intrigue.

[It appeared at this period as if every feeling of dignity was lost. "Few
noblemen of the French Court," says a writer of the time, "preserved
themselves from the general corruption. The Marechal de Brissac was one
of the latter. He was bantered on the strictness of his principles of
honour and honesty; it was thought strange that he should be offended by
being thought, like so many others, exposed to hymeneal disgrace. Louis
XV., who was present, and laughed at his angry fit, said to him: 'Come, M.
de Brissac, don't be angry; 'tis but a trifling evil; take
courage.'--'Sire,' replied M. de Brissac, 'I possess all kinds of courage,
except that which can brave shame.'"--NOTE BY THE EDITOR.]

Such a mistress was judiciously selected for the diversion of the latter
years of a man weary of grandeur, fatigued with pleasure, and cloyed with
voluptuousness. Neither the wit, the talents, the graces of the Marquise
de Pompadour, her beauty, nor even her love for the King, would have had
any further influence over that worn-out being.

He wanted a Roxalana of familiar gaiety, without any respect for the
dignity of the sovereign. Madame du Barry one day so far forgot propriety
as to desire to be present at a Council of State. The King was weak
enough to consent to it. There she remained ridiculously perched upon the
arm of his chair, playing all sorts of childish monkey tricks, calculated
to please an old sultan.

Another time she snatched a packet of sealed letters from the King's hand.
Among them she had observed one from Comte de Broglie. She told the King
that she knew that rascal Broglie spoke ill of her to him, and that for
once, at least, she would make sure he should read nothing respecting her.