As soon as the faculty had examined the Regent; they judged his case

hopeless. He was hastily extended upon the floor, and bled, but he gave

not the slightest sign of life, do what they might to him. In an

instant, after the first announcement, everybody flocked to the spot; the

great and the little cabinet were full of people. In less than two hours

all was over, and little by little the solitude became as great as the

crowd had been. As soon as assistance came, La Falari flew away and

gained Paris as quickly as possible.

La Vrilliere was one of the first who learnt of the attack of apoplexy.

He instantly ran and informed the King and the Bishop of Frejus. Then M.

le Duc, like a skilful courtier, resolved to make the best of his time;

he at once ran home and drew up at all hazards the patent appointing M.

le Duc prime minister, thinking it probable that that prince would be

named. Nor was he deceived. At the first intelligence of apoplexy,

Frejus proposed M. le Duc to the King, having probably made his

arrangements in advance. M. le Duc arrived soon after, and entered the

cabinet where he saw the King, looking very sad, his eyes red and

tearful.

Scarcely had he entered than Frejus said aloud to the King, that in the

loss he had sustained by the death of M. le Duc d'Orleans (whom he very

briefly eulogised), his Majesty could not do better than beg M. le Duc,

there present, to charge himself with everything, and accept the post of

prime minister M. le Duc d'Orleans had filled. The King, without saying

a word, looked at Frejus, and consented by a sign of the head, and M. le

Duc uttered his thanks.

La Vrilliere, transported with joy at the prompt policy he had followed,

had in his pocket the form of an oath taken by the prime minister, copied

from that taken by M. le Duc d'Orleans, and proposed to Frejus to

administer it immediately. Frejus proposed it to the King as a fitting

thing, and M. le Duc instantly took it. Shortly after, M. le Duc went

away; the crowd in the adjoining rooms augmented his suite, and in a

moment nothing was talked of but M. le Duc.

M. le Duc de Chartres (the Regent's son), very awkward, but a libertine,

was at Paris with an opera dancer he kept. He received the courier which

brought him the news of the apoplexy, and on the road (to Versailles),

another with the news of death. Upon descending from his coach, he found

no crowd, but simply the Duc de Noailles, and De Guiche, who very

'apertement' offered him their services, and all they could do for him.

He received them as though they were begging-messengers whom he was in a

hurry to get rid of, bolted upstairs to his mother, to whom he said he

had just met two men who wished to bamboozle him, but that he had not

been such a fool as to let them. This remarkable evidence of

intelligence, judgment, and policy, promised at once all that this prince

has since performed. It was with much trouble he was made to comprehend

that he had acted with gross stupidity; he continued, nevertheless, to

act as before.

He was not less of a cub in the interview I shortly afterwards had with

him. Feeling it my duty to pay a visit of condolence to Madame la

Duchesse d'Orleans, although I had not been on terms of intimacy with her

for a long while, I sent a message to her to learn whether my presence

would be agreeable. I was told that Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans would

be very glad to see me. I accordingly immediately went to her.

I found her in bed, with a few ladies and her chief officers around, and

M. le Duc de Chartres making decorum do double duty for grief. As soon

as I approached her she spoke to me of the grievous misfortune--not a

word of our private differences. I had stipulated thus. M. le Duc de

Chartres went away to his own rooms. Our dragging conversation I put an

end to as soon as possible.

From Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans I went to M. le Duc de Chartres. He

occupied the room his father had used before being Regent. They told me

he was engaged. I went again three times during the same morning. At

the last his valet de chambre was ashamed, and apprised him of my visit,

in despite of me. He came across the threshold of the door of his

cabinet, where he had been occupied with some very common people; they

were just the sort of people suited to him.

I saw a man before me stupefied and dumfounded, not afflicted, but so

embarrassed that he knew not where he was. I paid him the strongest, the

clearest, the most energetic of compliments, in a loud voice. He took

me, apparently, for some repetition of the Ducs de Guiche and de

Noailles, and did not do me the honour to reply one word.

I waited some moments, and seeing that nothing would come out of the

mouth of this image, I made my reverence and withdrew, he advancing not

one step to conduct me, as he ought to have done, all along his

apartment, but reburying himself in his cabinet. It is true that in

retiring I cast my eyes upon the company, right and left, who appeared to

me much surprised. I went home very weary of dancing attendance at the

chateau.

The death of M. le Duc d'Orleans made a great sensation abroad and at

home; but foreign countries rendered him incomparably more justice, and

regretted him much more, than the French. Although foreigners knew his

feebleness, and although the English had strangely abused it, their

experience had not the less persuaded them of the range of his mind, of

the greatness of his genius and of his views, of his singular

penetration, of the sagacity and address of his policy, of the fertility

of his expedients and of his resources, of the dexterity of his conduct

under all changes of circumstances and events, of his clearness in

considering objects and combining things; of his superiority over his

ministers, and over those that various powers sent to him; of the

exquisite discernment he displayed in investigating affairs; of his

learned ability in immediately replying to everything when he wished.

The majority of our Court did not regret him, however. The life he had

led displeased the Church people; but more still, the treatment they had

received from his hands.

The day after death, the corpse of M. le Duc d'Orleans was taken from

Versailles to Saint-Cloud, and the next day the ceremonies commenced.

His heart was carried from Saint-Cloud to the Val de Grace by the

Archbishop of Rouen, chief almoner of the defunct Prince. The burial

took place at Saint-Denis, the funeral procession passing through Paris,

with the greatest pomp. The obsequies were delayed until the 12th of

February. M. le Duc de Chartres became Duc d'Orleans.

After this event, I carried out a determination I had long resolved on.

I appeared before the new masters of the realm as seldom as possible--

only, in fact, upon such occasions where it would have been inconsistent

with my position to stop away. My situation at the Court had totally

changed. The loss of the dear Prince, the Duc de Bourgogne, was the

first blow I had received. The loss of the Regent was the second. But

what a wide gulf separated these two men!

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A cardinal may be poisoned, stabbed, got rid of altogether

A good friend when a friend at all, which was rare

A King's son, a King's father, and never a King

A lingering fear lest the sick man should recover

A king is made for his subjects, and not the subjects for him

Admit our ignorance, and not to give fictions and inventions

Aptitude did not come up to my desire

Arranged his affairs that he died without money

Artagnan, captain of the grey musketeers

Believed that to undertake and succeed were only the same things

But with a crawling baseness equal to her previous audacity

Capacity was small, and yet he believed he knew everything

Compelled to pay, who would have preferred giving voluntarily

Conjugal impatience of the Duc de Bourgogne

Countries of the Inquisition, where science is a crime

Danger of inducing hypocrisy by placing devotion too high

Death came to laugh at him for the sweating labour he had taken

Depopulated a quarter of the realm

Desmarets no longer knew of what wood to make a crutch

Enriched one at the expense of the other

Exceeded all that was promised of her, and all that I had hoped

Few would be enriched at the expense of the many

For penance: "we must make our servants fast"

For want of better support I sustained myself with courage

Found it easier to fly into a rage than to reply

From bad to worse was easy

He had pleased (the King) by his drugs

He limped audaciously

He was often firm in promises

He was so good that I sometimes reproached him for it

He was born bored; he was so accustomed to live out of himself

He liked nobody to be in any way superior to him

He was scarcely taught how to read or write

He was accused of putting on an imperceptible touch of rouge

Height to which her insignificance had risen

His death, so happy for him and so sad for his friends

His habits were publicly known to be those of the Greeks

His great piety contributed to weaken his mind

I abhorred to gain at the expense of others

Ignorance and superstition the first of virtues

Imagining themselves everywhere in marvellous danger of capture

In order to say something cutting to you, says it to himself

Indiscreet and tyrannical charity

Interests of all interested painted on their faces

It is a sign that I have touched the sore point

Jesuits: all means were good that furthered his designs

Juggle, which put the wealth of Peter into the pockets of Paul

King was being wheeled in his easy chair in the gardens

Less easily forget the injuries we inflict than those received

Madame de Maintenon in returning young and poor from America

Make religion a little more palpable

Manifesto of a man who disgorges his bile

Mightily tired of masters and books

Monseigneur, who had been out wolf-hunting

More facility I have as King to gratify myself

My wife went to bed, and received a crowd of visitors

Never been able to bend her to a more human way of life

Never was a man so ready with tears, so backward with grief

No means, therefore, of being wise among so many fools

Not allowing ecclesiastics to meddle with public affairs

Of a politeness that was unendurable

Oh, my lord! how many virtues you make me detest

Omissions must be repaired as soon as they are perceived

Others were not allowed to dream as he had lived

People who had only sores to share

People with difficulty believe what they have seen

Persuaded themselves they understood each other

Polite when necessary, but insolent when he dared

Pope excommunicated those who read the book or kept it

Pope not been ashamed to extol the Saint-Bartholomew

Promotion was granted according to length of service

Received all the Court in her bed

Reproaches rarely succeed in love

Revocation of the edict of Nantes

Rome must be infallible, or she is nothing

Said that if they were good, they were sure to be hated

Saw peace desired were they less inclined to listen to terms

Scarcely any history has been written at first hand

Seeing him eat olives with a fork!

