The Road to Compiegne Page 18

  What must be found was a beauty of an entirely different kind, and the Marquise decided she would send out new scouts to discover her.

  She sent for Sartines, the Lieutenant of the Police, and told him to search Paris for a girl who was beautiful but not conventionally so; she must have some startling quality in her appearance; she must be someone who was outstandingly different.

  Sartines, realising that one of his most important duties, if he were a wise man, was to please the Marquise, set out on his search.

  His was a difficult task, for the King’s inexhaustible adventurings appeared to have led him to acquire all shapes and sizes.

  One day when he was in a gaming-house, and talking idly to the proprietress, she spoke nostalgically of her childhood in Grenoble.

  ‘Ah, Monsieur, if my parents could see me now! What a difference, eh . . . That quiet house in the square. Papa so strict, taking such care of his daughters . . . and what has happened? One of them comes to Paris to run a gaming-house.’

  Sartines nodded. She was a handsome woman and he had no wish to try his luck at the tables today. He invited her to drink with him and she accepted; but he could see that her thoughts were far away in a quiet house in a Grenoble square.

  ‘Oh yes, Papa guarded us well. I . . . and my sister. Mind you, he would have to guard her well. I went to see them only a few months ago. Very respectable I had to become, Monsieur le Lieutenant. No mention of the gaming-house! Had I told them of that I should not have been allowed to see my sister. She is beautiful. I have never seen anyone quite like her. She is like one of the statues you see in the gardens. She is the tallest woman I ever saw.’

  ‘The tallest woman you ever saw . . .’ murmured the Lieutenant hastily. ‘Tell me, how tall is Mademoiselle?’

  ‘Mademoiselle de Romans is six feet tall, I swear. She is exactly like one of those stone goddesses. I always thought there could not be women quite like that – towering above other women, perfectly shaped, with black eyes and black hair. My sister is a goddess, Monsieur. If you saw her you would know why she is never allowed out without a chaperone.’

  ‘If I saw her, I am sure I should agree with you,’ said the Lieutenant with a smile.

  He was determined to see her – and that without delay.

  * * *

  As soon as Sartines set eyes on Mademoiselle de Romans he was certain that the search which Madame de Pompadour had commanded him to make was ended.

  He saw her in the company of her parents. Lawyer de Romans was quite clearly a stern and self-righteous man; but the Lieutenant did not experience any great qualms. The honours to be gained by becoming the King’s mistress were equal to any which could come to Mademoiselle de Romans through any marriage she could make in Grenoble – that was if one counted honour by material gain, which the Lieutenant was sure Lawyer de Romans would.

  He asked for an invitation to the house, saying that he came on very important business from Versailles. The magic word ‘Versailles’ immediately gained this and, as they sat over their wine, the Lieutenant said: ‘Your daughter must be the most beautiful girl in Grenoble, perhaps in France.’

  The lawyer looked pleased.

  ‘What a precious possession!’ went on the Lieutenant. ‘For it is clear that not only is she beautiful but virtuous.’

  ‘We have guarded her well,’ said the lawyer. ‘But Monsieur, shall we discuss your business?’

  ‘She is my business, Monsieur de Romans. I want you to bring her to Versailles.’

  ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘That would depend on your daughter. She could make a great position for herself at Court, Monsieur. It is a sin to hide one so outstanding in beauty and virtue from the world and keep from her those advantages which her merit would bring her.’

  Monsieur de Romans rested his elbows on the table and looked earnestly at the Lieutenant.

  ‘My daughter has many suitors, Monsieur. There is none whom I have so far deemed worthy of her. I should need a very excellent proposition before I could consider your suggestion. I have my daughter’s future to think of.’

  ‘You are a wise parent, Monsieur. Let us make a bargain. Let her be brought to Versailles – oh, with the utmost decorum of course. I can assure you that there would be no difficulty in bringing her to the notice of the King himself. Moreover I feel sure that, once His Majesty had set eyes on Mademoiselle de Romans, he would be so delighted with her beauty that he would make sure the excellent proposition, which you insist on, would not be denied her.’

