PARIS - Chapter IX
The Beautiful O-Morphi--The Deceitful Painter--I Practice Cabalism
for the Duchess de Chartres I Leave Paris--My Stay in Dresden and My
Departure from that City
I went to St. Lawrence's Fair with my friend Patu, who, taking it
into his head to sup with a Flemish actress known by the name of
Morphi, invited me to go with him. I felt no inclination for the
girl, but what can we refuse to a friend? I did as he wished. After
we had supped with the actress, Patu fancied a night devoted to a
more agreeable occupation, and as I did not want to leave him I asked
for a sofa on which I could sleep quietly during the night.
Morphi had a sister, a slovenly girl of thirteen, who told me that if
I would give her a crown she would abandon her bed to me. I agreed
to her proposal, and she took me to a small closet where I found a
straw palliasse on four pieces of wood.
"Do you call this a bed, my child?"
"I have no other, sir."
"Then I do not want it, and you shall not have the crown."
"Did you intend undressing yourself?"
"What an idea! There are no sheets."
"Do you sleep with your clothes on?"
"Well, then, go to bed as usual, and you shall have the crown."
"I want to see you undressed."
"But you won't do anything to me?"
"Not the slightest thing."
She undressed, laid herself on her miserable straw bed, and covered
herself with an old curtain. In that state, the impression made by
her dirty tatters disappeared, and I only saw a perfect beauty. But
I wanted to see her entirely. I tried to satisfy my wishes, she
opposed some resistance, but a double crown of six francs made her
obedient, and finding that her only fault was a complete absence of
cleanliness, I began to wash her with my own hands.
You will allow me, dear reader, to suppose that you possess a simple
and natural knowledge, namely, that admiration under such
circumstances is inseparable from another kind of approbation;
luckily, I found the young Morphi disposed to let me do all I
pleased, except the only thing for which I did not care! She told me
candidly that she would not allow me to do that one thing, because in
her sister's estimation it was worth twenty-five louis. I answered
that we would bargain on that capital point another time, but that we
would not touch it for the present. Satisfied with what I said, all
the rest was at my disposal, and I found in her a talent which had
attained great perfection in spite of her precocity.
The young Helene faithfully handed to her sister the six francs I had
given her, and she told her the way in which she had earned them.
Before I left the house she told me that, as she was in want of
money, she felt disposed to make some abatement on the price of
twenty-five louis. I answered with a laugh that I would see her
about it the next day. I related the whole affair to Patu, who
accused me of exaggeration; and wishing to prove to him that I was a
real connoisseur of female beauty I insisted upon his seeing Helene
as I had seen her. He agreed with me that the chisel of Praxiteles
had never carved anything more perfect. As white as a lily, Helene
possessed all the beauties which nature and the art of the painter
can possibly combine. The loveliness of her features was so heavenly
that it carried to the soul an indefinable sentiment of ecstacy, a
delightful calm. She was fair, but her beautiful blue eyes equalled
the finest black eyes in brilliance.
I went to see her the next evening, and, not agreeing about the
price, I made a bargain with her sister to give her twelve francs
every time I paid her a visit, and it was agreed that we would occupy
her room until I should make up my mind to pay six hundred francs.
It was regular usury, but the Morphi came from a Greek race, and was
above prejudices. I had no idea of giving such a large sum, because
I felt no wish to obtain what it would have procured me; what I
obtained was all I cared for.
The elder sister thought I was duped, for in two months I had paid
three hundred francs without having done anything, and she attributed
my reserve to avarice. Avarice, indeed! I took a fancy to possess a
painting of that beautiful body, and a German artist painted it for
me splendidly for six louis. The position in which he painted it was
delightful. She was lying on her stomach, her arms and her bosom
leaning on a pillow, and holding her head sideways as if she were
partly on the back. The clever and tasteful artist had painted her
nether parts with so much skill and truth that no one could have
wished for anything more beautiful; I was delighted with that
portrait; it was a speaking likeness, and I wrote under it,
"O-Morphi," not a Homeric word, but a Greek one after all, and
But who can anticipate the wonderful and secret decrees of destiny!