She lose her head, and her accomplice to be broken on the wheel

Spark of ambition would have destroyed all his edifice

Spoil all by asking too much

Spoke only about as much as three or four women

Sulpicians

Supported by unanswerable reasons that did not convince

Suspicion of a goitre, which did not ill become her

Teacher lost little, because he had little to lose

The clergy, to whom envy is not unfamiliar

The porter and the soldier were arrested and tortured

The shortness of each day was his only sorrow

The most horrible sights have often ridiculous contrasts

The argument of interest is the best of all with monks

The nothingness of what the world calls great destinies

The safest place on the Continent

There was no end to the outrageous civilities of M. de Coislin

Touched, but like a man who does not wish to seem so

Unreasonable love of admiration, was his ruin

We die as we have lived, and 'tis rare it happens otherwise

Whatever course I adopt many people will condemn me

Whitehall, the largest and ugliest palace in Europe

Who counted others only as they stood in relation to himself

Wise and disdainful silence is difficult to keep under reverses

With him one's life was safe

World; so unreasoning, and so little in accord with itself

MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XV. AND XVI.

Being Secret Memoirs of Madame du Hausset,

Lady's Maid to Madame de Pompadour,

and of an unknown English Girl

and the Princess Lamballe

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Louis the Fifteenth

"It Was an Indigestion

Madame du Hausset

Madame de Pompadour

Madame Adelaide

Madame Sophie

Madame Elizabeth

Mirabeau and the Queen

Princess de Lamballe

Marie Antoinette in the Temple

Interviewing Little Louis

Marie Antoinette to the Guillotine

ADVERTISEMENT.

[FROM THE LONDON MAGAZINE, NO. III. NEW SERIES P. 439.]

We were obliged by circumstances, at one time, to read all the published

memoirs relative to the reign of Louis XV., and had the opportunity of

reading many others which may not see the light for a long time yet to

come, as their publication at present would materially militate against

the interest of the descendants of the writers; and we have no hesitation

in saying that the Memoirs of Madame du Hausset are the only perfectly

sincere ones amongst all those we know. Sometimes, Madame du Hausset

mistakes, through ignorance, but never does she wilfully mislead, like

Madame Campan, nor keep back a secret, like Madame Roland, and MM.

Bezenval and Ferreires; nor is she ever betrayed by her vanity to invent,

like the Due de Lauzun, MM. Talleyrand, Bertrand de Moleville, Marmontel,

Madame d'Epinay, etc. When Madame du Hausset is found in contradiction

with other memoirs of the same period, we should never hesitate to give

her account the preference. Whoever is desirous of accurately knowing

the reign of Louis XV. should run over the very wretched history of

Lacretelle, merely for the, dates, and afterwards read the two hundred

pages of the naive du Hausset, who, in every half page, overturns half a

dozen misstatements of this hollow rhetorician. Madame du Hausset was

often separated from the little and obscure chamber in the Palace of

Versailles, where resided the supreme power, only by a slight door or

curtain, which permitted her to hear all that was said there. She had

for a 'cher ami' the greatest practical philosopher of that period, Dr.

Quesnay, the founder of political economy. He was physician to Madame de

Pompadour, and one of the sincerest and most single-hearted of men

probably in Paris at the time. He explained to Madame du Hausset many

things that, but for his assistance, she would have witnessed without

understanding.

INTRODUCTION.

A friend of M. de Marigny (the brother of Madame de Pompadour) called on

him one day and found him burning papers. Taking up a large packet which

he was going to throw into the fire "This," said he, "is the journal of a

waiting-woman of my sister's. She was a very estimable person, but it is

all gossip; to the fire with it!" He stopped, and added, "Don't you

think I am a little like the curate and the barber burning Don Quixote's

romances?"--"I beg for mercy on this," said his friend. "I am fond of

anecdotes, and I shall be sure to find some here which will interest me."

"Take it, then," said M. de Marigny, and gave it him.

The handwriting and the spelling of this journal are very bad. It

abounds in tautology and repetitions. Facts are sometimes inverted in

the order of time; but to remedy all these defects it would have been

necessary to recast the whole, which would have completely changed the

character of the work. The spelling and punctuation were, however,

corrected in the original, and some explanatory notes added.

Madame de Pompadour had two waiting-women of good family. The one,

Madame du Hausset, who did not change her name; and another, who assumed

a name, and did not publicly announce her quality. This journal is

evidently the production of the former.

The amours of Louis XV. were, for a long time, covered with the veil of

mystery. The public talked of the Parc-aux-Cerfs, but were acquainted

with none of its details. Louis XIV., who, in the early part of his

reign, had endeavoured to conceal his attachments, towards the close of

it gave them a publicity which in one way increased the scandal; but his

mistresses were all women of quality, entitled by their birth to be

received at Court. Nothing can better describe the spirit of the time

and the character of the Monarch than these words of Madame de Montespan:

"He does not love me," said she, "but he thinks he owes it to his

subjects and to his own greatness to have the most beautiful woman in his

kingdom as his mistress."

SECRET MEMOIRS OF LOUIS XV.,

AND MEMOIRS OF MADAME DU HAUSSET.

An early friend of mine, who married well at Paris, and who has the

reputation of being a very clever woman, has often asked me to write down

what daily passed under my notice; to please her, I made little notes, of

three or four lines each, to recall to my memory the most singular or

interesting facts; as, for instance--attempt to assassinate the King; he

orders Madame de Pompadour to leave the Court; M. de Machaudt's

ingratitude, etc.--I always promised my friend that I would, some time or

other, reduce all these materials into the form of a regular narrative.

She mentioned the "Recollections of Madame de Caylus," which were,

however, not then printed; and pressed me so much to produce a similar

work, that I have taken advantage of a few leisure moments to write this,

which I intend to give her, in order that she may arrange it and correct

the style. I was for a long time about the person of Madame de

Pompadour, and my birth procured for me respectful treatment from

herself, and from some distinguished persons who conceived a regard for

me. I soon became the intimate friend of Doctor Quesnay, who frequently

came to pass two or three hours with me.

His house was frequented by people of all parties, but the number was

small, and restricted to those who were on terms of greatest intimacy

with him. All subjects were handled with the utmost freedom, and it is

infinitely to his honour and theirs that nothing was ever repeated.

The Countess D----- also visited me. She was a frank and lively woman,

and much liked by Madame de Pompadour. The Baschi family paid me great

attention. M. de Marigny had received some little services from me, in

the course of the frequent quarrels between him and his sister, and he

had a great friendship for me. The King was in the constant habit of

seeing me; and an accident, which I shall have occasion to relate,

rendered him very familiar with me. He talked without any constraint

when I was in the room. During Madame de Pompadour's illness I scarcely

ever left her chamber, and passed the night there. Sometimes, though

rarely, I accompanied her in her carriage with Doctor Quesnay, to whom

she scarcely spoke a word, though he was--a man of great talents. When I

was alone with her, she talked of many affairs which nearly concerned

her, and she once said to me, "The King and I have such implicit

confidence in you, that we look upon you as a cat, or a dog, and go on

talking as if you were not there." There was a little nook, adjoining

her chamber, which has since been altered, where she knew I usually sat

when I was alone, and where I heard everything that was said in the room,

unless it was spoken in a low voice. But when the King wanted to speak

to her in private, or in the presence of any of his Ministers, he went

with her into a closet, by the side of the chamber, whither she also

retired when she had secret business with the Ministers, or with other

important persons; as, for instance, the Lieutenant of Police, the

Postmaster-General, etc. All these circumstances brought to my knowledge

a great many things which probity will neither allow me to tell or to

record. I generally wrote without order of time, so that a fact may be

related before others which preceded it. Madame de Pompadour had a great

friendship for three Ministers; the first was M. de Machault, to whom she

was indebted for the regulation of her income, and the payment of her

debts. She gave him the seals, and he retained the first place in her

regard till the attempt to assassinate the King. Many people said that

his conduct on that occasion was not attributable to bad intentions; that

he thought it his duty to obey the King without making himself in any way

a party to the affair, and that his cold manners gave him the appearance

of an indifference which he did not feel. Madame de Pompadour regarded

him in the light of a faithless friend; and, perhaps, there was some

justice on both sides. But for the Abbe de Bernis; M. de Machault might,

probably, have retained his place.

The second Minister, whom Madame de Pompadour liked, was the Abbe de

Bernis. She was soon disgusted with him when she saw the absurdity of

his conduct. He gave a singular specimen of this on the very day of his

dismissal. He had invited a great many people of distinction to a

splendid entertainment, which was to have taken place on the very day

when he received his order of banishment, and had written in the notes of

invitation--M. Le Comte de Lusace will be there. This Count was the

brother of the Dauphine, and this mention of him was deservedly thought

impertinent. The King said, wittily enough, "Lambert and Moliere will be

there." She scarcely ever spoke of the Cardinal de Bernis after his

dismissal from the Court.

