XXII. 1785. August 8–17. TWELVE DAYS’ STATE AT BAR-SUR-AUBE.

The countess had informed Beugnot, who had called upon her a short time previously to inquire if she had any commands for Bar-sur-Aube, whither he was about returning to spend his holidays, that it would not be until the commencement of October, that she would again have the pleasure of seeing him. “I was therefore very much surprised,” observes he, “to see Madame de la Motte arrive at Bar-sur-Aube in the early part of August, bringing with her her entire establishment, husband included. Villette alone remained in Paris as a forlorn sentinel, and, what appeared most strange, every day there arrived waggons loaded with furniture—a far larger quantity in fact than the house would hold—and magnificent furniture too. There were numerous handsome mirrors and looking-glasses with which the walls of the salon, already resplendent with a profusion of gilding, were decorated; the chairs and couches, covered with beautiful tapestry, were also gilt.⁠[189] Furet’s clocks, and Adams and Chevalier’s marble groups and bronzes ornamented the mantelpieces, and scattered about the salon were some of those costly fancies with which the arts contrive to tempt the extremest opulence, such as a pair of automatic canaries that sang a duet together, and another automaton bird, which flew about the room of itself. There were likewise two gold musical boxes—things which have become common enough since, but were still rare at that time; and clocks which by means of certain mechanical arrangements displayed different scenes every hour they struck. On seeing these things, one divined that they could only have been bought by people tired of their money and anxious for the first opportunity of flinging it out of window. In the dining-room were two magnificent buffets on which were displayed a profusion of valuable porcelain and two complete services of silver plate.”⁠[190] The hangings of the countess’s bed were of crimson velvet trimmed with gold lace and fringe and embroidered with gold and spangles, while the counterpane was worked all over with pearls⁠[191] brought, it will be remembered, by the count from England, and for which Gray had charged him over two thousand two hundred pounds, and which, according to the countess, were reported in the neighbourhood to be of the value of one hundred and fifty thousand livres. “As a consummation of imprudence,” remarks Beugnot, “the De la Mottes exhibited a casket containing more than two hundred thousand livres worth of diamonds, the count himself being supplied with a far larger quantity than seemed proper for an honest man.”

“In the De la Mottes’ stables were twelve splendid horses, and in their coach-house no fewer than five or six handsome carriages, made in England,” says Beugnot, “with a care and intelligence which showed that expense was the last thing these people troubled themselves about.” Among these vehicles was a light and beautiful cabriolet in the form of a balloon, and upwards of ten feet high. In this singular vehicle the Count de la Motte used to drive about the neighbourhood, stared at by the gaping peasants and townspeople.⁠[192] The countess when paying visits of ceremony rode in a carriage drawn by six horses with little silver bells jingling at their collars and foxes’ brushes flopping at their ears. She was invariably preceded by a couple of outriders, and one day greatly astonished the Abbot of Clairvaux—who, though a little king in these parts, only sported four horses himself—by driving up to the abbey gateway in this unwonted state. The number of servants on the De la Motte establishment was considerable, and their liveries were as a matter of course extremely rich. Among them was one of those little negro pages called “jokeis,” then much in fashion, engaged for madame’s special service. In short, the count and countess at this period of their career displayed in all their appointments a magnificence and a profusion more than rivalling that of the wealthiest families in France.

Madame’s superb embroidered robes and her valuable point lace were only in keeping with the splendour of her household display. As for her jewels, she no longer depended on a pair of diamond bracelets to attract attention, for had she not now the magnificent pair of girandole earrings for which Gray the jeweller had charged the count six hundred pounds sterling, and the diamond star-shaped brooch which had cost another four hundred pounds, and one of the handsomest diamonds in the whole Necklace set as a ring by Regnier, besides other diamond rings innumerable? The necklace, formed of “twenty-two of the very finest diamonds from the festoons,” which Gray had mounted in accordance with the count’s instructions, was flashing at this moment in the jeweller’s shop window, 13, New Bond Street, dazzling the eyes of Piccadilly and Bond Street loungers, and exciting the envy of high-born English beauties; for Gray, hard man that he was, would not part with the handsome jewel to the Capuchin McDermott—whom the count had commissioned to procure it, and who had made application for it to Gray on the count’s behalf—until he had been paid the expense of setting.

