Book: The Memoirs of Louis XV. and XVI., Volume 1
U >>
Unknown >> The Memoirs of Louis XV. and XVI., Volume 1
I got her to repeat this conversation, and wrote it down immediately,
that I might not forget it.
An anonymous letter was addressed to the King and Madame de Pompadour;
and, as the author was very anxious that it should not miscarry, he sent
copies to the Lieutenant of Police, sealed and directed to the King, to
Madame de Pompadour, and to M. de Marigny. This letter produced a strong
impression on Madame, and on the King, and still more, I believe, on the
Duc de Choiseul, who had received a similar one. I went on my knees to
M. de Marigny, to prevail on him to allow me to copy it, that I might
show it to the Doctor. It is as follows:
"Sire--It is a zealous servant who writes to Your Majesty. Truth is
always better, particularly to Kings; habituated to flattery, they see
objects only under those colours most likely to please them. I have
reflected, and read much; and here is what my meditations have suggested
to me to lay before Your Majesty. They have accustomed you to be
invisible, and inspired you with a timidity which prevents you from
speaking; thus all direct communication is cut off between the master and
his subjects. Shut up in the interior of your palace, you are becoming
every day like the Emperors of the East; but see, Sire, their fate! 'I
have troops,' Your Majesty will say; such, also, is their support: but,
when the only security of a King rests upon his troops; when he is only,
as one may say, a King of the soldiers, these latter feel their own
strength, and abuse it. Your finances are in the greatest disorder, and
the great majority of states have perished through this cause. A
patriotic spirit sustained the ancient states, and united all classes for
the safety of their country. In the present times, money has taken the
place of this spirit; it has become the universal lever, and you are in
want of it. A spirit of finance affects every department of the state;
it reigns triumphant at Court; all have become venal; and all distinction
of rank is broken up. Your Ministers are without genius and capacity
since the dismissal of MM. d'Argenson and de Machault. You alone cannot
judge of their incapacity, because they lay before you what has been
prepared by skilful clerks, but which they pass as their own. They
provide only for the necessity of the day, but there is no spirit of
government in their acts. The military changes that have taken place
disgust the troops, and cause the most deserving officers to resign; a
seditious flame has sprung up in the very bosom of the Parliaments; you
seek to corrupt them, and the remedy is worse than the disease. It is
introducing vice into the sanctuary of justice, and gangrene into the
vital parts of the commonwealth. Would a corrupted Parliament have
braved the fury of the League, in order to preserve the crown for the
legitimate sovereign? Forgetting the maxims of Louis XIV., who well
understood the danger of confiding the administration to noblemen, you
have chosen M. de Choiseul, and even given him three departments; which
is a much heavier burden than that which he would have to support as
Prime Minister, because the latter has only to oversee the details
executed by the Secretaries of State. The public fully appreciate this
dazzling Minister. He is nothing more than a 'petit-maitre', without
talents or information, who has a little phosphorus in his mind. There
is a thing well worthy of remark, Sire; that is, the open war carried on
against religion. Henceforward there can spring up no new sects, because
the general belief has been shaken, that no one feels inclined to occupy
himself with difference of sentiment upon some of the articles. The
Encyclopedists, under pretence of enlightening mankind, are sapping the
foundations of religion. All the different kinds of liberty are
connected; the Philosophers and the Protestants tend towards
republicanism, as well as the Jansenists. The Philosophers strike at the
root, the others lop the branches; and their efforts, without being
concerted, will one day lay the tree low. Add to these the Economists;
whose object is political liberty, as that of the others is liberty of
worship, and the Government may find itself, in twenty or thirty years,
undermined in every direction, and will then fall with a crash. If Your
Majesty, struck by this picture, but too true, should ask me for a
remedy, I should say, that it is necessary to bring back the Government
to its principles, and, above all, to lose no time in restoring order to
the state of the finances, because the embarrassments incident to a
country in a state of debt necessitate fresh taxes, which, after grinding
the people, induce them towards revolt. It is my opinion that Your
Majesty would do well to appear more among your people; to shew your
approbation of useful services, and your displeasure of errors and
prevarications, and neglect of duty: in a word, to let it be seen that
rewards and punishments, appointments and dismissals, proceed from
yourself. You will then inspire gratitude by your favours, and fear by
your reproaches; you will then be the object of immediate and personal
attachment, instead of which, everything is now referred to your
Ministers. The confidence in the King, which is habitual to your people,
is shewn by the exclamation, so common among them, 'Ah! if the King knew
it' They love to believe that the King would remedy all their evils, if
he knew of them. But, on the other hand, what sort of ideas must they
form of kings, whose duty it is to be informed of everything, and to
superintend everything, that concerns the public, but who are,
nevertheless, ignorant of everything which the discharge of their
functions requires them to know? 'Rex, roi, regere, regar, conduire'--to
rule, to conduct--these words sufficiently denote their duties. What
would be said of a father who got rid of the charge of his children as of
a burthen?
