Book: The Secret Memoirs of Louis XV./XVI, Complete

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Madame de Pompadour had many vexations in the midst of all her grandeur.
She often received anonymous letters, threatening her with poison or
assassination: her greatest fear, however, was that of being supplanted
by a rival. I never saw her in a greater agitation than, one evening, on
her return from the drawing-room at Marly. She threw down her cloak and
muff, the instant she came in, with an air of ill-humour, and undressed
herself in a hurried manner. Having dismissed her other women, she said
to me, "I think I never saw anybody so insolent as Madame de Coaslin. I
was seated at the same table with her this evening, at a game of
'brelan', and you cannot imagine what I suffered. The men and women
seemed to come in relays to watch us. Madame de Coaslin said two or
three times, looking at me, 'Va tout', in the most insulting manner. I
thought I should have fainted, when she said, in a triumphant tone, I
have the 'brelan' of kings. I wish you had seen her courtesy to me on
parting."--"Did the King," said I, "show her particular attention?" "You
don't know him," said she; "if he were going to lodge her this very night
in my apartment, he would behave coldly to her before people, and would
treat me with the utmost kindness. This is the effect of his education,
for he is, by nature, kind-hearted and frank." Madame de Pompadour's
alarms lasted for some months, when she, one day, said to me, "That
haughty Marquise has missed her aim; she frightened the King by her grand
airs, and was incessantly teasing him for money. Now you, perhaps, may
not know that the King would sign an order for forty thousand LOUIS
without a thought, and would give a hundred out of his little private
treasury with the greatest reluctance. Lebel, who likes me better than
he would a new mistress in my place, either by chance or design had
brought a charming little sultana to the Parc-aux-cerfs, who has cooled
the King a little towards the haughty Vashti, by giving him occupation,
has received a hundred thousand francs, some jewels, and an estate.
Jannette--[The Intendant of Police.]--has rendered me great service, by
showing the King extracts from the letters broken open at the
post-office, concerning the report that Madame de Coaslin was coming into
favour: The King was much impressed by a letter from an old counsellor of
the Parliament, who wrote to one of his friends as follows: 'It is quite
as reasonable that the King should have a female friend and
confidante--as that we, in our several degrees, should so indulge
ourselves; but it is desirable that he should keep the one he has; she
is gentle, injures nobody, and her fortune is made. The one who is now
talked of will be as haughty as high birth can make her. She must have
an allowance of a million francs a year, since she is said to be
excessively extravagant; her relations must be made Dukes, Governors of
provinces, and Marshals, and, in the end, will surround the King, and
overawe the Ministers.'"

Madame de Pompadour had this passage, which had been sent to her by M.
Jannette, the Intendant of the Police, who enjoyed the King's entire
confidence. He had carefully watched the King's look, while he read the
letter, and he saw that the arguments of this counsellor, who was not a
disaffected person, made a great impression upon him. Some time
afterwards, Madame de Pompadour said to me, "The haughty Marquise behaved
like Mademoiselle Deschamps, and she is turned off."

[A courtesan, distinguished for her charms, and still more so for an
extraordinary proof of patriotism. At a time when the public Treasury
was exhausted, Mademoiselle Deschamps sent all her plate to the Mint.
Louis XIV. boasted of this act of generous devotion to her country. The
Duc d'Ayen made it the subject of a pleasantry, which detracted nothing
from the merit of the sacrifice--but which is rather too gay for us to
venture upon.]

This was not Madame's only subject of alarm. A relation of Madame
d'Estrades, wife to the Marquis de C----, had made the most pointed
advances to the King, much more than were necessary for a man who justly
thought himself the handsomest man in France, and who was, moreover, a
King.

[The Comtesse d'Estrades, a relative of M. Normand, and a flatterer of
Madame de Pompadour, who brought her to Court, was secretly in the pay of
the Comte d'Argenson. That Minister, who did not disdain la Fillon, from
whom he extracted useful information, knew all that passed at the Court
of the favourite, by means of Madame d'Estrades, whose ingratitude and
perfidiousness he liberally paid.]

