A prefatory remark--Madame Brillant--The marechale de Luxembourg's cat-- Despair of the marechale--The ambassador, Beaumarchais, and the duc de Chaulnes--the comte d'Aranda--Louis XV and his relics--The abbe de Beauvais-- His sermons--He is appointed bishop
When I related to comte Jean my reconciliation with the duc de Richelieu, and the sum which this treaty had cost me, my brother-in-law flew into the most violent fury; he styled the marechal a plunderer of the public treasury. Well may the scripture tell us we see the mote in our neighbor's eye, but regard not the beam which is in our own eye. I was compelled to impose silence on comte Jean, or in the height of his rage he would have offered some insult to the old marechal, who already most heartily disliked him for the familiarity of his tone and manner towards him. I did all in my power to keep these two enemies from coming in each other's way, counselled to that by the marechale de Mirepoix, whose line of politics was of the most pacific nature; besides I had no inclination for a war carried on in my immediate vicinity, and, for my own part, so far from wishing to harm any one, I quickly forgave every affront offered to myself.
But hold! I perceive I am running on quite smoothly in my own praise. Indeed, my friend, it is well I have taken that office upon myself, for I fear no one else would undertake it. The most atrocious calumnies have been invented against me; I have been vilified both in prose and verse; and, amongst the great number of persons on whom I have conferred the greatest obligations, none has been found with sufficient courage or gratitude to stand forward and undertake my defence. I do not even except madame de Mirepoix, whose conduct towards me in former days was marked by the most studied attention. She came to me one evening, with a face of grief.
"Mercy upon me," cried I, "what ails you?"
"Alas!" replied she, in a piteous tone, "I have just quitted a most afflicted family; their loss is heavy and irreparable. The marechale de Luxembourg is well nigh distracted with grief."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed I, "can the duchesse de Lauzun be dead?"
"Alas! no."
"Perhaps poor madame de Boufflers?"
"No, my friend."
"Who then is the object of so much regret? Speak; tell me."
"Madame Brillant."
"A friend of the old marechale 's?"
"More than a friend," replied madame de Mirepoix; "her faithful companion; her only companion; her only beloved object, since her lovers and admirers ceased to offer their homage--in a word, her cat."
"Bless me!" cried I, "how you frightened me! But what sort of a cat could this have been to cause so many tears?"
"Is it possible that you do not know madame Brillant, at least by name?"
"I assure you," said I, "this is the very first time I ever heard her name."
"Well, if it be so, I will be careful not to repeat such a thing to madame de Luxembourg; she would never pardon you for it. Listen, my dear countess," continued madame de Mirepoix; "under the present circumstances it will be sufficient for you to write your name in her visiting-book."
I burst into a fit of laughter.
"It is no joke, I promise you," exclaimed the marechale; "the death of madame Brillant is a positive calamity to madame de Luxembourg. Letters of condolence will arrive from Chanteloup; madame du Deffant will be in deep affliction, and the virtues and amiable qualities of the deceased cat will long furnish subjects of conversation."
"It was then a singularly engaging animal, I presume?"
"On the contrary, one of the most stupid, disagreeable, and dirty creatures of its kind; but still it was the cat of madame de Luxembourg."
And after this funeral oration the marechale and myself burst into a violent fit of laughter.
When the king joined us, I acquainted him with this death, and my conversation with the marechale. Louis XV listened to my recital with an air of gravity; when I had finished, he said, "The present opportunity is admirably adopted for satisfying the request of one of my retinue, one of the best-hearted creatures, and at the same time one of the silliest men in the kingdom."
"I beg your pardon, sire," cried I, "but what is his name? For the description is so general, that I fear lest I should be at a loss to recollect of whom you are speaking."
"You are very ill-natured," cried Louis XV, "and I hardly know whether you deserve to be gratified by hearing the name of the poor gentleman: however, I will tell it to you; he is called Corbin de la Chevrollerie. A few days since this simple young man, having solicited an audience, informed me, that he was desirous of marrying a rich heiress, but that the young lady's family were resolved she should marry no one who was not previously employed as an ambassador. I expressed my surprise at so strange a caprice, but the poor fellow endeavored to vindicate his bride's relations, by stating that that they were willing to consider him as my ambassador if I would only commission him to carry some message of compliment or condolence. Accordingly I promised to employ him upon the occasion of the first death or marriage which should take place in a ducal family. Now, I think I cannot do better than make him the bearer of my inquiries after the marechale de Luxembourg."