My friend Patu wished to have a copy of that portrait; one cannot
refuse such a slight service to a friend, and I gave an order for it
to the same painter. But the artist, having been summoned to
Versailles, shewed that delightful painting with several others, and
M. de St. Quentin found it so beautiful that he lost no time in
shewing it the king. His Most Christian Majesty, a great connoisseur
in that line, wished to ascertain with his own eyes if the artist had
made a faithful copy; and in case the original should prove as
beautiful as the copy, the son of St. Louis knew very well what to do
M. de St. Quentin, the king's trusty friend, had the charge of that
important affair; it was his province: He enquired from the painter
whether the original could be brought to Versailles, and the artist,
not supposing there would be any difficulty, promised to attend to
He therefore called on me to communicate the proposal; I thought it
was delightful, and I immediately told the sister, who jumped for
joy. She set to work cleaning, washing and clothing the young
beauty, and two or three days after they went to Versailles with the
painter to see what could be done. M. de St. Quentin's valet,
having received his instructions from his master, took the two
females to a pavilion in the park, and the painter went to the hotel
to await the result of his negotiation. Half an hour afterwards the
king entered the pavilion alone, asked the young O-Morphi if she was
a Greek woman, took the portrait out of his pocket, and after a
careful examination exclaimed,
"I have never seen a better likeness."
His majesty then sat down, took the young girl on his knees, bestowed
a few caresses on her, and having ascertained with his royal hand
that the fruit had not yet been plucked, he gave her a kiss.
O-Morphi was looking attentively at her master, and smiled.
"What are you laughing at?" said the king.
"I laugh because you and a crown of six francs are as like as two
That naivete made the king laugh heartily, and he asked her whether
she would like to remain in Versailles.
"That depends upon my sister," answered the child.
But the sister hastened to tell the king that she could not aspire to
a greater honour. The king locked them up again in the pavilion and
went away, but in less than a quarter of an hour St. Quentin came to
fetch them, placed the young girl in an apartment under the care of a
female attendant, and with the sister he went to meet at the hotel
the German artist to whom he gave fifty Louis for the portrait, and
nothing to Morphi. He only took her address, promising her that she
would soon hear from him; the next day she received one thousand
Louis. The worthy German gave me twenty-five louis for my portrait,
with a promise to make a careful copy of the one I had given to Patu,
and he offered to paint for me gratuitously the likeness of every
girl of whom I might wish to keep a portrait.
I enjoyed heartily the pleasure of the good Fleeting, when she found
herself in possession of the thousand gold pieces which she had
received. Seeing herself rich, and considering me as the author of
her fortune, she did not know how to shew me her gratitude.
The young and lovely O-Morphi--for the king always called her by that
name--pleased the sovereign by her simplicity and her pretty ways
more even than by her rare beauty--the most perfect, the most
regular, I recollect to have ever seen. He placed her in one of the
apartments of his Parc-dux-cerfs--the voluptuous monarch's harem, in
which no one could get admittance except the ladies presented at the
court. At the end of one year she gave birth to a son who went, like
so many others, God knows where! for as long as Queen Mary lived no
one ever knew what became of the natural children of Louis XV.
O-Morphi fell into disgrace at the end of three years, but the king,
as he sent her away, ordered her to receive a sum of four hundred
thousand francs which she brought as a dowry to an officer from
Britanny. In 1783, happening to be in Fontainebleau, I made the
acquaintance of a charming young man of twenty-five, the offspring of
that marriage and the living portrait of his mother, of the history
of whom he had not the slightest knowledge, and I thought it my duty
not to enlighten him. I wrote my name on his tablets, and I begged
him to present my compliments to his mother.
A wicked trick of Madame de Valentinois, sister-in-law of the Prince
of Monaco, was the cause of O-Morphi's disgrace. That lady, who was
well known in Paris, told her one day that, if she wished to make the
king very merry, she had only to ask him how he treated his old wife.
Too simple to guess the snare thus laid out for her, O-Morphi
actually asked that impertinent question; but Louis XV. gave her a
look of fury, and exclaimed,
"Miserable wretch! who taught you to address me that question?"
The poor O-Morphi, almost dead with fright, threw herself on her
knees, and confessed the truth.
The king left her and never would see her again. The Countess de
Valentinois was exiled for two years from the court. Louis XV., who
knew how wrongly he was behaving towards his wife as a husband, would
not deserve any reproach at her hands as a king, and woe to anyone
who forgot the respect due to the queen!
