The King was happily occupied with his Parc aux Cerfs. Madame de Pompadour was deeply concerned with her soul. There was no doubt that, when she was recognised as a reformed and saintly character, the King’s respect for her would not be diminished but increased. Perhaps he would follow her example.
Meanwhile it was necessary for Madame de Pompadour to be absolved from her sins and to be allowed to partake of the sacrament; so she sent for a priest to pray with her and instruct her in the ways of repentance.
She chose Père de Sacy, the King’s confessor.
Meanwhile the clouds of war were beginning to gather over France.
The Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle had been more profitable for the English than the French, and that fact continued to rankle. The British Government kept a wary eye on French affairs; the Peace had meant the passing of Madras from French into British hands, but the British were covetously surveying other territories in Asia.
They watched in particular a French merchant, Joseph Dupleix, owner of a factory at Chandernagore who had become Governor of the French settlements. He now held sway over land from the River Narbada to Cape Comorin; but an enterprising Englishman, Robert Clive, who had gone to India as a clerk in the service of the East India Company was determined that the British should be supreme in India. Clive was a more brilliant administrator than the Frenchman and he had greater support from his Government than Dupleix had from his; moreover the French, very eager to keep on good terms with their neighbours across the Channel, again and again gave in to British demands in India.
Not only were the British determined on supremacy in India but they were equally anxious to dominate Canada; constantly on the alert to increase trade, they felt that the French in Canada were a stumbling-block to their progress, and in June of 1755 the English admiral, Boscawen, seized two French frigates, even though there had been no declaration of war between the two countries. The French, taken by surprise, lost three hundred ships in the battle which ensued; as a result the French ambassadors in London and Hanover were immediately recalled to Paris.
There had to be retaliation. Richelieu, who had distinguished himself at Fontenoy, was put in charge of troops who were sent to Port Mahon, capital of Minorca. They stormed and took this fortress. This was a victory for the French to equal that of the English in Newfoundland. As a result the English recalled Admiral Byng, who had failed to prevent the French victory, and he was shot for treason at Portsmouth, ‘pour encourager les autres’, as Voltaire commented.
Before the French could enter into a major war with her enemy across the Channel she must make sure of peace in Europe.
Maria Theresa saw in this state of affairs a possibility of recovering Silesia, which she had lost during the War of the Succession.
Her Ambassador, the Prince von Kaunitz, had been long seeking to make an alliance with France. Kaunitz, outwardly something of a fop, was in fact a shrewd statesman and he had quickly seen that the best way of bringing success to his efforts in France was to win the friendship of Madame de Pompadour.
This he had attempted to do, but Maria Theresa was torn between political expediency and her conscience. She felt it far beneath her dignity to have anything to do with a woman who, in her eyes, was a sinner.
But Maria Theresa was always one to consider the needs of her country rather than those of her conscience. Her husband however, the Duke of Lorraine who had been given the Imperial crown at the close of the War of Succession, rarely interfered in political matters, but could not help smiling cynically at the thought of his pious Maria Theresa’s becoming an ally of the notorious Madame de Pompadour.
He had laughed because she, Maria Theresa, the haughty and pious Empress, should consider acquiring a woman of easy virtue, and of bourgeoise origins also, as an ally. It was not as though she were on good terms with the Church. It was impossible, said the father of Maria Theresa’s sixteen children, to have anything to do with a woman of the Pompadour’s reputation.
It may have been that these views had been communicated to Madame de Pompadour, and that this was the reason why she was so eagerly seeking a new way of life.
In any case it was with great delight that Kaunitz reported to his Empress that the Marquise was on the point of being converted to a life of piety.
The Dauphin was watching events with interest.
He was as determined as ever to bring about the Marquise’s dismissal from Court.
He was at the moment emotionally disturbed. Always he had deplored the morals of his father, and it seemed incredible to him that he himself could become involved in a love affair with a woman not his wife; yet this was exactly what had happened.
One day he had gone to see the work of Fredon, a painter whom he admired, and in the atelier of this man he had met a woman. She was young and very beautiful and he had paused to talk to her about the artist’s work, which she also admired.
He had had such faith in his own virtue that he had not at first been alarmed by his interest in this woman who told him that her name was Madame Dadonville and that she was a great admirer of art.
They should meet again in some artist’s salon, suggested the Dauphin. Perhaps at Fredon’s? It would be very interesting if they did, she answered.
They met several times, and suddenly the Dauphin realised how much these meetings were beginning to mean to him, and that it would be advisable to discontinue them.
He did discontinue them, only to discover that they had been a great deal more important than he had imagined.
But he was a virtuous man. What harm could there be in an occasional meeting? he asked himself.
A little later he asked himself further questions. A man could not be called a libertine for taking one mistress. When he looked around him and studied the lives of other men he could smile at these qualms which beset him.
He thought of Marie-Josèphe. She was a good woman; she adored him, but there was no denying the fact that he had been forced to marry her.
Why should he deny himself this pleasure? That was what he was asking himself. What made temptation irresistible was that Madame Dadonville was asking it also.
Thus the Dauphin had, for the first time, been unfaithful to his wife; and after the first time there was a second, a third, a fourth . . . and then he lost count of the number of times. How could he do otherwise? He was in love with Madame Dadonville.
Now they were meeting regularly.
This lapse did not make him feel any more lenient towards Madame de Pompadour. His father had a score of mistresses. His own affair was quite different; he was sure of that; and he was still as determined as ever to drive Madame de Pompadour from Court.
Therefore, when he heard that she was proposing to begin her reformation through the services of Père de Sacy, he sent for the priest.
‘So Father,’ he said, ‘I hear you have a new penitent.’
‘It is so, Monseigneur,’ answered the priest.
‘And you will shrive her and make of her a virtuous woman?’
‘It is what she wishes.’
The Dauphin laughed. ‘You will bring your cloth into ridicule, mon Père, if you offer her absolution while she continues her way of life.’
‘I have heard, Monseigneur, that she now lives virtuously, has given up her carnal life and is merely the King’s good friend.’
The Dauphin again laughed. ‘So you would make friends with a woman who has been a bitter enemy of the Jesuits.’
‘If she is truly repentant . . .’