The Road to Compiegne (19 page)

But such alarms were very distressing to the Marquise. Her little plan for bringing working-girls to the King’s notice, while being moderately successful, was not entirely so. Perhaps it was because she had not given sufficient thought to this matter and had left it too much in the hands of Le Bel.

Louis was insatiable. She must remember that. He could tackle his little
grisettes
in the
trébuchet
and any Court lady who might win his favour.

She must give the matter the attention it demanded.

La Petite Morphise had at last lost her hold on the King’s attentions and Louis had found a husband for her in the Sieur Beaufranchet. Little Louise O’Murphy had come a long way from her mother’s old-clothes shop, and there were many girls in hungry Paris who remembered her childhood there and the destiny which would have been hers had she not been so fortunate as to win the King’s affection.

There were mothers who said to themselves, what happened to young Louise O’Murphy could happen to my Jeanne, my Marie, my Louise.

Le trébuchet
in the attics of Versailles was no longer a secret place. The snared birds were apt to sing rather noisily, and it could not be expected that such young songsters would remain subdued. Madame Adelaide’s apartments were near those of the King. Often the high spirits of the girls brought them to her notice.

It was well known in the Palace that the
trébuchet
existed, but the etiquette of Versailles demanded that its existence be ignored. Yet it was not easy to ignore something which forced itself upon the attention.

The Marquise called Le Bel to her one day to discuss this matter.

‘There is too much noise coming from those apartments under the roof,’ she told him.

Le Bel spread his hands helplessly. ‘Madame, it is impossible to preserve silence in them.’

‘I know. That is why I think it would be a good plan to empty them.’

Le Bel looked startled. ‘It is the wish of His Majesty . . .’ he began.

‘We have not yet discussed it,’ said the Marquise. ‘But I am sure the King will see the desirability of transferring the inhabitants of those apartments to another place. You might consider this.’

‘Yes, Madame,’ said Le Bel; and he retired thoughtfully.

In a very short time Le Bel had found exactly what he was looking for. He brought to the King’s attention a little house in the Parc aux Cerfs district of Versailles, near enough to the Palace to be reached without fuss, in a secluded spot hidden from idle sightseers.

The house had only one storey and was divided into a few separate apartments, each complete in themselves.

Le Bel gave himself to the task with relish. He could see that providing the King with a private brothel was an excellent idea, and that many an embarrassing moment which he had suffered when conducting giggling working-girls up and down the private staircase at Versailles would now be avoided.

He decided to use his reliable housekeeper, Madame Bertrand, to take charge of the establishment, knowing that he could entirely trust not only her capabilities but her discretion.

He discussed the matter with her and asked for her advice.

‘You will need,’ he told her, ‘to have absolute command over the girls.’

‘You may trust me for that, Monsieur, and if I may make a suggestion . . .’

‘Pray do, Madame Bertrand.’

‘These girls, I presume, will come from every class in Paris, They may be of the
bourgeoise
class, they may be merely
grisettes
, dressmakers’ assistants, milliners . . .’

‘They will be selected, not for their social standing, but for their physical charms.’

‘If they know that they are maintained by the King, Monsieur, they will give themselves airs.’

‘It is very likely.’

‘They will scheme among themselves . . . against each other . . . Let us keep them apart as much as possible; and I think, Monsieur, that they should be under the impression that their benefactor is a wealthy nobleman.’

‘It is an excellent idea, Madame Bertrand, and one I am sure which will appeal to the King. The girls will all be very young indeed. The King prefers them to be young. He is unhappy with those who may have had too many previous adventures. You understand he is continually apprehensive regarding his health.’

‘You may trust me, Monsieur, to look after their health, and to preserve the necessary secrecy.’

‘Madame Bertrand, I am sure you will earn the gratitude of the King.’

‘I know what is expected of me and I shall do it,’ was the answer.

Madame Bertrand proved that she meant what she said; and very soon the little house in the Parc aux Cerfs was ready for its first occupants.

She carefully divided the house into its series of small apartments, arranging that each girl should have two servants – a manservant and a maidservant; she ruled them sternly and never allowed them to leave the house unless chaperoned.

Madame Bertrand however realised the need to keep her charges occupied when the King did not visit them; she therefore arranged that they should be taught to dance, paint and sing, and teachers were sent to the house to give them lessons. On occasions they were allowed to visit the theatre, but they never did so unchaperoned. A special private box was allotted to them, and here they sat with their chaperon who guarded them well from the amorous attentions of young men and the too curious eyes of the audience.

Many of the girls who were brought to the Parc aux Cerfs by the energetic Le Bel had come from very poor homes. To live in such a place seemed to them the height of luxury, and the charming courtesy of their benefactor, who was such a contrast to the rough-mannered and often brutal people among whom they had spent the greater part of their lives, won their instant affection.