The French are undoubtedly the most witty people in Europe, and
perhaps in the whole world, but Paris is, all the same, the city for
impostors and quacks to make a fortune. When their knavery is found
out people turn it into a joke and laugh, but in the midst of the
merriment another mountebank makes his appearance, who does something
more wonderful than those who preceded him, and he makes his fortune,
whilst the scoffing of the people is in abeyance. It is the
unquestionable effects of the power which fashion has over that
amiable, clever, and lively nation. If anything is astonishing, no
matter how extravagant it may be, the crowd is sure to welcome it
greedily, for anyone would be afraid of being taken for a fool if he
should exclaim, "It is impossible!" Physicians are, perhaps, the
only men in France who know that an infinite gulf yawns between the
will and the deed, whilst in Italy it is an axiom known to everybody;
but I do not mean to say that the Italians are superior to the
A certain painter met with great success for some time by announcing
a thing which was an impossibility--namely, by pretending that he
could take a portrait of a person without seeing the individual, and
only from the description given. But he wanted the description to be
thoroughly accurate. The result of it was that the portrait did
greater honour to the person who gave the description than--to the
painter himself, but at the same time the informer found himself
under the obligation of finding the likeness very good; otherwise the
artist alleged the most legitimate excuse, and said that if the
likeness was not perfect the fault was to be ascribed to the person
who had given an imperfect description.
One evening I was taking supper at Silvia's when one of the guests
spoke of that wonderful new artist, without laughing, and with every
appearance of believing the whole affair.
"That painter," added he, "has already painted more than one hundred
portraits, and they are all perfect likenesses."
Everybody was of the same opinion; it was splendid. I was the only
one who, laughing heartily, took the liberty of saying it was absurd
and impossible. The gentleman who had brought the wonderful news,
feeling angry, proposed a wager of one hundred louis. I laughed all
the more because his offer could not be accepted unless I exposed
myself to being made a dupe.
"But the portraits are all admirable likenesses."
"I do not believe it, or if they are then there must be cheating
But the gentleman, being bent upon convincing Silvia and me--for she
had taken my part proposed to make us dine with the artist; and we
The next day we called upon the painter, where we saw a quantity of
portraits, all of which the artist claimed to be speaking likenesses;
as we did not know the persons whom they represented we could not
deny his claim.
"Sir," said Silvia to the artist, "could you paint the likeness of my
daughter without seeing her?"
"Yes, madam, if you are certain of giving me an exact description of
the expression of her features."
We exchanged a glance, and no more was said about it. The painter
told us that supper was his favourite meal, and that he would be
delighted if we would often give him the pleasure of our company.
Like all quacks, he possessed an immense quantity of letters and
testimonials from Bordeaux, Toulouse, Lyons, Rouen, etc., which paid
the highest compliments to the perfection of his portraits, or gave
descriptions for new pictures ordered from him. His portraits, by
the way, had to be paid for in advance.
Two or three days afterwards I met his pretty niece, who obligingly
upbraided me for not having yet availed myself of her uncle's
invitation to supper; the niece was a dainty morsel worthy of a king,
and, her reproaches being very flattering to my vanity I promised I
would come the next day. In less than a week it turned out a serious
engagement. I fell in love with the interesting niece, who, being
full of wit and well disposed to enjoy herself, had no love for me,
and granted me no favour. I hoped, and, feeling that I was caught, I
felt it was the only thing I could do.
One day that I was alone in my room, drinking my coffee and thinking
of her, the door was suddenly opened without anyone being announced,
and a young man came in. I did not recollect him, but, without
giving me time to ask any questions, he said to me,
"Sir, I have had the honour of meeting you at the supper-table of M.
Samson, the painter."
"Ah! yes; I beg you to excuse me, sir, I did not at first recollect
"It is natural, for your eyes are always on Mdlle. Samson."
"Very likely, but you must admit that she is a charming creature."
"I have no difficulty whatever in agreeing with you; to my misery, I
know it but too well."
"You are in love with her?"
"Alas, yes! and I say, again, to my misery."
"To your misery? But why, do not you gain her love?"
"That is the very thing I have been striving for since last year, and
I was beginning to have some hope when your arrival has reduced me to
"I have reduced you to despair?"
"I am very sorry, but I cannot help it."
"You could easily help it; and, if you would allow me, I could
suggest to you the way in which you could greatly oblige me."
"You might never put your foot in the house again."
"That is a rather singular proposal, but I agree that it is truly the
only thing I can do if I have a real wish to oblige you. Do you
think, however, that in that case you would succeed in gaining her
"Then it will be my business to succeed. Do not go there again, and
I will take care of the rest."
"I might render you that very great service; but you must confess
that you must have a singular opinion of me to suppose that I am a
man to do such a thing."
