people praying
for his recovery; when the courtiers came with news that he was out of
danger they were borne shoulder high in triumph through the streets,
and fervent thanksgiving followed in all the churches. People hailed
him as Louis le Bien-Aime; even the callous heart of the king was
pierced by their loyalty and he cried, "What have I done to deserve
such love?" So easy was it to win the affection of this warm-hearted
people.

The brilliant victories of Marshal Saxe, and the consequent Peace of
Aix-la-Chapelle, brought some years of prosperity. Wealth increased;
Paris became more than ever a centre of intellectual splendour and
social refinement, where the arts administered to luxurious ease and
to the fair frailties of passion. But it was a period of riotous pride
and regal licentiousness unparalleled even in the history of France.
Louis XIV. at least exacted good breeding and wit in his mistresses:
his descendant enslaved himself to the commonest and most abandoned of
women. For twenty years the destinies of the people, and the whole
patronage of the Government, the right to succeed to the most sacred
and exalted offices in the Church, were bartered and intrigued for in
the chamber of a harlot and procuress, and under the influence of the
Pompadours and the Du Barrys a crowned _roue_ allowed the state to
drift into financial, military and civil[153] disaster.

[Footnote 153: In 1753 between 20th January and 20th February two
hundred persons died of want (_misere_) in the Faubourg St. Antoine.]

"Authentic proofs exist," says Taine, "demonstrating that Madame de
Pompadour cost Louis XV. a sum equal to about seventy-two millions of
present value (L2,880,000)." She would examine the plans of campaign
of her marshals in her boudoir, and mark with patches (_mouches_) the
places to be defended or attacked. Such was the mad extravagance of
the court that to raise money recourse was had to taxation of the
clergy, which the prelates successfully resisted; the old quarrel with
the Jansenists was revived, and soon Church and Crown were convulsed
by an agitation that shook society to its very base. During the
popular ferment the king was attacked in 1757 by a crack-brained
fanatic named Damiens, who scratched him with a penknife as he was
entering his coach at Versailles. The poor crazy wretch, who at most
deserved detention in an asylum, was first subjected to a cruel
judicial torture, then taken to the Place de Greve,