This Marin, a provenÇal by birth, in his childhood one of the choristers, and afterwards organist of the village church, was, at the period of which I am speaking, one of the most useful men possible. Nominated by M. de St. Florentin to the post of censor royal, this friend to the philosophers was remarkable for the peculiar talent, with which he would alternately applaud and condemn the writings of these gentlemen. Affixing his sanction to two lines in a tragedy by Dorat had cost him twenty-four hours’ meditation within the walls of the Bastille; and for permitting the representation of some opera (the name of which I forget) he had been deprived of a pension of 2,000 francs; but, wedded to the delights of his snug post, Marin always contrived, after every storm, to find his way back to its safe harbor. He had registered a vow never to resign the office of censor, but to keep it in despite of danger and difficulty. I soon discovered that he passed from the patronage of Lebel to that of Chamilly, and I was not slow in conjecturing that he joined to his avocations of censor and gazetteer that of purveyor to his majesty’s petits amours.

Spite of my indefatigable endeavors to render Louis XV happy and satisfied with the pleasures of his own home, he would take occasional wandering fits, and go upon the ramble, sometimes in pursuit of a high-born dame, at others eager to obtain a poor and simple grisette; and so long that the object of his fancy were but new to him, it mattered little what were her claims to youth, beauty, or rank in life. The marÉchale de Mirepoix frequently said to me, “Do you know, my dear creature, that your royal admirer is but a very fickle swain, who is playing the gay gallant when he ought to be quietly seated at his own fireside. Have a care, he is growing old, and his intellect becomes more feeble each day; and what he would never have granted some few years back, may be easily wrung from him now. Chamilly aspires at governing his master, and Marin seconds him in his project.”

At length, roused to a sense of impending evil, by the constant reminding of the marÉchale, I summoned Marin to my presence. “Now, sir,” said I, as he approached, “I would have you to know that I am apprised of all your tricks: you and your friend Chamilly are engaged in a very clever scheme to improve your own fortunes at the expense of the king your master.”

Marin burst into loud protestations of his innocence, declaring that he was as innocent as the lamb just born. I refused to believe this, and desired he would explain to me why he went so frequently to the apartments of M. Chamilly.

“Alas, madam!” replied Marin, “I go thither but to solicit his aid in craving the bounty of his majesty.”

“You are for ever pleading poverty, miserly being,” cried I; “you are far richer than I am; but since you want money I will supply you with it, and in return you shall be my secret newsman, and royal censor in my service. Now understand me clearly; every month that you faithfully bring me an account of certain goings on, I will count into your hand five and twenty louis d’or.”

I must confess that Marin only accepted my proposition with much reluctance, but still he did accept it, and withdrew, meditating, no doubt, how he should be enabled to satisfy both Chamilly and myself.

A long time elapsed before Marin brought me any news of importance, and I began to feel considerable doubts of his fidelity, when he came to communicate a very important piece of intelligence. He had just learned that Chamilly frequently went to Paris, the bearer of letters from the ‘king to a young and pretty female, named madame de Rumas, who resided in the old rue du Temple.

Here was a pretty discovery; the king actually engaged in a love affair, letters passing between him and his mistress, whilst the head valet de chambre was acting the part of Mercury to the lovers. This indeed required some speedy remedy, and I lost no time in summoning my privy counsellor, Comte Jean, whom I acquainted with what had occurred, and begged his advice as to the best measures to be pursued. “Indeed,” replied my brother-in-law, “what others would do in our place would be to throw M. Chamilly from one of the windows of the chÂteau, and treat this his friend Marin with a lodging in the Bastille; but, as we are persons of temper and moderation, we will go more gently to work. I will, in the first place, gain every information relative to the affair, that I may satisfy myself Marin is not seeking to show his honest claims to your gold, by imposing a forged tale upon your credulity; when that is ascertained we will decide upon our next best step.”

Comte Jean departed to seek the assistance of M. de Sartines, who was at that time entirely devoted to my interests; and, after having diligently searched the whole rue du Temple, he succeeded in discovering madame de Rumas. He learnt that this lady had recently married a person of her own rank, to whom she professed to be violently attached; that they lived together with great tranquillity, and had the reputation of conducting themselves as persons of extreme propriety and regularity; paid their debts, and avoided, by their air of neatness, order, and modest reserve, the scandal of even their most ill-natured neighbors. The husband was said to be a great religionist, which increased the suspicions of Comte Jean. With regard to the epistolary correspondence carried on by the lady, no information could be gleaned in in that quarter.