He was extremely ridiculous, but he was a good sort of man. Madame, the

Infanta, died a little time before, and, by the way, of such a

complication of putrid and malignant diseases, that the Capuchins who

bore the body, and the men who committed it to the grave, were overcome

by the effluvia. Her papers appeared no less impure in the eyes of the

King. He discovered that the Abbe de Bernis had been intriguing with

her, and that they had deceived him, and had obtained the Cardinal's hat

by making use of his name. The King was so indignant that he was very

near refusing him the barrette. He did grant it--but just as he would

have thrown a bone to a dog. The Abbe had always the air of a protege

when he was in the company of Madame de Pompadour. She had known him in

positive distress. The Due de Choiseul was very differently situated;

his birth, his air, his manners, gave him claims to consideration, and he

far exceeded every other man in the art of ingratiating himself with

Madame de Pompadour. She looked upon him as one of the most illustrious

nobles of the Court, as the most able Minister, and the most agreeable

man. M. de Choiseul had a sister and a wife, whom he had introduced to

her, and who sedulously cultivated her favourable sentiments towards him.

From the time he was Minister, she saw only with his eyes; he had the

talent of amusing her, and his manners to women, generally, were

extremely agreeable.

Two persons--the Lieutenant of Police and the Postmaster-General--were

very much in Madame de Pompadour's confidence; the latter, however,

became less necessary to her from the time that the King communicated to

M. de Choiseul the secret of the post-office, that is to say, the system

of opening letters and extracting matter from them: this had never been

imparted to M. d'Argenson, in spite of the high favour he enjoyed. I have

heard that M. de Choiseul abused the confidence reposed in him, and

related to his friends the ludicrous stories, and the love affairs,

contained in the letters which were broken open. The plan they pursued,

as I have heard, was very simple. Six or seven clerks of the post-office

picked out the letters they were ordered to break open, and took the

impression of the seals with a ball of quicksilver. Then they put each

letter, with the seal downwards, over a glass of hot water, which melted

the wax without injuring the paper. It was then opened, the desired

matter extracted, and it was sealed again, by means of the impression.

This is the account of the matter I have heard. The Postmaster-General

carried the extracts to the King on Sundays. He was seen coming and

going on this noble errand as openly as the Ministers. Doctor Quesnay

often, in my presence, flew in such a rage about that infamous Minister,

as he called him, that he foamed at the mouth. "I would as soon dine

with the hangman as with the Postmaster-General," said the Doctor. It

must be acknowledged that this was astonishing language to be uttered in

the apartments of the King's mistress; yet it went on for twenty years

without being talked of. "It was probity speaking with earnestness,"

said M. de Marigny, "and not a mere burst of spite or malignity."

The Duc de Gontaut was the brother-in-law and friend of M. de Choiseul,

and was assiduous in his attendance on Madame de Pompadour. The sister

of M. de Choiseul, Madame de Grammont, and his wife were equally constant

in their attentions. This will sufficiently account for the ascendency

of M. de Choiseul, whom nobody would have ventured to attack. Chance,

however, discovered to me a secret correspondence of the King, with a man

in a very obscure station. This man, who had a place in the Farmers

General, of from two to three hundred a year, was related to one of the

young ladies of the Parc-aux-cerfs, by whom he was recommended to the

King. He was also connected in some way with M. de Broglie, in whom the

King placed great confidence. Wearied with finding that this

correspondence procured him no advancement, he took the resolution of

writing to me, and requesting an interview, which I granted, after

acquainting Madame de Pompadour with the circumstance. After a great

deal of preamble and of flattery, he said to me, "Can you give me your

word of honour, and that of Madame de Pompadour, that no mention whatever

of what I am going to tell you will be made to the King?"--"I think I can

assure you that, if you require such a promise from Madame de Pompadour,

and if it can produce no ill consequence to the King's service, she will

give it you." He gave me his word that what he requested would have no

bad effect; upon which I listened to what he had to say. He shewed me

several memorials, containing accusations of M. de Choiseul, and revealed

some curious circumstances relative to the secret functions of the Comte

de Broglie. These, however, led rather to conjectures than to certainty,

as to the nature of the services he rendered to the King. Lastly, he

shewed me several letters in the King's handwriting. "I request," said

he, "that the Marquise de Pompadour will procure for me the place of

Receiver-General of Finances; I will give her information of whatever I

send the King; I will write according to her instructions, and I will

send her his answers." As I did not choose to take liberties with the

King's papers, I only undertook to deliver the memorials. Madame de

Pompadour having given me her word according to the conditions on which I

had received the communication, I revealed to her everything I had heard.

She sent the memorials to M. de Choiseul, who thought them very

maliciously and very cleverly written. Madame de Pompadour and he had a

long conference as to the reply that was to be given to the person by

whom those disclosures were made. What I was commissioned to say was

this: that the place of Receiver-General was at present too important,

and would occasion too much surprise and speculation; that it would not

do to go beyond a place worth fifteen thousand to twenty thousand francs

a year; that they had no desire to pry into the King's secrets; and that

his correspondence ought not to be communicated to any one; that this did

not apply to papers like those of which I was the bearer, which might

fall into his hands; that he would confer an obligation by communicating

them, in order that blows aimed in the dark, and directed by malignity

and imposture, might be parried. The answer was respectful and proper,

in what related to the King; it was, however, calculated to counteract

the schemes of the Comte de Broglie, by making M. de Choiseul acquainted

with his attacks, and with the nature of the weapons he employed. It was

from the Count that he received statements relating to the war and to the

navy; but he had no communication with him concerning foreign affairs,

which the Count, as it was said, transacted immediately with the King.

The Duc de Choiseul got the man who spoke to me recommended to the

Controller-General, without his appearing in the business; he had the

place which was agreed upon, and the hope of a still better, and he

entrusted to me the King's correspondence, which I told him I should not

mention to Madame de Pompadour, according to her injunctions. He sent

several memorials to M. de Choiseul, containing accusations of him,

addressed to the King. This timely information enabled him to refute

them triumphantly.

The King was very fond of having little private correspondences, very

often unknown to Madame de Pompadour: she knew, however, of the existence

of some, for he passed part of his mornings in writing to his family, to

the King of Spain, to Cardinal Tencin, to the Abbe de Broglie, and also

to some obscure persons. "It is, doubtless, from such people as these,"

said she to me, one day, "that the King learns expressions which

perfectly surprise me. For instance, he said to me yesterday, when he

saw a man pass with an old coat on, 'il y a la un habit bien examine.' He

once said to me, when he meant to express that a thing was probable, 'il

y a gros'; I am told this is a saying of the common people, meaning, 'il

y a gros a parier'." I took the liberty to say, "But is it not more

likely from his young ladies at the Parc, that he learns these elegant

expressions? "She laughed, and said, "You are right; 'il y a gros'." The

King, however, used these expressions designedly, and with a laugh.

The King knew a great many anecdotes, and there were people enough who

furnished him with such as were likely to mortify the self-love of

others. One day, at Choisy, he went into a room where some people were

employed about embroidered furniture, to see how they were going on; and

looking out of the window, he saw at the end of a long avenue two men in

the Choisy uniform. "Who are those two noblemen?" said he. Madame de

Pompadour took up her glass, and said, "They are the Duc d'Aumont, and

------" "Ah!" said the King; "the Duc d'Aumont's grandfather would be

greatly astonished if he could see his grandson arm in arm with the

grandson of his valet de chambre, L------, in a dress which may be called

a patent of nobility!" He went on to tell Madame de Pompadour a long

history, to prove the truth of what he said. The King went out to

accompany her into the garden; and, soon after, Quesnay and M. de Marigny

came in. I spoke with contempt of some one who was very fond of money.

At this the Doctor laughed, and said, "I had a curious dream last night:

I was in the country of the ancient Germans; I had a large house, stacks

of corn, herds of cattle, a great number of horses, and huge barrels of

ale; but I suffered dreadfully from rheumatism, and knew not how to

manage to go to a fountain, at fifty leagues' distance, the waters of

which would cure me. I was to go among a strange people. An enchanter

appeared before me, and said to me, 'I pity your distress; here, I will

give you a little packet of the powder of "prelinpinpin"; whoever

receives a little of this from you will lodge you, feed you, and pay you

all sorts of civilities.' I took the powder, and thanked him." "Ah!"

said I, "how I should like to have some powder of prelinpinpin! I wish I

had a chest full."--"Well," said the Doctor, "that powder is money, for

which you have so great a contempt. Tell me who, of all the men who come

hither, receives the greatest attentions?"--"I do not know," said I.

