PARIS, _Sunday night, Sept._ 17, 1769.
I am heartily tired; but, as it is too early to go to bed, I must tell
you how agreeably I have passed the day. I wished for you; the same
scenes strike us both, and the same kind of visions has amused us both
ever since we were born.
Well then; I went this morning to Versailles with my niece Mrs.
Cholmondeley, Mrs. Hart, Lady Denbigh's sister, and the Count de Grave,
one of the most amiable, humane, and obliging men alive. Our first
object was to see Madame du Barri. Being too early for mass, we saw the
Dauphin and his brothers at dinner. The eldest is the picture of the
Duke of Grafton, except that he is more fair, and will be taller. He has
a sickly air, and no grace. The Count de Provence has a very pleasing
countenance, with an air of more sense than the Count d'Artois, the
genius of the family. They already tell as many _bon-mots_ of the latter
as of Henri Quatre and Louis Quatorze. He is very fat, and the most like
his grandfather of all the children. You may imagine this royal mess did
not occupy us long: thence to the Chapel, where a first row in the
balconies was kept for us. Madame du Barri arrived over against us
below, without rouge, without powder, and indeed _sans avoir fait sa
toilette_; an odd appearance, as she was so conspicuous, close to the
altar, and amidst both Court and people. She is pretty, when you
consider her; yet so little striking, that I never should have asked who
she was. There is nothing bold, assuming or affected in her manner. Her
husband's sister was along with her. In the Tribune above, surrounded by
prelates, was the amorous and still handsome King. One could not help
smiling at the mixture of piety, pomp, and carnality. From chapel we
went to the dinner of the elder Mesdames. We were almost stifled in the
antechamber, where their dishes were heating over charcoal, and where we
could not stir for the press. When the doors are opened, everybody
rushes in, princes of the blood, _cordons bleus_, abbés, housemaids, and
the Lord knows who and what. Yet, so used are their highnesses to this
trade, that they eat as comfortably and heartily as you or I could do in
our own parlours.
Our second act was much more agreeable. We quitted the Court and a
reigning mistress, for a dead one and a Cloister. In short, I had
obtained leave from the Bishop of Chartres to enter _into_ St. Cyr; and,
as Madame du Deffand never leaves anything undone that can give me
satisfaction, she had written to the abbess to desire I might see
everything that could be seen there. The Bishop's order was to admit me,
_Monsieur de Grave, et les dames de ma compagnie_: I begged the abbess
to give me back the order, that I might deposit it in the archives of
Strawberry, and she complied instantly. Every door flew open to us: and
the nuns vied in attentions to please us. The first thing I desired to
see was Madame de Maintenon's apartment. It consists of two small rooms,
a library, and a very small chamber, the same in which the Czar saw her,
and in which she died. The bed is taken away, and the room covered now
with bad pictures of the royal family, which destroys the gravity and
simplicity. It is wainscotted with oak, with plain chairs of the same,
covered with dark blue damask. Everywhere else the chairs are of blue
cloth. The simplicity and extreme neatness of the whole house, which is
vast, are very remarkable. A large apartment above (for that I have
mentioned is on the ground-floor), consisting of five rooms, and
destined by Louis Quatorze for Madame de Maintenon, is now the
infirmary, with neat white linen beds, and decorated with every text of
Scripture by which could be insinuated that the foundress was a Queen.
The hour of vespers being come, we were conducted to the chapel, and, as
it was _my_ curiosity that had led us thither, I was placed in the
Maintenon's own tribune; my company in the adjoining gallery. The
pensioners, two and two, each band headed by a man, march orderly to
their seats, and sing the whole service, which I confess was not a
little tedious. The young ladies, to the number of two hundred and
fifty, are dressed in black, with short aprons of the same, the latter
and their stays bound with blue, yellow, green, or red, to distinguish
the classes; the captains and lieutenants have knots of a different
colour for distinction. Their hair is curled and powdered, their
coiffure a sort of French round-eared caps, with white tippets, a sort
of ruff and large tucker: in short, a very pretty dress. The nuns are
entirely in black, with crape veils and long trains, deep white
handkerchiefs, and forehead cloths, and a very long train. The chapel is
plain but very pretty, and in the middle of the choir under a flat
marble lies the foundress. Madame de Cambis, one of the nuns, who are
about forty, is beautiful as a Madonna.[1] The abbess has no distinction
but a larger and richer gold cross: her apartment consists of two very
small rooms. Of Madame de Maintenon we did not see fewer than twenty
pictures. The young one looking over her shoulder has a round face,
without the least resemblance to those of her latter age. That in the
royal mantle, of which you know I have a copy, is the most repeated; but
there is another with a longer and leaner face, which has by far the
most sensible look. She is in black, with a high point head and band, a
long train, and is sitting in a chair of purple velvet. Before her
knees stands her niece Madame de Noailles, a child; at a distance a view
of Versailles or St. Cyr,[2] I could not distinguish which. We were
shown some rich reliquaires and the _corpo santo_ that was sent to her
by the Pope. We were then carried into the public room of each class. In
the first, the young ladies, who were playing at chess, were ordered to
sing to us the choruses of Athaliah; in another, they danced minuets and
country dances, while a nun, not quite so able as St. Cecilia, played on
a violin. In the others, they acted before us the proverbs or
conversations written by Madame de Maintenon for their instruction; for
she was not only their foundress but their saint, and their adoration of
her memory has quite eclipsed the Virgin Mary. We saw their dormitory,
and saw them at supper; and at last were carried to their archives,
where they produced volumes of her letters, and where one of the nuns
gave me a small piece of paper with three sentences in her handwriting.
