"What are you talking about," said he, "you seem agitated?"
"Of M. de Voltaire, sire," I replied, with so much presence of mind as to please the duc de Richelieu.
"What, is he at his tricks again? Have you any cause of complaint against him?"
"Quite the reverse; he has charged M. d"Argental to say to M. de Richelieu, that he was sorry that he could not come and prostrate himself at my feet."
"Ah," said the king, remembering the letter to the duc d"Aiguillon, "he persists in his coquetries towards you: that is better than being lampooned by him. But do not place too much confidence in this gentleman of the chamber: he weighs every thing in two scales; and I doubt much whether he will spare you when he evinces but little consideration for me."
Certainly Richelieu had a good opportunity of undertaking the defence of his ill.u.s.trious friend. He did no such thing; and I have always thought that Voltaire was the person whom the duke detested more heartily than any other person in the world. He did, in fact, dread him too much to esteem him as a real friend.
"M. d"Argental," said the king, "unites then at my court the double function of minister of Parma and steward of Ferney.* Are these two offices compatible?"
* The name of Voltaire"s residence-TRANS "Yes, sire," replied the duke, laughing, "since he has not presented officially to your majesty the letters of his creation as comte de Tournay."
The king began to laugh. This was the name of an estate which Voltaire had, and which he sometimes a.s.sumed.
CHAPTER XVI
Unpublished letter of Voltaire to madame du Barry-Reply of the countess-The marechale de Mirepoix-Her first interview with madame du Barry-Anecdote of the diamonds of madame de Mirepoix-The king pays for them-Singular grat.i.tude of the marechale-The portfolio, and an unpublished letter of the marquise de Pompadour
By the way in which the king continued to speak to me of M. de Voltaire, I clearly saw how right the duke was in advising me to read the letter myself before I showed it to my august protector. I could not read it until the next day, and found it conceived in the following terms:-
"MADAME LA COMTESSE:-I feel myself urged by an extreme desire to have an explanation with you, after the receipt of a letter which M. the duc d"Aiguillon wrote to me last year. This n.o.bleman, nephew of a gentleman, as celebrated for the name he bears as by his own reputation, and who has been my friend for more than sixty years, has communicated to me the pain which had been caused you by a certain piece of poetry, of my writing as was stated, and in which my style was recognised. Alas! madame, ever since the most foolish desire in the world has excited me to commit a great deal of idle trash to paper, not a month, a week, nay, even a day pa.s.ses in which I am not accused and convicted of some great enormity; that is to say, the malicious author of all sorts of turpitudes and extravagancies. Eh! mon Dieu, the entire life-time of ten men would not be sufficient to write all with which I am charged, to my unutterable despair in this world, and to my eternal d.a.m.nation in that which is to come.
"It is no doubt, much to die in final impenitence; altho" h.e.l.l may contain all the honest men of antiquity and a great portion of those of our times; and paradise would not be much to hope for if we must find ourselves face to face with messieurs Freron, Nonatte, Patouillet, Abraham Chauneix, and other saints cut out of the same cloth. But how much more severe would it be to sustain your anger! The hatred of the Graces brings down misfortune on men of letters; and when he embroils himself with Venus and the Muses he is a lost being; as, for instance, M. Dorat, who incessantly slanders his mistresses, and writes nothing but puerilities.
"I have been very cautious, in my long career, how I committed such a fault. If perchance I have lightly a.s.sailed the common cry of scribblers or pendants who were worthless, I have never ceased to burn incense on the altars of the ladies; them I have always sung when I-could not do otherwise. Independently, madame, of the profound respect I bear all your s.e.x I profess a particular regard towards all those who approach our sovereign, and whom he invests with his confidence: in this I prove myself no less a faithful subject than a gallant Frenchman; and I venerate the G.o.d I serve in his constant friendships as I would do in his caprices. Thus I was far from outraging and insulting you still more grievously by composing a hateful work which I detest with my whole heart, and which makes me shed tears of blood when I think that people did not blush to attribute it to me.
"Believe in my respectful attachment, madame, no less than in my cruel destiny, which renders me odious to those by whom I would be loved. My enemies, a portion of whom are amongst yours, certainly succeed each other with frightful eagerness to try my wind. Now they have just published under my name some attacks on the poor president Henault, whom I love with sincere affection. What have they not attributed to me to inculpate me with my friends, with my ill.u.s.trious protectors, M. le marechal duc de Richelieu and their majesties the king of Prussia and the czarina of Russia!