"Why," said he, "it is M. de Monmartel, who comes four or five times a

year."--"Why does he enjoy so much consideration?"--"Because his coffers

are full of the powder of prelinpinpin. Everything in existence," said

he, taking a handful of Louis from his pocket, "is contained in these

little pieces of metal, which will convey you commodiously from one end

of the world to the other. All men obey those who possess this powder,

and eagerly tender them their services. To despise money, is to despise

happiness, liberty, in short, enjoyments of every kind." A cordon bleu

passed under the window. "That nobleman," said I, "is much more

delighted with his cordon bleu than he would be with ten thousand of your

pieces of metal."--"When I ask the King for a pension," replied Quesnay,

"I say to him, 'Give me the means of having a better dinner, a warmer

coat, a carriage to shelter me from the weather, and to transport me from

place to place without fatigue.' But the man who asks him for that fine

blue ribbon would say, if he had the courage and the honesty to speak as

he feels, 'I am vain, and it will give me great satisfaction to see

people look at me, as I pass, with an eye of stupid admiration, and make

way, for me; I wish, when I enter a room, to produce an effect, and to

excite the attention of those who may, perhaps, laugh at me when I am

gone; I wish to be called Monseigneur by the multitude.' Is not all this

mere empty air? In scarcely any country will this ribbon be of the

slightest use to him; it will give him no power. My pieces of metal will

give me the power of assisting the unfortunate everywhere. Long live the

omnipotent powder of prelinpinpin!" At these last words, we heard a

burst of laughter from the adjoining room, which was only separated by a

door from the one we were in. The door opened, and in came the King,

Madame de Pompadour, and M. de Gontaut. "Long live the powder of

prelinpinpin!" said the King. "Doctor, can you get me any of it?" It

happened that, when the King returned from his walk, he was struck with a

fancy to listen to our conversation. Madame de Pompadour was extremely

kind to the Doctor, and the King went out laughing, and talking with

great admiration of the powder. I went away, and so did the Doctor. I

immediately sat down to commit this conversation to writing. I was

afterwards told that M. Quesnay was very learned in certain matters

relating to finance, and that he was a great 'economiste'. But I do not

know very well what that means. What I do know for certain is, that he

was very clever, very gay and witty, and a very able physician.

The illness of the little Duke of Burgundy, whose intelligence was much

talked of, for a long time occupied the attention of the Court. Great

endeavours were made to find out the cause of his malady, and ill-nature

went so far as to assert that his nurse, who had an excellent situation

at Versailles, had communicated to him a nasty disease. The King shewed

Madame de Pompadour the information he had procured from the province she

came from, as to her conduct. A silly Bishop thought proper to say she

had been very licentious in her youth. The poor nurse was told of this,

and begged that he might be made to explain himself. The Bishop replied,

that she had been at several balls in the town in which she lived, and

that she had gone with her neck uncovered. The poor man actually thought

this the height of licentiousness. The King, who had been at first

uneasy, when he came to this, called out, "What a fool!" After having

long been a source of anxiety to the Court, the Duke died. Nothing

produces a stronger impression upon Princes, than the spectacle of their

equals dying. Everybody is occupied about them while ill--but as soon as

they are dead, nobody mentions them. The King frequently talked about

death--and about funerals, and places of burial. Nobody could be of a

more melancholy temperament. Madame de Pompadour once told me that he

experienced a painful sensation whenever he was forced to laugh, and that

he had often begged her to break off a droll story. He smiled, and that

was all. In general, he had the most gloomy ideas concerning almost all

events. When there was a new Minister, he used to say, "He displays his

wares like all the rest, and promises the finest things in the world, not

one of which will be fulfilled. He does not know this country--he will

see." When new projects for reinforcing the navy were laid before him,

he said, "This is the twentieth time I have heard this talked of--France

never will have a navy, I think." This I heard from M. de Marigny.

I never saw Madame de Pompadour so rejoiced as at the taking of Mahon.

The King was very glad, too, but he had no belief in the merit of his

courtiers--he looked upon their success as the effect of chance. Marechal

Saxe was, as I have been told, the only man who inspired him with great

esteem. But he had scarcely ever seen him in his closet, or playing the

courtier.

M. d'Argenson picked a quarrel with M. de Richelieu, after his victory,

about his return to Paris. This was intended to prevent his coming to

enjoy his triumph. He tried to throw the thing upon Madame de Pompadour,

who was enthusiastic about him, and called him by no other name than the

"Minorcan." The Chevalier de Montaign was the favourite of the Dauphin,

and much beloved by him for his great devotion. He fell ill, and

underwent an operation called 'l'empieme', which is performed by making

an incision between the ribs, in order to let out the pus; it had, to all

appearance, a favourable result, but the patient grew worse, and could

not breathe. His medical attendants could not conceive what occasioned

this accident and retarded his cure. He died almost in the arms of the

Dauphin, who went every day to see him. The singularity of his disease

determined the surgeons to open the body, and they found, in his chest,

part of the leaden syringe with which decoctions had, as was usual, been

injected into the part in a state of suppuration. The surgeon, who

committed this act of negligence, took care not to boast of his feat, and

his patient was the victim. This incident was much talked of by the

King, who related it, I believe, not less than thirty times, according to

his custom; but what occasioned still more conversation about the

Chevalier de Montaign, was a box, found by his bed's side, containing

haircloths, and shirts, and whips, stained with blood. This circumstance

was spoken of one evening at supper, at Madame de Pompadour's, and not

one of the guests seemed at all tempted to imitate the Chevalier. Eight

or ten days afterwards, the following tale was sent to the King, to

Madame de Pompadour, to the Baschi, and to the Duc d'Ayen. At first

nobody could understand to what it referred: at last, the Duc d'Ayen

exclaimed, "How stupid we are; this is a joke on the austerities of the

Chevalier de Montaign!" This appeared clear enough--so much the more so,

as the copies were sent to the Dauphin, the Dauphine, the Abbe de St.

Cyr, and to the Duc de V---. The latter had the character of a pretender

to devotion, and, in his copy, there was this addition, "You would not be

such a fool, my dear Duke, as to be a 'faquir'--confess that you would be

very glad to be one of those good monks who lead such a jolly life." The

Duc de Richelieu was suspected of having employed one of his wits to

write the story. The King was scandalised at it, and ordered the

Lieutenant of Police to endeavour to find out the author, but either he

could not succeed or he would not betray him.

Japanese Tale.

At a distance of three leagues from the capital of Japan, there is a

temple celebrated for the concourse of persons, of both sexes, and of all

ranks, who crowd thither to worship an idol believed to work miracles.

Three hundred men consecrated to the service of religion, and who can

give proofs of ancient and illustrious descent, serve this temple, and

present to the idol the offerings which are brought from all the

provinces of the empire. They inhabit a vast and magnificent edifice,

belonging to the temple, and surrounded with gardens where art has

combined with nature to produce enchantment. I obtained permission to

see the temple, and to walk in the gardens. A monk advanced in years,

but still full of vigour and vivacity, accompanied me. I saw several

others, of different ages, who were walking there. But what surprised me

was to see a great many of them amusing themselves by various agreeable

and sportive games with young girls elegantly dressed, listening to their

songs, and joining in their dances. The monk, who accompanied me,

listened with great civility and kindness to the questions I put to him

concerning his order. The following is the sum of his answers to my

numerous interrogations. The God Faraki, whom we worship, is so called

from a word which signifies the fabricator. He made all that we

behold--the earth, the stars, the sun, etc. He has endowed men with

senses, which are so many sources of pleasure, and we think the only way

of shewing our gratitude is to use them. This opinion will, doubtless,

appear to you much more rational than that of the faquirs of India, who

pass their lives in thwarting nature, and who inflict upon themselves the

most melancholy privations and the most severe sufferings.

As soon as the sun rises, we repair to the mountain you see before us, at

the foot of which flows a stream of the most limpid water, which meanders

in graceful windings through that meadow-enamelled with the loveliest

flowers. We gather the most fragrant of them, which we carry and lay

upon the altar, together with various fruits, which we receive from the

bounty of Faraki. We then sing his praises, and execute dances

expressive of our thankfulness, and of all the enjoyments we owe to this

beneficent deity. The highest of these is that which love produces, and

we testify our ardent gratitude by the manner in which we avail ourselves

of this inestimable gift of Faraki. Having left the temple, we go into

several shady thickets, where we take a light repast; after which, each

of us employs himself in some unoppressive labour. Some embroider,

others apply themselves to painting, others cultivate flowers or fruits,

others turn little implements for our use. Many of these little works

are sold to the people, who purchase them with eagerness. The money

arising from this sale forms a considerable part of our revenue. Our

morning is thus devoted to the worship of God and to the exercise of the

sense of Sight, which begins with the first rays of the sun. The sense

of Taste is gratified by our dinner, and we add to it the pleasure of

Smell. The most delicious viands are spread for us in apartments strewed

with flowers. The table is adorned with them, and the most exquisite

wines are handed to us in crystal goblets. When we have glorified God,

by the agreeable use of the palate, and the olfactory nerve, we enjoy a

delightful sleep of two hours, in bowers of orange trees, roses, and

myrtles. Having acquired a fresh store of strength and spirits, we

return to our occupations, that we may thus mingle labour with pleasure,

which would lose its zest by long continuance. After our work, we return

to the temple, to thank God, and to offer him incense. From thence we go

to the most delightful part of the garden, where we find three hundred

young girls, some of whom form lively dances with the younger of our

monks; the others execute serious dances, which require neither strength

nor agility, and which only keep time to the sound of musical

instruments.

