"But," I said, "that insolent Guemenee; has she also to plume herself on your favors as an excuse for overpowering me with her hatred, and for tearing me to pieces in the way she does?"

"No," was the king's answer; "she is wrong, and I will desire her father-in-law to say so."

"And I will come to an explanation with the prince de Soubise on this point; and we will see whether or not I will allow myself to have my throat cut like an unresisting sheep."

I did not fail to keep my word. The prince de Soubise came the next morning; chance on that day induced him to be extraordinarily gallant towards me; never had he praised me so openly, or with so much exaggeration. I allowed him to go on; but when at length he had finished his panegyric, "Monsieur le marechal," said I to him, "you are overflowing with kindness towards me, and I wish that all the members of your family would treat me with the same indulgence."

Like a real courtier he pretended not to understand me, and made no reply, hoping, no doubt, that the warmth of conversation would lead me to some other subject; but this one occupied me too fully to allow me to divert my attention from it; and, seeing that he continued silent, I continued, "madame your daughter-in-law behaves towards me like a declared enemy; she a.s.sails me by all sorts of provocation, and at last will so act, that I shall find myself compelled to struggle against her with open force."

You must be a courtier, you must have been in the presence of a king who is flattered from morning to night in all his caprices, to appreciate the frightful state in which my direct attack placed the prince de Soubise. Neither his political instinct, nor the tone of pleasantry which he essayed to a.s.sume, nor the more dangerous resource of offended dignity, could extricate him from the embarra.s.sment in which he was thrown by my words. He could do nothing but stammer out a few unintelligible phrases; and his confusion was so great and so visible, that the marquis de Chauvelin, his not over sincere friend, came to his a.s.sistance. The king, equally surprised at what I had just said, hastily turned and spoke to Chon, who told me afterwards, that the astonishment of Louis XV had been equal to that of the prince de Soubise, and that he had evinced it by the absence of mind which he had manifested in his discourse and manners.

M. de Chauvelin then turning towards me, said, "Well, madame, on what evil herb have you walked to-day? Can it be possible that you would make the prince, who is your friend, responsible for the hatred which ought to be flattering rather than painful to you, since it is a homage exacted towards your brilliant loveliness?"

"In the first place," I replied, "I have no intention to cast on monsieur le marechal, whom I love with all my heart, the least responsibility relative to the object of which I complain. I only wished to evince to him the regret I experienced at not seeing all the members of his family like him: this is all. I should be in despair if I thought I had said anything that would wound him; and if I have done so, I most sincerely ask his pardon."

On saying these words I presented my hand to the prince, who instantly kissed it.

"You are," said he, "at the same time cruel and yet most amiable: but if you have the painful advantage of growing old at court, you will learn that my children have not all the deference and respect towards me which they owe to their father; and I often am pained to see them act in a manner entirely opposite to my desires, however openly manifested. If my daughter does not love you, it is to me, most probably, that you must look for the why and wherefore: it is because I love you so much that she is against you. I have committed an error in praising you before her, and her jealousy was not proof against it."

"That is very amiable in you," said I; "and now whatever may be my feelings against the princesse de Guemenee, I will endeavor to dissemble it out of regard for you; and, I a.s.sure you, that however little consideration your daughter-in-law may testify towards me, I will show her a fair side: endeavor to make peace between us. I only ask to be let alone, for I do not seek to become the enemy of any person."

Altho' M. de Soubise said that he had no influence over the princesse de Guemenee, I learned, subsequently, that the day after this scene he testified to the Guemenee some fears as to his future destiny at court. He begged her not to oppose herself to me; to be silent with respect to me, and to keep herself somewhat in the shade if she would not make some advances towards me. His daughter-in-law, whose arrogance equalled her dissipation and dissolute manners, replied, that she was too much above a woman of my sort to fear or care for me; that my reign at the chateau would be but brief, whilst hers would only terminate with her life: that she would never consent to an act of weakness that would be derogatory to her character and rank. In vain did the prince try to soften her, and make her consider that my influence over the king was immense: he preached to the desert, and was compelled to abandon his purpose without getting any thing by his endeavors.

I now return to my conversation with him. During the time it lasted the king did not cease talking to Chon, all the time listening with attention to what the prince and I were saying; and he did not approach us until the intervention of M. de Chauvelin had terminated this kind of a quarrel. He returned to his seat in front of the fire; and when we were alone, said to me,

"You have been very spiteful to the poor marechal, and I suffered for him."

"You are an excellent friend; and, no doubt, it is the affection you bear to M. de Soubise which makes you behave so harshly to me. Can I not, without displeasing you, defend myself when I am attacked?"

"I did not say so; but is it necessary that he must be responsible for the follies of his relations?"

"In truth, sire, so much the worse for the father who cannot make his children respect him. If the marechal was respected by the public, believe me he would be so by his family."