"Yes, sir, I admit that it may appear singular; but I take you for a
man of great sense and sound intellect, and after considering the
subject deeply I have thought that you would put yourself in my
place; that you would not wish to make me miserable, or to expose
your own life for a young girl who can have inspired you with but a
passing fancy, whilst my only wish is to secure the happiness or the
misery of my life, whichever it may prove, by uniting her existence
"But suppose that I should intend, like you, to ask her in marriage?"
"Then we should both be worthy of pity, and one of us would have
ceased to exist before the other obtained her, for as long as I shall
live Mdlle. Samson shall not be the wife of another."
This young man, well-made, pale, grave, as cold as a piece of marble,
madly in love, who, in his reason mixed with utter despair, came to
speak to me in such a manner with the most surprising calm, made me
pause and consider. Undoubtedly I was not afraid, but although in
love with Mdlle. Samson I did not feel my passion sufficiently strong
to cut the throat of a man for the sake of her beautiful eyes, or to
lose my own life to defend my budding affection. Without answering
the young man, I began to pace up and down my room, and for a quarter
of an hour I weighed the following question which I put to myself:
Which decision will appear more manly in the eyes of my rival and
will win my own esteem to the deeper degree, namely-to accept coolly
his offer to cut one another's throats, or to allay his anxiety by
withdrawing from the field with dignity?
Pride whispered, Fight; Reason said, Compel thy rival to acknowledge
thee a wiser man than he is.
"What would you think of me, sir," I said to him, with an air of
decision, "if I consented to give up my visits to Mdlle. Samson?"
"I would think that you had pity on a miserable man, and I say that
in that case you will ever find me ready to shed the last drop of my
blood to prove my deep gratitude."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Garnier, I am the only son of M. Garnier, wine merchant
in the Rue de Seine."
"Well, M. Gamier, I will never again call on Mdlle. Samson. Let us
"Until death. Farewell, sir."
"Adieu, be happy!"
Patu came in five minutes after Garnier had left me: I related the
adventure to him, and he thought I was a hero.
"I would have acted as you have done," he observed, "but I would not
have acted like Garnier."
It was about that time that the Count de Melfort, colonel of the
Orleans regiment, entreated me through Camille, Coraline's sister, to
answer two questions by means of my cabalism. I gave two answers
very vague, yet meaning a great deal; I put them under a sealed
envelope and gave them to Camille, who asked me the next day to
accompany her to a place which she said she could not name to me.
I followed her; she took me to the Palais-Royal, and then, through a
narrow staircase, to the apartments of the Duchess de Chartres.
I waited about a quarter of an hour, at the end of which time the
duchess came in and loaded Camille with caresses for having brought
me. Then addressing herself to me, she told me, with dignity yet
very graciously, the difficulty she experienced in understanding the
answers I had sent and which she was holding in her hand. At first I
expressed some perplexity at the questions having emanated from her
royal highness, and I told her afterwards that I understood cabalism,
but that I could not interpret the meaning of the answers obtained
through it, and that her highness must ask new questions likely to
render the answers easier to be understood. She wrote down all she
could not make out and all she wanted to know.
"Madam, you must be kind enough to divide the questions, for the
cabalistic oracle never answers two questions at the same time."
"Well, then, prepare the questions yourself."
"Your highness will excuse me, but every word must be written with
your own hand. Recollect, madam, that you will address yourself to a
superior intelligence knowing all your secrets"
She began to write, and asked seven or eight questions. She read
them over carefully, and said, with a face beaming with noble
"Sir, I wish to be certain that no one shall ever know what I have
"Your highness may rely on my honour."
I read attentively, and I saw that her wish for secrecy was
reasonable, and that if I put the questions in my pocket I should run
the risk of losing them and implicating myself.
"I only require three hours to complete my task," I said to the
duchess, "and I wish your highness to feel no anxiety. If you have
any other engagement you can leave me here alone, provided I am not
disturbed by anybody. When it is completed, I will put it all in a
sealed envelope; I only want your highness to tell me to whom I must
deliver the parcel."
"Either to me or to Madame de Polignac, if you know her."
"Yes, madam, I have the honour to know her."
The duchess handed me a small tinder-box to enable me to light a wax-
candle, and she went away with Camille. I remained alone locked up
in the room, and at the end of three hours, just as I had completed
my task, Madame de Polignac came for the parcel and I left the
The Duchess de Chartres, daughter of the Prince of Conti, was twenty-
six years of age. She was endowed with that particular sort of wit
which renders a woman adorable. She was lively, above the prejudices
of rank, cheerful, full of jest, a lover of pleasure, which she
preferred to a long life. "Short and sweet," were the words she had
constantly on her lips. She was pretty but she stood badly, and used
to laugh at Marcel, the teacher of graceful deportment, who wanted to
correct her awkward bearing. She kept her head bent forward and her
feet turned inside when dancing; yet she was a charming dancer.
