FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lacordaire, 2d Toulouse Conference.
No, Louis was less harsh than he appeared;
His death has justified him,
Since he, as well as the Messiah,
Has died for our salvation.
[3] Room No. 124 of the Notice du Musée de Versailles, by M. Eudore Soulié.
[4] Room No. 115 of the Notice du Musée de Versailles.
[5] See the interesting work by M. Édouard de Barthélemy, Les filles du Regent, 2 vols., Firmin Didot.
[6] La Reine Leczinska, by Madame the Countess d’Armaillé, born De Ségur, 1 vol., Dentu.
[7] Letter to M. Thiriot, October 17, 1725.
[8] Receveur des décimes—the tithe formerly paid by the clergy to the kings of France.
[9] Memoirs of Duclos.
[10] The Duke was blind in one eye.
[11] The chamber of Louis XV. and the cabinets are now used as the apartment of the President of the National Assembly.
[12] Massillon, Sermon on l’Evidence de la loi.
[13] Memoirs of the Duke de Luynes.
[14] Les Maitresses de Louis XV., par Edmond et Jules de Goncourt. 2 vols. Firmin-Didot.
[15] Correspondence of Louis XV. and the Marshal de Noailles, published by M. Camille Rousset. 2 vols. Dumont.
[16] Lettres autographes de la duchesse de Châteauroux. Bibliothèque de Rouen.
[17] Memoirs of the Duke de Luynes.
[18] M. Capefigue, Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. 1 vol. Amyot.
[19] M. Boutaric, Correspondance Secrète de Louis XV.
[20] The dinner took place in the room called the Queen’s Antechamber, No. 117 of the Notice du Musée, by M. Eudore Soulié.
[21] Room No. 116 of the Notice du Musée.
[22] The gilted screw-rings which served to support this canopy may still be seen in the cornice opposite the windows.
[23] La reine Marie Leczinska, by Madame the Countess d’Armaillé, born de Ségur. 1 vol., Didier.
[24] Massillon, Sermon sur les dégoûts qui accompagnent la piété.
[25] Born at Versailles, September 4, 1729, died at Fontainebleau, December 20, 1765. He married a Spanish Infanta in 1745, and in 1747 a princess of Saxony, the mother of Louis XVI., Louis XVIII., and of Charles X.
[26] February 25, 1745.
When Cæsar, that charming hero,
Whom all Rome idolized,
Gained some brilliant combat,
People complimented on it
The divine Cleopatra.
When Louis, that charming hero,
Who is the idol of all Paris,
Gains some brilliant combat,
One must compliment on it
The divine D’Étioles.
He knows how to love and how to fight;
He sends to this fair abode
A brevet worthy of Henry Fourth,
Signed: Louis, Mars, and Love.
But the enemies have their turn,
And his valor and his prudence
Give to Ghent, the same day,
A brevet as a French city.
These two brevets, so welcome,
Will both survive in memory.
With him the altars of Venus
Are in the temple of Glory.
All is about to change: the crimes of an inconstant
No longer will be vaunted as exploits.
Modesty alone will obtain our homage,
Constant Love will resume his rights.
The example of it is given by the greatest of kings
And the most discreet of beauties.
Great King, London groans, Vienna weeps and admires thee.
Thine arm is about to decide the fate of the Empire.
Sardinia wavers, and Munich repents;
Batavia, undecided, is a prey to remorse;
And France exclaims amidst her joy:
“The best loved of Kings is also the greatest!”
[31] See the accurate and interesting little work by M. Adolphe Julien: Histoire du Théâtre de Mme. de Pompadour, dit Théâtre des petits cabinets, with an etching by Martial after Boucher.
One traces but on sand
The vague and unstable promises
Of all the nobles of the court;
But on imperishable bronze
The Muses have traced the name of Pompadour
And her invariable promise.
[33] This staircase, which led to the large apartments of the King, was destroyed in 1750. The present staircase in the wing of the palace was constructed on the side of it.
This perfect American
Has caused too many tears to flow.
Can I not console myself
And see Venus at her toilette?
[35] See the learned and remarkable work of M. Campardon: Madame de Pompadour et la cour de Louis XV., 1 vol., Plon.
[36] Curiosités historiques, par M. Le Roy, 1 vol., Plon.
[37] See rooms 56, 57, 58, 59 of M. Soulie’s Notice of the Museum of Versailles. No. 57 was the bedroom of the Marquise, No. 58 her study.
Sincere and tender Pompadour
(For I can give you in advance
This name which rhymeth with amour
And soon will be the finest name in France),
This tokay with which Your Excellence
At Étioles regalèd me,
Beareth it not some resemblance
Unto the King who gave it thee?
It is, like him, without melange,
Joins strength to mildness, pleasant art,
Pleases the eyes, enchants the heart,
Does good and never knoweth change.
