Up to the time of the Du Barry the court of France had been the
stage where the whole political and human drama of that country
was enacted. Under Louis XV the drama had been transformed into
parades--parades which were of as much importance to the people
as to those who took part in them. The spectators, hitherto silent,
now began to hiss and be moved. The scene of the comedy was
changed, and the play was continued among the spectators. The old
theatre became an ante-chamber or a dressing-room, and was no
longer important except in connection with the Cardinal de Bernis
and the Duc de Richelieu, or Madame de Pompadour and Madame
du Barry.

The monarchy had still a step to take towards its downfall. It
had already created the (Louis XV's seraglio),
but had not yet descended to the Parisian house of prostitution.
It made this descent leaning on the arm of Madame du Barry.
Madame du Barry was a moral sister to Manon Lescaut, but instead
of taking herself off to Louisiana to repent, she plunged into the
golden whirlpool at Versailles as a finish to her career. Could
the coaches of a King mean more than the ordinary carriage of an
abandoned girl?

Jeanne Vaubernier--known in the bagnios by the name of Mademoiselle
Lange--was born at Vaucouleurs, as was Jeanne d'Arc. Better still,
this later Jeanne said openly at Versailles--dared she say otherwise?--
that she was descended in a straight line from the illustrious,
the venerated, the august, sacred, national maid, Jeanne.* "Why did
Du Barry come to Paris?'" says Leon Gozlan in that account of the
Château de Lucienne which makes a brilliant and learned chapter in
the history of France. "Does one ever know precisely why things are