Unfortunately her face was covered with pimples, which injured her
beauty very greatly. Her physicians thought that they were caused by
a disease of the liver, but they came from impurity of the blood,
which at last killed her, and from which she suffered throughout her
The questions she had asked from my oracle related to affairs
connected with her heart, and she wished likewise to know how she
could get rid of the blotches which disfigured her. My answers were
rather obscure in such matters as I was not specially acquainted
with, but they were very clear concerning her disease, and my oracle
became precious and necessary to her highness.
The next day, after dinner, Camille wrote me a note, as I expected,
requesting me to give up all other engagements in order to present
myself at five o'clock at the Palais-Royal, in the same room in which
the duchess had already received me the day before. I was punctual.
An elderly valet de chambre, who was waiting for me, immediately went
to give notice of my arrival, and five minutes after the charming
princess made her appearance. After addressing me in a very
complimentary manner, she drew all my answers from her pocket, and
enquired whether I had any pressing engagements.
"Your highness may be certain that I shall never have any more
important business than to attend to your wishes."
"Very well; I do not intend to go out, and we can work."
She then shewed me all the questions which she had already prepared
on different subjects, and particularly those relating to the cure of
her pimples. One circumstance had contributed to render my oracle
precious to her, because nobody could possibly know it, and I had
guessed it. Had I not done so, I daresay it would have been all the
same. I had laboured myself under the same disease, and I was enough
of a physician to be aware that to attempt the cure of a cutaneous
disease by active remedies might kill the patient.
I had already answered that she could not get rid of the pimples on
her face in less than a week, but that a year of diet would be
necessary to effect a radical cure.
We spent three hours in ascertaining what she was to do, and,
believing implicitly in the power and in the science of the oracle,
she undertook to follow faithfully everything ordered. Within one
week all the ugly pimples had entirely disappeared.
I took care to purge her slightly; I prescribed every day what she
was to eat, and forbade the use of all cosmetics; I only advised her
to wash herself morning and evening with plantain water. The modest
oracle told the princess to make use of the same water for her
ablutions of every part of her body where she desired to obtain the
same result, and she obeyed the prescription religiously.
I went to the opera on purpose on the day when the duchess shewed
herself there with a smooth and rosy shin. After the opera, she took
a walk in the great alley of the Palais-Royal, followed by the ladies
of her suite and flattered by everybody. She saw me, and honoured me
with a smile. I was truly happy. Camille, Madame de Polignac, and
M. de Melfort were the only persons who knew that I was the oracle of
the duchess, and I enjoyed my success. But the next day a few
pimples reappeared on her beautiful complexion, and I received an
order to repair at once to the Palais-Royal.
The valet, who did not know me, shewed me into a delightful boudoir
near a closet in which there was a bath. The duchess came in; she
looked sad, for she had several small pimples on the forehead and the
chin. She held in her hand a question for the oracle, and as it was
only a short one I thought it would give her the pleasure of finding
the answer by herself. The numbers translated by the princess
reproached her with having transgressed the regimen prescribed; she
confessed to having drunk some liquors and eaten some ham; but she
was astounded at having found that answer herself, and she could not
understand how such an answer could result from an agglomeration of
numbers. At that moment, one of her women came in to whisper a few
words to her; she told her to wait outside, and turning towards me,
"Have you any objection to seeing one of your friends who is as
delicate as discreet?"
With these words, she hastily concealed in her pocket all the papers
which did not relate to her disease; then she called out.
A man entered the room, whom I took for a stableboy; it was M. de
"See," said the princess to him, "M. Casanova has taught me the
And she shewed him the answer she had obtained herself. The count
could not believe it.
"Well," said the duchess to me, "we must convince him. What shall I
"Anything your highness chooses."
She considered for one instant, and, drawing from her pocket a small
ivory box, she wrote, "Tell me why this pomatum has no longer any
She formed the pyramid, the columns, and the key, as I had taught
her, and as she was ready to get the answer, I told her how to make
the additions and subtractions which seem to come from the numbers,
but which in reality are only arbitrary; then I told her to interpret
the numbers in letters, and I left the room under some pretext. I
came back when I thought that she had completed her translation, and
I found her wrapped in amazement.
