Visit from a stranger--Madame de Pompadour and a Jacobinical
monk--Continuation of this history--Deliverance of a state prisoner--A
meeting with the stranger
One day, at an hour at which I was not accustomed to see any person, a
lady called and requested to see me; she was informed that I was visible
to no person. No matter, she persisted in her request, saying that she
had to speak to me upon matters of the first importance, and declared,
that I should be delighted with her visit. However, my servants,
accustomed to the artifices practised by persons wishing to see me for
interested purposes, heeded very little the continued protestations of
my strange applicant, and peremptorily refused to admit her; upon which
the unknown retired with the indication of extreme anger.
Two hours afterwards a note, bearing no signature, was brought me, in
which the late scene was described to me, and I was further informed,
that the lady, so abruptly repulsed by my servants, had presented
herself to communicate things which concerned not only my own personal
safety but the welfare of all France; a frightful catastrophe was
impending, which there was still time to prevent; the means of so doing
were offered me, and I was conjured not to reject them. The affair, if
treated with indifference, would bring on incalculable misfortunes
and horrors, to which I should be the first victim. All this apparent
mystery would be cleared up, and, the whole affair explained, if I would
repair on the following day, at one o'clock, to the Baths of Apollo. A
grove of trees there was pointed out as a safe place of rendezvous, and
being so very near my residence, calculated to remove any fears I might
entertain of meeting a stranger, who, as the note informed me, possessed
the means of entering this secluded spot. I was again conjured to be
punctual to the appointed hour as I valued my life.
The mysterious and solemn tone of this singular epistle struck me with
terror. Madame de Mirepoix was with me at the moment I received it. This
lady had a peculiar skill in physiognomy, and the close attention
she always paid to mine was frequently extremely embarrassing and
disagreeable She seemed (as usual) on the present occasion to read all
that was passing in my mind; however, less penetrating eyes than hers
might easily have perceived, by my sudden agitation, that the paper I
held in my hand contained something more than usual.
"What ails you?" asked she, with the familiarity our close intimacy
warranted; "does that note bring you any bad news?"
"No," said I; "it tells me nothing; but it leaves me ample room for much
uneasiness and alarm: but, after all, it may be merely some hoax, some
foolish jest played off at my expense; but judge for yourself." So
saying, I handed her the letter: when she had perused it, she said,
"Upon my word, if I were in your place, I would clear up this mystery;
good advice is not so easily met with as to make it a matter of
difficulty to go as far as the Baths of Apollo to seek it. It is by no
means impossible but that, as this paper tells you, some great peril
is hanging over you. The marquise de Pompadour," continued madame de
Mirepoix, "received more than once invitations similar to this, which
she never failed to attend; and I recollect one circumstance, in which
she had no cause to regret having done so: without the kind offices of
one of these anonymous writers it is very possible that she might have
expired heart broken, and perhaps forsaken in some state prison, instead
of ending her days in the château of Versailles, honored even to the
tomb by the friendship and regard of the king of France."
I asked my friend to explain her last observation, and she replied as
follows:--
"One day an anonymous billet, similar to this, was left for madame
de Pompadour: it requested her to repair, at a specified hour, to
the church of the Jacobins, rue Saint Honoré, in Paris, where she was
promised some highly important communications. The marchioness was
punctual to the rendezvous; and, as she entered the church, a Jacobite,
so entirely wrapped in his capuchin as to conceal his features,
approached her, took her by the hand, and conducted her to an obscure
chapel; where, requesting her to sit down, he took a seat himself, and
began as follows:--
"'Madam, you are about to lose the favor of the king; a party is at work
to give a new mistress to the king; the lady is young, beautiful, witty,
and possessed of an insatiable ambition; for the last six months she has
been in the daily habit of seeing the king, unknown to you and all
the court, and this has been accomplished in the following manner:
her father is _valet de chambre_ to his majesty, and she has an only
brother, two years younger than herself, whose astonishing resemblance
to her has created continual mistakes; this brother is promised the
inheritance of his father's office; and, under pretext of acquiring
the due initiation for future post, has been permitted every morning to
attend the king's rising.
"'However, this embryo page is the sister, who comes each morning
disguised in her brother's clothes. The king has had many private
conversations with the designing beauty; and, seduced by her many charms
of mind and person, as well as dazzled by the hidden and concealed
nature of their intrigue, finds his passion for her increases from day
to day. Many are the designing persons ready to profit by the transfer
of the king's affections from you to this fresh favorite; and they
flatter themselves the desired event is close at hand. You are to be
confined by a _lettre de cachet_ to the isle of St. Margaret, for the
place of your exile is already chosen. The principal conspirators are
two powerful noblemen, one of whom is reputed your most intimate friend.