This retort was perhaps too severe. I found this by the silence of the king; but as, in fact, it imported little, and, by G.o.d's help, I was never under much constraint with him, I saw him blush, and then he said to me,

"Now, I undertake to bring madame de Guemenee into proper order. The favor I ask is, that you would not meddle. I have power enough to satisfy you, but, for heaven's sake, do not enter into more quarrels than you have already. It seems to me that you ought to avoid them instead of creating such disturbances."

He had a.s.sumed a grave tone in reading me this lecture: but as we were in a place in which majesty could not be committed, I began to laugh heartily, and to startle him, I said that henceforward I would pilot my bark myself, and defend myself by openly a.s.sailing all persons who testified an aversion to me. How laughable it was to see the comic despair in which this determination threw the king. It seemed to him that the whole court would be at loggerheads; and he could not restrain himself from exclaiming, that he would a hundred times rather struggle against the king of Prussia and the emperor of Germany united, than against three or four females of the chateau. In a word, I frightened him so completely, that he decided on the greatest act of courage he had ever essayed in my favor: it was, to desire the intervention of the duc de Choiseul in all these quarrels.

The credit of this minister was immense, and this credit was based on four powerful auxiliaries; namely the parliament, the philosophers, the literati, and the women. The high magistracy found in him a public and private protector. The parliaments had themselves a great many clients, and their voices, given to the duc de Choiseul, gave him great power in the different provinces. The philosophers, ranged under the banner of Voltaire, who was their G.o.d, and of d'Alembert, their patriarch, knew all his inclinations for them, and knew how far they might rely on his support in all attempts which they made to weaken the power of the clergy, and to diminish the gigantic riches which had been ama.s.sed by prelates and monasteries. The writers were equally devoted to him: they progressed with the age, and as on all sides they essayed to effect important reforms, it was natural that they should rally about him in whose hands was the power of their operations.

The ladies admired his gallantry: in fact, the duc de Choiseul was a man who understood marvellously well how to combine serious labors with pleasure. I was, perhaps, the only woman of the court whom he would not love, and yet I was not the least agreeable nor the most ugly. It was very natural for them to exalt his merit and take him under their especial protection. Thus was he supported in every quarter by them; they boasted of his measures, and by dint of repeating in the ears of every body that M. de Choiseul was a minister par excellence, and the support of monarchy, they had contrived to persuade themselves of the truth of their a.s.sertion. In fact, if France found herself freed from the Jesuits, it was to the duc de Choiseul that this was owing, and this paramount benefit a.s.sured to him universal grat.i.tude.

The king was fully aware of this unanimity of public opinion in favor of his minister. He was, besides, persuaded, that in arranging the pacte de famille, and concluding the alliance with the imperial house, the duc de Choiseul had evinced admirable diplomatic talents, and rendered France real, and important, service. His attachment to him was inc.u.mbent, and rested on solid foundations. If, at a subsequent period, he dismissed him, it was because he was deceived by a shameful intrigue which it will cost me pain to develop to you, because I took by far too much a leading part in it, which now causes me the deepest regret.

Now, by the act of my presentation, the duc de Choiseul would be compelled to meet me often, which would render our mutual situation very disagreeable. On this account the king sought to reconcile us, and would have had no difficulty in effecting his wishes had he only had the resistance of the minister and his wife to encounter. The lady had not much influence over her husband, and besides she had too much good sense to struggle against the wishes of the king: but the d.u.c.h.esse de Grammont was there, and this haughty and imperious dame had so great an ascendancy with her brother, and behaved with so little caution, that the most odious reports were in circulation about their intimacy.

It could scarcely be hoped that we could tame this towering spirit, which saw in me an odious rival. Louis XV did not flatter himself that he could effect this prodigy, but he hoped to have a greater ascendancy over his minister. It was to the duc de Choiseul, therefore, that he first addressed himself, desirous of securing the husband and wife before he attacked the redoubtable sister. The next morning, after my warm a.s.sault on the prince de Soubise, he profited by an audience which the duke requested at an unusual hour to introduce this negotiation of a new kind, and the details I give you of this scene are the more faithful, as the king gave them to me still warm immediately after the conversation had terminated.

The state affairs having been concluded, the king, seeking to disguise his voluntary embarra.s.sment, said to the duke, smiling,

"Duc de Choiseul, I have formed for my private hours a most delightful society: the most attached of my subjects consider themselves highly favored when I invite them to these evening parties so necessary for my amus.e.m.e.nt. I see with pain that you have never yet asked me to admit you there."

"Sire," replied the duke, "the multiplicity of the labors with which your majesty has charged me, scarcely allows me time for my pleasures."

"Oh, you are not so fully occupied but that you have still some time to spend with the ladies, and I think that I used to meet you frequently at the marquise de Pompadour's."

"Sire, she was my friend."

"Well, and why, is not the comtesse du Barry? Who has put it into your head that she was opposed to you? You do not know her: she is an excellent woman: not only has she no dislike to you, but even desires nothing more than to be on good terms with you."