"Ah, sir!" she exclaimed, "what an answer!"
"Perhaps it is not the right one; but that will sometimes happen,
"Not the right one, sir? It is divine! Here it is: That pomatum has
no effect upon the skin of a woman who has been a mother."
"I do not see anything extraordinary in that answer, madam."
"Very likely, sir, but it is because you do not know that the pomatum
in question was given to me five years ago by the Abbe de Brosses; it
cured me at that time, but it was ten months before the birth of the
Duke de Montpensier. I would give anything in the world to be
thoroughly acquainted with that sublime cabalistic science."
"What!" said the count, "is it the pomatum the history of which I
"It is astonishing."
"I wish to ask one more question concerning a woman the name of whom
I would rather not give."
"Say the woman whom I have in my thoughts."
She then asked this question: "What disease is that woman suffering
from?" She made the calculation, and the answer which I made her
bring forth was this: "She wants to deceive her husband." This time
the duchess fairly screamed with astonishment.
It was getting very late, and I was preparing to take leave, when M.
de Melfort, who was speaking to her highness, told me that we might
go together. When we were out, he told me that the cabalistic answer
concerning the pomatum was truly wonderful. This was the history of
"The duchess, pretty as you see her now, had her face so fearfully
covered with pimples that the duke, thoroughly disgusted, had not the
courage to come near her to enjoy his rights as a husband, and the
poor princess was pining with useless longing to become a mother.
The Abbe de Brosses cured her with that pomatum, and her beautiful
face having entirely recovered it original bloom she made her
appearance at the Theatre Francais, in the queen's box. The Duke de
Chartres, not knowing that his wife had gone to the theatre, where
she went but very seldom, was in the king's box. He did not
recognize the duchess, but thinking her very handsome he enquired who
she was, and when he was told he would not believe it; he left the
royal box, went to his wife, complimented her, and announced his
visit for the very same night. The result of that visit was, nine
months afterwards, the birth of the Duke of Montpensier, who is now
five years old and enjoys excellent health. During the whole of her
pregnancy the duchess kept her face smooth and blooming, but
immediately after her delivery the pimples reappeared, and the
pomatum remained without any effect."
As he concluded his explanation, the count offered me a tortoise-
shell box with a very good likeness of her royal highness, and said,
"The duchess begs your acceptance of this portrait, and, in case you
would like to have it set she wishes you to make use of this for that
It was a purse of one hundred Louis. I accepted both, and entreated
the count to offer the expressions of my profound gratitude to her
highness. I never had the portrait mounted, for I was then in want
of money for some other purpose.
After that, the duchess did me the honour of sending for me several
times; but her cure remained altogether out of the question; she
could not make up her mind to follow a regular diet. She would
sometimes keep me at work for five or six hours, now in one corner,
now in another, going in and out herself all the time, and having
either dinner or supper brought to me by the old valet, who never
uttered a word.
Her questions to the oracle alluded only to secret affairs which she
was curious to know, and she often found truths with which I was not
myself acquainted, through the answers. She wished me to teach her
the cabalistic science, but she never pressed her wish upon me. She,
however, commissioned M. de Melfort to tell me that, if I would teach
her, she would get me an appointment with an income of twenty-five
thousand francs. Alas! it was impossible! I was madly in love with
her, but I would not for the world have allowed her to guess my
feelings. My pride was the corrective of my love. I was afraid of
her haughtiness humiliating me, and perhaps I was wrong. All I know
is that I even now repent of having listened to a foolish pride. It
is true that I enjoyed certain privileges which she might have
refused me if she had known my love.
One day she wished my oracle to tell her whether it was possible to
cure a cancer which Madame de la Popeliniere had in the breast; I
took it in my head to answer that the lady alluded to had no cancer,
and was enjoying excellent health.
"How is that?" said the duchess; "everyone in Paris believes her to
be suffering from a cancer, and she has consultation upon
consultation. Yet I have faith in the oracle."
Soon afterwards, seeing the Duke de Richelieu at the court, she told
him she was certain that Madame de la Popeliniere was not ill. The
marshal, who knew the secret, told her that she was mistaken; but she
proposed a wager of a hundred thousand francs. I trembled when the
duchess related the conversation to me.
"Has he accepted your wages?" I enquired, anxiously.