He was perfectly persuaded that every woman would yield to the slightest
desire he might deign to manifest. He, therefore, thought it a mere
matter of course that women fell in love with him. M. de Stainville had
a hand in marring the success of that intrigue; and, soon afterwards,
the Marquise de C-----, who was confined to her apartments at Marly, by
her relations, escaped through a closet to a rendezvous, and was caught
with a young man in a corridor. The Spanish Ambassador, coming out of
his apartments with flambeaux, was the person who witnessed this scene.
Madame d'Estrades affected to know nothing of her cousin's intrigues,
and kept up an appearance of the tenderest attachment to Madame de
Pompadour, whom she was habitually betraying. She acted as spy for M.
d'Argenson, in the cabinets, and in Madame de Pompadour's apartments;
and, when she could discover nothing, she had recourse to her invention,
in order that she might not lose her importance with her lover. This
Madame d'Estrades owed her whole existence to the bounties of Madame,
and yet, ugly as she was, she had tried to get the King away from her.
One day, when he, had got rather drunk at Choisy (I think, the only time
that, ever happened to him), he went on board a beautiful barge, whither
Madame, being ill of an indigestion, could not accompany him. Madame
d'Estrades seized this opportunity. She got into the barge, and, on
their return, as it was dark, she followed the King into a private
closet, where he was believed to be sleeping on a couch, and there went
somewhat beyond any ordinary advances to him. Her account of the matter
to Madame was, that she had gone into the closet upon her own affairs,
and that the King, had followed her, and had tried to ravish her. She
was at full liberty to make what story she pleased, for the King knew
neither what he had said, nor what he had done. I shall finish this
subject by a short history concerning a young lady. I had been, one
day, to the theatre at Compiegne. When I returned, Madame asked me
several questions about the play; whether there was much company, and
whether I did not see a very beautiful girl. I replied, "That there
was, indeed, a girl in a box near mine, who was surrounded by all the
young men about the Court." She smiled, and said, "That is Mademoiselle
Dorothee; she went, this evening, to see the King sup in public, and
to-morrow she is to be taken to the hunt. You are surprised to find me
so well informed, but I know a great deal more about her. She was
brought here by a Gascon, named Dubarre or Dubarri, who is the greatest
scoundrel in France. He founds all his hopes of advancement on
Mademoiselle Dorothee's charms, which he thinks the King cannot resist.
She is, really, very beautiful.. She was pointed out to me in my little
garden, whither she was taken to walk on purpose. She is the daughter
of a water-carrier, at Strasbourg, and her charming lover demands to be
sent Minister to Cologne, as a beginning."--"Is it possible, Madame,
that you can have been rendered uneasy by such a creature as
that?"--"Nothing is impossible," replied she; "though I think the King
would scarcely dare to give such a scandal. Besides, happily, Lebel, to
quiet his conscience, told the King that the beautiful Dorothee's lover
is infected with a horrid disease;" and, added he, "Your Majesty would
not get rid of that as you have done of the scrofula." This was quite
enough to keep the young lady at a distance.

"I pity you sincerely, Madame," said I, "while everybody else envies
you." "Ah!" replied she, "my life is that of the Christian, a perpetual
warfare. This was not the case with the woman who enjoyed the favour of
Louis XIV. Madame de La Valliere suffered herself to be deceived by
Madame de Montespan, but it was her own fault, or, rather, the effect of
her extreme good nature. She was entirely devoid of suspicion at first,
because she could not believe her friend perfidious. Madame de
Montespan's empire was shaken by Madame de Fontanges, and overthrown by
Madame de Maintenon; but her haughtiness, her caprices, had already
alienated the King. He had not, however, such rivals as mine; it is
true, their baseness is my security. I have, in general, little to fear
but casual infidelities, and the chance that they may not all be
sufficiently transitory for my safety. The King likes variety, but he is
also bound by habit; he fears eclats, and detests manoeuvring women. The
little Marechale (de Mirepoig) one day said to me, 'It is your staircase
that the King loves; he is accustomed to go up and down it. But, if he
found another woman to whom he could talk of hunting and business as he
does to you, it would be just the same to him in three days.'"

I write without plan, order, or date, just as things come into my mind;
and I shall now go to the Abbe de Bernis, whom I liked very much, because
he was good-natured, and treated me kindly. One day, just as Madame de
Pompadour had finished dressing, M. de Noailles asked to speak to her in
private. I, accordingly, retired. The Count looked full of important
business. I heard their conversation, as there was only the door between
us.