“We used to think,” remarks Beugnot, “that the Cardinal de Rohan paid for all this brilliant extravagance, and we admired the good use which his eminence made of the funds of the grand almonry. The first representation we had witnessed of the magnificence of the De la Motte household had astonished us; at this fresh display we felt uneasy and well nigh indignant. Neither husband nor wife showed the least inquietude. Their dinners were excellent; and fête followed upon fête. They endeavoured to attract the neighbourhood to their house and get invited out in return, and to a certain extent they succeeded.”⁠[193]⁠

Within about ten miles or so of Bar-sur-Aube is Brienne, famous for its military school, where the young Bonaparte it will be remembered studied mathematics and the art of war; and where, in the neighbouring château, lived Louis Loménie de Brienne, last Count of Brienne, who was brother of the Archbishop of Sens, prime minister of France just before the outbreak of the Revolution, and himself war minister for a time under Louis XVI. The ends of both brothers were alike untimely. One, the archbishop, died from a midnight carouse in which he was forced to join by the Jacobin emissaries who came to carry him off from his palace at Sens to the guillotine; the other by the guillotine itself, going thither in the same set of tumbrils as Madame Elisabeth, the king’s sister. At the Château de Brienne—a splendid edifice built by the count with the large fortune he received with his wife, the daughter of a rich fermier-général—as at almost every other château of importance at this period, private theatricals appear to have been in vogue.

“M. de la Motte one day mentioned to me,” remarks Beugnot, “that he had received an invitation to one of these entertainments at the Château de Brienne, and would be pleased if I would accompany him and accept of a seat in his carriage. Being well known to M. de Brienne, I acceded to the count’s request without hesitation, and on the appointed day we set forth in a gorgeous equipage drawn by four splendidly-caparisoned horses, and with three footmen behind us. Prior to our starting I felt strongly inclined to recede, as I foresaw that I should have to undergo my share of ridicule for this ostentatious display. On our arrival at the château we alighted to the great scandal of those who saw us arrive. Happily for us the preparations for the play absorbed almost everybody’s attention, and among others that of the master and mistress of the house. We entered the salon so that we might be seen, and passed from thence into the salle de spectacle. I was seated by the side of M. de la Motte, and soon perceived that he was the object of malevolent glasses, which were passed from hand to hand with shruggings of shoulders and mocking smiles. He certainly furnished a good subject for them, for he was dressed in a most singular style, and, what was in the worst of taste, diamonds were displayed in every part of his toilette at a period when the greatest simplicity already reigned in male attire.”

One can picture the count with one side of his three-cornered hat looped up with the magnificent diamond aigrette which he had bought of Gray, and with the medallion set with diamonds for which he had given two hundred and thirty pounds attached to a ribbon round his neck; with his diamond watch-chain, his various diamond rings, and his diamond snuff-box, value one hundred and twenty pounds; and with one or other of the very handsome steel swords which he had brought over with him from England swinging at his side.

“The count wore a dress coat of sky-blue cloth, a white waistcoat embroidered all over, and breeches of canary-colour taffeta. Still this only indicated the somewhat antiquated elegant; but here is what completed the absurdity. Madame de la Motte had taken it into her head to have the left facing of her husband’s coat embroidered over with a fine bouquet of lilies and roses intermixed. Nothing of the kind had been worn by any one up to that time, and most certainly not since. Everybody was asking what it could possibly mean: there were some who professed to see in it a sort of parody upon the united escutcheons of monsieur and madame, one of which contained fleurs-de-lis, the other roses. Stupidity and self-conceit could hardly have gone further.

“When the play was over we returned to the salon. The assembly was composed of the distinguished families of the neighbourhood and of men of letters from Paris—of the Abbé Morellet, la Harpe, Masson de Morvilliers, &c. I saluted Madame de Brienne, who scarcely condescended to nod to me in return, and then turned her back upon me. My reception by the master of the house was reduced to a ‘Good evening, sir,’ uttered in a dry tone. One feels ill at ease in the midst of a numerous circle after having been coldly received by the host and hostess. I continued standing, not knowing whither to bend my steps in the midst of this hostile camp, when my good star brought to the salon the Count de Dampierre, a great bore, who relieved me of my difficulty by at once seizing hold of me. He profited by the opportunity to speak to me of innovations of every kind which were already fermenting in his brain; and under the circumstances it was quite a treat to me to listen to him. In order that we might not be separated during supper, he dragged me at once to table, and seated me by his side, when he offered me in his own person the example of an individual capable of speaking with warmth and eating with avidity at one and the same moment. I was occasionally a trifle inattentive, owing to my desire to observe how my travelling-companion was faring; but M. de Dampierre always brought me back to the subject of his discourse. ‘Never mind him,’ he would say, ‘he’s only some poor devil of a swell at whose expense people have been amusing themselves for the last two hours. Do you know him?’

