Produced by David Widger
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."