  ‘It would have to be a very excellent proposition,’ said the lawyer.

  ‘Let us arrange this. Have her brought to Versailles. If the . . . proposition is not to your taste, you can bring her back to her sequestered life. I am sure she will find a worthy husband of the haute bourgeoisie here in Grenoble. That would no doubt be very satisfactory for a young lady of her position in society – who is not possessed of great ambitions.’

  The lawyer’s eyes gleamed with cupidity and determination.

  His daughter was going to Versailles. He foresaw a brilliant future, for the sake of which he and her mother would smother those qualms they felt regarding their daughter’s entering into an unsanctified union. Who knew, such a union might eventually lead to marriage with the haute noblesse. How different a future that would be from what could only be hers if she continued to live her sheltered life in Grenoble!

  * * *

  When the King saw her he was enchanted.

  He said she was like a goddess. She was Minerva, so perfectly shaped, a woman to tower above all others in her physical perfection, a woman surely not of this earth.

  Sartines informed the King that her father was a highly respectable lawyer and as such could not allow his daughter to become an inmate of the Parc aux Cerfs.

  ‘Indeed not,’ said the King. ‘Arrange an establishment for her immediately. Let it be luxurious enough to please her parents, for I feel very grateful to them for having produced such a daughter.’

  She was under nineteen years of age and bewildered by the change of fortune which had come to her. She had been well educated, a fact which would have perturbed the Marquise had she been aware of it; and the tender charm of her royal lover soon overcame her reluctance. She was immediately put at ease by his gracious manners. She must forget, Louis told her, that he was the King. When they were together he was plain Louis de Bourbon who was falling more deeply in love every day with Mademoiselle de Romans.

  Sartines had certainly succeeded in finding someone who was different from the pretty little toys who only pleased for a short time.

  This intelligent young Amazon would, Louis believed, always have the power to delight him. He was certain that he would never tire of her.

  She was gentle by nature and that appealed to him; she did not ask impossibilities although she did not forget that she was no grisette, but the daughter of a respectable lawyer.

  Louis was eager to shower gifts upon her. She had her own magnificent carriage and rode about Paris in this, a figure of statuesque beauty. Because of her great height she did not wear her magnificent hair piled high, but low on her head. Very soon the women of Paris were following the new fashion and hair was being dressed à la Romans.

  People wandered out to her charming house at Passy to look at her, to note what she was wearing, the way she did her hair.

  She became known throughout Paris and Versailles as la petite maîtresse, a name given her partly ironically, since she was far from petite, partly to distinguish her from that grande maîtresse, Madame de Pompadour.

  Madame de Pompadour smiled graciously on the newcomer, but after a while she began to wonder whether Sartines had been too assiduous in his duty when he had set out to find someone who was entirely different from all others.

  Was she so wise to have given that order?

  She heard, for she had informants in all quarters and naturally she would not overlook the establishment of Mademoiselle de Romans, that the
King’s petite maîtresse often received him reclining on a couch of taffeta, completely nude, but that her wonderful hair was so long that it made a rippling blue-black cloak through which her alabaster skin gleamed like the statues in the gardens of Versailles.

  The Marquise winced. She must keep a vigilant eye on la petite maîtresse.

  * * *

  The Duc de Choiseul was delighted with the good fortunes which had come his way.

  He had placed himself in charge of Foreign Affairs, War and the Navy; and since the country was at war, this meant that he was virtually the most important man in France.

  He was of an optimistic nature and refused to be depressed by defeat; he had an unlimited belief in his own powers to rule, and, no matter what disaster befell France, he was certain that he, the great Choiseul, the man of the moment, would bring his country and himself gloriously through every ordeal.

  He was completely given to the Austrian cause because he was of Lorraine and, since Maria Theresa’s husband was the Duc de Lorraine, there was a certain family connexion between himself and the Imperial House of Austria. He was determined to maintain the alliance no matter how unpopular it was.