We talk and laugh with our companions, who are dressed in a light gauze,

and whose tresses are adorned with flowers; we press them to partake of

exquisite sherbets, differently prepared. The hour of supper being

arrived, we repair to rooms illuminated with the lustre of a thousand

tapers fragrant with amber. The supper-room is surrounded by three vast

galleries, in which are placed musicians, whose various instruments fill

the mind with the most pleasurable and the softest emotions. The young

girls are seated at table with us, and, towards the conclusion of the

repast, they sing songs, which are hymns in honour of the God who has

endowed us with senses which shed such a charm over existence, and which

promise us new pleasure from every fresh exercise of them. After the

repast is ended, we return to the dance, and, when the hour of repose

arrives, we draw from a kind of lottery, in which every one is sure of a

prize; that is, a young girl as his companion for the night. They are

allotted thus by chance, in order to avoid jealousy, and to prevent

exclusive attachments. Thus ends the day, and gives place to a night of

delights, which we sanctify by enjoying with due relish that sweetest of

all pleasures, which Faraki has so wisely attached to the reproduction of

our species. We reverently admire the wisdom and the goodness of Faraki,

who, desiring to secure to the world a continued population, has

implanted in the sexes an invincible mutual attraction, which constantly

draws them towards each other. Fecundity is the end he proposes, and he

rewards with intoxicating delights those who contribute to the fulfilment

of his designs. What should we say to the favourite of a King from whom

he had received a beautiful house, and fine estates, and who chose to

spoil the house, to let it fall in ruins, to abandon the cultivation of

the land, and let it become sterile, and covered with thorns? Such is

the conduct of the faquirs of India, who condemn themselves to the most

melancholy privations, and to the most severe sufferings. Is not this

insulting Faraki? Is it not saying to him, I despise your gifts? Is it

not misrepresenting him and saying, You are malevolent and cruel, and I

know that I can no otherwise please you than by offering you the

spectacle of my miseries? "I am told," added he, "that you have, in your

country, faquirs not less insane, not less cruel to themselves." I

thought, with some reason, that he meant the fathers of La Trappe. The

recital of the matter afforded me much matter for reflection, and I

admired how strange are the systems to which perverted reason gives

birth.

The Duc de V----- was a nobleman of high rank and great wealth. He said

to the King one evening at supper, "Your Majesty does me the favour to

treat me with great kindness: I should be inconsolable if I had the

misfortune to fall under your displeasure. If such a calamity were to

befall me, I should endeavour to divert my grief by improving some

beautiful estates of mine in such and such a province;" and he thereupon

gave a description of three or four fine seats. About a month after,

talking of the disgrace of a Minister, he said, "I hope your Majesty will

not withdraw your favour from me; but if I had the misfortune to lose it,

I should be more to be pitied than anybody, for I have no asylum in which

to hide my head." All those present, who had heard the description of

the beautiful country houses, looked at each other and laughed. The King

said to Madame de Pompadour, who sat next to him at table, "People are

very right in saying that a liar ought to have a good memory."

An event, which made me tremble, as well as Madame, procured me the

familiarity of the King. In the middle of the night, Madame came into my

chamber, en chemise, and in a state of distraction. "Here! Here!" said

she, "the King is dying." My alarm may be easily imagined. I put on a

petticoat, and found the King in her bed, panting. What was to be

done?--it was an indigestion. We threw water upon him, and he came to

himself. I made him swallow some Hoffman's drops, and he said to me, "Do

not make any noise, but go to Quesnay; say that your mistress is ill; and

tell the Doctor's servants to say nothing about it." Quesnay, who lodged

close by, came immediately, and was much astonished to see the King in

that state. He felt his pulse, and said, "The crisis is over; but, if

the King were sixty years old, this might have been serious." He went to

seek some drug, and, on his return, set about inundating the King with

perfumed water. I forget the name of the medicine he made him take, but

the effect was wonderful. I believe it was the drops of General Lamotte.

I called up one of the girls of the wardrobe to make tea, as if for

myself. The King took three cups, put on his robe de chambre and his

stockings, and went to his own room, leaning upon the Doctor. What a

sight it was to see us all three half naked! Madame put on a robe as

soon as possible, and I did the same, and the King changed his clothes

behind the curtains, which were very decently closed. He afterwards

spoke of this short attack, and expressed his sense of the attentions

shown him. An hour after, I felt the greatest possible terror in

thinking that the King might have died in our hands. Happily, he quickly

recovered himself, and none of the domestics perceived what had taken

place. I merely told the girl of the wardrobe to put everything to

rights, and she thought it was Madame who had been indisposed. The King,

the next morning, gave secretly to Quesnay a little note for Madame, in

which he said, 'Ma chere amie' must have had a great fright, but let her

reassure herself--I am now well, which the Doctor will certify to you.

From that moment the King became accustomed to me, and, touched by the

interest I had shown for him, he often gave me one of his peculiarly

gracious glances, and made me little presents, and, on every New Year's

Day, sent me porcelain to the amount of twenty louis d'or. He told

Madame that he looked upon me in the apartment as a picture or statue,

and never put any constraint upon himself on account of my presence.

Doctor Quesnay received a pension of a thousand crowns for his attention

and silence, and the promise of a place for his son. The King gave me an

order upon the Treasury for four thousand francs, and Madame had

presented to her a very handsome chiming-clock and the King's portrait in

a snuffbox.

The King was habitually melancholy, and liked everything which recalled

the idea of death, in spite of the strongest fears of it. Of this, the

following is an instance: Madame de Pompadour was on her way to Crecy,

when one of the King's grooms made a sign to her coachman to stop, and

told him that the King's carriage had broken down, and that, knowing her

to be at no great distance, His Majesty had sent him forward to beg her

to wait for him. He soon overtook us, and seated himself in Madame de

Pompadour's carriage, in which were, I think, Madame de Chateau-Renaud,

and Madame de Mirepoix. The lords in attendance placed themselves in

some other carriages. I was behind, in a chaise, with Gourbillon, Madame

de Pompadour's valet de chambre. We were surprised in a short time by

the King stopping his carriage. Those which followed, of course stopped

also. The King called a groom, and said to him, "You see that little

eminence; there are crosses; it must certainly be a burying-ground; go

and see whether there are any graves newly dug." The groom galloped up

to it, returned, and said to the King, "There are three quite freshly

made." Madame de Pompadour, as she told me, turned away her head with

horror; and the little Marechale

[The Marechale de Mirepois died at Brussels in 1791, at a very advanced

age, but preserving her wit and gaiety to the last. The day of her

death, after she had received the Sacrament, the physician told her that

he thought her a good deal better. She replied, "You tell me bad news:

having packed up, I had rather go." She was sister of the Prince de

Beauveau. The Prince de Ligne says, in one of his printed letters: "She

had that enchanting talent which supplies the means of pleasing

everybody. You would have sworn that she had thought of nothing but you

all her life."--En.]

gaily said, "This is indeed enough to make one's mouth water." Madame de

Pompadour spoke of it when I was undressing her in the evening. "What a

strange pleasure," said she, "to endeavour to fill one's mind with images

which one ought to endeavour to banish, especially when one is surrounded

by so many sources of happiness! But that is the King's way; he loves to

talk about death. He said, some days ago, to M. de Fontanieu, who was,

seized with a bleeding at the nose, at the levee: 'Take care of yourself;

at your age it is a forerunner of apoplexy.' The poor man went home

frightened, and absolutely ill."

I never saw the King so agitated as during the illness of the Dauphin.

The physicians came incessantly to the apartments of Madame de Pompadour,

where the King interrogated them. There was one from Paris, a very odd

man, called Pousse, who once said to him, "You are a good papa; I like

you for that. But you know we are all your children, and share your

distress. Take courage, however; your son will recover." Everybody's

eyes were upon the Duc d'Orleans, who knew not how to look. He would

have become heir to the crown, the Queen being past the age to have

children. Madame de ----- said to me, one day, when I was expressing my

surprise at the King's grief, "It would annoy him beyond measure to have

a Prince of the blood heir apparent. He does not like them, and looks

upon their relationship to him as so remote, that he would feel

humiliated by it." And, in fact, when his son recovered, he said, "The

King of Spain would have had a fine chance." It was thought that he was

right in this, and that it would have been agreeable to justice; but

that, if the Duc d'Orleans had been supported by a party, he might have

supported his pretensions to the crown. It was, doubtless, to remove

this impression that he gave a magnificent fete at St. Cloud on the

occasion of the Dauphin's recovery. Madame de Pompadour said to Madame

de Brancas, speaking of this fete, "He wishes to make us forget the

chateau en Espagne he has been dreaming of; in Spain, however, they build

them of solider materials." The people did not shew so much joy at the

Dauphin's recovery. They looked upon him as a devotee, who did nothing

but sing psalms. They loved the Duc d'Orleans, who lived in the capital,

and had acquired the name of the King of Paris. These sentiments were

not just; the Dauphin only sang psalms when imitating the tones of one of

the choristers of the chapel. The people afterwards acknowledged their

error, and did justice to his virtues. The Duc d'Orleans paid the most

assiduous court to Madame de Pompadour: the Duchess, on the contrary,

detested her. It is possible that words were put into the Duchess's

mouth which she never uttered; but she, certainly, often said most

cutting things. The King would have sent her into exile, had he listened

only to his resentment; but he feared the eclat of such a proceeding, and

he knew that she would only be the more malicious. The Duc d'Orleans

was, just then, extremely jealous of the Comte de Melfort; and the

Lieutenant of Police told the King he had strong reasons for believing

that the Duke would stick at nothing to rid himself of this gallant, and

that he thought it his duty to give the Count notice, that he ought to be

upon his guard. The King said, "He would not dare to attempt any such

violence as you seem to apprehend; but there is a better way: let him try

to surprise them, and he will find me very well inclined to have his

cursed wife shut up; but if he got rid of this lover, she would have

another to-morrow.

