The Road to Compiegne (14 page)

Madame de Pompadour coolly surveyed the Comte de Stainville.

She knew that he was the author of damaging verses, and she believed him to be her enemy. She gave no sign of this, but received him with the utmost graciousness. He admired her more than ever and congratulated himself on his astuteness in taking the line he had decided upon.

‘Madame,’ he said, ‘knowledge has come to me which could deeply concern your welfare.’

‘Yes, Monsieur le Comte?’

‘It is a letter, in the King’s handwriting, to . . . a certain lady.’

‘You wish to show me this letter?’

‘I do not carry it with me. I felt it to be too important a document.’

‘Why . . . do you tell me of this?’

‘Because I felt it was a matter on which you should be informed.’

‘I should understand better if you showed me the letter.’

‘I may find it in my power to do so.’

‘You are . . . asking some . . . reward for this document?’

‘Madame,’ he said, ‘it would be enough reward for me if I might consider you my friend.’

‘Have your sentiments towards me changed then, Monsieur le Comte? Oh, forgive me. Am I too blunt? You see, this information you offer me . . . it seems so unaccountable, coming whence it does.’

‘I understand,’ he told her. ‘There have been differences between us in the past. But it has occurred to me that, in the future, these differences might be smoothed away.’

‘I am delighted to hear you say this. I have no wish to be your enemy, Monsieur de Stainville.’

‘Perhaps we may be friends. Perhaps we may work together. You, Madame – if you will forgive my impertinence in expressing myself so freely – are an extremely intelligent woman. I believe I myself am not without that valuable asset. We are alike in our ambition, which is to serve His Majesty with zeal and prevent his falling a prey to . . . worthless people.’

‘I see, Monsieur de Stainville, that we are indeed of one mind.’

‘I am deeply grateful for this interview, Madame. Perhaps I may be allowed to see you tomorrow, when we may discuss this matter further.’

She bowed her head in assent, although he was aware of a fierce curiosity within her to understand more of what he was hinting.

He had frightened her. That was what he wanted. She must be made to realise the significance of this matter. He wanted her to remember in the future what he had done for her. To have produced the letter immediately would have made the affair of less importance. Let her spend hours of uncertainty. Let her doubt his motives. When she realised that he was truly eager to set himself on her side, she would be all the more appreciative.

It was three days later when he gave her the letter which the King had written to the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré. By that time she was in a state of nervous exhaustion, for all that Stainville had told her confirmed her suspicion that the King was enamoured of a woman of the Court, and that this woman and her enemies were working for her own dismissal.

With the letter in her hands she was exultant. She knew now how to act.

She went immediately to the King’s apartment.

‘How are you, my dear?’ he asked. ‘You look strange. Has something upset you?’

‘This,’ she said, ‘has been shown to me.’

Louis read it and flushed angrily, immediately presuming that the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré, boasting of her conquest, had shown his letter to Madame de Pompadour.

The Marquise said slowly: ‘I recall the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré – an extremely handsome creature, but clearly frivolous and not to be trusted.’

‘As usual you are right,’ said the King. He put the letter into a drawer. She knew that he would choose an opportunity to destroy it.

‘I trust,’ said the Marquise gently, ‘that you will not be too angry with the Comtesse. She is young and foolish.’

‘My dear, I fear
I
have been made to appear the foolish one.’

‘If that were possible it would be . . . quite unpardonable.

You know, my dear Sire, that you may trust my discretion in all things.’

‘I do, I do!’ cried Louis. ‘There are times when I believe you are the only person in the Court of whom I could say that.’

He went to a desk and began to write. She looked over his shoulder as he did so.

It was an order to Madame de Choiseul-Beaupré instructing her to leave Fontainebleau before the next morning.

He would not see her again.