Marin was again sent for by my brother-in-law, who questioned and cross-questioned with so much address, that Marin found it impossible to conceal any longer the remaining part of the affair, of which he had before communicated but so much as his policy deemed advisable. He confessed that he had originally mentioned madame de Rumas (whom he himself had long known) to Chamilly, had shown him several of her letters; and, as he expected, the style of these epistles so pleased the head valet, that he expressed a wish to see the fair writer. Marin accordingly introduced him to the rue du Temple, where he was most graciously received, and returned home enchanted with the lady: he spoke of her to the king, strongly recommending his majesty to judge for himself. Accordingly his majesty wrote to madame de Rumas, who received the letter from the hands of her friend Chamilly with all pomp and state, talked first of her own virtue and honor, and afterwards of her dutiful respect for his majesty. She replied to the royal note in so prudent yet obliging a manner, that the king was enchanted. This effective billet was answered by a second letter from the king, which obtained a reply even more tenderly charming than the one which preceded it. An interview was next solicited and granted; for a visit was such a trifle to refuse. The royal guest became pressing and the lady more reserved, till the time was lost in attempts at convincing each other. At the next interview madame de Rumas freely confessed her sincere attachment for his majesty, but added, that such was her desire to possess his whole and undivided regard, that she could never give herself up to the hope of keeping him exclusively hers whilst I interposed between her and the king’s heart—in a few words then she demanded my dismissal. This was going too far; and Louis XV, who thought it no scandal to have a hundred mistresses, was alarmed at the thoughts of occasioning the bustle and confusion attendant upon disgracing his acknowledged favorite and recognised mistress; he therefore assured her, her request was beyond his power to grant.

Madame de Rumas now sought to compromise the affair, by talking of a share in his favor. She asked, she said, but the heart of her beloved monarch, and would freely leave me in possession of all power and influence. The king whose heart was regularly promised once a day, did not hesitate to assure her of his fidelity, and his wily enslaver flattered herself, that with time and clever management, she should succeed in inducing him to break off those ties which he now refused to break.

Things were in this state when Marin divulged to us the intrigue conducted by Chamilly, and directed, though in a covert manner, by the marÉchal duc de Richelieu. This spiteful old man possessed no share of the talent of his family; and, not contented with the favor bestowed on his nephew, thought only of his personal credit and influence, which he fancied he should best secure by introducing a new mistress to the king. This well-concocted scheme threw both Comte Jean and myself into a perfect fury. We dismissed Marin with a present of fifty louis, and my brother-in-law besought of me to grant him four and twenty hours undisturbed reflection, whilst, on my side, I assured him I should not rest until we had completely discomfited our enemies.

On the following day Comte Jean laid before me several projects, which were far from pleasing in my eyes; too much time was required in their execution. I knew the king too well to be blind to the danger of allowing this mere whim of the moment to take root in his mind. One idea caught my fancy, and without mentioning it to Comte Jean, I determined upon carrying it into execution.

The marÉchale de Mirepoix happened at this moment not to be at Paris at her hotel in the rue Bergere, but at her country house, situated au Port À l’Anglaise. I signified to the king my intention of passing a couple of days with the marÉchale, and accordingly set out for that purpose. Upon my arrival at Paris I merely changed horses, and proceeded onwards with all possible despatch to rejoin the marÉchale, who was quite taken by surprise at my unexpected arrival. After many mutual embraces and exchange of civilities, I explained to her the whole affair which had brought me from Versailles. The good-natured marÉchale could not believe her ears. She soon, however, comprehended the nature of my alarms; and so far from seeking to dissipate them, urged me to lose no time in crushing an affair, which grew more threatening from each day’s delay. I was fully of her opinion, and only asked her assistance and co-operation in my plan of writing to M. de Rumas, and inviting him to come on the following day to the house of madame de Mirepoix.

That lady would doubtless have preferred my asking her to assist me in any other way, but still she could not refuse to serve me in the manner described: for I either bestowed on her all she desired, or caused others to gratify her slightest request; and how could she be sure, that were my reign to end, she might derive the same advantages from any new favorite? Self-interest therefore bound her to my service, and accordingly she wrote to M. de Rumas a very pressing letter, requesting to see him on the following day upon matters of the highest importance. This letter sent off, I dined with the marÉchale, and then returned to sleep at Paris.

On the following day, at an early hour, I repaired to the Port À l’Anglaise; M. de Rumas arrived there a few minutes after myself. He had the air and look of an honest man, but perhaps no species of deceit is more easily detected than that quiet, subdued manner, compressed lips, and uplifted eye. Now-a-days such a mode of dissembling would be too flimsy to impose even on children; and hypocrites are ever greater proficients in their art than was even M. de Rumas.