  He was volatile and witty, and therefore a man who delighted the King. If the country’s affairs were in an unsatisfactory state, Louis preferred the optimistic view; he liked to be with men who made him laugh. Choiseul, making light of France’s troubles, making much of her happier prospects, brought contentment to Louis, and made it possible for him to continue with his pleasures, his conscience stilled.

  Choiseul had brought about the third Treaty of Vienna in which he promised Maria Theresa the aid of a hundred thousand Frenchmen. The Treaty assured her that France would not sign a peace treaty until Frederick had returned Silesia to Austria. It was small wonder that Maria Theresa was delighted with the Treaty, particularly as, in return for these benefits, she was not asked to help France in her struggle against England. Choiseul had however received the pledge of Elizabeth the Czarina to help France in the struggle against her enemies.

  The Marquise persuaded the King that Choiseul was the most brilliant statesman France had known since the days of the Cardinals, Richelieu and Mazarin.

  Meanwhile Choiseul carefully picked as his subordinates men whom he could trust to serve him. Many of his actions were bold rather than brilliant. He had attempted an invasion of England, in his enthusiasm forgetting the power of the English fleet. French squadrons were miserably defeated everywhere they attacked, and the result was disaster so great that the French could no longer be said to possess a home fleet.

  Seventeen fifty-nine was a year of tragedy. In Canada the Marquis de Montcalm was beseeching the Government to send him help against the British. He died at Quebec in September of that year and, although General Wolfe the leader of the British troops died also, that battle ended in a resounding victory for the British.

  Choiseul, realising that the war could not be won, sought to make peace with England, but Prime Minister Pitt was determined to continue the war.

  The people were crying out against the Austrian alliance, and Choiseul, resilient as ever, dexterous as a conjurer, looked about him for a new rabbit to pull out of his hat.

  He believed he had it.

  He went to see his sister with whom he often discussed affairs. He had a great respect for her and his passionate devotion blinded him to many of her faults.

  She received him affectionately.

  He looked at her with admiration, his head on one side, seeing her as the beloved companion of his childhood whom he had brought to Court to be with him when they had very little money and only their noble lineage as assets.

  ‘You are beautiful,’ he told her.

  She drew him to her in an embrace. She was taller than he was and many of their enemies said that she was the more masculine of the two.

  ‘Why does the King have to send for a lawyer’s daughter when he could find what he wants at Court?’ murmured Choiseul.

  The Duchess laughed. ‘Ha! And how goes this great love affair with Venus?’

  ‘Minerva, my dear Minerva. I had it from his Majesty’s own lips. Mademoiselle de Romans is as superb as a goddess. She is Minerva herself.’

  ‘Minerva,’ said the Duchesse. ‘Now I should have thought Venus more suited to Louis’ mood. Was not Minerva impervious to the claims of love?’

  ‘There have been too many Venuses in Louis’ life. Let him have his Minerva for a change. Change! It is all change. Richelieu has impressed upon him that variety is the sauce which makes the meal into a banquet. But you, my dear, remind me of Minerva, and I cannot see why . . .’

  The Duchesse grimaced mildly. ‘You cannot see why. My dear Etienne, what ideas are you putting into my head? There is one who would see very well why. My dear, she is your great friend; she is also mine. You know why we must have our little Venuses from the dressmakers, our Minervas from the bourgeoisie. She would not tolerate one of us occupying that place which she guards so jealously although she can no longer occupy it.’

  ‘It would be dangerous . . . very dangerous to lose her friendship.’

  ‘It is due to it, my dear brother, that you are where you are today.’

  ‘And where I intend to stay!’

  He was silent for a while; then putting his arm about her he led her to a couch where they sat down; and still embracing her he said: ‘I have a plan. The people are restive, as you know, and something must be done with the greatest speed. They are saying, “The English are against us. The Prussians are against us; our friends are our old enemies the Austrians.” The people are losing heart becase they fear their enemies and do not trust their friends. I have an idea for a pact which I shall call the Family Compact.’

