Виктория Холт - The Road to Compiegne

Still, Marie-Josèphe tried not to reproach her husband, and never referred to Madame Dadonville. As for the Dauphin he was aware of his wife’s magnanimity, and felt a great desire to escape from it. How could he do this more gracefully than by going to the front?

He talked with his father about this matter.

‘What is happening to our armies, father?’ he said. ‘Our soldiers are going to pieces because of the inferiority of their leaders. What could inspire them more than to see your only legitimate son at their head – their own Dauphin?’

The King studied his son quizzically. The Dauphin had stood out against his father on more than one occasion. He had placed himself firmly on the side of the Jesuits; he had shown open criticism of Madame de Pompadour. True, at the time of the King’s indisposition after the attack by Damiens, he had behaved with decorum – to a certain extent; but that could have been merely because he sensed the mood of the people, who at the time were showing unusual affection for his father.

No, the King did not like his son very much; he did not trust him.

Moreover Madame de Pompadour had already named the Duc de Broglie as the general to succeed Clermont.

‘Your request moves me deeply,’ said the King slyly, ‘but you must not allow yourself to panic, my son. The war has gone against us, but activities have scarcely begun. Do not forget your position. You are heir to the throne. I could not allow you to place yourself in danger. Nay, my son, delighted as I am to know you are of a warlike nature to match your ancestors’, I forbid you to leave Court.’

The Dauphin went furiously from the King’s apartments to those of the Dauphine.

‘The destiny of France,’ he cried, ‘is in the hands of that woman.’

There were many in the country who, with great apprehension, believed him to be right.

Perceiving France to be approaching one of the most disastrous hours of her destiny, the Abbé de Bernis, prevented by the Marquise from making peace, had two desires: one for his Cardinal’s hat, the other to relinquish his post, or to call in an assistant.

Bernis had always believed that a Cardinal’s hat was an umbrella to shelter a man from the storms which could threaten him.

He was scarcely an ambitious man and had had honours thrust upon him rather than having won them for himself. He had been born a poor man, but had made a fortune and would have been content with that. But since he had been selected by the King to teach the Marquise de Pompadour – Madame d’Etioles as she had been then – the graces of Versailles, the Marquise had selected him to be her friend, and thus he had become one of the most important ministers in France.

Like many of his compatriots he was an extremely sensual man, had become something of a rake, and was reputed to have indulged in a love affair with Madame Infanta, Louis’ eldest daughter.

He was a man who found himself continually subdued by women. Madame Infanta had made her demands; now Madame de Pompadour arranged which path he should tread.

Yet he longed for peace because he was overwhelmed by the tragic position of his country, and he saw ahead not only defeat on the Continent but the loss of the French Colonial Empire to those zealous colonisers, the British. Already French possessions in India and Canada were in jeopardy.

Thus in spite of the Marquise he pleaded eloquently with the Council to sue for peace.

He pointed out that Clive was gaining the upper hand in India and that Louisiana and Canada were in dire need of help.

The Council wavered. Peace seemed the answer.

But the Marquise was not so easily defeated.

Madame de Pompadour sat with three of her women – her greatest friends. They all came from Lorraine, and were Madame de Mirepoix, Madame de Marsan and the Duchesse de Gramont.

Each of these women had profited by the friendship of the Marquise; Madame de Mirepoix being her confidante , Madame Marsan having been given the post of governess to the King’s daughters, and the Duchesse de Gramont, like Madame de Mirepoix, sharing the Marquise’s confidences; the Duchesse had not yet achieved the place she intended to have at Court, but she was the most ambitious of the three.

With her friends the Marquise discussed the weakness of Bernis and his flouting of her wishes by delivering that oration to the Council which had almost resulted in a plea for peace.

‘I shall never forget, my little cat,’ said the Marquise, ‘that, after the Damiens affair, when I was preparing to leave Versailles, you told me that to quit the game was to lose it. That is what this coward Bernis is preparing to do now.’

‘You need a strong man at the head of affairs,’ said the Duchesse de Gramont.

‘Indeed you are right,’ answered the Marquise. ‘But where are the strong men of France?’

‘I know of one who now serves his country abroad and would welcome a chance to do so at home.’

The Marquise was smiling at the Duchesse. She had no need to ask who that man was, being fully aware of the devotion which existed between the Duchesse and her brother.

The Comte de Stainville had brought his sister to Court some years before. They were a devoted pair; too devoted, it was said.

Although the Duchesse had been a chanoinesse of a convent – a life for which she had no wish or aptitude – and the Comte de Stainville sought to make his way at Court, they lived openly together there to the astonishment of all who beheld them.

Stainville had been of immeasurable help to the Marquise in the Choiseul-Beaupré affair, and since then she had determined to make him her firm ally. His sister had become her friend, and he had his embassies. But it was natural that a man such as Stainville would look higher than an ambassadorial post; he would also like to be at Versailles with his sister. The virtuous and beautiful wife – with whom the Marquise had provided him – accompanied him on his mission, laid her immense fortune at his service, forgave him his many love affairs and was herself, besides being exceptionally virtuous, decidedly charming.

Stainville however believed no woman could equal his tall, flamboyant and ambitious sister; he had found an old and rich husband for her in the Duc de Gramont, whom she left soon after the marriage ceremony.

‘Well?’ said the Marquise, smiling.

‘I refer, of course, to my brother,’ said the Duchesse. ‘He is eager for a chance to use his undoubted talents where they can best serve France.’

The Marquise was thoughtful.

It was the answer, of course. Bring Stainville to Court, let him replace Bernis. He had once proved himself to be the faithful friend of the Marquise. Let him continue to do so.

The Comte de Stainville had returned from Austria to take the place of Bernis, who received his Cardinal’s hat and was dismissed to Soissons. Stainville was created Duc de Choiseul, and under this bright and energetic man hope returned to France.

Choiseul was brilliant; no one denied it. He was ugly yet he could charm to such a degree that at any gathering he would become the central figure.

He was short of stature though shapely; his forehead was very high and broad, his eyes small, his hair red, and his lips thick, but it was the small retroussé nose which gave his face a comic look and would, on another man, have robbed him of dignity.

He was extremely witty – often cruelly so; his love affairs were as numerous as those of Richelieu, although there was no woman who held such a high place in his affections as his sister. He was very extravagant; fortunately for him his wife was one of the richest women in France. He was recklessly generous. Whoever called on him near dinner-time would be asked to stay to the meal. For this reason he kept two huge tables in his dining salon. The first was laid for thirty-five, and if there were more guests the second was immediately made ready.