"I must believe so since your majesty a.s.sures me of it; but, sire, the vast business with which I am overwhelmed-"

"Is not a sufficing plea; I do not allow that without a special motive, you should declare yourself against a person whom I honor with my protection. As you do not know her, and cannot have any thing to urge against her but prejudices founded on false rumors and scandalous fabrications, I engage you to sup with me at her apartments this evening, and I flatter myself that when I wish it you will not coin a parcel of reasons in opposition to my desire."

"I know the obedience that is due to your majesty," said de Choiseul, bowing low.

"Well, then, do first from duty what I flatter myself you will afterwards do from inclination. Duc de Choiseul, do not allow yourself to be influenced by advice that will prove injurious to you. What I ask cannot compromise you; but I should wish that with you all should be quiet, that no one should struggle against me, and that too with the air of contending against a person's station. Do not reply, you know perfectly what I would say, and I know what belongs to myself."

Here the conversation terminated. The duc de Choiseul did not become my friend any the more, but behaved towards me with all due consideration. He used grace and finesse in his proceedings, without mingling with it anything approaching to nonsense. He never allowed himself, whatever has been said, to dart out in my face any of those epigrams which public malignity has attributed to him. Perhaps like many other persons in the world, he has said many pleasantries of me which have been reported as said in my presence, but I repeat that he never uttered in my society a single word with which I had cause to be offended.

At this juncture I received a letter of which I had the folly to be proud, altho' a little reflection should have made me think that my situation alone inspired it: it was from M. de Voltaire. This great genius was born a courtier. Whether he loved the protection of the great, or whether he thought it necessary to him, he was constantly aiming, from his youth upwards, at obtaining the countenance of persons belonging to a high rank, which made him servile and adulatory whilst they were in power, and full of grimace towards them when the wind favor ceased to swell their sails. It was in this way that mesdames de Chateauroux and de Pompadour had had his homage. He had sung their praises, and, of course, he could not forget me. You will recall to mind the letter which he wrote to the duc d'Aiguillon, on occasion of the piece of poetry ent.i.tled "La Cour du Roi Petaud." He had denied having composed it, but this denial had not been addressed directly to me. Having learnt, no doubt, that my credit was increasing, he thought himself obliged to write to me, that he might rank me with his party. He might have availed himself of the intermediation of the duc d'Aiguillon, but preferred putting the duc de Richelieu into his confidence, and begged him to fulfil the delicate function of literary Mercury. I was alone when the marechal came to me with an a.s.sumed air of mystery. His first care was to look around him without saying a word; and it was not until after he had shaken the curtains, and peeped into every corner of the apartment, that he approached me, who was somewhat surprised at his monkey tricks.

"I am the bearer," he said, in a low voice, "of a secret and important communication, which I have been entreated to deliver after five or six hundred cautions at least: it is a, defection from the enemy's camp, and not the least in value."

Fully occupied by my quarrel with the ladies of the court, I imagined that he had brought me a message of peace from some great lady; and, full of this idea, I asked him in haste the name of her whose friendship I had acquired.

"Good," said he, "it is about a lady, is it? It is from a personage fully as important, a giant in power, whose words resound from one extremity of Europe to another, and whom the Choiseuls believe their own entirely." "It is M. de Voltaire," I said.

"Exactly so: your perspicacity has made you guess it." "But what does he want with me?"

"To be at peace with you; to range himself under your banner, secretly at first, but afterwards openly."

"Is he then afraid openly to evince himself my friend?" I replied, in a tone of some pique.

"Rather so, and yet you must not feel offended at that. The situation of this sarcastic and talented old man is very peculiar; his unquiet petulance incessantly gives birth to fresh perils. He, of necessity, must make friends in every quarter, left and right, in France and foreign countries. The necessary consequence is, that he cannot follow a straight path. The Choiseuls have served him with perfect zeal: do not be astonished if he abandon them when they can no longer serve him. If they fall, he will bid them good evening, and will sport your c.o.c.kade openly."

"But," I replied, "this is a villainous character."

"Ah, I do not pretend to introduce to you an Aristides or an Epaminondas, or any other soul of similar stamp. He is a man of letters, full of wit, a deep thinker, a superior genius, and our reputations are in his hands. If he flatters us, posterity will know it; if he laugh at us, it will know it also. I counsel you therefore to use him well, if you would have him behave so towards you."

"I will act conformably to your advice," said I to the marechal; "at the same time I own to you that I fear him like a firebrand."

"I, like you, think that there is in him something of the infernal stone: he burns you on the slightest touch. But now, to this letter; you will see what he says to you. He begs me most particularly to conceal from every body the step he has taken with you. What he most dreads is, lest you should proclaim from the housetops that he is in correspondence with you. I conjure you, on his behalf, to exercise the greatest discretion, and I think that you are interested in doing so; for, if what he has done should be made public, he will not fail to exercise upon you the virulence of his biting wit."

Our conversation was interrupted by a stir which we heard in the chateau, and which announced to us the king. The marechal hastily desired me not to show Voltaire's letter to the king until I had read it previously to myself. "He does not like this extraordinary man," he added, "and accuses him of having failed in respect, and perhaps you will find in this paper some expression which may displease him."

Scarcely had I put the epistle in my pocket, when the king entered.