"A time will come, Sire, when the people shall be enlightened--and that
time is probably approaching. Resume the reins of government, hold them
with a firm hand, and act, so that it cannot be said of you, 'Faeminas et
scorta volvit ammo et haec principatus praemia putat':--Sire, if I see
that my sincere advice should have produced any change, I shall continue
it, and enter into more details; if not, I shall remain silent."
Now that I am upon the subject of anonymous letters to the King, I must
just mention that it is impossible to conceive how frequent they were.
People were extremely assiduous in telling either unpleasant truths, or
alarming lies, with a view to injure others. As an instance, I shall
transcribe one concerning Voltaire, who paid great court to Madame de
Pompadour when he was in France. This letter was written long after the
former.
"Madame--M. de Voltaire has just dedicated his tragedy of Tancred to you;
this ought to be an offering of respect and gratitude; but it is, in
fact, an insult, and you will form the same opinion of it as the public
has done if you read it with attention. You will see that this
distinguished writer appears to betray a consciousness that the subject
of his encomiums is not worthy of them, and to endeavour to excuse
himself for them to the public. These are his words: 'I have seen your
graces and talents unfold themselves from your infancy. At all periods
of your life I have received proofs of your uniform and unchanging
kindness. If any critic be found to censure the homage I pay you, he
must have a heart formed for ingratitude. I am under great obligations
to you, Madame, and these obligations it is my duty to proclaim.'
"What do these words really signify, unless that Voltaire feels it may be
thought extraordinary that he should dedicate his work to a woman who
possesses but a small share of the public esteem, and that the sentiment
of gratitude must plead his excuse? Why should he suppose that the
homage he pays you will be censured, whilst we daily see dedications
addressed to silly gossips who have neither rank nor celebrity, or to
women of exceptional conduct, without any censure being attracted by it?"
M. de Marigny, and Colin, Madame de Pompadour's steward, were of the same
opinion as Quesnay, that the author of this letter was extremely
malicious; that he insulted Madame, and tried to injure Voltaire; but
that he was, in fact, right. Voltaire, from that moment, was entirely
out of favour with Madame, and with the King, and he certainly never
discovered the cause.
The King, who admired everything of the age of Louis XIV., and
recollected that the Boileaus and Racines had been protected by that
monarch, who was indebted to them, in part, for the lustre of his reign,
was flattered at having such a man as Voltaire among his subjects. But
still he feared him, and had but little esteem for him. He could not
help saying, "Moreover, I have treated him as well as Louis XIV. treated
Racine and Boileau. I have given him, as Louis XIV. gave to Racine, some
pensions, and a place of gentleman in ordinary. It is not my fault if he
has committed absurdities, and has had the pretension to become a
chamberlain, to wear an order, and sup with a King. It is not the
fashion in France; and, as there are here a few more men of wit and
noblemen than in Prussia, it would require that I should have a very
large table to assemble them all at it." And then he reckoned upon his
fingers, Maupertuis, Fontenelle, La Mothe, Voltaire, Piron, Destouches,
Montesquieu, the Cardinal Polignac. "Your Majesty forgets," said some
one, "D'Alembert and Clairaut."--"And Crebillon," said he. "And la
Chaussee, and the younger Crebillon," said some one. "He ought to be
more agreeable than his father."--"And there are also the Abbes Prevot
and d'Olivet."--"Pretty well," said the King; "and for the last twenty
years all that (tout cela) would have dined and supped at my table."
