Who rules o'er her lord in the Turkish
,
Reigns queen of his heart, and e'er basks in his smile?
'Tis she, who resplendent, shines loveliest of all,
And beauty holds power in her magic thrall.
Then heed not the clamors that Grammont may raise,
How natural her anger! how vain her dispraise!
'Tis not a mere mortal our monarch can charm,
Free from pride is the beauty that bears off the palm.
This song was to be found in almost every part of France. Altho'
the last couplet was generally suppressed, so evident was its
partial tone towards me, in the midst of it all I could not help
being highly amused with the simplicity evinced by the good
people of France, who, in censuring the king's conduct, found
nothing reprehensible but his having omitted to select his mistress
from elevated rank.
The citizens resented this falling off in royalty with as much
warmth and indignation as the grandees of the court; and I could
enjoy a laugh on the subject of their angry displeasure as soon
as my presentation was decided upon.
The intrigues carried on by those about the princesses, and the
necessity of awaiting the perfect recovery of madame de Bearn,
delayed this (to me) important day till the end of the month of
April, 1770. On the evening of the 21st the king, according to
custom, announced a presentation for the following day; but he
durst not explain himself more frankly; he hesitated, appeared
embarrassed, and only pronounced my name in a low and uncertain
voice; it seemed as tho' he feared his own authority was insufficient
to support him in such a measure.
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