Madame de Mirepoix left us alone together, in order that I might converse more freely with him. I knew not how to begin, but made many attempts to convey, in an indirect manner, the reasons for his being summoned to that day’s conference. However, hints and insinuations were alike thrown away upon one who had determined neither to use eye’s nor ears but as interest pointed out the reasonableness of so doing; and accordingly, unable longer to repress my impatience, I exclaimed abruptly,

“Pray, sir, do you know who I am?”

“Yes, madam,” replied he, with a profound bow, and look of the deepest humility, “you are the comtesse du Barry.”

“Well, sir,” added I, “and you are equally well aware, no doubt, of the relation in which I stand to the king?”

“But, madam—”

“Nay, sir, answer without hesitation; I wish you to be candid, otherwise my exceeding frankness may displease you.”

“I know, madam,” replied the hypocrite, “that his majesty finds great pleasure in your charming society.”

“And yet, sir,” answered I, “his majesty experiences equal delight in the company of your wife. How answer you that, M. de Rumas?”

“My wife, madam!”

“Yes, sir, in the company of madame de Rumas; he pays her many private visits, secretly corresponds with her—”

“The confidence of his majesty must ever honor his subjects.”

“But,” replied I, quickly, “may dishonor a husband.”

“How, madam! What is it you would insinuate?”

“That your wife would fain supplant me, and that she is now the mistress of the king, although compelled to be such in secret.”

“Impossible,” exclaimed M. de Rumas, “and some enemy to my wife has thus aspersed her to you.”

“And do you treat it as a mere calumny?” said I. “No, sir, nothing can be more true; and if you would wish further confirmation, behold the letter which madame de Rumas wrote to the king only the day before yesterday; take it and read it.”

“Heaven preserve me, madam,” exclaimed the time-serving wretch, “from. presuming to cast my eyes over what is meant only for his majesty’s gracious perusal; it would be an act of treason I am not capable of committing.”

“Then, sir,” returned I, “I may reasonably conclude that it is with your sanction and concurrence your wife intrigues with the king?”

“Ah, madam,” answered the wily de Rumas, in a soft and expostulating tone, “trouble not, I pray you, the repose of my family. I know too well the virtue of madame de Rumas, her delicacy, and the severity of her principles; I know too well likewise the sentiments in which her excellent parents educated her, and I defy the blackest malice to injure her in my estimation.”

“Wonderfully, sir!” cried I; “so you determine to believe your wife’s virtue incorruptible, all the while you are profiting by her intrigues. However, I am too certain of what I assert to look on with the culpable indifference you are pleased to assume, whilst your virtuous wife is seeking to supplant me at the chÂteau; you shall hear of me before long. Adieu, sir.”

So saying, I quitted the room in search of the marÉchale, to whom I related what had passed.

“And now, what think you of so base a hypocrite?” asked I, when I had finished my account.

“He well deserves having the mask torn from his face,” replied she; “but give yourself no further concern; return home, and depend upon it, that, one way or other, I will force him into the path of honor.”

I accordingly ordered my carriage and returned to Versailles, where, on the same evening, I received the following letter from the marÉchale:—

“MY DEAR COUNTESS,—My efforts have been attended with no better success than yours. Well may the proverb say, ‘There is none so deaf as he who will not hear,’ and M. de Rumas perseveres in treating all I advanced respecting his wife as calumnious falsehoods. According to his version of the tale, madame de Rumas has no other motive in seeing Louis XV so frequently, but to implore his aid in favor of the poor in her neighborhood. I really lost all patience when I heard him attempting to veil his infamous conduct under the mask of charity; I therefore proceeded at once to menaces, telling him that you had so many advantages over his wife, that you scorned to consider her your rival: but that, nevertheless, you did not choose that any upstart pretender should dare ask to share his majesty’s heart. To all this he made no reply; and as the sight of him only increased my indignation, I at length desired him to quit me. I trust you will pardon me for having spoken in as queenlike a manner as you could have done yourself.

“Adieu, my sweet friend.”

This letter was far from satisfying me, and I determined upon striking a decisive blow. I sent for Chamilly, and treating him with all the contempt he deserved, I told him, that if the king did not immediately give up this woman he might prepare for his own immediate dismissal. At first Chamilly sought to appease my anger by eager protestations of innocence, but when he found I already knew the whole affair, and was firmly fixed in my determination, he became alarmed, threw himself at my knees, and promised to do all I would have him. We then agreed to tell Louis XV some tale of madame de Rumas that should effectually deter him from thinking further of her.