"Nay, she has others at this moment; for instance, the Chevalier de

Colbert, and the Comte de l'Aigle." Madame de Pompadour, however, told

me these two last affairs were not certain.

An adventure happened about the same time, which the Lieutenant of Police

reported to the King. The Duchesse d'Orleans had amused herself one

evening, about eight o'clock, with ogling a handsome young Dutchman, whom

she took a fancy to, from a window of the Palais Royal. The young man,

taking her for a woman of the town, wanted to make short work, at which

she was very much shocked. She called a Swiss, and made herself known.

The stranger was arrested; but he defended himself by affirming that she

had talked very loosely to him. He was dismissed, and the Duc d'Orleans

gave his wife a severe reprimand.

The King (who hated her so much that he spoke of her without the

slightest restraint) one day said to Madame de Pompadour, in my presence,

"Her mother knew what she was, for, before her marriage, she never

suffered her to say more than yes and no. Do you know her joke on the

nomination of Moras? She sent to congratulate him upon it: two minutes

after, she called back the messenger she had sent, and said, before

everybody present, 'Before you speak to him, ask the Swiss if he still

has the place.'" Madame de Pompadour was not vindictive, and, in spite

of the malicious speeches of the Duchesse d'Orleans, she tried to excuse

her conduct. "Almost all women," she said, "have lovers; she has not all

that are imputed to her: but her free manners, and her conversation,

which is beyond all bounds, have brought her into general disrepute."

My companion came into my room the other day, quite delighted. She had

been with M. de Chenevieres, first Clerk in the War-office, and a

constant correspondent of Voltaire, whom she looks upon as a god. She

was, by the bye, put into a great rage one day, lately, by a print-seller

in the street, who was crying, "Here is Voltaire, the famous Prussian;

here you see him, with a great bear-skin cap, to keep him from the cold!

Here is the famous Prussian, for six sous!"--"What a profanation!" said

she. To return to my story: M. de Chenevieres had shewn her some letters

from Voltaire, and M. Marmontel had read an 'Epistle to his Library'.

M. Quesnay came in for a moment; she told him all this: and, as he did

not appear to take any great interest in it, she asked him if he did not

admire great poets. "Oh, yes; just as I admire great bilboquet players,"

said he, in that tone of his, which rendered everything he said

diverting. "I have written some verses, however," said he, "and I will

repeat them to you; they are upon a certain M. Rodot, an Intendant of the

Marine, who was very fond of abusing medicine and medical men. I made

these verses to revenge AEsculapius and Hippocrates.

"What do you say to them?" said the Doctor. My companion thought them

very pretty, and the Doctor gave me them in his handwriting, begging me,

at the same time, not to give any copies.

Madame de Pompadour joked my companion about her 'bel-esprit', but

sometimes she reposed confidence in her. Knowing that she was often

writing, she said to her, "You are writing a novel, which will appear

some day or other; or, perhaps, the age of Louis XV.: I beg you to treat

me well." I have no reason to complain of her. It signifies very little

to me that she can talk more learnedly than I can about prose and verse.

She never told me her real name; but one day I was malicious enough to

say to her, "Some one was maintaining, yesterday, that the family of

Madame de Mar---- was of more importance than many of good extraction.

They say it is the first in Cadiz. She had very honourable alliances,

and yet she has thought it no degradation to be governess to Madame de

Pompadour's daughter. One day you will see her sons or her nephews

Farmers General, and her granddaughters married to Dukes." I had

remarked that Madame de Pompadour for some days had taken chocolate, 'a

triple vanille et ambre', at her breakfast; and that she ate truffles and

celery soup: finding her in a very heated state, I one day remonstrated

with her about her diet, to which she paid no attention. I then thought

it right to speak to her friend, the Duchesse de Brancas. "I had remarked

the same thing," said she, "and I will speak to her about it before you."

After she was dressed, Madame de Brancas, accordingly, told her she was

uneasy about her health. "I have just been talking to her about it,"

said the Duchess, pointing to me, "and she is of my opinion." Madame de

Pompadour seemed a little displeased; at last, she burst into tears. I

immediately went out, shut the door, and returned to my place to listen.

"My dear friend," she said to Madame de Brancas, "I am agitated by the

fear of losing the King's heart by ceasing to be attractive to him. Men,

you know, set great value on certain things, and I have the misfortune to

be of a very cold temperament. I, therefore, determined to adopt a

heating diet, in order to remedy this defect, and for two days this

elixir has been of great service to me, or, at least, I have thought I

felt its good effects."

The Duchesse de Brancas took the phial which was upon the toilet, and

after having smelt at it, "Fie!" said she, and threw it into the fire.

Madame de Pompadour scolded her, and said, "I don't like to be treated

like a child." She wept again, and said, "You don't know what happened

to me a week ago. The King, under pretext of the heat of the weather,

lay down upon my sofa, and passed half the night there. He will take a

disgust to me and have another mistress."--"You will not avoid that,"

replied the Duchess, "by following your new diet, and that diet will kill

you; render your company more and more precious to the King by your

gentleness: do not repulse him in his fond moments, and let time do the

rest; the chains of habit will bind him to you for ever." They then

embraced; Madame de Pompadour recommended secrecy to Madame de Brancas,

and the diet was abandoned.

A little while after, she said to me, "Our master is better pleased with

me. This is since I spoke to Quesnay, without, however, telling him all.

He told me, that to accomplish my end, I must try to be in good health,

to digest well, and, for that purpose, take exercise. I think the Doctor

is right. I feel quite a different creature. I adore that man (the

King), I wish so earnestly to be agreeable to him! But, alas! sometimes

he says I am a macreuse (a cold-blooded aquatic bird). I would give my

life to please him."

One day, the King came in very much heated. I withdrew to my post, where

I listened. "What is the matter?" said Madame de Pompadour. "The long

robes and the clergy," replied he, "are always at drawn daggers, they

distract me by their quarrels. But I detest the long robes the most. My

clergy, on the whole, is attached and faithful to me; the others want to

keep me in a state of tutelage."--"Firmness," said Madame de Pompadour,

"is the only thing that can subdue them."--"Robert Saint Vincent is an

incendiary, whom I wish I could banish, but that would make a terrible

tumult. On the other hand, the Archbishop is an iron-hearted fellow, who

tries to pick quarrels. Happily, there are some in the Parliament upon

whom I can rely, and who affect to be very violent, but can be softened

upon occasion. It costs me a few abbeys, and a few secret pensions, to

accomplish this. There is a certain V--- who serves me very well, while

he appears to be furious on the other side."--"I can tell you some news

of him, Sire," said Madame de Pompadour. "He wrote to me yesterday,

pretending that he is related to me, and begging for an

interview."--"Well," said the King, "let him come. See him; and if he

behaves well, we shall have a pretext for giving him something." M. de

Gontaut came in, and seeing that they were talking seriously, said

nothing. The King walked about in an agitated manner, and suddenly

exclaimed, "The Regent was very wrong in restoring to them the right of

remonstrating; they will end in ruining the State."--"All, Sire," said M.

de Gontaut, "it is too strong to be shaken by a set of petty justices."

"You don't know what they do, nor what they think. They are an assembly

of republicans; however, here is enough of the subject. Things will last

as they are as long as I shall. Talk about this on Sunday, Madame, with

M. Berrien." Madame d'Amblimont and Madame d'Esparbes came in. "Ah! here

come my kittens," said Madame de Pompadour; "all that we are about is

Greek to them; but their gaiety restores my tranquility, and enables me

to attend again to serious affairs. You, Sire, have the chase to divert

you--they answer the same purpose to me." The King then began to talk

about his morning's sport, and Lansmatte.

[See the "Memoirs of Madame Campan," vol. iii., p. 24. Many traits of

original and amusing bluntness are related of Lansmatte, one of the

King's grooms.]

It was necessary to let the King go on upon these subjects, and even,

sometimes, to hear the same story three or four times over, if new

persons came into the room. Madame de Pompadour never betrayed the least

ennui. She even sometimes persuaded him to begin his story anew.

