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.
He believed he had it.
He went to see his sister with whom he often discussed affairs. He had a great respect for her and his passionate devotion blinded him to many of her faults.
She received him affectionately.
He looked at her with admiration, his head on one side, seeing her as the beloved companion of his childhood whom he had brought to Court to be with him when they had very little money and only their noble lineage as assets.
‘You are beautiful,’ he told her.
She drew him to her in an embrace. She was taller than he was and many of their enemies said that she was the more masculine of the two.
‘Why does the King have to send for a lawyer’s daughter when he could find what he wants at Court?’ murmured Choiseul.
The Duchess laughed. ‘Ha! And how goes this great love affair with Venus?’
‘Minerva, my dear Minerva. I had it from his Majesty’s own lips. Mademoiselle de Romans is as superb as a goddess. She is Minerva herself.’
‘Minerva,’ said the Duchesse. ‘Now I should have thought Venus more suited to Louis’ mood. Was not Minerva impervious to the claims of love?’
‘There have been too many Venuses in Louis’ life. Let him have his Minerva for a change. Change! It is all change. Richelieu has impressed upon him that variety is the sauce which makes the meal into a banquet. But you, my dear, remind me of Minerva, and I cannot see why . . .’
The Duchesse grimaced mildly. ‘You cannot see why. My dear Etienne, what ideas are you putting into my head? There is one who would see very well why. My dear, she is your great friend; she is also mine. You know why we must have our little Venuses from the dressmakers, our Minervas from the bourgeoisie. She would not tolerate one of us occupying that place which she guards so jealously although she can no longer occupy it.’
‘It would be dangerous . . . very dangerous to lose her friendship.’
‘It is due to it, my dear brother, that you are where you are today.’
‘And where I intend to stay!’
He was silent for a while; then putting his arm about her he led her to a couch where they sat down; and still embracing her he said: ‘I have a plan. The people are restive, as you know, and something must be done with the greatest speed. They are saying, “The English are against us. The Prussians are against us; our friends are our old enemies the Austrians.” The people are losing heart becase they fear their enemies and do not trust their friends. I have an idea for a pact which I shall call the Family Compact.’
She nodded, her smile full of admiration. ‘You are a genius, my dear.’
He accepted the compliment lightly. He believed it no less than she did.
‘Have you realised that a certain section of Europe is ruled by the Bourbon family? France, Spain, Naples and Parma. In times of stress families should stand together. I propose now to show the people of France that, contrary to the opinions of those pessimists among them, they have many friends in Europe. They are saying we have only one ally. Only one ally! If I make this pact – and make it I will – I will say to them: “We have all the Bourbons of Europe as our friends. We stand together against all our enemies. One family. From Spain to Sicily I have but to beckon and they will come.” ’
‘And will they?’
Choiseul lifted his shoulders. ‘Our greatest need at the moment, sweet sister, is to pacify the people, to make them happy. One step at a time.’
She smiled. ‘I see. We have come a long way from the poverty of our childhood, brother.’
‘And we will go much farther . . . both of us, my dearest . . . you and I. Our dear friend will not live for ever. She cannot live for ever.’
‘And then?’
‘And then, and then . . .’ murmured Choiseul, ‘it may be that the King will not have to look for his goddesses so far from his Court, eh?’
‘But time is passing, Etienne.’
‘Time! What is time to us? We are immortal. I see no reason why you should not occupy the first place in the land. Others besides our dear friend cannot live for ever. I remember Madame de Maintenon.’