The Marquise smiled serenely. But she was fully aware that she had emerged from a very dangerous situation. Oddly enough she had that strange Comte de Stainville to thank for it. She would not forget what he had done. He was a brilliant man, and she would see that he received his dues. Moreover it was comforting to know that she had, as a friend, one who might prove to be a brilliant statesman.

She did spare a little pity for Madame de Choiseul-Beaupré; but not very much. The silly little creature would never have been able to hold her position at Versailles. Little idiot! Did she not realise all the anxiety and exhaustion which went into maintaining the role of King’s mistress?

She was more sorry for her when she heard that she was already pregnant. The Comtesse was not allowed to see the King again; her glory had been very brief, as her life was to be. She died nine months later in childbirth.

The King felt he must make amends for the pain he had caused his dear friend by the affair of the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré. Recently the Dauphin had required the Marquise to stand for two hours at a reception. Louis made up his mind that Madame de Pompadour should never again suffer such discomfort and indignity.

To the delight of her friends and the consternation of her enemies, Louis declared his intention of bestowing on Madame de Pompadour the
tabouret
.

Now she had the right to sit at the
Grand Couvert
and any Court ceremony; she was to have the privileges of a Duchesse and to be known as the Dame, Duchesse, Marquise de Pompadour. Never before had such an honour been accorded to one who was not of the nobility.

The delighted Marquise immediately ordered that her ducal coronet should be displayed on all possible occasions.

D’Argenson and his mistress, Madame d’Estrades, were apprehensive, and terrified lest the part they had played in the
affaire
Choiseul-Beaupré should be discovered by the Marquise.

No one however was more furious than the Dauphin, who had the temerity to reproach his father.

‘Never, never,’ he cried passionately, ‘has such a low-born person been so elevated.’

‘That may be the reason,’ retorted the King coldly, ‘why we have so many dullards at Court.’

‘I shall refuse to speak to the woman – Duchesse though she may be.’

The King shook his head sadly. ‘You should pray,’ he told his son, ‘that I may live for a long time. You have so much to learn before you could be King of France.’

With that he dismissed his son, but the coldness continued between them. It had never been so marked, and everyone at Court was aware that the rift had been widened; they wondered whether it would ever be bridged while Madame de Pompadour remained at Court.

The Marquise herself was enjoying a new vitality. She had come through a battle with great honours; yet she did not forget that, had her enemies been more subtle, she might so easily have lost it.

She believed now that she could measure the King’s affection for her. This affair had taught him a great deal. He would not again think of lightly abandoning her in favour of a pretty woman. He had learned that he could trust the Marquise as he could few others. They had passed into a new phase of their relationship.

The Marquise did not forget the man who had been of infinite help to her. She was ready now to cultivate the astute Comte de Stainville. Some service should be done for him; and she looked forward to a time when she and this man, who her intuition and experience told her would be a worthy ally, should be working together to their mutual advantage.

Chapter VII

LA PETITE MORPHISE

T
here were riots all over Paris. On this occasion it was not poverty which had aroused the wrath of the people.

Bouettin, the curé of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, had been asked to administer the last sacrament to Abbé Le Mère who was a Jansenite priest. Bouettin declared that Le Mère had opposed the Bull Unigenitus and for this reason he refused him the last sacrament.

To deny the last sacrament to a dying man seemed, to those people who did not hold Ultramontane views, an act of callous criminality and, when the Abbé was buried, ten thousand people followed him to his grave.

Protests were made to the Archbishop of Paris, Christophe de Beaumont, whose reply was that those who did not accept the Bull Unigenitus were in his view heretics and therefore not entitled to the sacrament.

The protagonists were clearly determined to make an issue of this case. Even before the Abbé had died the magistrates had called on the King at Versailles and had extracted his promise that the Abbé should receive the sacrament.

Since Bouettin, under the protection of the Archbishop, refused to administer the sacrament, the
Parlement
decided that their authority would be flouted if they did not protest; but as the Archbishop was too important a man to be attacked, they contented themselves with issuing a warrant for the arrest of Bouettin.