"No; he seemed surprised; you are aware that he ought to know the
Three or four days after that conversation, the duchess told me
triumphantly that M. de Richelieu had confessed to her that the
cancer was only a ruse to excite the pity of her husband, with whom
Madame de la Popeliniere wanted to live again on good terms; she
added that the marshal had expressed his willingness to pay one
thousand Louis to know how she had discovered the truth.
"If you wish to earn that sum," said the duchess to me, "I will tell
him all about it."
But I was afraid of a snare; I knew the temper of the marshal, and
the story of the hole in the wall through which he introduced himself
into that lady's apartment, was the talk of all Paris. M. de la
Popeliniere himself had made the adventure more public by refusing to
live with his wife, to whom he paid an income of twelve thousand
The Duchess de Chartres had written some charming poetry on that
amusing affair; but out of her own coterie no one knew it except the
king, who was fond of the princess, although she was in the habit of
scoffing at him. One day, for instance, she asked him whether it was
true that the king of Prussia was expected in Paris. Louis XV.
having answered that it was an idle rumour,
"I am very sorry," she said, "for I am longing to see a king."
My brother had completed several pictures and having decided on
presenting one to M. de Marigny, we repaired one morning to the
apartment of that nobleman, who lived in the Louvre, where all the
artists were in the habit of paying their court to him. We were
shewn into a hall adjoining his private apartment, and having arrived
early we waited for M. de Marigny. My brother's picture was exposed
there; it was a battle piece in the style of Bourguignon.
The first person who passed through the room stopped before the
picture, examined it attentively, and moved on, evidently thinking
that it was a poor painting; a moment afterwards two more persons
came in, looked at the picture, smiled, and said,
"That's the work of a beginner."
I glanced at my brother, who was seated near me; he was in a fever.
In less than a quarter of an hour the room was full of people, and
the unfortunate picture was the butt of everybody's laughter. My
poor brother felt almost dying, and thanked his stars that no one
knew him personally.
The state of his mind was such that I heartily pitied him; I rose
with the intention of going to some other room, and to console him I
told him that M. de Marigny would soon come, and that his approbation
of the picture would avenge him for the insults of the crowd.
Fortunately, this was not my brother's opinion; we left the room
hurriedly, took a coach, went home, and sent our servant to fetch
back the painting. As soon as it had been brought back my brother
made a battle of it in real earnest, for he cut it up with a sword
into twenty pieces. He made up his mind to settle his affairs in
Paris immediately, and to go somewhere else to study an art which he
loved to idolatry; we resolved on going to Dresden together.
Two or three days before leaving the delightful city of Paris I dined
alone at the house of the gate-keeper of the Tuileries; his name was
Conde. After dinner his wife, a rather pretty woman, presented me
the bill, on which every item was reckoned at double its value. I
pointed it out to her, but she answered very curtly that she could
not abate one sou. I paid, and as the bill was receipted with the
words 'femme Conde', I took the pen and to the word 'Conde' I added
'labre', and I went away leaving the bill on the table.
I was taking a walk in the Tuileries, not thinking any more of my
female extortioner, when a small man, with his hat cocked on one side
of his head and a large nosegay in his button-hole, and sporting a
long sword, swaggered up to me and informed me, without any further
explanation, that he had a fancy to cut my throat.
"But, my small specimen of humanity," I said, "you would require to
jump on a chair to reach my throat. I will cut your ears."
"Sacre bleu, monsieur!"
"No vulgar passion, my dear sir; follow me; you shall soon be
I walked rapidly towards the Porte de 1'Etoile, where, seeing that
the place was deserted, I abruptly asked the fellow what he wanted,
and why he had attacked me.
"I am the Chevalier de Talvis," he answered. "You have insulted an
honest woman who is under my protection; unsheath!"
With these words he drew his long sword; I unsheathed mine; after a
minute or two I lunged rapidly, and wounded him in the breast. He
jumped backward, exclaiming that I had wounded him treacherously.
"You lie, you rascally mannikin! acknowledge it, or I thrust my
sword through your miserable body."
"You will not do it, for I am wounded; but I insist upon having my
revenge, and we will leave the decision of this to competent judges."
"Miserable wrangler, wretched fighter, if you are not satisfied, I
will cut off your ears""
I left him there, satisfied that I had acted according to the laws of
the duello, for he had drawn his sword before me, and if he had not
been skilful enough to cover himself in good time, it was not, of
course, my business to teach him. Towards the middle of August I
left Paris with my brother. I had made a stay of two years in that
city, the best in the world. I had enjoyed myself greatly, and had
met with no unpleasantness except that I had been now and then short
of money. We went through Metz., Mayence, and Frankfort, and arrived
in Dresden at the end of the same month. My mother offered us the
most affectionate welcome, and was delighted to see us again. My
brother remained four years in that pleasant city, constantly engaged
in the study of his art, and copying all the fine paintings of
battles by the great masters in the celebrated Electoral Gallery.