"A circumstance has taken place," said he, "which I think it my duty to
communicate to the King; but I would not do so without first informing
you of it, since it concerns one of your friends for whom I have the
utmost regard and respect. The Abbe de Bernis had a mind to shoot, this
morning, and went, with two or three of his people, armed with guns, into
the little park, where the Dauphin would not venture to shoot without
asking the King's permission. The guards, surprised at hearing the
report of guns, ran to the spot, and were greatly astonished at the sight
of M. de Bernis. They very respectfully asked to see his permission,
when they found, to their astonishment, that he had none. They begged of
him to desist, telling him that, if they did their duty, they should
arrest him; but they must, at all events, instantly acquaint me with the
circumstance, as Ranger of the Park of Versailles. They added, that the
King must have heard the firing, and that they begged of him to retire.
The Abbe apologized, on the score of ignorance, and assured them that he
had my permission. 'The Comte de Noailles,' said they, 'could only grant
permission to shoot in the more remote parts, and in the great park.'"
The Count made a great merit of his eagerness to give the earliest
information to Madame. She told him to leave the task of communicating
it to the King to her, and begged of him to say nothing about the matter.
M. de Marigny, who did not like the Abbe, came to see me in the evening;
and I affected to know nothing of the story, and to hear it for the first
time from him. "He must have been out of his senses," said he, "to shoot
under the King's windows,"--and enlarged much on the airs he gave
himself. Madame de Pompadour gave this affair the best colouring she
could the King was, nevertheless, greatly disgusted at it, and twenty
times, since the Abbe's disgrace, when he passed over that part of the
park, he said, "This is where the Abbe took his pleasure." The King
never liked him; and Madame de Pompadour told me one night, after his
disgrace, when I was sitting up with her in her illness, that she saw,
before he had been Minister a week, that he was not fit for his office.
"If that hypocritical Bishop," said she, speaking of the Bishop of
Mirepoix, "had not prevented the King from granting him a pension of four
hundred louis a year, which he had promised me, he would never have been
appointed Ambassador. I should, afterwards, have been able to give him
an income of eight hundred louis a year, perhaps the place of master of
the chapel. Thus he would have been happier, and I should have had
nothing to regret." I took the liberty of saying that I did not agree
with her. That he had yet remaining advantages, of which he could not be
deprived; that his exile would terminate; and that he would then be a
Cardinal, with an income of eight thousand louis a year. "That is true,"
she replied; "but I think of the mortifications he has undergone, and of
the ambition which devours him; and, lastly, I think of myself. I should
have still enjoyed his society, and should have had, in my declining
years, an old and amiable friend, if he had not been Minister." The King
sent him away in anger, and was strongly inclined to refuse him the hat.
M. Quesnay told me, some months afterwards, that the Abbe wanted to be
Prime Minister; that he had drawn up a memorial, setting forth that in
difficult crises the public good required that there should be a central
point (that was his expression), towards which everything should be
directed. Madame de Pompadour would not present the memorial; he
insisted, though she said to him, "You will rain yourself." The King
cast his eyes over it, and said "'central point,'--that is to say
himself, he wants to be Prime Minister." Madame tried to apologize for
him, and said, "That expression might refer to the Marechal de
Belle-Isle."--"Is he not just about to be made Cardinal?" said the King.
"This is a fine manoeuvre; he knows well enough that, by means of that
dignity, he would compel the Ministers to assemble at his house, and then
M. l'Abbe would be the central point. Wherever there is a Cardinal in
the council, he is sure, in the end, to take the lead. Louis XIV., for
this reason, did not choose to admit the Cardinal de Janson into the
council, in spite of his great esteem for him. The Cardinal de Fleury
told me the same thing. He had some desire that the Cardinal de Tencin
should succeed him; but his sister was such an intrigante that Cardinal
de Fleury advised me to have nothing to do with the matter, and I behaved
so as to destroy all his hopes, and to undeceive others. M. d'Argenson
has strongly impressed me with the same opinion, and has succeeded in
destroying all my respect for him." This is what the King said,
according to my friend Quesnay, who, by the bye, was a great genius, as
everybody said, and a very lively, agreeable man. He liked to chat with
me about the country. I had been bred up there, and he used to set me a
talking about the meadows of Normandy and Poitou, the wealth of the
farmers, and the modes of culture. He was the best-natured man in the
world, and the farthest removed from petty intrigue. While he lived at
Court, he was much more occupied with the best manner of cultivating land
than with anything that passed around him. The man whom he esteemed the
most was M. de la Riviere, a Counsellor of Parliament, who was also
Intendant of Martinique; he looked upon him as a man of the greatest
genius, and thought him the only person fit for the financial department
of administration.

