There was a Comte du Barry, said to be of a noble family.[10] It was much more certain that he was a sharper and a pimp, nominally to the Maréchal, frequently so to the young English that resorted to Paris, where he furnished them with opera girls, and drew them into gaming. Two years before he was known for loftier intrigues, the Lieutenant de Police civilly warned some English lords not to haunt Du Barry’s house, lest he should find them there when, as he expected, he should be forced to visit a place so scandalous. Du Barry, in quest of a more plentiful harvest, came to London, and exercised his vocation at taverns. In his Parisian seraglio, was a well-made girl of the town, not remarkably pretty, called Mademoiselle L’Ange. After passing through every scene of prostitution, this nymph was pitched upon by the Cabal for overturning the ascendant of Choiseul. To ensure her attachment to them, and to qualify her for the post she was to occupy in the State,[11] they began with marrying her to the brother of her pander, Du Barry. The next step was to prevail on Belle, the King’s first valet de chambre, and first minister of his private hours, to introduce her to the Monarch. After such a succession of beauties as he had known, and no stranger to the most dissolute, too, the King was caught with such moderate charms, which had not even the merit of coming to his arms in their first bloom. At first a sort of mystery was observed. But the fair one gained ground rapidly, and Solomon soon began to chant the perfections of his beloved. The Court was shocked to hear to what an idol of clay they were to address their homage. They were accustomed to bow down before a mistress--but took it into their heads that the disgrace consisted in her being a common girl of the town. The King’s daughters, who had borne the ascendant of Madame de Pompadour in their mother’s life, grew outrageous, though she was dead, at the new favourite, for being of the lowest class of her profession; and instead of regarding this amour as only ridiculous, treated it with a serious air of disobedience, that would have offended any man but so indulgent and weak a father, or a very wise one. The poor King blushed, and by turns hesitated and exalted his mistress. In private the scene was childish: his aged Majesty and his indelicate concubine romped, pelted one another with sugarplums, and were much oftener silly than amorous. The Faction did not sleep: the next point was that Madame du Barry should be presented publicly. The King promised: her clothes and liveries were made.