Memoirs of the Comtesse Du Barry Part 26

"Are you quite sure of that?" inquired the king, in a serious tone.

"But what signifies," said I, "whether he be dead or alive? I entreat of you to bestow upon me this proof of your confidence. Who of all those who have spoken of him have told the truth?"

"n.o.body; but Voltaire has approached it more nearly than any one else."

After this partial confession the king implored of me to change the conversation, which I could easily perceive was extremely disagreeable to him. Nevertheless, it seemed to me quite clear, that this celebrated person belonged to the royal family, but by what t.i.tle I could not devise. It was in vain that I afterwards revived the subject; not even during the most tender confidences could I obtain the information I desired. Possibly had I lived with him some years more I might have succeeded in drawing from him all he knew respecting the object of my curiosity. Old men, like children, can conceal nothing from those they love, and who have obtained over them an influence they willingly submit to.

Before I proceed to more important events, I would fain speak of persons with whom I lived before my elevation. My G.o.dfather, M. Billard du Monceau, was still living, as well as madame Lagarde, with whom I had resided as companion. My interview with the former is well known; and the authors of "Anecdotes of My Life," published thirteen years since, have strictly adhered to the truth, with the exception of some vulgarisms they have put into the mouth of that excellent man which he never uttered.

As to madame Lagarde, she was strangely surprised to see me arrive at her house; and the evident embarra.s.sment my presence occasioned her was a sufficient revenge on my part for the many unkind things she had said and done respecting me. I would not prolong her uncomfortable situation, but studied to conduct myself with the same unaffected simplicity of former days. I talked over the past, inquired after her family, and offered my best services and protection without malice for what was gone by, and with perfect sincerity for the future. But spite of all my endeavors to spare her feelings, it was evident that rage and humiliation at the advantage my altered fortunes gave me over her, struggled within her, and the conflict of her mind was but too plainly depicted in her countenance. However, that was the least of my troubles; I soon restored her to comparative calmness; and before I quitted her, made her promise she would come and see me.

She would gladly have evaded this request; but her son, the master of requests, who sufficiently misjudged me to fear my resentment, and who possessed great influence over her, induced her to present herself at my house. She accordingly came to call upon me, with a mind bursting with spite and jealousy; yet she choked down her angry pa.s.sions, and so far humbled herself, as to entreat my pardon for her own sake and that of her family, for all her unkindness towards me. I would not allow her to finish; "Madame," said I, "I only allow agreeable recollections to find a place in my memory; had I entertained the slightest resentment against either you or yours, you may be quite certain I should not have again entered your dwelling; and I again repeat the offer I made the other day, of gladly seizing the first opportunity of being useful to you."

Each of these words expressive of the kindest feelings towards her was like the stab of a poniard. She, however, extolled them with the most exaggerated praise, imploring me to believe how deeply she regretted her behavior, and talked so long and so much about it, that when she quitted me, it was with the most certain impression on my mind, that in her I possessed a most violent and implacable enemy, and in this conclusion I was quite correct. M. Dudelay, her son, had the effrontery to request to be presented to me, and charged the excellent M. de Laborde to make known his wishes to me. I begged he would inform M. Dudelay, that I admitted into the circle of my acquaintance only such as were known to the king; and that if he thought proper to apply to his majesty, I should obey his royal will on the subject, whatever it might be. He justly considered this repulse as a biting raillery, for which he never forgave me. I entertained no ill will against him for his past perfidy, but I considered it strange that he should presume to approach me with familiarity. I should not have adopted the same line of conduct towards the farmer-general, his brother, who, less a.s.suming, contented himself with a.s.suring me of his devotion, and the sincere regret with which he contemplated the past, without ever seeking to introduce himself into my presence.

