Note 16 — Chapter I

It is due to the satisfaction of the reader that I should give an account how a stranger could become so well acquainted with the secret history of the Court of France. I have mentioned my intimacy with the Prince and Princesse de Craon. It was in the years 1740 and 1741, when the Prince was head of the Council there, and my father was Prime Minister of England, I resided thirteen months at Florence, in the house of Sir Horace Mann, our resident and my own cousin—passed almost every evening at the Princesse’s, and being about two years older than their son the Prince de Beauvau, contracted a friendship with him, and was with the whole family at Rome when the Prince went thither to receive the toison d’or from the Prince of Santa Croce, the Emperor’s Ambassador. That connection with her family soon made me as intimate with Madame de Mirepoix on her arrival in England, which my frequent journeys to Paris kept up. Madame de Monconseil had been in correspondence with my father; I was acquainted with her in 1739, and renewed my visits in 1765, and often since. Her house was the rendezvous of the Duc de Choiseul’s enemies, and I have supped there with Maréchal Richelieu and Madame de Mirepoix. The Dowager Duchesse d’Aiguillon was an intimate friend of my friend Lady Hervey, and was remarkably good to me. In England I was as intimate with the Comte and Comtesse du Châtelet, the bosom friends of the Duc de Choiseul, and was regularly of their private suppers twice a-week, just at the beginning of Madame du Barry’s reign; and as they knew how well I was at the Hôtel de Choiseul, and consequently better acquainted than almost any man in England with what was passing, it was an entertainment to them to talk to me on those affairs; at the same time that I had had the prudence never to take any part which would not become a stranger, and was thus well received by both parties. The Maréchal Richelieu was an old lover of the Dowager Duchesse d’Aiguillon, and constantly at her house; and yet she acted a handsome and neutral part; and it was at last that with great difficulty her son could make her go to Madame du Barry. But the great source of my intelligence was the celebrated old blind Marquise du Deffand, who had a strong and lasting friendship for me. As she hated politics, she entered into none, but being the intimate friend of the Duchesse de Choiseul, who called her “granddaughter” (Madame du Deffand having had a grandmother Duchesse de Choiseul), of the Prince of Beauvau and of Madame de Mirepoix, I saw them all by turns at their house, heard their intrigues, and from her: and on two of my journeys I generally supped five nights in a week with her at the Duchesse de Choiseul’s, whither the Duke often came—and in those, and in the private parties at Madame du Deffand’s I heard such extraordinary conversations as I should not have heard if I had not been so very circumspect, as they all knew. I shall mention some instances hereafter. Here are two. Madame de Mirepoix soon grew not content with Madame du Barry. I was one evening very late on the Boulevard with Mesdames du Mirepoix and Du Deffand. The latter asked the former, “Que deviendroit Madame du Barry, si le Roi venoit à mourir?” “Que deviendroit elle?” replied she, with the utmost scorn; “elle iroit à la Salpetrière, et elle est très faite pour y aller.” On the death of Louis the Fifteenth Madame de Mirepoix was disgraced; on which her brother, the Prince de Beauvau, in compassion, was reconciled to her, and she and the Princess pretended to be reconciled, and always kissed when they met. I saw them and their niece, the Viscomtesse de Cambis, act three of Molière’s plays two nights together, to divert Madame du Deffand, who was ill. This was in 1775. Yet when I went to take leave of Madame de Mirepoix, she opened her heart to me, and showed me how heartily she still hated her sister-in-law.