From the general point of view Choiseul was a bad minister and a bad citizen, but he was a paragon of patriotism and morality compared with the sycophants, mistresses and their parasites—particularly Lady Dubarry whom a lampoonist qualified as less to be respected than a charcoal-man’s wife. To see the reins pass into the hands of the pet of a favorite made the future blacker than before.
Hence nearly everybody flocked on the road to cheer the Minister as he went away in exile.
There was a block to the traffic at the Enfer Tollbar, on the Touraine Road. A hundred carriages escorted the duke after he had got through here.
Cheers and sighs followed him, but he was too sharp not to know that there was less regret over his going than fear about those who would replace him.
On the crowded highway a postchaise came tearing and would have run down the minister but for a violent swerving of the postboy.
A head was stuck out of the chaise window at the same time as the Duke of Choiseul looked out of his.
It was the Duke of Aiguillon, nephew of Richelieu, who would probably have a place in the cabinet which the marshal duke, as the new minister, would form. No doubt he had received the cue and was hurrying to take the berth. He saluted the fallen one very lowly. The latter drew back in the coach, for in this second the sight had withered all the laurels.
At the same time, as compensation up came a carriage with the royal colors, drawn by eight horses on the Sevres branch-road, and crossing with Choiseul’s equipage by chance or the block.
On the back seat was the Dauphiness with her mistress of the Household, Lady Noailles; on the front one was Andrea de Taverney.
Red with glory and delight, Choiseul leaned out and bowed lowly.