He went back to Paris only when he felt certain that he could set
criticism at defiance; I shall say hereafter how it was that we both
reached that city about the same time. But before that period, dear,
reader, you will see what good and adverse fortune did for or against
My life in Dresden until the end of the carnival in 1753 does not
offer any extraordinary adventure. To please the actors, and
especially my mother, I wrote a kind of melodrama, in which I brought
out two harlequins. It was a parody of the 'Freres Ennemis', by
Racine. The king was highly amused at the comic fancies which filled
my play, and he made me a beautiful present. The king was grand and
generous, and these qualities found a ready echo in the breast of the
famous Count de Bruhl. I left Dresden soon after that, bidding adieu
to my mother, to my brother Francois, and to my sister, then the wife
of Pierre Auguste, chief player of the harpsichord at the Court, who
died two years ago, leaving his widow and family in comfortable
My stay in Dresden was marked by an amorous souvenir of which I got
rid, as in previous similar circumstances, by a diet of six weeks. I
have often remarked that the greatest part of my life was spent in
trying to make myself ill, and when I had succeeded, in trying to
recover my health. I have met with equal success in both things; and
now that I enjoy excellent health in that line, I am very sorry to be
physically unable to make myself ill again; but age, that cruel and
unavoidable disease, compels me to be in good health in spite of
myself. The illness I allude to, which the Italians call 'mal
francais', although we might claim the honour of its first
importation, does not shorten life, but it leaves indelible marks on
the face. Those scars, less honourable perhaps than those which are
won in the service of Mars, being obtained through pleasure, ought
not to leave any regret behind.
In Dresden I had frequent opportunities of seeing the king, who was
very fond of the Count de Bruhl, his minister, because that favourite
possessed the double secret of shewing himself more extravagant even
than his master, and of indulging all his whims.
Never was a monarch a greater enemy to economy; he laughed heartily
when he was plundered and he spent a great deal in order to have
occasion to laugh often. As he had not sufficient wit to amuse
himself with the follies of other kings and with the absurdities of
humankind, he kept four buffoons, who are called fools in Germany,
although these degraded beings are generally more witty than their
masters. The province of those jesters is to make their owner laugh
by all sorts of jokes which are usually nothing but disgusting
tricks, or low, impertinent jests.
Yet these professional buffoons sometimes captivate the mind of their
master to such an extent that they obtain from him very important
favours in behalf of the persons they protect, and the consequence is
that they are often courted by the highest families. Where is the
man who will not debase himself if he be in want? Does not Agamemnon
say, in Homer, that in such a case man must necessarily be guilty of
meanness? And Agamemnon and Homer lived long before our time! It
evidently proves that men are at all times moved by the same motive-
It is wrong to say that the Count de Bruhl was the ruin of Saxony,
for he was only the faithful minister of his royal master's
inclinations. His children are poor, and justify their father's
The court at Dresden was at that time the most brilliant in Europe;
the fine arts flourished, but there was no gallantry, for King
Augustus had no inclination for the fair sex, and the Saxons were not
of a nature to be thus inclined unless the example was set by their
At my arrival in Prague, where I did not intend to stop, I delivered
a letter I had for Locatelli, manager of the opera, and went to pay a
visit to Madame Morelli, an old acquaintance, for whom I had great
affection, and for two or three days she supplied all the wants of my
As I was on the point of leaving Prague, I met in the street my
friend Fabris, who had become a colonel, and he insisted upon my
dining with him. After 'embracing him, I represented to him, but in
vain, that I had made all my arrangements to go away immediately.
"You will go this evening," he said, "with a friend of mine, and you
will catch the coach."
I had to give way, and I was delighted to have done so, for the
remainder of the day passed in the most agreeable manner. Fabris was
longing for war, and his wishes were gratified two years afterwards;
he covered himself with glory.
I must say one word about Locatelli, who was an original character
well worthy to be known. He took his meals every day at a table laid
out for thirty persons, and the guests were his actors, actresses,
dancers of both sexes, and a few friends. He did the honours of his
well-supplied board nobly, and his real passion was good living. I
shall have occasion to mention him again at the time of my journey to
St. Petersburg, where I met him, and where he died only lately at the
age of ninety.