I forgot to tell you, that this kind dame who took to me extremely,
asked me if we had many convents and relics in England. I was much
embarrassed for fear of destroying her good opinion of me, and so said
we had but few now. Oh! we went too to the _apothecairie_, where they
treated us with cordials, and where one of the ladies told me
inoculation was a sin, as it was a voluntary detention from mass, and as
voluntary a cause of eating _gras_. Our visit concluded in the garden,
now grown very venerable, where the young ladies played at little games
before us. After a stay of four hours we took our leave. I begged the
abbess's blessing; she smiled, and said, she doubted I should not place
much faith in it. She is a comely old gentlewoman, and very proud of
having seen Madame de Maintenon. Well! was not I in the right to wish
you with me?--could you have passed a day more agreeably.
[Footnote 1: Madame du Deffand, in her letter to Walpole of the 10th of
May, 1776, encloses the following portrait of Madame de Cambise, by
Madame de la Vallière:--"Non, non, Madame, je ne ferai point votre
portrait: vous avez une manière d'être si noble, si fine, si piquante,
si délicate, si séduisante; votre gentilesse et vos graces changent si
souvent pour n'en être que plus aimable, que l'on ne peut saisir aucun
de vos traits ni au physique ni au moral." She was niece of La Marquise
de Boufflers, and, having fled to England at the breaking out of the
French Revolution, resided here until her death, which took place at
Richmond in January, 1809.]
[Footnote 2: St. Cyr was a school founded by Mme. de Maintenon for the
education of girls of good families who were in reduced circumstances.
Mme. de Maintenon was the daughter of M. D'Aubigné, a writer of fair
repute both as a historian and a satirist. Her first husband had been a
M. Paul Scarron, a comic poet of indifferent reputation. After his
death, she was induced, after an artful show of affected reluctance, to
become governess to the children of Louis XIV. and Mme. de Montespan.
Louis gave her the small estate of Maintenon, and, after the death of
his queen, privately married her. She became devout, and, under the
tuition of the Jesuits, a violent promoter of the persecution of the
Huguenots. It was probably her influence that induced Louis to issue the
Edict revoking the Edict of Nantes promulgated by Henry IV. in 1598. She
outlived the King, and died in 1719.]
I will conclude my letter with a most charming trait of Madame de
Mailly,[1] which cannot be misplaced in such a chapter of royal
concubines. Going to St. Sulpice, after she had lost the King's heart, a
person present desired the crowd to make way for her. Some brutal young
officers said, "Comment, pour cette catin là!" She turned to them, and
with the most charming modesty said--"Messieurs, puisque vous me
connoissez, priez Dieu pour moi." I am sure it will bring tears into
your eyes. Was she not the Publican and Maintenon the Pharisee? Good
night! I hope I am going to dream of all I have been seeing. As my
impressions and my fancy, when I am pleased, are apt to be strong, my
night perhaps may still be more productive of ideas than the day has
been. It will be charming indeed if Madame de Cambis is the ruling tint.
Adieu!
Yours ever.
[Footnote 1: Mme. de Mailly was the first of the mistresses of Louis XV.
She was the elder sister of the Duchesse de Chateauroux and Mme. de
Lauragais. She has the credit, such as it is, of having been really in
love with the King before she became acquainted with him; but she soon
retired, feeling repentance and shame at her position, and being
superseded in his fancy by the more showy attractions of her younger
sisters.]
_A MASQUERADE--STATE OF RUSSIA._