Spirits and hearts and ramparts terrible,
All to his efforts yield, all bend beneath his law,
And Berg-Op-Zoom and you, you are invincible;
You have submitted only to my King.
’Tis to your arms he flies from Victory’s breast,
Finds in your heart the guerdon of his toils.
His glory nothing can augment,
And you augment his happiness.
So then, you reunite
All arts, all gifts to please;
Pompadour, you embellish
The court, Parnassus, and Cythera.
Charm of all eyes, treasure of one alone,
May your love be eternal!
May all your days be marked by festivals!
May new successes mark the days of Louis!
May you both live devoid of enemies
And both preserve your conquests.
Grotesque monument, infamous pedestal;
The Virtues are on foot, and vice on horseback.
Here lies she who, starting from a dungheap,
In order to make her fortune complete,
Sold her honor to the farmer,
And her daughter to the proprietor.
The noble lords abase themselves,
The financiers enrich themselves,
The Poissons aggrandize themselves;
’Tis the reign of good-for-naughts.
They exhaust the treasury,
They waste in buildings,
The State falls into decadence,
The King sets nothing straight.
A little bourgeoise,
Brought up like a wanton,
Measuring all by her own standard,
Makes a kennel of the court;
Louis, in spite of his scruples,
Burns coldly for her,
And his ridiculous amour
Makes all Paris laugh.
A vapid countenance,
And each tooth spotted,
The skin yellow and freckled,
The eyes frigid and the neck long,
Witless and without character,
The soul vile and mercenary,
The tattle of a gossip,
All is low with la Poisson.
If among chosen beauties
She were one of the prettiest,
One pardons follies
When their object is a gem.
But when a ridiculous creature
And so flat a figure
Excites so many murmurs,
Every one thinks the King a fool.
Who can hereafter recognize his King
Amid these actors who reign with thee?
Love has been set upon the throne of France.
Theatric rage assassinates the court.
The palaces of our kings, once worthy of respect,
Lose all their éclat, become contemptible;
None but merry-andrews inhabit them!...
A leech’s daughter and a leech herself,
Fish of an arrogance extreme,
Parades in this château, without fear or dread,
The people’s substance and the monarch’s shame.
[47] Clément XIV. et les Jésuites, by M. Crétineau-Joly.
[48] See the very learned and complete work of M. Jobez: La France sous Louis XV. Six vols., Didier.
What is clearly conceived is clearly expressed,
And the words to say it come easily.
[50] Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi, t. viii.
Soubise says, lantern in hand,
There’s no use looking, where the devil is my army?
It was here yesterday morning, anyhow,
Has some one taken it or have I lost it?
Ah! I lose everything, I am a rattlepate;
But wait till broad daylight, till noon.
What do I see! O heaven! How my soul is enraptured!
Wondrous prodigy, there it is, there it is!—
Ah! zounds! What is that then?
I was mistaken, ’tis the enemy’s army.
[52] Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XV.
[53] See the witty and interesting work by M. Arsène Houssaye: Louis XV. 1 vol., Dentu.
The sun is sick,
And so is Pompadour;
’Tis but a transient thing,
For both are cured;
The good God who aids
Our wishes and our love,
For the welfare of the world
Restores to us the day
With Pompadour.
You are too dear to France,
To the god of arts and loves,
To fear the deadly power of fate.
All the gods watched over your life,
All were animated by the zeal that inspires me;
In flying to your rescue
They have established their empire.
[56] Bossuet. Sermon on Final Impenitence.
[57] Room No. 116 of the Notice du Musée, by M. Eudore Soulié.
[58] No. 122 of the Notice.
These lines, traced by a hand divine,
Cannot but cause me trouble and embarrassment.
’Twere too much daring should my heart divine them;
’Twere too ungrateful not to guess them.
One should not be old except in Sparta,
Say the ancient writings.
Great God! how far I am out of the way,
Who am so old in Paris.
O Sparta! O Sparta! alas! what has become of you?
You knew the full value of a hoary head.
The more one muffled up in dog-days,
The more the ear was deaf and dim the eye,
The more nonsense one talked in his sad family,
The more one criticised the veriest trifle,
The more gout and similar titbits one possessed,
The more teeth one had lost by their good will,
The more one stooped over his heavy crutch,
The more fit, in fact, one was to be buried,
The more within its ramparts one was honored.
O Sparta! O Sparta! alas! what has become of you?
Yon knew the full value of a hoary head.
Accumulated years have pushed me to extremity.
I cannot longer, alas! find Sparta everywhere,
But you, the model of queens,
Assuredly should find Athens everywhere.
[62] Mesdames de France, filles de Louis XV., by Édouard de Barthélemy. Didier.
[63] Louis XV. et sa famille, after unpublished letters and documents, by Honoré Bonhomme. 1 Vol., Dentu.
[64] No. 122 of Notice du Musée de Versailles, by M. Eudore Soulié.
Transcriber’s Notes:
1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.
2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the original.
3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.