This idea struck me as highly amusing, and I immediately dispatched a servant to summon M. de la Chevrollerie to the presence of the king. This being done, that gentleman presented himself with all the dignity and importance of one who felt that a mission of high moment was about to be entrusted to him.
His majesty charged him to depart immediately to the house of madame de Luxembourg, and to convey his royal master's sincere condolences for the heavy loss she had sustained in madame Brillant.
M. Corbin de la Chevrollerie departed with much pride and self-complacency upon his embassy: he returned in about half an hour.
"Sire," cried he, "I have fulfilled your royal pleasure to madame de Luxembourg. She desires me to thank you most humbly for your gracious condescension: she is in violent distress for the severe loss she has experienced, and begged my excuse for quitting me suddenly, as she had to superintend the stuffing of the deceased."
"The stuffing!" exclaimed the king; "surely you mean the embalming?"
"No, sire," replied the ambassador, gravely, "the stuffing."
"Monsieur de la Chevrollerie," cried I, bursting into a violent fit of laughter, "do you know in what degree of relationship the deceased madame Brillant stood to madame de Luxembourg?"
"No, madam," replied the ambassador, gravely, "but I believe she was her aunt, for I heard one of the females in waiting say, that this poor madame Brillant was very old, and that she had lived with her mistress during the last fourteen years." Thus finished this little jest. However, Louis XV, who was extremely kind to all about him, especially those in his service, shortly after recompensed his simple- minded ambassador, by intrusting him with a commission at once profitable and honorable.
Another event which took place at this period, caused no less noise than the death of madame Brillant. At this time, mademoiselle Mesnard was, for her many charms of mind and person, the general rage throughout Paris. Courtiers, lawyers, bankers, and citizens crowded alike to offer their homage. Frail as fair, mademoiselle Mesnard received all kindly, and took with gracious smiles the rich gifts showered upon her by her various adorers. The first noblemen of the court, knights of the different orders, farmers- general, all aspired to the honor of ruining themselves for her. She had already satisfied the ruinous propensities of at least a dozen of lovers, when the duc de Chaulnes entered the lists, and was fortunate enough to eclipse all his rivals. He might long have enjoyed the preference thus obtained, but for an act of the greatest imprudence of which a lover could be guilty. He was so indiscreet as to invite several of his most intimate friends to sup with himself and Mademoiselle Mesnard. Amongst the number was Caron de Beaumarchais, a man possessed of the grace of a prince and the generous profusion of a highwayman. Caron de Beaumarchais attracted the fancy of the fickle mademoiselle Mesnard, a mutual understanding was soon established between them, and in a snug little cottage surrounded by beautiful grounds in the environs of Pere la Chaise, the enamored lovers frequently met to exchange their soft vows.
Happily the deity who presided over the honor of the duke was carefully watching their proceedings. This guardian angel was no other than madame Duverger, his former mistress, who, unable to bear the desertion of her noble admirer, had vowed, in the first burst of rage and disappointment, to have revenge sooner or later upon her triumphant rival. With this view she spied out all the proceedings of mademoiselle Mesnard, whose stolen interviews and infidelity she was not long in detecting; she even contrived to win over a femme de chambre, by whose connivance she was enabled to obtain possession of several letters containing irrefragable proofs of guilt, and these she immediately forwarded to the duc de Chaulnes.
This proud and haughty nobleman might have pardoned his mistress had she quitted him for a peer of the realm and his equal, but to be supplanted by a mere man of business, an author, too!--the disgrace was too horrible for endurance. The enraged lover flew to Beaumarchais, and reproached him bitterly with his treachery; the latter sought to deny the charge, but the duke, losing all self- possession, threw the letters in his face, calling him a base liar. At this insult, Beaumarchais, who, whatever his enemies may say of him, was certainly not deficient in courage, demanded instant