I one day said to her, "It appears to me, Madame, that you are fonder

than ever of the Comtesse d'Amblimont."--"I have reason to be so," said

she. "She is unique, I think, for her fidelity to her friends, and for

her honour. Listen, but tell nobody--four days ago, the King, passing

her to go to supper, approached her, under the pretence of tickling her,

and tried to slip a note into her hand. D'Amblimont, in her madcap way,

put her hands behind her back, and the King was obliged to pick up the

note, which had fallen on the ground. Gontaut was the only person who

saw all this, and, after supper, he went up to the little lady, and said,

'You are an excellent friend.'--'I did my duty,' said she, and

immediately put her finger on her lips to enjoin him to be silent. He,

however, informed me of this act of friendship of the little heroine, who

had not told me of it herself." I admired the Countess's virtue, and

Madame de Pompadour said, "She is giddy and headlong; but she has more

sense and more feeling than a thousand prudes and devotees. D'Esparbes

would not do as much most likely she would meet him more than half-way.

The King appeared disconcerted, but he still pays her great

attentions."--"You will, doubtless, Madame," said I, "show your sense of

such admirable conduct."--"You need not doubt it," said she, "but I don't

wish her to think that I am informed of it." The King, prompted either

by the remains of his liking, or from the suggestions of Madame de

Pompadour, one morning went to call on Madame d'Amblimont, at Choisy, and

threw round her neck a collar of diamonds and emeralds, worth between

fifty thousand and seventy-five thousand francs. This happened a long

time after the circumstance I have just related.

There was a large sofa in a little room adjoining Madame de Pompadour's,

upon which I often reposed.

One evening, towards midnight, a bat flew into the apartment where the

Court was; the King immediately cried out, "Where is General Crillon?"

(He had just left the room.) "He is the General to command against the

bats." This set everybody calling out, "Ou etais tu, Crillon?" M. de

Crillon soon after came in, and was told where the enemy was. He

immediately threw off his coat, drew his sword, and commenced an attack

upon the bat, which flew into the closet where I was fast asleep. I

started out of sleep at the noise, and saw the King and all the company

around me. This furnished amusement for the rest of the evening. M. de

Crillon was a very excellent and agreeable man, but he had the fault of

indulging in buffooneries of this kind, which, however, were the result

of his natural gaiety, and not of any subserviency of character. Such,

however, was not the case with another exalted nobleman, a Knight of the

Golden Fleece, whom Madame saw one day shaking hands with her valet de

chambre. As he was one of the vainest men at Court, Madame could not

refrain from telling the circumstance to the King; and, as he had no

employment at Court, the King scarcely ever after named him on the Supper

List.

I had a cousin at Saint Cyr, who was married. She was greatly distressed

at having a relation waiting woman to Madame de Pompadour, and often

treated me in the most mortifying manner. Madame knew this from Colin,

her steward, and spoke of it to the King. "I am not surprised at it,"

said he; "this is a specimen of the silly women of Saint Cyr. Madame de

Maintenon had excellent intentions, but she made a great mistake. These

girls are brought up in such a manner, that, unless they are all made

ladies of the palace, they are unhappy and impertinent."

Some time after, this relation of mine was at my house. Colin, who knew

her, though she did not know him, came in. He said to me, "Do you know

that the Prince de Chimay has made a violent attack upon the Chevalier

d'Henin for being equerry to the Marquise." At these words, my cousin

looked very much astonished, and said, "Was he not right?"--"I don't mean

to enter into that question," said Colin--"but only to repeat his words,

which were these: 'If you were only a man of moderately good family and

poor, I should not blame you, knowing, as I do, that there are hundreds

such, who would quarrel for your place, as young ladies of family would,

to be about your mistress. But, recollect, that your relations are

princes of the Empire, and that you bear their name."--"What, sir," said

my relation, "the Marquise's equerry of a princely house?"--"Of the house

of Chimay," said he; "they take the name of Alsace "--witness the

Cardinal of that name. Colin went out delighted at what he had said.

"I cannot get over my surprise at what I have heard," said my relation.

"It is, nevertheless, very true," replied I; "you may see the Chevalier

d'Henin (that is the family name of the Princes de Chimay), with the

cloak of Madame upon his arm, and walking alongside her sedan-chair, in

order that he may be ready, on her getting in, to cover her shoulders

with her cloak, and then remain in the antechamber, if there is no other

room, till her return."

From that time, my cousin let me alone; nay, she even applied to me to

get a company of horse for her husband, who was very loath to come and

thank me. His wife wished him to thank Madame de Pompadour; but the fear

he had lest she should tell him, that it was in consideration of his

relationship to her waiting-woman that he commanded fifty horse,

prevented him. It was, however, a most surprising thing that a man

belonging to the house of Chimay should be in the service of any lady

whatever; and, the commander of Alsace returned from Malta on purpose to

get him out of Madame de Pompadour's household. He got him a pension of

a hundred louis from his family, and the Marquise gave him a company of

horse. The Chevalier d'Henin had been page to the Marechal de

Luxembourg, and one can hardly imagine how he could have put his relation

in such a situation; for, generally speaking, all great houses keep up

the consequence of their members. M. de Machault, the Keeper of the

Seals, had, at the same time, as equerry, a Knight of St. Louis, and a

man of family--the Chevalier de Peribuse--who carried his portfolio, and

walked by the side of the chair.

Whether it was from ambition, or from tenderness, Madame de Pompadour had

a regard for her daughter,--[The daughter of Madame de Pompadour and her

husband, M. d'Atioles. She was called Alexandrine.]--which seemed to

proceed from the bottom of her heart. She was brought up like a

Princess, and, like persons of that rank, was called by her Christian

name alone. The first persons at Court had an eye to this alliance, but

her mother had, perhaps, a better project. The King had a son by Madame

de Vintimille, who resembled him in face, gesture, and manners. He was

called the Comte du -----. Madame de Pompadour had him brought: to

Bellevue. Colin, her steward, was employed to find means to persuade his

tutor to bring him thither. They took some refreshment at the house of

the Swiss, and the Marquise, in the course of her walk, appeared to meet

them by accident. She asked the name of the child, and admired his

beauty. Her daughter came up at the same moment, and Madame de Pompadour

led them into a part of the garden where she knew the King would come. He

did come, and asked the child's name. He was told, and looked

embarrassed when Madame, pointing to them, said they would be a beautiful

couple. The King played with the girl, without appearing to take any

notice of the boy, who, while he was eating some figs and cakes which

were brought, his attitudes and gestures were so like those of the King,

that Madame de Pompadour was in the utmost astonishment. "Ah!" said she,

"Sire, look at --------." --"At what?" said he. "Nothing," replied

Madame, "except that one would think one saw his father."

"I did not know," said the King, smiling, "that you were so intimately

acquainted with the Comte du L------ ."--"You ought to embrace him," said

she, "he is very handsome."--"I will begin, then, with the young lady,"

said the King, and embraced them in a cold, constrained manner. I was

present, having joined Mademoiselle's governess. I remarked to Madame,

in the evening, that the King had not appeared very cordial in his

caresses. "That is his way," said she; "but do not those children appear

made for each other? If it was Louis XIV., he would make a Duc du Maine

of the little boy; I do not ask so much; but a place and a dukedom for

his son is very little; and it is because he is his son that I prefer him

to all the little Dukes of the Court. My grandchildren would blend the

resemblance of their grandfather and grandmother; and this combination,

which I hope to live to see, would, one day, be my greatest delight." The

tears came into her eyes as she spoke. Alas! alas! only six months

elapsed, when her darling daughter, the hope of her advanced years, the

object of her fondest wishes, died suddenly. Madame de Pompadour was

inconsolable, and I must do M. de Marigny the justice to say that he was

deeply afflicted. His niece was beautiful as an angel, and destined to

the highest fortunes, and I always thought that he had formed the design

of marrying her. A dukedom would have given him rank; and that, joined

to his place, and to the wealth which she would have had from her mother,

would have made him a man of great importance. The difference of age was

not sufficient to be a great obstacle. People, as usual, said the young

lady was poisoned; for the unexpected death of persons who command a

large portion of public attention always gives birth to these rumours.

The King shewed great regret, but more for the grief of Madame than on

account of the loss itself, though he had often caressed the child, and

loaded her with presents. I owe it, also, to justice, to say that M. de

Marigny, the heir of all Madame de Pompadour's fortune, after the death

of her daughter, evinced the sincerest and deepest regret every time she

was seriously ill. She, soon after, began to lay plans for his

establishment. Several young ladies of the highest birth were thought

of; and, perhaps, he would have been made a Duke, but his turn of mind

indisposed him for schemes either of marriage or ambition. Ten times he

might have been made Prime Minister, yet he never aspired to it. "That

is a man," said Quesnay to me, one day, "who is very little known; nobody

talks of his talents or acquirements, nor of his zealous and efficient

patronage of the arts: no man, since Colbert, has done so much in his

situation: he is, moreover, an extremely honourable man, but people will

not see in him anything but the brother of the favourite; and, because he

is fat, he is thought dull and heavy." This was all perfectly true. M.

de Marigny had travelled in Italy with very able artists, and had

acquired taste, and much more information than any of his predecessors

had possessed. As for the heaviness of his air, it only came upon him

when he grew fat; before that, he had a delightful face. He was then as

handsome as his sister. He paid court to nobody, had no vanity, and

confined himself to the society of persons with whom he was at his ease.

