The Road to Compiegne (51 page)

That the King should wish to live thus with his mistress would seem to be an indication that, far from tiring of her, he was slipping into a relationship somewhat similar to that which he had enjoyed with Madame de Pompadour.

The Court believed that sooner or later either Madame du Barry or Choiseul would be dismissed. They knew too that both were equally determined to be victorious.

Thus the battle was watched with eager interest.

Madame du Barry might have her Trianon, but Choiseul had recently arranged that the Dauphin should marry the youngest daughter of the Empress Maria Theresa.

Choiseul’s friends declared that when the Archduchess Marie Antoinette arrived in France the power of Madame du Barry would begin to wane; for Marie Antoinette must be the firm ally of Choiseul since he, more than anyone, had been responsible for her marriage.

The Dauphin hated the mistress; so did Madame Adelaide – and naturally her sisters. When the Dauphine became aware of the circumstances and added her influence to theirs, could the du Barry continue to keep her position?

‘Lafrance,’ cried Madame du Barry, as she entered the King’s apartment, ‘I have decided what you shall give me for my New Year’s gift.’

Louis smiled. She was so full of vitality, that merely to look at her seemed to make him forget he was sixty.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I will tell you. You are fond of Madame de Mirepoix?’

‘That is so,’ the King agreed.

‘Then all is well. She has so many debts that she despairs of ever paying them. She suffers great anxiety. Now I want my New Year’s gift to be the
Loges de Nantes
so that I can give these to her. If she had them, all her troubles would be over. Please say you will give me these as my New Year’s gift.’

The King looked grave. The
Loges de Nantes
were the rents which came from the stalls and booths which were set up in Nantes and represented a considerable income. They had, until her recent death, been in the possession of the Duchesse de Lauranguais.

He shook his head. ‘I greatly fear Madame de Mirepoix cannot have them, as I have already bestowed them.’

Jeanne’s face flushed. ‘But I have already promised her that they shall be hers!’

The King lifted his shoulders and walked to the window.

Jeannne stamped her foot. ‘You must tell this person that you have changed your mind.’

‘But,’ said Louis coolly, ‘I have not changed my mind.’

Jeanne looked at him and for once he saw all the gaiety drained from her face.

He came to her side quickly. ‘You are the best-hearted woman in the world,’ he said. ‘Do not look so sad. How like you to ask for a New Year’s gift which you could bestow on someone else. Now I will tell you on whom I have already bestowed the
Loges de Nantes
: on someone of whom I happen to be very fond indeed. Her name? The Comtesse du Barry.’

Jeanne burst into loud laughter, and threw her arms about the King.

‘So you were but teasing me. And Madame de Mirepoix gets her
loges
. Oh, Lafrance, I was frightened for the minute!’

He looked at her tenderly. Frightened? Not because she herself might be losing her popularity. No! Scared that poor Madame de Mirepoix should not receive her rents.

Shortly after that she asked for the return of the Comtesse de Gramont.

‘Do I hear rightly?’ asked the King.

‘Well,’ cried Jeanne, ‘there’s the pug-dog going about the Court looking as though he has lost his bitch. I like dogs, as does Your Majesty.’

‘Do you not know that man is your most bitter enemy? And if you have a greater it is his sister.’

‘Oh, let us have her back. In any case she does more harm to me in the country than she does at Versailles. I like to keep my enemies in view.’

‘You are very different from Madame de Pompadour. She would never have allowed the Duchesse de Gramont to come back to Court.’

‘Oh . . . the Pompadour. I could never be like her, so what’s the use of trying? I can only be what I am.’

‘The kindest-hearted lady in the world,’ said Louis.

So the Duchesse de Gramont returned to Court, and Choiseul told his friends that he and his sister would have preferred her to remain in exile than to know that her return had been brought about through the grace of Madame du Barry.

‘Still,’ said Choiseul, ‘perhaps the woman will leave Court when the Dauphine arrives. For the Dauphine will be so embarrassed to find such as Madame du Barry installed at the Court of France.’

When Richelieu told Jeanne what Choiseul had said, her reply was an expletive which amused the old Duc so much that he had to go about the Court telling everyone what Madame du Barry had said.