Madame de Pompadour repeated to me this conversation, which I wrote down
the same evening. M. de Marigny, also, talked to me about it.
"Voltaire," said he, "has always had a fancy for being Ambassador, and he
did all he could to make the people believe that he was charged with some
political mission, the first time he visited Prussia."
The people heard of the attempt on the King's life with transports of
fury, and with the greatest distress. Their cries were heard under the
windows of Madame de Pompadour's apartment. Mobs were collected, and
Madame feared the fate of Madame de Chateauroux. Her friends came in,
every minute, to give her intelligence. Her room was, at all times, like
a church; everybody seemed to claim a right to go in and out when he
chose. Some came, under pretence of sympathising, to observe her
countenance and manner. She did nothing but weep and faint away. Doctor
Quesnay never left her, nor did I. M. de St. Florentin came to see her
several times, so did the Comptroller-General, and M. Rouilld; but M. de
Machault did not come. The Duchesse de Brancas came very frequently. The
Abbe de Bernis never left us, except to go to enquire for the King. The
tears came in his eyes whenever he looked at Madame. Doctor Quesnay saw
the King five or six times a day. "There is nothing to fear," said he to
Madame. "If it were anybody else, he might go to a ball." My son went
the next day, as he had done the day the event occurred, to see what was
going on at the Castle. He told us, on his return, that the Keeper of
the Seals was with the King. I sent him back, to see what course he took
on leaving the King. He came running back in half an hour, to tell me
that the Keeper of the Seals had gone to his own house, followed by a
crowd of people. When I told this to Madame, she burst into tears, and
said, "Is that a friend?" The Abbe de Bernis said, "You must not judge
him hastily, in such a moment as this." I returned into the drawing-room
about an hour after, when the Keeper of the Seals entered. He passed me,
with his usual cold and severe look. "How is Madame de Pompadour?" said
he. "Alas!" replied I, "as you may imagine!" He passed on to her
closet. Everybody retired, and he remained for half an hour. The Abbe
returned and Madame rang. I went into her room, the Abbe following me.
She was in tears. "I must go, my dear Abbe," said she. I made her take
some orange-flower water, in a silver goblet, for her teeth chattered.
She then told me to call her equerry. He came in, and she calmly gave
him her orders, to have everything prepared at her hotel, in Paris; to
tell all her people to get ready to go; and to desire her coachman not to
be out of the way. She then shut herself up, to confer with the Abbe de
Bernis, who left her, to go to the Council. Her door was then shut,
except to the ladies with whom she was particularly intimate, M. de
Soubise, M. de Gontaut, the Ministers, and some others. Several ladies,
in the greatest distress, came to talk to me in my room: they compared
the conduct of M. de Machault with that of M. de Richelieu, at Metz.
Madame had related to them the circumstances extremely to the honour of
the Duke, and, by contrast, the severest satire on the Keeper of the
Seals. "He thinks, or pretends to think," said she, "that the priests
will be clamorous for my dismissal; but Quesnay and all the physicians
declare that there is not the slightest danger." Madame having sent for
me, I saw the Marechale de Mirepoix coming in. While she was at the
door, she cried out, "What are all those trunks, Madame? Your people
tell me you are going."--"Alas! my dear friend, such is our Master's
desire, as M. de Machault tells me."--"And what does he advise?" said
the Marechale. "That I should go without delay." During this
conversation, I was undressing Madame, who wished to be at her ease on
her chaise-longue. "Your Beeper of the Seals wants to get the power into
his own hands, and betrays you; he who quits the field loses it." I went
out. M. de Soubise entered, then the Abbe and M. de Marigny. The
latter, who was very kind to me, came into my room an hour afterwards. I
was alone. "She will remain," said he; "but, hush!--she will make an
appearance of going, in order not to set her enemies at work. It is the
little Marechale who prevailed upon her to stay: her keeper (so she
called M. de Machault) will pay for it." Quesnay came in, and, having
heard what was said, with his monkey airs, began to relate a fable of a
fox, who, being at dinner with other beasts, persuaded one of them that
his enemies were seeking him, in order that he might get possession of