CHAPTER XXII

The chevalier de la Morliere-Portrait of the duc de Choiseul-The duc de Choiseul and the comtesse du Barry-No reconciliation effected-Madame du Barry and the duc d'Aiguillon-Madame du Barry and Louis XV

About this period I received a piece of attention, any thing but gratifying if considered in a strictly honourable sense. The contemptible chevalier de la Morliere, who detested me, and subsequently pursued me with rage, presumed to dedicate to me some wretched collection of his compositions, and I had the weakness to accept the dedication; I had even the still greater folly to receive its author at my house; this piece of condescension injured me greatly. Until that period I had not, like madame de Pompadour, shown myself the protectress and patroness of men of letters; and even my warmest friends could not deny, that in stepping forwards as the encourager of literature, I had made a very unfortunate choice in selecting the chevalier de la Morliere as the first object of my patronage. But how could I have done otherwise? The prince de Soubise, who found this man serviceable upon many occasions, would have sacrificed any thing to promote his advancement; and I have been a.s.sured, that had the marechal taken half the pains on the day previous to the battle of Rasbach, we should not have left it so disgracefully.

The king well knew the unfortunate chevalier for a man as dest.i.tute of modesty as merit; when therefore he saw his book upon the mantel-piece of my drawing-room, he said,

"So! you are the inspiring muse of the chevalier de la Morliere; I only warn you, when the day comes for him to be hanged, not to ask me to pardon him."

"Be a.s.sured," replied I, "that I will never deprive the Place de Greve of one so formed to do honour to it."

In fact, the chevalier was within an ace of reaching it before his friends antic.i.p.ated; for, very shortly after this conversation, he was guilty of the most detestable piece of knavery I ever heard of. He learned that an unfortunate young man from the country, into whose confidence he had wormed himself, was to receive 15,000 livres on his father's account; he invited him to supper, and, by the aid of two villains like himself, stripped him of his last sous. Not satisfied with this, he wrote the father such an exaggerated account of his son's loss and general bad habits, that the enraged and irritated parent procured an order to confine his son at Saint Lazare! Did you ever hear of a more infamous and accomplished rogue than my honourable protege? However, I shall give him up to his fate, be it good or bad, and proceed with the relation of my affair with duc de Choiseul.

I had named to madame de l'Hopital the hour at which I could receive the duke. She had requested, in pursuance of her directions, no doubt, that the conversation between us should take place either amidst the groves of Versailles or in the labyrinth of Marly;-the self-love of M. de Choiseul inducing him to desire that this interview should be so contrived, as to wear the air of a mere chance rencontre. To this I would not consent; saying, that it did not suit my pleasure to quit the house; and that when a gentleman solicited the favour of speaking to a lady, it became his business to wait upon her, without expecting she should come in search of him; and, spite of all the arguments of madame de l'Hopital, I persisted in my determination: she had no alternative but to submit, and I awaited the coming of M. de Choiseul on the following day.

The duc de Choiseul possessed a greater reputation than his talents were ent.i.tled to; and his advancement was more attributable to his good powerful a.s.sistants in both philosophers and women; he was a confirmed egotist, yet pa.s.sed for a man who cared little for self. He was quick at matters of business, and he obtained the character of a deep and profound politician. It must, however, be admitted, that he was witty, gallant, and gifted with manners so elegant and fascinating, that they never failed to remove the first unfavourable impression caused by his excessive plainness. The tide of public favour was with him; and, in order to contest it, it required all the influence of a woman, and that woman to be no less than the beloved mistress of the king of France.

He presented himself before me tastefully and magnificently dressed, both look and voice wearing the stamp of high-born pride and haughtiness. Nevertheless, amidst all this pomp, it was evident that he did not entirely feel the ease he a.s.sumed, and that a species of remorse rankled at his heart, spite of the courtier-like gallantry with which he had invested himself.

"Madam," said he, bowing twice most profoundly, "the moment has arrived which I have long most ardently desired."

"The fault has not been mine, my lord," said I, "that it has been delayed until now. My door has never been shut against any visit you might have honoured me with."

"Ah, madam! why have I not known this sooner? Some evil planet ruled my thoughts when it occurred to me that I might not be so happy as to meet with a favourable reception."

"There, my lord, you were indeed in error; for though I might not feel a very tender friendship towards you whilst supposing I had many causes for complaint, I could not refuse you those marks of respect your rank and station ent.i.tle you to receive."

"Then, madam, I may flatter myself that I should have been kindly received?"