"I could excuse them for making war upon strangers in my name, altho" that would be a pirate"s method; but to attack, under my banner, my master, my sovereign lord, this I can never pardon, and I will raise against them even a dying voice; particularly when they strike you with the same blows; you, who love literature; you, who do me the honor to charge your memory with my feeble productions. It is an infamy to pretend that I fire on my own troops.
"Under any circ.u.mstances, madame, I am before you in a very delicate situation. There is in Versailles a family which overwhelms me with marks of their friendship. Mine ought to appertain to it to perpetuity; yet I learn that it is so unfortunate as to have no conception of your merit, and that envious talebearers place themselves between you and it. I am told that there is a kind of declared war; it is added, that I have furnished supplies to this camp, the chiefs of which I love and esteem. More wise, more submissive, I keep myself out of the way of blows; and my reverence for the supreme master is such, that I turn away my very eyes that they may not be spectators of the fight.
"Do not then, madame, think that any sentiment of affection has compelled, or can compel me to take arms against you. I would refuse any proposition which should rank me as hostile to you, if the natural generosity of your enemies could so far forget it. In reality they are as incapable of ordering a bad action as I am of listening to those who should show themselves so devoid of sense as to propose such a thing to me.
"I am persuaded that you have understood me, and I am fully cleared in your eyes. It would be delightful to me to ascertain this with certainty. I charge M. le marechal duc de Richelieu to explain to you my disquietude on this head, and the favor I seek at your hands, from you who command France, whilst I, I ought to die in peace, not to displease any person, and live wisely with all. I conclude, madame la comtesse, this long and stupid epistle, which is, in fact, less a letter than a real case for consideration, by begging you to believe me, etc., "VOLTAIRE
"Ferney, April 28, 1769. Gentleman in ordinary to the king.
"P. S. My enemies say everywhere that I am not a Christian. I have just given them the lie direct, by performing my Easter devotions (mes paques) publicly; thus proving to all my lively desire to terminate my long career in the religion in which I was born; and I have fulfilled this important act after a dozen consecutive attacks of fever, which made me fear I should die before I could a.s.sure you of my respect and my devotion."
This apology gave me real pleasure. I pretended to believe the sincerity of him who addressed me, altho" he had not convinced me of his innocence; and I wrote the following reply to M. de Voltaire, which a silly pride dictates to me to communicate to you, in conjunction with the letter of the philosopher:
"MONSIEUR:-Even were you culpable from too much friendship towards those you cherish, I would pardon you as a recompense for the letter you address to me. This ought the more to charm me, as it gives me the certainty that you had been unworthily calumniated. Could you have said, under the veil of secrecy, things disagreeable to a great king, for whom, in common with all France, you profess sincere love? It is impossible. Could you, with gaiety of heart, wound a female who never did you harm, and who admires your splendid genius? In fact, could those you call your friends have stooped so low as not to have feared to compromise you, by making you play a part unworthy of your elevated reputation? All these suppositions were unreasonable: I could not for a moment admit them, and your two letters have entirely justified you. I can now give myself up without regret to my enthusiasm for you and your works. It would have been too cruel for me to have learnt with certainty that he whom I regarded as the first writer of the age had become my detractor without motive, without provocation. That it is not so I give thanks to Providence.
"M. the duc d"Aiguillon did not deceive you when he told you that I fed on your sublime poetry. I am in literature a perfect novice, and yet am sensible of the true beauties which abound in your works. I am to be included amongst the stones which were animated by Amphion: this is one of your triumphs; but to this you must be accustomed.
"Believe also that all your friends are not in the enemy"s camp. There are those about me who love you sincerely, M. de Chauvelin, for instance, MM. de Richelieu and d"Aiguillon: this latter eulogizes you incessantly; and if all the world thought as he does, you would be here in your place. But there are terrible prejudices which my candor will not allow me to dissemble, which you have to overcome. There is one who complains of you, and this one must be won over to your interests. He wishes you to testify more veneration for what he venerates himself; that your attacks should not be so vehement nor so constant. Is it then impossible for you to comply his wishes in this particular? Be sure that you only, in setting no bounds in your attacks on religion, do yourself a vast mischief with the person in question.
"It will appear strange that I should hold such language to you: I only do it to serve you: do not take my statements unkindly. I have now a favor to ask of you; which is, to include me in the list of those to whom you send the first fruits of the brilliant productions of your pen. There is none who is more devoted to you, and who has a more ardent desire to convince you of this.
"I am, monsieur le gentilhomme ordinaire, with real attachment, etc."
I showed this letter to M. de Richelieu.
"Why," he inquired, "have you not a.s.sured him as to your indiscretion, which he fears?"