his share in his absence. I did not see Madame again till very late, at
her going to bed. She was more calm. Things improved, from day to day,
and de Machault, the faithless friend, was dismissed. The King returned
to Madame de Pompadour, as usual. I learnt, by M. de Marigny, that the
Abbe had been, one day, with M. d'Argenson, to endeavour to persuade him
to live on friendly terms with Madame, and that he had been very coldly
received. "He is the more arrogant," said he, "on account of Machault's
dismissal, which leaves the field clear for him, who has more experience,
and more talent; and I fear that he will, therefore, be disposed to
declare war till death." The next day, Madame having ordered her chaise,
I was curious to know where she was going, for she went out but little,
except to church, and to the houses of the Ministers. I was told that
she was gone to visit M. d'Argenson. She returned in an hour, at
farthest, and seemed very much out of spirits. She leaned on the
chimneypiece, with her eyes fixed on the border of it. M. de Bernis
entered. I waited for her to take off her cloak and gloves. She had her
hands in her muff. The Abbe stood looking at her for some minutes; at
last he said, "You look like a sheep in a reflecting mood." She awoke
from her reverie, and, throwing her muff on the easy-chair, replied, "It
is a wolf who makes the sheep reflect." I went out: the King entered
shortly after, and I heard Madame de Pompadour sobbing. The Abbe came
into my room, and told me to bring some Hoffman's drops: the King himself
mixed the draught with sugar, and presented it to her in the kindest
manner possible. She smiled, and kissed the King's hands. I left the
room. Two days after, very early in the morning, I heard of M.
d'Argenson's exile. It was her doing, and was, indeed, the strongest
proof of her influence that could be given. The King was much attached
to M. d'Argenson, and the war, then carrying on, both by sea and land,
rendered the dismissal of two such Ministers extremely imprudent. This
was the universal opinion at the time.
Many people talk of the letter of the Comte d'Argenson to Madame
d'Esparbes. I give it, according to the most correct version:
"The doubtful is, at length, decided. The Keeper of the Seals is
dismissed. You will be recalled, my dear Countess, and we shall be
masters of the field."
It is much less generally known that Arboulin, whom Madame calls Bou-bou,
was supposed to be the person who, on the very day of the dismissal of
the Keeper of the Seals, bribed the Count's confidential courier, who
gave him this letter. Is this report founded on truth? I cannot swear
that it is; but it is asserted that the letter is written in the Count's
style. Besides, who could so immediately have invented it? It, however,
appeared certain, from the extreme displeasure of the King, that he had
some other subject of complaint against M. d'Argenson, besides his
refusing to be reconciled with Madame. Nobody dares to show the
slightest attachment to the disgraced Minister. I asked the ladies who
were most intimate with Madame de Pompadour, as well as my own friends,
what they knew of the matter; but they knew nothing. I can understand
why Madame did not let them into her confidence at that moment. She will
be less reserved in time. I care very little about it, since I see that
she is well, and appears happy.
The King said a thing, which did him honour, to a person whose name
Madame withheld from me. A nobleman, who had been a most assiduous
courtier of the Count, said, rubbing his hands with an air of great joy,
"I have just seen the Comte d'Argenson's baggage set out." When the King
heard him, he went up to Madame, shrugged his shoulders, and said, "And
immediately the cock crew."
"I believe this is taken from Scripture, where Peter denies Our Lord. I
confess, this circumstance gave me great pleasure. It showed that the
King is not the dupe of those around him, and that he hates treachery and
ingratitude."
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A liar ought to have a good memory
Because he is fat, he is thought dull and heavy
Danger of confiding the administration to noblemen
Do not repulse him in his fond moments
He who quits the field loses it
Money the universal lever, and you are in want of it
Offering you the spectacle of my miseries
Sentiment is more prompt, and inspires me with fear
Sworn that she had thought of nothing but you all her life
To despise money, is to despise happiness, liberty...
We look upon you as a cat, or a dog, and go on talking
When the only security of a King rests upon his troops
You tell me bad news: having packed up, I had rather go