  She nodded, her smile full of admiration. ‘You are a genius, my dear.’

  He accepted the compliment lightly. He believed it no less than she did.

  ‘Have you realised that a certain section of Europe is ruled by the Bourbon family? France, Spain, Naples and Parma. In times of stress families should stand together. I propose now to show the people of France that, contrary to the opinions of those pessimists among them, they have many friends in Europe. They are saying we have only one ally. Only one ally! If I make this pact – and make it I will – I will say to them: “We have all the Bourbons of Europe as our friends. We stand together against all our enemies. One family. From Spain to Sicily I have but to beckon and they will come.” ’

  ‘And will they?’

  Choiseul lifted his shoulders. ‘Our greatest need at the moment, sweet sister, is to pacify the people, to make them happy. One step at a time.’

  She smiled. ‘I see. We have come a long way from the poverty of our childhood, brother.’

  ‘And we will go much farther . . . both of us, my dearest . . . you and I. Our dear friend will not live for ever. She cannot live for ever.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then, and then . . .’ murmured Choiseul, ‘it may be that the King will not have to look for his goddesses so far from his Court, eh?’

  ‘But time is passing, Etienne.’

  ‘Time! What is time to us? We are immortal. I see no reason why you should not occupy the first place in the land. Others besides our dear friend cannot live for ever. I remember Madame de Maintenon.’

  ‘Etienne!’

  Choiseul laid his hand lightly on his sister’s lips.

  ‘Silence, sweet one, for the moment. We can wait. We have learned to wait. Let us wait a little longer . . . only a little longer.’

  ‘Ambitious dreams, Etienne,’ she said.

  ‘Great honours, my sister, invariably begin as ambitious dreams.’

  ‘The two of us together, brother! Is there any limit to the heights we can climb?’

  ‘Only the summit is our limit, sister. Wait and see. The future is rosy for the Duc de Choiseul, and all the glory that shall ever be his he swears he will share with her whom he loves; beyond all others.’

/>   * * *

  There were occasions when it was necessary, greatly to the King’s regret, for him to visit Paris.

  The people had now forgotten his brief return to favour when they thought him to be dying from the knife-thrust of Damiens. They did not call abuse at him as he rode their streets; they merely gave him sullen looks and silence. Indeed, such was his dignity that it was almost impossible to abuse him in his presence.

  He sat in his carriage, erect, seemingly indifferent to the mood of his people.

  Crowds gathered to see him pass, as they had ever done, and it was only when the carriage had rumbled on that the murmuring would break out.

  As his carriage passed by the gardens of the Tuileries his eye was suddenly caught by a fair-haired child with her father, who was clearly an old soldier.

  The girl was richly though by no means elegantly dressed, and her father was bending down to her. Louis could imagine the words he was saying to her. ‘See, there he is. There is the King.’

  The girl’s beautiful blue eyes were wide with excitement. She pointed to the carriage. Louis leaned a little forward and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of her gesture.

  He saw the glowing smile on her face.

  A charming child, he thought. To see her has made the journey worthwhile.

  She must be very young. He guessed she would be something under fourteen. Girls of that age seemed to him particularly delightful. They had a certain innocence which was lost later.

  He wondered who she was, and thought how pleasant it would be to take her hands, embrace her and tell her that it made her King very happy to think that he had a subject such as she was.

  * * *

  On his return to Versailles, he sent for Le Bel.

  ‘I saw a charming child in the Tuileries gardens today,’ he said.

  ‘And Your Majesty wishes to make her acquaintance?’

  ‘She was such a pretty creature, but odiously dressed. Her gown was pink and she wore jewellery, obviously false. I should like to see a child as pretty as that well dressed. She pointed at the carriage. I should like to have such a pretty child taught how to behave.’