Madame de Mirepoix’s understanding is excellent of the useful kind, and can be so when she pleases of the agreeable kind.  She has read, but seldom shows it, and has perfect taste.  Her manner is cold, but very civil; and she conceals even the blood of Lorraine, without ever forgetting it.  Nobody in France knows the world better, and nobody is personally so well with the King.  She is false, artful, and insinuating beyond measure when it is her interest, but indolent and a coward.  She never had any passion but gaming, and always loses.  For ever paying court, the sole produce of a life of art is to get money from the King to carry on a course of paying debts or contracting new ones, which she discharges as fast as she is able.  She advertised devotion to get made dame du palais to the Queen; and the very next day this Princess of Lorraine was seen riding backwards with Madame Pompadour in the latter’s coach.  When the King was stabbed, and heartily frightened, the mistress took a panic too, and consulted D’Argenson, whether she had not best make off in time.  He hated her, and said, By all means.  Madame de Mirepoix advised her to stay.  The King recovered his spirits, D’Argenson was banished,[1] and La Marechale inherited part of the mistress’s credit.—­I must interrupt my history of illustrious women with an anecdote of Monsieur de Maurepas, with whom I am much acquainted, and who has one of the few heads which approach to good ones, and who luckily for us was disgraced, and the marine dropped, because it was his favourite object and province.  He employed Pondeveyle to make a song on the Pompadour:  it was clever and bitter, and did not spare even Majesty.  This was Maurepas absurd enough to sing at supper at Versailles.  Banishment ensued; and lest he should ever be restored, the mistress persuaded the King that he had poisoned her predecessor Madame de Chateauroux.  Maurepas is very agreeable, and exceedingly cheerful; yet I have seen a transient silent cloud when politics are talked of.

[Footnote 1:  The Comte d’Argenson was Minister at War.]

Madame de Boufflers, who was in England, is a savante, mistress of the Prince of Conti, and very desirous of being his wife.  She is two women, the upper and the lower.  I need not tell you that the lower is gallant, and still has pretensions.  The upper is very sensible, too, and has a measured eloquence that is just and pleasing—­but all is spoiled by an unrelaxed attention to applause.  You would think she was always sitting for her picture to her biographer.

Madame de Rochfort is different from all the rest.  Her understanding is just and delicate; with a finesse of wit that is the result of reflection.  Her manner is soft and feminine, and though a savante, without any declared pretensions.  She is the decent friend of Monsieur de Nivernois; for you must not believe a syllable of what you read in their novels.  It requires the greatest curiosity, or the greatest habitude, to discover the smallest connexion between the sexes here.  No familiarity, but under the veil of friendship, is permitted, and Love’s dictionary is as much prohibited, as at first sight one should think his ritual was.  All you hear, and that pronounced with nonchalance, is, that Monsieur un tel has had Madame une telle.