The Comtesse d'Estrades, who owed everything to Madame de Pompadour, was
incessantly intriguing against her. She was clever enough to destroy all
proofs of her manoeuvres, but she could not so easily prevent suspicion.
Her intimate connection with M. d'Argenson gave offence to Madame, and,
for some time, she was more reserved with her. She, afterwards, did a
thing which justly irritated the King and Madame. The King, who wrote a
great deal, had written to Madame de Pompadour a long letter concerning
an assembly of the Chambers of Parliament, and had enclosed a letter of
M. Berrien. Madame was ill, and laid those letters on a little table by
her bedside. M. de Gontaut came in, and gossipped about trifles, as
usual. Madame d'Amblimont also came, and stayed but very little time.
Just as I was going to resume a book which I had been reading to Madame,
the Comtesse d'Estrades entered, placed herself near Madame's bed, and
talked to her for some time. As soon as she was gone, Madame called me,
asked what was o'clock, and said, "Order my door to be shut, the King
will soon be here." I gave the order, and returned; and Madame told me
to give her the King's letter, which was on the table with some other
papers. I gave her the papers, and told her there was nothing else. She
was very uneasy at not finding the letter, and, after enumerating the
persons who had been in the room, she said, "It cannot be the little
Countess, nor Gontaut, who has taken this letter. It can only be the
Comtesse d'Estrades;--and that is too bad." The King came, and was
extremely angry, as Madame told me. Two days afterwards, he sent Madame
d'Estrades into exile. There was no doubt that she took the letter; the
King's handwriting had probably awakened her curiosity. This occurrence
gave great pain to M. d'Argenson, who was bound to her, as Madame de
Pompadour said, by his love of intrigue. This redoubled his hatred of
Madame, and she accused him of favouring the publication of a libel, in
which she was represented as a worn-out mistress, reduced to the vile
occupation of providing new objects to please her lover's appetite. She
was characterised as superintendent of the Parc-aux-cerfs, which was said
to cost hundreds of thousands of louis a year. Madame de Pompadour did,
indeed, try to conceal some of the King's weaknesses, but she never knew
one of the sultanas of that seraglio. There were, however, scarcely ever
more than two at once, and often only one. When they married, they
received some jewels, and four thousand louis. The Parc-aux-cerfs was
sometimes vacant for five or six months. I was surprised, some time
after, at seeing the Duchesse de Luynes, Lady of Honour to the Queen,
come privately to see Madame de Pompadour. She afterwards came openly.
One evening, after Madame was in bed, she called me, and said, "My dear,
you will be delighted; the Queen has given me the place of Lady of the
Palace; tomorrow I am to be presented to her: you must make me look
well." I knew that the King was not so well pleased at this as she was;
he was afraid that it would give rise to scandal, and that it might be
thought he had forced this nomination upon the Queen. He had, however,
done no such thing. It had been represented to the Queen that it was an
act of heroism on her part to forget the past; that all scandal would be
obliterated when Madame de Pompadour was seen to belong to the Court in
an honourable manner; and that it would be the best proof that nothing
more than friendship now subsisted between the King and the favourite.
The Queen received her very graciously. The devotees flattered
themselves they should be protected by Madame, and, for some time, were
full of her praises. Several of the Dauphin's friends came in private to
see her, and some obtained promotion. The Chevalier du Muy, however,
refused to come. The King had the greatest possible contempt for them,
and granted them nothing with a good grace. He, one day, said of a man
of great family, who wished to be made Captain of the Guards, "He is a
double spy, who wants to be paid on both sides." This was the moment at
which Madame de Pompadour seemed to me to enjoy the most complete
satisfaction. The devotees came to visit her without scruple, and did
not forget to make use of every opportunity of serving themselves. Madame
de Lu----- had set them the example. The Doctor laughed at this change
in affairs, and was very merry at the expense of the saints. "You must
allow, however, that they are consistent," said I, "and may be sincere."
"Yes," said he; "but then they should not ask for anything."

One day, I was at Doctor Quesnay's, whilst Madame de Pompadour was at
the theatre. The Marquis de Mirabeau came in, and the conversation was,
for some time, extremely tedious to me, running entirely on 'net
produce'; at length, they talked of other things.

[The author of "L'Ami des Hommes," one of the leaders of the sect of
Economistes, and father of the celebrated Mirabeau. After the death of
Quesnay, the Grand Master of the Order, the Marquis de Mirabeau was
unanimously elected his successor. Mirabeau was not deficient in a
certain enlargement of mind, nor in acquirements, nor even in patriotism;
but his writings are enthusiastical, and show that he had little more
than glimpses of the truth. The Friend of Man was the enemy of all his
family. He beat his servants, and did not pay them. The reports of the
lawsuit with his wife, in 1775, prove that this philosopher possessed, in
the highest possible degree, all the anti-conjugal qualities. It is said
that his eldest son wrote two contradictory depositions, and was paid by
both sides.]

