Виктория Холт - The Road to Compiegne

Monsieur de Romans rested his elbows on the table and looked earnestly at the Lieutenant.

‘My daughter has many suitors, Monsieur. There is none whom I have so far deemed worthy of her. I should need a very excellent proposition before I could consider your suggestion. I have my daughter’s future to think of.’

‘You are a wise parent, Monsieur. Let us make a bargain. Let her be brought to Versailles – oh, with the utmost decorum of course. I can assure you that there would be no difficulty in bringing her to the notice of the King himself. Moreover I feel sure that, once His Majesty had set eyes on Mademoiselle de Romans, he would be so delighted with her beauty that he would make sure the excellent proposition, which you insist on, would not be denied her.’

‘It would have to be a very excellent proposition,’ said the lawyer.

‘Let us arrange this. Have her brought to Versailles. If the . . . proposition is not to your taste, you can bring her back to her sequestered life. I am sure she will find a worthy husband of the haute bourgeoisie here in Grenoble. That would no doubt be very satisfactory for a young lady of her position in society – who is not possessed of great ambitions.’

The lawyer’s eyes gleamed with cupidity and determination.

His daughter was going to Versailles. He foresaw a brilliant future, for the sake of which he and her mother would smother those qualms they felt regarding their daughter’s entering into an unsanctified union. Who knew, such a union might eventually lead to marriage with the haute noblesse . How different a future that would be from what could only be hers if she continued to live her sheltered life in Grenoble!

When the King saw her he was enchanted.

He said she was like a goddess. She was Minerva, so perfectly shaped, a woman to tower above all others in her physical perfection, a woman surely not of this earth.

Sartines informed the King that her father was a highly respectable lawyer and as such could not allow his daughter to become an inmate of the Parc aux Cerfs.

‘Indeed not,’ said the King. ‘Arrange an establishment for her immediately. Let it be luxurious enough to please her parents, for I feel very grateful to them for having produced such a daughter.’

She was under nineteen years of age and bewildered by the change of fortune which had come to her. She had been well educated, a fact which would have perturbed the Marquise had she been aware of it; and the tender charm of her royal lover soon overcame her reluctance. She was immediately put at ease by his gracious manners. She must forget, Louis told her, that he was the King. When they were together he was plain Louis de Bourbon who was falling more deeply in love every day with Mademoiselle de Romans.

Sartines had certainly succeeded in finding someone who was different from the pretty little toys who only pleased for a short time.

This intelligent young Amazon would, Louis believed, always have the power to delight him. He was certain that he would never tire of her.

She was gentle by nature and that appealed to him; she did not ask impossibilities although she did not forget that she was no grisette , but the daughter of a respectable lawyer.

Louis was eager to shower gifts upon her. She had her own magnificent carriage and rode about Paris in this, a figure of statuesque beauty. Because of her great height she did not wear her magnificent hair piled high, but low on her head. Very soon the women of Paris were following the new fashion and hair was being dressed à la Romans .

People wandered out to her charming house at Passy to look at her, to note what she was wearing, the way she did her hair.

She became known throughout Paris and Versailles as la petite maîtresse , a name given her partly ironically, since she was far from petite , partly to distinguish her from that grande maîtresse , Madame de Pompadour.

Madame de Pompadour smiled graciously on the newcomer, but after a while she began to wonder whether Sartines had been too assiduous in his duty when he had set out to find someone who was entirely different from all others.

Was she so wise to have given that order?

She heard, for she had informants in all quarters and naturally she would not overlook the establishment of Mademoiselle de Romans, that the King’s petite maîtresse often received him reclining on a couch of taffeta, completely nude, but that her wonderful hair was so long that it made a rippling blue-black cloak through which her alabaster skin gleamed like the statues in the gardens of Versailles.

The Marquise winced. She must keep a vigilant eye on la petite maîtresse .

The Duc de Choiseul was delighted with the good fortunes which had come his way.

He had placed himself in charge of Foreign Affairs, War and the Navy; and since the country was at war, this meant that he was virtually the most important man in France.

He was of an optimistic nature and refused to be depressed by defeat; he had an unlimited belief in his own powers to rule, and, no matter what disaster befell France, he was certain that he, the great Choiseul, the man of the moment, would bring his country and himself gloriously through every ordeal.

He was completely given to the Austrian cause because he was of Lorraine and, since Maria Theresa’s husband was the Duc de Lorraine, there was a certain family connexion between himself and the Imperial House of Austria. He was determined to maintain the alliance no matter how unpopular it was.

He was volatile and witty, and therefore a man who delighted the King. If the country’s affairs were in an unsatisfactory state, Louis preferred the optimistic view; he liked to be with men who made him laugh. Choiseul, making light of France’s troubles, making much of her happier prospects, brought contentment to Louis, and made it possible for him to continue with his pleasures, his conscience stilled.

Choiseul had brought about the third Treaty of Vienna in which he promised Maria Theresa the aid of a hundred thousand Frenchmen. The Treaty assured her that France would not sign a peace treaty until Frederick had returned Silesia to Austria. It was small wonder that Maria Theresa was delighted with the Treaty, particularly as, in return for these benefits, she was not asked to help France in her struggle against England. Choiseul had however received the pledge of Elizabeth the Czarina to help France in the struggle against her enemies.

The Marquise persuaded the King that Choiseul was the most brilliant statesman France had known since the days of the Cardinals, Richelieu and Mazarin.

Meanwhile Choiseul carefully picked as his subordinates men whom he could trust to serve him. Many of his actions were bold rather than brilliant. He had attempted an invasion of England, in his enthusiasm forgetting the power of the English fleet. French squadrons were miserably defeated everywhere they attacked, and the result was disaster so great that the French could no longer be said to possess a home fleet.

Seventeen fifty-nine was a year of tragedy. In Canada the Marquis de Montcalm was beseeching the Government to send him help against the British. He died at Quebec in September of that year and, although General Wolfe the leader of the British troops died also, that battle ended in a resounding victory for the British.

Choiseul, realising that the war could not be won, sought to make peace with England, but Prime Minister Pitt was determined to continue the war.

The people were crying out against the Austrian alliance, and Choiseul, resilient as ever, dexterous as a conjurer, looked about him for a new rabbit to pull out of his hat.