I learned all these particulars,' continued the Jacobite, 'from a young
penitent, but not under the seal of confession. This penitent is the
particular friend of the female in question, who confided the secret
to her, from whom I received it, accompanied by the most flattering
promises of future protection and advancement. These splendid prospects
excited her jealous envy, and she came here to confess the whole to me,
requesting I would seek you out and inform you of the whole affair.
Here is a letter she obtained unknown to her aspiring friend, which she
wishes you to see, as a pledge of the veracity of her statement.'
The marchioness cast her eyes over the paper held out to her by the
Jacobite. It was a letter addressed by the king to his new mistress.
"You may imagine the terror of madame de Pompadour, her anxiety and
impatience to return to Versailles. However, ere she quitted the
friendly monk she assured him of her lasting gratitude, and begged of
him to point out how she could best prove it. 'For myself,' replied he,
'I ask nothing; but if you would render me your debtor, confer the first
vacant bishopric on a man whom I greatly esteem, the abbé de Barral.'
You will easily suppose that the abbé de Barral had not long to wait for
his preferment: as for the Jacobite the marchioness never again saw or
heard anything of him. She mentioned him to the newly appointed bishop,
who could not even understand to what she alluded. She related the
affair, when he called heaven to witness that he knew nothing of any
Jacobite either directly or indirectly."
"And how did the marchioness get rid of her rival?" inquired I of madame
de Mirepoix.
"By a very simple and effective expedient. She sent for the duc de Saint
Florentin, whom she requested immediately to expedite two _lettres de
cachet_; one for the _valet de chambre_, who was shut up in the château
de Lectoure, and the other for the daughter, whom the marchioness sent
to the isle of St. Marguerite, to occupy the place she had so obligingly
destined for herself."
"And now," asked I, "did these unfortunate people ever get out of
prison?"
"That I know not," answered the maréchale; "and, God forgive me, for
aught I ever inquired they may be there now."
"If so," cried I, "the conduct of both the king and the duc de la
Vrillière is abominable and unpardonable."
"Why, bless your heart, my dear," exclaimed the maréchale, "do you
expect that his majesty should recollect all the pretty women he has
intrigued with, any more than the poor duke can be expected to keep a
list in his memory of the different persons he has sent to a prison?
He would require a prodigious recollection for such a purpose." This
unfeeling reply filled me with indignation, and redoubled the pity I
already felt for the poor prisoners. I immediately despatched a note
to the duc de Saint Florentin, requesting he would come to me without
delay: he hastened to obey my summons. When he had heard my recital he
remained silent some minutes, as though collecting his recollections
upon the subject, and then replied,
"I do indeed remember that some obscure female was confined in the
château of the isle Sainte Marguerite at the request of madame de
Pompadour, but I cannot now say, whether at the death of the marchioness
any person thought of interceding for her release."
"That is precisely what I wish to ascertain," cried I; "return to
your offices, monsieur le duc, and use your best endeavors to discover
whether this unfortunate girl and her parent are still in confinement;
nor venture again in my presence until you have despatched the order
for their deliverance: you will procure a conveyance for them from their
prison to Paris at the expense of government. You understand, my lord?"
The following morning the duke brought me the desired information. He
told me, that the father had been dead seven years, but the daughter
still remained a prisoner: the order for restoring her to liberty had
been forwarded the night preceding. I will now briefly relate the end of
this mournful story.
Three weeks after this I received an early visit from the duc de la
Vrillière, who came to apprize me, that my protégée from the isle of
St. Marguerite was in my antechamber awaiting permission to offer me
her grateful thanks. I desired she might instantly be admitted; her
appearance shocked me; not a single trace of that beauty which had
proved so fatal to its possessor now remained. She was pale, emaciated,
and her countenance, on which care and confinement had imprinted the
wrinkles of premature old age, was sad and dejected even to idiocy. I
could have wished that madame de Pompadour, by way of punishment for her
cruelty, could but have seen the object of her relentless persecution. I
think she would have blushed for herself. When the poor girl entered my
apartment she looked wildly around her, and casting herself at my feet,
inquired with many tears to what motive she was indebted for my generous
interference in her behalf. The duc de la Vrillière contemplated with
the utmost _sang froid_ the spectacle of a misery he had so largely
contributed to. I requested of him to leave us to ourselves. I then
raised my weeping _protégée_, consoled her to the best of my ability,
and then requested her to give me the history of her captivity. Her
story was soon told: she had been an inhabitant of the same prison for
seventeen years and five months, without either seeing a human being, or
hearing the sound of a human voice. Her recital made me shudder, and I
promised her that henceforward her life should be rendered as happy as
it had hitherto been miserable.