"Yes, sir, you would ever have been welcome, but not those belonging to you, for I will be perfectly candid; always excepting the d.u.c.h.esse de Choiseul, for whom I entertain the greatest veneration and respect."

"She is indeed well worthy the exalted opinion you express of her; and had I followed her advice, I should not have been found amongst the ranks of your enemies."

"You confess the fact then, monsieur le duc?" said I.

"I trust, madam, you will not take advantage of an inadvertent expression to turn it against myself. What I fear is, that without ever having been your enemy, I may have pa.s.sed for such in your estimation; and such indeed is the cruel position in which I am placed."

"Stay, my lord duke," cried I; "be candid, and acknowledge that you are my enemy as you have ever been; and that it is only because there has been war between us that you are now come to conclude a treaty of peace-"

"Peace or war, madam," replied he, "as you please to will it; all I will admit is, that things have turned out most unfavourably for my wishes. Your arrival at Versailles, your grace, beauty, and wit, excited universal jealousy; and, amidst the general panic caused by your all-excelling merit, was it not necessary I too should keep myself on my guard? For the first time in my life a beautiful woman became an object of alarm to me; you may further believe me, when I protest that, at the outset, I warmly defended you; but how could I wage war against so many-how oppose the general torrent? It bore me down."

"And you fear lest it should carry you beyond your depth, and would fain return to terra firma; is it not so, my lord duke?"

At this ironical speech an expression of heavy displeasure rose to the countenance of M. de Choiseul, and he remained for several minutes like a man who fears to trust himself to reply. Then he added,

"Madam, when I solicited the favour of this conversation, it was with the sincerest desire of adjusting all differences between us, and it would but ill advance that purpose were I now to reply to you with warmth and petulance; condescend, on your part, to lay aside sarcasm and raillery. You have already too many advantages over me, and it would ill accord with your wonted generosity to insult a half-conquered foe."

"You are right, my lord," answered I; "jests and recrimination will effect nothing; let us rather proceed at once to consider what is best for the interest of both."

"Willingly," replied he. "Now you speak to the purpose; and as I was prepared to hear you-are you inclined for a serious discussion of our business?"

"Pray begin, my lord, I am all attention."

"Well, madam, I deeply regret all that has pa.s.sed, and deplore that my friends and part of my family should be disagreeable to you; I take upon myself to engage that their hostility shall end, and am willing to afford you the most perfect satisfaction upon this point. Impressed with highest respect for his majesty, and the most lively desire to serve him, I ask for nothing more than to be on good terms with those he loves; and as for the future, my unshrinking loyalty may be relied on."

"I am well a.s.sured of it, my lord duke; and likewise you have never taken any part in the calumnies which have been aimed at me. Let us then forgive the and since we are agreed as to the future, let us speak but of the present. I have friends fitted to serve the king, whose ambition leads them to aspire to that honour. What will you do to a.s.sist them?"

"Ere I promise that, madam, it is necessary I should be acquainted with them."

"What would it avail to name them to you? You perfectly well comprehend to whom I allude. I am resolutely decided to support them, and to employ for this purpose the friendship with which his majesty deigns to honour me."

The duke coloured deeply at these words.

"Then, madam," said he, "you would fain strip me to enrich others?"

"No, my lord, I ask but a division of your possessions. You cannot have every thing; and it would not be fair that our reconciliation should be profitable to you only."

"I did not antic.i.p.ate, madam, in coming hither, that you would command me to offer up myself as a sacrifice upon an altar raised by you to the interests of your friends."

"Meaning to say, my lord duke, that you will keep every thing to yourself. I cannot compliment you upon your liberality, however I may for your candour."

"Madam, I have never since my entry into the ministry sought to live at the expense of my country, and let me resign office when I may, I shall retire loaded only with debts, whilst you and your friends draw large revenues from the nation."

The conversation became warm and angry, the duke and myself, with crimson cheeks and inflamed countenances, surveyed each other with haughty defiance. At length he added,

"I had hoped that I should have quitted you more kindly disposed towards me."

"And I, my lord, fancied that you were coming with an ardent desire for peace; but no, the spirit of your sister leads you astray, and you would fain punish me for her absence from court."