Mirabeau said, "I think the King looks ill, he grows old."--"So much the
worse, a thousand times so much the worse," said Quesnay; "it would be
the greatest possible loss to France if he died;" and he raised his
hands, and sighed deeply. "I do not doubt that you are attached to the
King, and with reason," said Mirabeau: "I am attached to him too; but I
never saw you so much moved."--"Ah!" said Quesnay, "I think of what would
follow."--"Well, the Dauphin is virtuous."--"Yes; and full of good
intentions; nor is he deficient in understanding; but canting hypocrites
would possess an absolute empire over a Prince who regards them as
oracles. The Jesuits would govern the kingdom, as they did at the end of
Louis XIV.'s reign: and you would see the fanatical Bishop of Verdun
Prime Minister, and La Vauguyon all-powerful under some other title. The
Parliaments must then mind how they behave; they will not be better
treated than my friends the philosophers."--"But they go too far," said
Mirabeau; "why openly attack religion?"--"I allow that," replied the
Doctor; "but how is it possible not to be rendered indignant by the
fanaticism of others, and by recollecting all the blood that has flowed
during the last two hundred years? You must not then again irritate
them, and revive in France the time of Mary in England. But what is done
is done, and I often exhort them to be moderate; I wish they would follow
the example of our friend Duclos."--"You are right," replied Mirabeau;
"he said to me a few days ago, 'These philosophers are going on at such a
rate that they will force me to go to vespers and high mass;' but, in
fine, the Dauphin is virtuous, well-informed, and intellectual."--"It is
the commencement of his reign, I fear," said Quesnay, "when the imprudent
proceedings of our friends will be represented to him in the most
unfavourable point of view; when the Jansenists and Molinists will make
common cause, and be strongly supported by the Dauphine. I thought that
M. de Muy was moderate, and that he would temper the headlong fury of the
others; but I heard him say that Voltaire merited condign punishment. Be
assured, sir, that the times of John Huss and Jerome of Prague will
return; but I hope not to live to see it. I approve of Voltaire having
hunted down the Pompignans: were it not for the ridicule with which he
covered them, that bourgeois Marquis would have been preceptor to the
young Princes, and, aided by his brother, would have succeeded in again
lighting the faggots of persecution."--"What ought to give you confidence
in the Dauphin," said Mirabeau, "is, that, notwithstanding the devotion
of Pompignan, he turns him into ridicule. A short time back, seeing him
strutting about with an air of inflated pride, he said to a person, who
told it to me, 'Our friend Pompignan thinks that he is something.'" On
returning home, I wrote down this conversation.

I, one day, found Quesnay in great distress. "Mirabeau," said he, "is
sent to Vincennes, for his work on taxation. The Farmers General have
denounced him, and procured his arrest; his wife is going to throw
herself at the feet of Madame de Pompadour to-day." A few minutes
afterwards, I went into Madame's apartment, to assist at her toilet, and
the Doctor came in. Madame said to him, "You must be much concerned at
the disgrace of your friend Mirabeau. I am sorry for it too, for I like
his brother." Quesnay replied, "I am very far from believing him to be
actuated by bad intentions, Madame; he loves the King and the people."
"Yes," said she; "his 'Ami des Hommes' did him great honour." At this
moment the Lieutenant of Police entered, and Madame said to him, "Have
you seen M. de Mirabeau's book?"--"Yes, Madame; but it was not I who
denounced it?"--"What do you think of it?"--"I think he might have said
almost all it contains with impunity, if he had been more circumspect as
to the manner; there is, among other objectionable passages, this, which
occurs at the beginning: Your Majesty has about twenty millions of
subjects; it is only by means of money that you can obtain their
services, and there is no money."--"What, is there really that, Doctor?"
said Madame. "It is true, they are the first lines in the book, and I
confess that they are imprudent; but, in reading the work, it is clear
that he laments that patriotism is extinct in the hearts of his
fellow-citizens, and that he desires to rekindle it." The King entered:
we went out, and I wrote down on Quesnay's table what I had just heard.
I them returned to finish dressing Madame de Pompadour: she said to me,
"The King is extremely angry with Mirabeau; but I tried to soften him,
and so did the Lieutenant of Police. This will increase Quesnay's fears.
Do you know what he said to me to-day? The King had been talking to him
in my room, and the Doctor appeared timid and agitated. After the King
was gone, I said to him, 'You always seem so embarrassed in the King's
presence, and yet he is so good-natured.'--'I Madame,' said he, 'I left
my native village at the age of forty, and I have very little experience
of the world, nor can I accustom myself to its usages without great
difficulty. When I am in a room with the King, I say to myself, This is
a man who can order my head to be cut off; and that idea embarrasses
me.'--'But do not the King's justice and kindness set you at
ease?'--'That is very true in reasoning,' said he; 'but the sentiment is
more prompt, and inspires me with fear before I have time to say to
myself all that is calculated to allay it.'"

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