It is not long since a minister of a certain court said to me at Versailles, That the two last German wars, which cost France so much blood, and three hundred millions of livres, was the greatest stroke of policy which the age afforded; as this court had thereby insensibly, and unknown to the rest of Europe, reduced the power of the Queen of Hungary: for, added he, if, on the demise of Charles VI. this crown had openly bent all its forces against the house of Austria, a general alliance would have opposed it; whereas it has weakened that house by a series of little battles and repeated losses, &c. &c.
The inserting such an anecdote in the annals of our age would be sufficient to disfigure the whole history. The truth is, that they who were at the head of the French affairs, during these two wars, had no manner of genius.
All details not relative to the state I shall carefully omit, as rather writing the age of Lewis XV. than the history of my private life. The transactions of a King’s favourite concern only the reign of that Prince; but truth is of perpetual concern.
I hope the public does not expect from me a circumstantial journal of Lewis XV’s gallantries: the King had many transitory amours during my residence at Versailles; but none of his mistresses were admitted into the public affairs. The reign of the far greater part began and ended in the Prince’s bed. These foibles, so closely connected with human nature, belong rather to a King’s private life, than to the public history of a Monarch: I may sometimes mention them, but it will only be by the way. I shall likewise be silent in regard to my family. The particular favour with which I have been honoured by Lewis XV. has placed my origin in broad day-light. A Monarch in raising a woman to the summit of grandeur, of course lays open the blemishes of her birth. The annals of the universe have been overlooked, to make a singular case of what has been almost a general practice in the world.
The Roman Emperors often raised so favour and eminence women of more obscure birth than mine: but, without going so far backward, the history of our own Kings abounds with such instances. Though the widow of Scarron the poet rose a step higher than I, she was not born to such exaltation. It is true her father was a gentleman; but all women, not born Princesses, are at a like distance from the throne.
A multitude of injurious reports have been propagated concerning my parents. A wretched anonymous writer has gone even farther, by publishing a scandalous book with the title of the history of my life. The Count D’Affry wrote to me from Holland, that this production was of the growth of Great-Britain. The English seem to make it their particular business to throw dirt at persons of distinguished rank at the court of France: that government is said to claim such a privilege, in order to keep up the hatred between the two nations.
Though my birth had nothing great in it, my education was not neglected. I was taught dancing, music, and the rules of elocution, by excellent masters; and those little talents have proved of the highest use to me. I also read a great deal, and a favourite writer of mine was one Madame de Villedieu. Her picture of the Roman empire entertained me exceedingly. I even felt a very lively joy in observing that the greatest revolutions in the world have been owing to love.
After bestowing on me all the accomplishments which advantageously distinguish a young person of my sex, I was married to one whom I did not love; and a misfortune still greater was, that he loved me. This I call a misfortune, and indeed I know not a greater on earth; for a woman not beloved by a man, whom she likewise has married without any affection, at least comforts herself in his indifference.
During the first years of my marriage, the King’s gallantries were much talked of at Paris: his fleeting amours opened a field for all women, who had beauty enough to put in for his heart.
The post of mistress to Lewis XV. was often vacant. At Versailles all the passions had an appearance of debauchery. In that airy region love was soon exhausted, as consisting wholly in fruition. Nothing of delicacy was to be seen at court; the whole scene of sensibility was in the Prince’s bed. This Monarch often laid down with a heart full of love, and the next morning rose with as much indifference.