The new Dauphine arrived in France – little more than a child; she was a dainty creature, with reddish hair and a very fair complexion. Louis was delighted with her and rode out into the Forest of Compiègne to greet her.

The Choiseuls were delighted; they looked upon this charming young girl as their closest ally and one who would work with them for the downfall of the du Barry.

But if they thought that the King, in his interest in his grand-daughter-in-law, would forget Madame du Barry, they were mistaken.

Jeanne sat down with the royal party to supper at Muette, and the two women took stock of each other.

Jeanne laughed inwardly. Poof! she thought. Red-haired and sandy-skinned! Her eyelashes are so light you can scarcely see them. Why, if she were not the daughter of an Empress no one would take any notice of her.

The Dauphine had been schooled by her mother, so when the King asked her opinion of the Comtesse du Barry she was immediately aware of his desire for a favourable reply.

‘I find her both charming and amiable,’ said the Dauphine; and the King patted her hand and told her that he was certain he and she were going to be the best of friends.

The festivities which accompanied the marriage of the heir to the throne were naturally dazzling. The firework displays were magnificent and the road from Paris to Versailles was thick with the crowds on their way to see the sights. It was said that Louis was determined to imitate the splendour of his grandfather.

Ah, said the agitators, but times were different then. Now there was a shortage of grain in France. Why? It was blamed on bad harvests, but was it due to those who hoarded grain? Was the King guiltless?

Some began to calculate the cost of the festivities, and they were discovered to be somewhere in the neighbourhood of twenty million livres.

Twenty million livres, when there were thousands in the capital alone who could not afford to buy bread! Pamphlets were published. One,
Reflections on the Nuptials of His Highness the Dauphin
, circulated throughout Paris, gave an account of the cost of the entertainments which had been given to celebrate the marriage.

While the people waited to see the sights they grumbled together.

A banquet was given at the Hôtel de Ville, to be followed by a display of fireworks in the Place Louis XV, and during this display some scaffolding caught fire and this spread to nearby buildings. Panic ensued and in their endeavours to escape many people were trampled underfoot. Eight hundred people were injured on that night, two hundred of them fatally.

It was a grim scene when daylight disclosed what had occurred on that tragic spot, stained with the blood of the dead and injured. People stood about in groups talking of the disaster. They grumbled about such lavish displays; they talked of the price of bread and the extravagance of these wedding celebrations.

Why should the people starve when the aristocrats lived in luxury? That was the question which was being asked on that very spot which in the near future was to be renamed the Place de la Révolution.

Chapter XX

THE DEFEAT OF CHOISEUL

T
here was now a powerful party to stand against Choiseul, and at its very heart was Madame du Barry. Jeanne listened to what they told her she must do; Richelieu, Aiguillon, Maupéou, the Abbé Terray were all advising her. ‘Persuade the King to this . . . to that.’

The King listened to her, for Louis at sixty was beginning to long more and more for peace; and Jean Baptiste and his sister Chon were continually warning Madame du Barry that either Choiseul must go or she would.

Thus it was that the odds were growing against Choiseul.

The Duc, otherwise so shrewd, entrenched himself in his nobility and refused to believe that
a fille de rien
could ever be important to the crown of France. Madame de Pompadour was at least
bourgeoise;
she was a woman of education to compare with that of members of the Court; therefore he had quickly realised that it was wiser to be on her side than against her; but he refused to consider Madame du Barry worthy of his attention.

Choiseul was now being blamed for the failure of the Seven Years War – most unfairly, for the war had been a disaster before he had come to power. It was remembered that he had spent thirty million livres in an endeavour to establish a settlement in Guiana, for which purpose he had sent out twelve thousand people from Alsace and Lorraine. Almost every one of those would-be-colonists had died.

‘Why,’ asked the
Barriens
, ‘should this man Choiseul be regarded as a great statesman, essential to France? Look at his record.’

It was true that he had annexed Corsica, but to do this he had used an immense amount of public funds, which must come from the poverty-stricken people. They forgot too how he had strengthened the Army and Navy.

As Madame du Barry became more important to the King, so the disgrace of Choiseul became more certain.