He went rather more into company at Court after the King had taken him to

ride with him in his carriage, thinking it then his duty to shew himself

among the courtiers.

Madame called me, one day, into her closet, where the King was walking up

and down in a very serious mood. "You must," said she, "pass some days

in a house in the Avenue de St. Cloud, whither I shall send you. You

will there find a young lady about to lie in." The King said nothing,

and I was mute from astonishment. "You will be mistress of the house,

and preside, like one of the fabulous goddesses, at the accouchement.

Your presence is necessary, in order that everything may pass secretly,

and according to the King's wish. You will be present at the baptism,

and name the father and mother." The King began to laugh, and said, "The

father is a very honest man;" Madame added, "beloved by every one, and

adored by those who know him." Madame then took from a little cupboard a

small box, and drew from it an aigrette of diamonds, at the same time

saying to the King, "I have my reasons for it not being handsomer."--"It

is but too much so," said the King; "how kind you are;" and he then

embraced Madame, who wept with emotion, and, putting her hand upon the

King's heart, said, "This is what I wish to secure." The King's eyes

then filled with tears, and I also began weeping, without knowing why.

Afterwards, the King said, "Guimard will call upon you every day, to

assist you with his advice, and at the critical moment you will send for

him. You will say that you expect the sponsors, and a moment after you

will pretend to have received a letter, stating that they cannot come.

You will, of course, affect to be very much embarrassed; and Guimard will

then say that there is nothing for it but to take the first comers. You

will then appoint as godfather and godmother some beggar, or chairman,

and the servant girl of the house, and to whom you will give but twelve

francs, in order not to attract attention."--"A louis," added Madame, "to

obviate anything singular, on the other hand."--"It is you who make me

economical, under certain circumstances," said the King. "Do you

remember the driver of the fiacre? I wanted to give him a LOUIS, and Duc

d'Ayen said, 'You will be known;' so that I gave him a crown." He was

going to tell the whole story. Madame made a sign to him to be silent,

which he obeyed, not without considerable reluctance. She afterwards

told me that at the time of the fetes given on occasion of the Dauphin's

marriage, the King came to see her at her mother's house in a

hackney-coach. The coachman would not go on, and the King would have

given him a LOUIS. "The police will hear of it, if you do," said the Duc

d'Ayen, "and its spies will make inquiries, which will, perhaps, lead to

a discovery."

"Guimard," continued the King, "will tell you the names of the father and

mother; he will be present at the ceremony, and make the usual presents.

It is but fair that you also should receive yours;" and, as he said this,

he gave me fifty LOUIS, with that gracious air that he could so well

assume upon certain occasions, and which no person in the kingdom had but

himself. I kissed his hand and wept. "You will take care of the

accouchee, will you not? She is a good creature, who has not invented

gunpowder, and I confide her entirely to your direction; my chancellor

will tell you the rest," he said, turning to Madame, and then quitted the

room. "Well, what think you of the part I am playing?" asked Madame. "It

is that of a superior woman, and an excellent friend," I replied. "It is

his heart I wish to secure," said she; "and all those young girls who

have no education will not run away with it from me. I should not be

equally confident were I to see some fine woman belonging to the Court,

or the city, attempt his conquest."

I asked Madame, if the young lady knew that the King was the father of

her child? "I do not think she does," replied she; "but, as he appeared

fond of her, there is some reason to fear that those about her might be

too ready to tell her; otherwise," said she, shrugging her shoulders,

"she, and all the others, are told that he is a Polish nobleman, a

relation of the Queen, who has apartments in the castle." This story was

contrived on account of the cordon bleu, which the King has not always

time to lay aside, because, to do that, he must change his coat, and in

order to account for his having a lodging in the castle so near the King.

There were two little rooms by the side of the chapel, whither the King

retired from his apartment, without being seen by anybody but a sentinel,

who had his orders, and who did not know who passed through those rooms.

The King sometimes went to the Parc-aux-cerfs, or received those young

ladies in the apartments I have mentioned.

I must here interrupt my narrative, to relate a singular adventure, which

is only known to six or seven persons, masters or valets. At the time of

the attempt to assassinate the King, a young girl, whom he had seen

several times, and for whom he had manifested more tenderness than for

most, was distracted at this horrible event. The Mother-Abbess of the

Parc-aux-cerfs perceived her extraordinary grief, and managed so as to

make her confess that she knew the Polish Count was the King of France.

She confessed that she had taken from his pocket two letters, one of

which was from the King of Spain, the other from the Abbe de Brogue. This

was discovered afterwards, for neither she nor the Mother-Abbess knew the

names of the writers. The girl was scolded, and M. Lebel, first valet de

chambre, who had the management of all these affairs, was called; he took

the letters, and carried them to the King, who was very much embarrassed

in what manner to meet a person so well informed of his condition. The

girl in question, having perceived that the King came secretly to see her

companion, while she was neglected, watched his arrival, and, at the

moment he entered with the Abbess, who was about to withdraw, she rushed

distractedly into the room where her rival was. She immediately threw

herself at the King's feet. "Yes," said she, "you are King of all

France; but that would be nothing to me if you were not also monarch of

my heart: do not forsake me, my beloved sovereign; I was nearly mad when

your life was attempted!" The Mother-Abbess cried out, "You are mad

now." The King embraced her, which appeared to restore her to

tranquility. They succeeded in getting her out of the room, and a few

days afterwards the unhappy girl was taken to a madhouse, where she was

treated as if she had been insane, for some days. But she knew well

enough that she was not so, and that the King had really been her lover.

This lamentable affair was related to me by the Mother-Abbess, when I had

some acquaintance with her at the time of the accouchement I have spoken

of, which I never had before, nor since.

To return to my history: Madame de Pompadour said to me, "Be constantly

with the 'accouchee', to prevent any stranger, or even the people of the

house, from speaking to her. You will always say that he is a very rich

Polish nobleman, who is obliged to conceal himself on account of his

relationship to the Queen, who is very devout. You will find a wet-nurse

in the house, to whom you will deliver the child. Guimard will manage

all the rest. You will go to church as a witness; everything must be

conducted as if for a substantial citizen. The young lady expects to lie

in in five or six days; you will dine with her, and will not leave her

till she is in a state of health to return to the Parc-aux-cerfs, which

she may do in a fortnight, as I imagine, without running any risk." I

went, that same evening, to the Avenue de Saint Cloud, where I found the

Abbess and Guimard, an attendant belonging to the castle, but without his

blue coat. There were, besides, a nurse, a wet-nurse, two old

men-servants, and a girl, who was something between a servant and a

waiting-woman. The young lady was extremely pretty, and dressed very

elegantly, though not too remarkably. I supped with her and the

Mother-Abbess, who was called Madame Bertrand. I had presented the

aigrette Madame de Pompadour gave me before supper, which had greatly

delighted the young lady, and she was in high spirits.

Madame Bertrand had been housekeeper to M. Lebel, first valet de chambre

to the King. He called her Dominique, and she was entirely in his

confidence. The young lady chatted with us after supper; she appeared to

be very naive. The next day, I talked to her in private. She said to

me, "How is the Count?" (It was the King whom she called by this title.)

"He will be very sorry not to be with me now; but he was obliged to set

off on a long journey." I assented to what she said. "He is very

handsome," said she, "and loves me with all his heart. He promised me an

allowance; but I love him disinterestedly; and, if he would let me, I

would follow him to Poland." She afterwards talked to me about her

parents, and about M. Lebel, whom she knew by the name of Durand. "My

mother," said she, "kept a large grocer's shop, and my father was a man

of some consequence; he belonged to the Six Corps, and that, as everybody

knows, is an excellent thing. He was twice very near being

head-bailiff." Her mother had become bankrupt at her father's death, but

the Count had come to her assistance, and settled upon her fifteen

hundred francs a year, besides giving her six thousand francs down. On

the sixth day, she was brought to bed, and, according to my instructions,

she was told the child was a girl, though in reality it was a boy; she

was soon to be told that it was dead, in order that no trace of its

existence might remain for a certain time. It was eventually to be

restored to its mother. The King gave each of his children about ten

thousand francs a year. They inherited after each other as they died

off, and seven or eight were already dead. I returned to Madame de

Pompadour, to whom I had written every day by Guimard. The next day, the

King sent for me into the room; he did not say a word as to the business

I had been employed upon; but he gave me a large gold snuff-box,

containing two rouleaux of twenty-five louis each. I curtsied to him,

and retired. Madame asked me a great many questions of the young lady,

and laughed heartily at her simplicity, and at all she had said about the

Polish nobleman. "He is disgusted with the Princess, and, I think, will

return to Poland for ever, in two months."--"And the young lady?" said I.

"She will be married in the country," said she, "with a portion of forty

thousand crowns at the most and a few diamonds." This little adventure,

which initiated me into the King's secrets, far from procuring for me

increased marks of kindness from him, seemed to produce a coldness

towards me; probably because he was ashamed of my knowing his obscure

amours. He was also embarrassed by the services Madame de Pompadour had

rendered him on this occasion.