In pursuance with this resolution, Chamilly informed the king, that he had just been informed that madame de Rumas had a lover, who boasted of being able to turn his majesty which way he pleased, through the intervention of his mistress. Louis XV wrote off instantly to M. de Sartines, to have a watchful eye over the proceedings of the Rumas family. The lieutenant of police, who had some regard for me, and a still greater portion of fear, was faithful to my interests, and rendered to Louis XV the most horrible particulars of the profligate mode of life pursued by madame de Rumas; assuring him, that from every consideration of personal safety, his majesty should shun the acquaintance. The king, incensed at the trick put upon him by these seemingly virtuous people, was at first for confining both husband and wife in prison, but this measure I opposed with all my power; for, satisfied with the victory I had gained, I cared for no further hurt to my adversaries. I contrived, to insinuate to the worthy pair the propriety of their avoiding the impending storm by a timely retreat into the country, a hint they were wise enough to follow up, so that I was entirely freed from all further dread of their machinations.

All those who had served me in this affair I liberally rewarded; Marin received for his share 500 louis. It is true he lost the confidence of Chamilly, but he gained mine instead, so that it will easily be believed he was no sufferer by the exchange. I caused the marÉchale to receive from the king a superb Turkey carpet, to which I added a complete service of SÈvres porcelain, with a beautiful breakfast set, on which were landscapes most delicately and skilfully drawn in blue and gold: I gave her also two large blue porcelain cots, as finely executed as those you have so frequently admired in my small saloon. These trifles cost me no less a sum than 2800 livres. I did not forget my good friend M. de Sartines, who received a cane, headed with gold, around which was a small band of diamonds. As for Chamilly, I granted him his pardon; and I think you will admit that was being sufficiently generous.

After having thus recompensed the zeal of my friends, I had leisure to think of taking vengeance upon the duc de Richelieu for the part he had acted. He came of his own accord to throw himself into the very heat of my anger. He had been calling on the marÉchale de Mirepoix, where he had seen with envious eyes the magnificent carpet I had presented her with; the cupidity of the duke induced him, after continually recurring to the subject, to say, that where my friends were concerned, no one could accuse me of want of liberality. “No, sir,” answered I, “I consider that no price can sufficiently repay the kind and faithful services of a true friend, nor can baseness and treachery be too generally exposed and punished.” From the tone in which I spoke the old marÉchal easily perceived to what I was alluding. He was wise enough to be silent, whilst I followed up this first burst of my indignation, by adding,

“For instance, monsieur le duc, how can I sufficiently repay your friendly zeal to supply the king with a new mistress?”

“I, madam?”

“Yes, sir, you; I am aware of all your kind offices, and only lament my inability to reward them in a suitable manner.”

“In that case I shall not attempt to deny my share in the business.”

“You have then sufficient honor to avow your enmity towards me?”

“By no means enmity, madam. I merely admit my desire to contribute to the amusement of the king, and surely, when I see all around anxious to promote the gratification of their sovereign, I need not be withheld from following so loyal an example. The duc de Duras was willing to present his own relation for his majesty’s acceptance, the abbÉ Terray offers his own daughter, Comte Jean his sister-in-law, whilst I simply threw a humble and modest female in his majesty’s path. I cannot see in what my fault exceeds that of the gentlemen I have just mentioned.”

“You really are the most audacious of men,” replied I, laughing; “I shall be obliged to solicit a lettre de cachet to hold you a prisoner in Guienne. Upon my word, your nephew and myself have a valuable and trustworthy friend in you.”

“Hark ye, madam,” rejoined the marÉchal. “I know not, in the first place, whether his majesty would very easily grant you this lettre de cachet, which most certainly I do not deserve. You have served my nephew and neglected me; I wished to try the strength of my poor wings, and I find, like many others, that I must not hope to soar to any height.”

While we were thus talking the marÉchale de Mirepoix was announced. I was still much agitated, and she immediately turned towards the duke, as if to inquire of him the cause of my distress: upon which, M. de Richelieu related all that had passed with a cool exactitude that enraged me still further. When he had finished, I said,

“Well, madame la marÉchale, and what is your opinion of all this?”

“Upon my word, my dear countess,” answered madame de Mirepoix, “you have ample cause for complaint, but still this poor duke is not so culpable as you imagine him to be. He has large expenses to provide for: and to obtain the money requisite for them he is compelled to look to his majesty, whose favor he desires to win by administering to his pleasures.”

“Alas!” replied the duke, “can you believe that but for the pressure of unavoidable circumstances I would have separated myself from my nephew and my fair friend there?”

“Come, come,” cried the marÉchale, “I must restore peace and harmony between you. As for you, my lord duke, be a true and loyal subject; and you, my sweet countess, use your best endeavors to prevail on the king to befriend and assist his faithful servant.”

I allowed myself to be managed like a child; and instead of scratching the face of M. de Richelieu, I obtained for him a grant of 100,000 livres, which the court banker duly counted out to him.