“‘Yes, a little.’

“‘Well, what is he? Is he one of us? Does he know where we are?’

“‘Not the least in the world.’

“‘Well, then, let them do what they please with him;’ and M. de Dampierre forthwith resumed his dissertation.

“I only knew from the tales told by some of the guests of the tricks which had been played upon M. de la Motte at the supper-table. It seems that in spite of the splendid repast spread before his eyes he had been debarred from partaking of the slightest nourishment, and that he rose from the table as badly ballasted as Sancho Panza at the conclusion of the first feast served to him under his own government. This could only have been brought about by a concert of ‘good turns,’ the success of which enraptured the originators who came to relate the affair to us. The Count de Dampierre inveighed against this interruption:

“‘Ah! well, well! but leave us alone; we have neither diamonds nor canary-coloured breeches, nor bouquets embroidered at our button-holes. There is your man cowering in the chimney-corner: go and laugh at his expense, since he is in the humour to submit to it, and permit us to talk sense!’

“After a time M. de la Motte grew bold, and came to me to propose that we should leave. I consented with all my heart; but there still remained a dreg at the bottom of the cup for me to swallow.

“When I went in all humility to salute M. de Brienne, and to ask him almost tremblingly if he had any commands to give me for Bar-sur-Aube, he signalled to me to advance, so that in getting clear of the hands of M. de Dampierre I fell into those of M. de Brienne, who was quite M. de Dampierre’s equal in holding fast to a good listener. M. de Brienne had not been at table, and had had of course nothing to do with the practical jokes of which M. de la Motte had been the victim. Indeed, he had listened with suppressed anger to the account which had been given him of the tricks played off upon the count, still he did not approve of my having presented myself at his house in such company. I excused myself as well as I could, assuring him M. de la Motte had informed me that he was invited for that particular day. M. de Brienne proved to me that whether M. de la Motte was invited or not, I did very wrong to accompany him. I agreed with him, and asked his pardon, as the shortest way of terminating the discussion, whereupon he immediately opened a conversation upon another subject. There were scarcely any affairs in the commune in which M. de Brienne did not take a lively interest, and he did me the honour to consult me upon many of them, consequently there were plenty of materials for a lengthened conversation.

“Poor M. de la Motte remained at a distance, watching our gestures, and awaiting the moment when I should be at liberty. During all this time people passed and repassed him with expressions of contempt or pity. I did not dare utter his name, though I had observed he had been waiting for me fully an hour. I risked a first salute to M. de Brienne, as if about to take my leave, but he paid no attention whatever to it, and continued speaking. A few minutes afterwards I made a new attempt to release myself, whereupon my host proposed to me to sleep at Brienne. As our discussion continued I could see that my travelling-companion was on live coals. At last, by a courageous effort, I succeeded in disengaging myself, and left with M. de la Motte. We stepped into his magnificent carriage, having behind us two footmen with lighted torches, and a negro covered from head to foot with silver lace. The windows of the salon looked out upon the court of honour of the château; Madame de Brienne and every one present were at the windows to observe the magnificence of our departure, and saluted us by clapping their hands, laughing, and indulging in mocking remarks which distinctly reached our ears. The carriage only rolled on the faster.”⁠[194]⁠

A day or two afterwards Madame de la Motte proposed to Beugnot to accompany her on a visit she was about to pay to the Duke de Penthièvre, but Beugnot, not wishing to place himself in a ridiculous position a second time, very decidedly declined the honour. He however accepted the countess’s offer to set him down at Clairvaux, where he had been invited, and which was on the road from Bar-sur-Aube to Château-Villain, and to call and fetch him on her return in the evening.

“In accordance with this arrangement,” says Beugnot, “we left Bar-sur-Aube at eight o’clock in the morning of the 17th of August, 1785, a day I shall never forget. Madame de la Motte having set me down at Clairvaux, as had been agreed, went on to Château-Villain, where she dined and met with a reception which astonished those who composed the Penthièvre court. The duke himself re-conducted the countess at her departure to the door of the salon opening on to the grand staircase, an honour which he did not pay even to duchesses, but reserved exclusively for princesses of the blood-royal, so strongly were the lessons of Madame de Maintenon on the honours to be paid to illegitimacy impressed upon his mind.”⁠[195]⁠