"Because his fear seemed to me unjust, and I leave you to represent me to him as I am; and now," I added, "it does not appear to me necessary for the king to know anything of this."
"You think wisely, madame; what most displeased him was to see madame de Pompadour in regular correspondence with M. de Voltaire."
I have related to you this episode of my history, that it may recompense you for the tiresome details of my presentation. I resume my recital. I told you that M. de Maupeou had told me that he would endeavor to bring madame la marechale de Mirepoix, and introduce her to me, trusting to the friendship she had evinced for madame de Pompadour during the whole time of the favor and life of her who preceded me in the affections of Louis XV. I found, to my surprise, that he said nothing to me concerning it for several days, when suddenly madame la marechale de Mirepoix was announced.
At this name and this t.i.tle I rose quite in a fl.u.s.ter, without clearly knowing what could be the object of this visit, for which I was unprepared. The marechale, who followed closely on the valet"s heels, did not give me time for much reflection. She took me really a l"improviste, and I had not time to go and meet her.
"Madame la marechale," said I, accosting her, "what lucky chance brings you to a place where the desire to have your society is so great?"
"It is the feeling of real sympathy," she replied, with a gracious smile; "for I also have longed for a considerable time to visit you, and have yielded to my wishes as soon as I was certain that my advances would not be repulsed."
"Ah, madame.," said I, "had you seriously any such fear? That tells me much less of the mistrust you had of yourself than of the bad opinion you had conceived of me. The honor of your visits-"
"The honor of my visits! That"s admirable! I wish to obtain a portion of your friendship, and to testify to the king that I am sincerely attached to him."
"You overwhelm me, madame," cried I, much delighted, "and I beg you to give me your confidence."
"Well, now, all is arranged between us: I suit you and you please me. It is long since I was desirous of coming to you, but we are all under the yoke of the must absurd tyranny: soon we shall have no permission to go, to come, to speak, to hold our tongues, without first obtaining the consent of a certain family. This yoke has wearied me; and on the first word of the chancellor of France I hastened to you."
"I had begged him, madame, to express to you how much I should be charmed to have you when the king graced me with his presence. He likes you, he is accustomed to the delights of your society; and I should have been deeply chagrined had I come here only to deprive him of that pleasure."
"He is a good master," said the marechale, "he is worthy of all our love. I have had opportunities of knowing him thoroughly, for I was most intimate with madame de Pompadour; and I believe that my advice will not be useless to you."
"I ask it of you, madame la marechale, for it will be precious to me."
"Since we are friends, madame," said she, seating herself in a chair, "do not think ill of me if I establish myself at my ease, and take my station as in the days of yore. The king loves you: so much the better. You will have a double empire over him. He did not love the marquise, and allowed himself to be governed by her; for with him-I ask pardon of your excessive beauty-custom does all. It is necessary, my dear countess, to use the double lever you have, of your own charms and his constant custom to do to-morrow what he does to-day because he did it yesterday, and for this you lack neither grace nor wit."
I had heard a great deal concerning madame de Mirepoix; but I own to you, that before I heard her speak I had no idea what sort of a person she would prove. She had an air of so much frankness and truth, that it was impossible not to be charmed by it. The greater part of the time I did not know how to defend myself from her-at once so natural and so perfidious; and occasionally I allowed myself to love her with all my heart, so much did she seem to cherish me with all enthusiasm. She had depth of wit, a piquancy of expression, and knew how to disguise those interested adulations with turns so n.o.ble and beautiful that I have never met, neither before nor since, any woman worthy of being compared with her. She was, in her single self, a whole society; and certainly there was no possibility of being wearied when she was there. Her temper was most equable, a qualification rarely obtained without a loss of warmth of feeling. She always pleased because her business was to please and not to love; and it always sufficed her to render others enthusiastic and ardent. Except this tendency to egotism, she was the charm of society, the life of the party whom she enlivened by her presence. She knew precisely when to mourn with the afflicted, and joke with the merry-hearted. The king had much pleasure in her company: he knew that she only thought how to amuse him; and, moreover, as he had seen her from morning till evening with the marquise de Pompadour, her absence from my parties was insupportable to him, and almost contrary to the rules of etiquette at the chateau.
I cannot tell you how great was his satisfaction, when, at the first supper which followed our intimacy, he saw her enter. He ran to meet her like a child, and gave a cry of joy, which must have been very pleasing to the marechale.
"You are a dear woman," he said to her, with an air which accorded with his words, "I always find you when I want you; and you can nowhere be more in place than here. I ask your friendship for our dear countess."
"She has it already, sire, from the moment I saw her; and I consider my intimacy with her as one of the happiest chances of my life."