“‘I think it must have been her very indifference to the political intrigues going on at court, which caused her to maintain her influence so long. Louis Quinze was weary of the propriety of demeanour and great talents of Madame de Pompadour, and was glad, for the sake of variety, to _encanailler_ his royalty with the representation, such as poor “Jeanne la Folle” could give to the life, of the habits and manners of a class of persons of whose existence he ought scarcely to have been aware. One great justice ought to be done to her memory—she was no hypocrite. She never sought to play the fine lady, or to assume the airs and state of the _noblesse_. On the contrary, her great delight was in talking of the _happy_ days of her youth. I have heard from those who were admitted to the private _réunions_ in the _petits appartemens_ at Versailles, that no actress ever possessed greater flexibility of histrionic power than Madame Dubarri. Her talent at mimicry and caricature would have done honour to any stage, and it was one of the king’s greatest enjoyments to listen to her description of the scenes and circumstances with which she had been familiar, before the happy chance which opened to her a life so different from that to which she then aspired. It seems that her comic powers were so great, that the satiated and _ennuyé_ old king was once known to take a brilliant ring from his finger in the enthusiasm of the moment, and place it on her own, and, forgetting the presence of the courtiers, kiss her heartily on both cheeks, after one of these representations, at the same time declaring that she had given him more pleasure than he had ever received from the best actors of the Comédie Française. “‘She alone furnished the amusement of the royal _petits soupers_ for many years, and, while the people imagined that the king had retired for a while from public affairs, for the benefit of his health, and to recruit his strength, before entering on the great measures of reform which he had so long proposed for the advantage of the nation, roars of laughter and lewd songs were heard by the sentinel on duty at the gate of Trianon, issuing from the royal retreat, and making him imagine that he was pacing before one of the unholy dens which infest the narrow streets of the Quartier de la Cité.