Moreover when a girl’s services were no longer required in the Parc aux Cerfs, she was given a present which would seem fantastic wealth for her; and if she were pregnant she would be married to some citizen who felt himself fortunate to take her and the handsome dowry which went with her.

The Marquise, considering the establishment in the Parc aux Cerfs, believed that she had set up a strong resistance to such women as the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré and the Marquise de Coislin who threatened her security.

The death of Alexandrine had had a marked effect on the Marquise. She abandoned a great many of her frivolities, spent less time at her
toilette
table and attended Mass twice a day.

The whole Court now knew that she had ceased to be the King’s mistress, but she occupied the equally important role of friend and adviser.

She now held sewing parties at which were made garments for the poor. Her enemies noted the change in her habits with sardonic smiles. ‘The Marquise’s health is declining even more rapidly than we thought,’ they told each other. ‘See, she is preparing to leave this world in an aura of sanctity after the manner of Madame de Mailly.’

There were some who recalled Madame de Maintenon. Could it be that the Pompadour hoped for the death of the Queen and marriage with the King?

‘The Queen should take care,’ whispered the most venomous of her enemies.

The Marquise ignored the comments and continued in her mood of piety.

The Jesuits however could not forget that she was their enemy.

They blamed her – unfairly – for the conflict surrounding the Bull Unigenitus which had not turned out satisfactorily from their point of view. Following the decree of the
Parlement
that the Bull Unigenitus was not a rule of faith, Pope Benedict XIV had declared that all had the right to receive the sacrament. This was a blow to those who had fought so earnestly to uphold the Bull; naturally the Jesuits were not pleased and, as they felt the Marquise to be largely responsible for all the decisions reached by the King, they were decidedly unfriendly towards her.

Now she sought their help in bringing about her reformation.

She began by modelling her life on that of Marie Leczinska. There were the same sewing parties, the reading of theological books, the prayers.

Marie Leczinska, while not receiving these advances enthusiastically, did not repel them. She watched the Marquise with envy not untinged with admiration. How could she honestly not admire a woman who was showing her how she might have successfully maintained her position had she been as shrewd and far-sighted. Madame de Pompadour, unable to satisfy the sensuality of the King, yet remained his friend and the most important person at Court. Was it possible that, had Marie Leczinska been equally wise, she might have occupied the position which was held by Madame de Pompadour today?

All eyes were on the Marquise. All wondered what the outcome of this new phase into which she was entering would be.

The King was happily occupied with his Parc aux Cerfs. Madame de Pompadour was deeply concerned with her soul. There was no doubt that, when she was recognised as a reformed and saintly character, the King’s respect for her would not be diminished but increased. Perhaps he would follow her example.

Meanwhile it was necessary for Madame de Pompadour to be absolved from her sins and to be allowed to partake of the sacrament; so she sent for a priest to pray with her and instruct her in the ways of repentance.

She chose Père de Sacy, the King’s confessor.

Meanwhile the clouds of war were beginning to gather over France.

The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle had been more profitable for the English than the French, and that fact continued to rankle. The British Government kept a wary eye on French affairs; the Peace had meant the passing of Madras from French into British hands, but the British were covetously surveying other territories in Asia.

They watched in particular a French merchant, Joseph Dupleix, owner of a factory at Chandernagore who had become Governor of the French settlements. He now held sway over land from the River Narbada to Cape Comorin; but an enterprising Englishman, Robert Clive, who had gone to India as a clerk in the service of the East India Company was determined that the British should be supreme in India. Clive was a more brilliant administrator than the Frenchman and he had greater support from his Government than Dupleix had from his; moreover the French, very eager to keep on good terms with their neighbours across the Channel, again and again gave in to British demands in India.

Not only were the British determined on supremacy in India but they were equally anxious to dominate Canada; constantly on the alert to increase trade, they felt that the French in Canada were a stumbling-block to their progress, and in June of 1755 the English admiral, Boscawen, seized two French frigates, even though there had been no declaration of war between the two countries. The French, taken by surprise, lost three hundred ships in the battle which ensued; as a result the French ambassadors in London and Hanover were immediately recalled to Paris.

There had to be retaliation. Richelieu, who had distinguished himself at Fontenoy, was put in charge of troops who were sent to Port Mahon, capital of Minorca. They stormed and took this fortress. This was a victory for the French to equal that of the English in Newfoundland. As a result the English recalled Admiral Byng, who had failed to prevent the French victory, and he was shot for treason at Portsmouth, ‘
pour encourager les autres
’, as Voltaire commented.