The chancellor, who each day became more attached to my interests, opened the campaign. One day, when the king was in a rage with the parliaments, the chancellor seized the opportunity to tell him that the cabal, who were opposed to my presentation, testified so much resistance, under the idea, and in the hope, that they would be supported by the parliaments of Paris. “If your majesty,” added the chancellor, “had less condescension towards these malcontents, they would fear your authority more.” “You will see,” replied the king, “that it will be their audacity which will urge me on to a step, which otherwise I should wish to avoid.” Whilst the hatred which M. de Maupeou bore towards the parliaments served me in this way, the love of M. de la Vauguyon for the Jesuits turned to even more advantage. The good duke incessantly talked to me of his dear Jesuits; and I as constantly replied, that my influence would not be salutary until after my presentation, M. de la Vauguyon had sense enough to perceive the embarrassment of my situation, and saw that before I could think of others I must think of myself. Having taken “sweet counsel” with the powerful heads of his company, he freely gave me all his influence with the king. Fortune sent me an auxiliary not less influential than these two gentlemen; I mean the maréchal duc de Richelieu. In the month of January, 1769, he returned from his government of Guienne to enter on service. He had much credit with the king, and this (would you believe it?) resulted from his reputation as a man of intrigue. He told the king every thing that came into his head: he told him one day, that the Choiseuls boasted that he, the king of France, never dared introduce his mistress into the state apartments at Versailles. “Yes,” added the duke, “they boast so loudly, that nothing else is talked of in the province; and at Bordeaux, for instance, there is one merchant who, on the strength of the enemies of the comtesse, has made a bet that she will never be presented.” “And why do you not imprison these persons?” inquired the king, angrily. “Because, sire, it appears to me injustice to punish the echo of the fooleries of Paris.” “I will conduct myself as regards the presentation of madame du Barry in the manner which I think best. But is it not an inconceivable contrariety, that one party should wish it with the utmost desire, and another place every obstacle in the way? In truth, I am very unfortunate, and a cruel tyranny is exercised over me.” The duc de Richelieu, not wishing to appear as one of the tyrants of the king, gave a different turn to the conversation.