Note 43 — VI THE GRIEFS OF THE MARQUISE DE POMPADOUR

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.