The king supped with me that evening. By some singular chance he was on
this occasion in the happiest temper possible: he laughed, sung, joked
with such unusual spirits, that I hesitated ere I disturbed a gaiety to
which Louis XV was so little prone. However, I took him aside, saying,
"Sire, I have to ask atonement and reparation for a most horrible
piece of injustice." After which, I proceeded to acquaint him with the
distressing history of his unfortunate mistress. He appeared perfectly
well to recollect the female to whom I alluded; and when I ceased
speaking, he said, with a half-suppressed sigh,
"Poor creature! she has indeed been unfortunate; seventeen years and
five months in prison! The duc de la Vrillière is greatly to blame in
the affair; but when once he has placed persons between four walls, he
thinks he has fulfilled the whole of his duty. He should recollect, that
a good memory is a necessary qualification for situation he holds; it
is indeed an imperative duty in him to think of the poor wretches he
deprives of their liberty."
"And in you too, sire," interrupted I; "and it appears to me that
you have lost sight of it, in the present affair, as culpably as your
minister."
"I confess it, indeed," answered Louis XV; "but the unfortunate
sufferer herself was not without a due share of blame in the matter. Her
presumption had greatly irritated madame de Pompadour, who punished her
as she thought fit: of course I could not, consistently with the regard
I professed for the marchioness, interfere in the execution of her
vengeance."
"I do not agree with you," said I.
"Why, what else could I do?" asked Louis XV, with the most imperturbable
calmness; "she had superior claims, was acknowledged as chief favorite,
and I could not refuse her the sacrifice of a mere temporary caprice."
"Very well said," answered I, "and founded upon excellent principles;
but surely it was not necessary to shut up the object of your caprice in
a state prison, and, above all, to leave her there for such a length of
time. However, the mischief is done; and all we have to think of is to
repair it. You have now, sire, a fine opportunity of displaying your
royal munificence."
"You think, then," returned Louis XV, "that I am bound to make this
unhappy girl some present? Well, I will; to-morrow I will send her
10,000 louis."
"A thousand louis!" exclaimed I, clasping my hands; "what, as a
recompense for seventeen years' imprisonment? No, no, sire, you shall
not get off so easily; you must must settle on her a pension of 12,000
livres, and present her with an order for 100,000 more as an immediate
supply."
"Bless me!" ejaculated the king, "why all, the girls in my kingdom would
go to prison for such a dowry: however, she shall have the pension; but,
in truth, my treasury is exhausted."
"Then, sire," returned I, "borrow of your friends."
"Come, come, let us finish this business; I will give your _protégée_
4000 louis."
"No, I cannot agree," answered I, "to less than 5000."
The king promised me I should have them; and, on the following day, his
valet Turpigny brought me the order for the pension, and a bag, in which
I found only 4000 louis. This piece of meanness did not surprise me, but
it made me shrug up my shoulders, and sent me to my cabinet to take the
sum deficient from my own funds. With this dowry my poor _protégée_ soon
found a suitable husband in the person of one of her cousins, for whom
I procured a lucrative post under government. These worthy people have
since well repaid me by their grateful and devoted attachment for the
service I was enabled to render them. One individual of their family
was, however, far from resembling them either in goodness of heart or
generosity of sentiment--I allude to the brother of the lady; that same
brother who formerly supplied his sister with his clothes, that she
might visit the king unsuspected. Upon the incarceration of the father
the son succeeded him in his office of _valet de chambre_, and acquired
considerable credit at court; yet, although in the daily habit of seeing
the king, he neither by word nor deed sought to obtain the deliverance
of either his parent or sister. On the contrary, he suffered the former
to perish in a dungeon, and allowed the latter to languish in one during
more than seventeen years, and in all probability she would have ended
her days without receiving the slightest mark of his recollection of
his unfortunate relative. I know no trait of base selfishness more truly
revolting than the one I have just related.
But this story has led me far from the subject I was previously
commencing: this narrative, which I never call to mind without a feeling
of pleasure, has led me away in spite of myself. Still I trust that my
narrative has been sufficiently interesting to induce you to pardon the
digression it has occasioned, and now I will resume the thread of my
discourse.