MARIE ANTOINETTE BY (?LARA TSCHUPI Butborfsefc translation from tbe morwegian BY E. M. COPE LONDON SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., LIM PATERNOSTER SQUARE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. v THE translation of this Life of Marie Antoinette has been a work of love and deep interest, and I cannot send it forth into the world without a few words of comment on the gifted authoress, Clara Tschudi, whose) writings deserve to be known and appreciated in England. She is a strong, but genuinely womanly character a distinct personality with great charm of manner and power of language ; of Swiss descent, but born in Tonsberg, the oldest town in Norway. The present monograph and that of Eugenie, Empress of the French, have been translated into German and Italian, and have met with marked success among readers of all classes. In addition to a diploma of merit, " Litteris et Artibus," with which Clara Tschudi alone among Swedish and Norwegian authoresses has been honoured, she has received a gold medal from Oscar II., in recognition of her valuable historical researches. Professor Kirkpatrick, of Edinburgh University, a lover of Norway and its literature, writes to me as follows : " I am glad to hear that you have translated Froken Clara Tschudi' s Marie Antoinette. Her Eugenie, which I read with great interest and reviewed favourably some years ago, seemed to me at the time well worthy of being translated into English j but her Ma/rie Antoinette, which I have only dipped into as yet, is evidently a much more important work, and one of more enduring historical value. Her easy and pleasant style ought of itself to ensure her works a wide circulation. " Permit me to express my hearty wishes for the success of your translation. J. K." E. M. COPE. t> V AUTHOR'S PREFACE. FEW ^omen have excited greater interest than the unfortunate daughter of the! Imperial house of Austria, who, when only a child of fifteen, was taken from her native land to occupy such an important post in the corrupt court of France. Her life has therefore been already frequently described in various ways, and under many aspects. Although it is apparently a subject which is soon exhausted, Marie Antoinette ever remains of fascinating interest; she is one of those historical women who again and again attract our attention. N^Her life falls into two sharply denned portions : twenty years of triumph, which cost her five years of martyrdom. In the first we see her thoughtless and careless in the last we find her in adversity and distress, when Providence is teaching her cruel lessons as a punishment for her former frivolity. If she is far from blameless in her youth, she develops on the other hand, in the days of her misfortune, a greatness of soul becoming in her as a queen, and as the child of Maria Theresa.'* I do not in any way presume to offer my work as a portion of the history of France ; I touch on political events only when it is necessary in order to explain the course of my narrative. I have wished to depict in broad outlines a portion of a human life full of vicissitudes, smiles, and tears. The scattered accounts which I have endeavoured to collect into one picture will, I hope, cast, if not a perfectly new, yet a richer light on the queen about whom there are still so many conflicting opinions. All biography is full of instruction, and I believe that my readers will find subject for reflection in my description of her life. CLARA TSCHUDI. CONTENTS. PART I. CHAP. I. Birth of the Archduchess Maria Antonia Her Education The future Queen of France leaves her home, . . 1 II. Marie Antoinette's Journey Her Reception in France Wedding Festivities, ..... 7 HI. Court Life in Versailles The Due de Vauguyon The Daughters of Louis XV. The Dauphin and hia Diary, . 9 IV. Marie Antoinette's First Introduction into the great World How the Dauphiness Spent her Day The Comte and Comtesse de Provence The Comte and Comtesse d'Artois Theatricals and Dancing, . . .17 *-~V. The Dauphiness and Madame du Barry Maria Theresa's Correspondence with her Daughter, . . .21 VI. Entrance of the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette into Paris Louis XV. dies, 26 VII. Accession to the Throne Court Ceremonials The Comtesse de Noailles Abbe" Vermond, . . . .28 VIII. Domestic Discord Removal to Paris JSals cPoptra Marie Antoinette's Love of Ridicule, . . .34 IX. Marie Antoinette's Beauty The Queen's Apartments in Versailles Mademoiselle Bertin, the Milliner The Absurdities of Fashion, . . . . .38 X. Marie Antoinette's Friendships La Princesse de Lamballe La Princesse de Gu6m6nee La Comtesse de Polignac, . 42 XI. Trianon, ........ 50 XII. The Queen's Extravagance Gambling Scandals at Court Marie Antoinette's Connection with Art and Literature Royal Actors at Trianon, ... .53 x CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XIII. Marie Antoinette's Secret Troubles Visit of her Brother Joseph The Queen becomes a Mother for the First Time Death of Maria Theresa Birth of the Dauphin, . . . . . . .60 XIV. Baptism of the Dauphin Marie Antoinette's Reputed Lovers The Comte d'Artois Baron Besenval Lauzun Count Fersen Castelnaux, . . .66 XV. Marie Antoinette and Politics, . . . .73 XVI. Marie Antoinette as Mother Madame de Polignac as Gouvernante to the Royal Children Beaumarchais and his Comedies, . . . . . .77 XVII. The Necklace, . ...... 82 XVIII. Threatening Clouds Increasing Hatred of the People, . 93 PART II. auto fyt XIX. Meeting of the States-General, . . . .97 XX. Slander against the Queen The Due d'Orleans, . . 100 XXI. Political Disputes Louis and Marie Antoinette lose their Eldest Son Fall of the Bastille The King Visits Paris, ....... 104 XXII. The Comte d'Artois and the Polignac Family leave France- Emigration begins Officers' Festivities The Women's March to Versailles, . . . . .112 XXIII. The 5th and 6th of October, 1789 The Royal Family leave Versailles, . . . . . .119 XXIV. In the Tuileries The Princesse de Lamballe returns to Court Marie Antoinette's Letters to the Princesse de Lamballe and to the Duchesse de Polignac Hatred to the Queen continues, ..... 125 XXV. Emigration The King attends the National Assembly Favras' Execution Death of the Emperor Joseph, . 133 XXVI. Marie Antoinette as Mother Traits in the Character of Louis XVIL, . ... 137 CONTENTS. xi CHAP. PAGE XXVII. The Summer of 1790 Fe^te on the Champs de Mars The Queen and Mirabeau, . . . .143 XXVIII. The Elder Princesses leave for Rome The Princess Elisabeth The King and the Clergy Permission to go to St. Cloud, 149 XXIX. Preparations for Flight Count Fersen Departure from Paris, 156 XXX. Arrival in Varennes Recognition and Capture of the Royal Family, 161 XXXI. Opinions in the Capital The Return Journey, . . 171 XXXII. Libels against the King and Queen Madame Roland Gustavus III. of Sweden The Emperor Leopold Feeling in Coblentz Experiences of Count Fersen, 178 XXXIII. The Princesse de Lamballe and her Diplomatic Mission Letters from the Queen and the Princesses, . .185 XXXIV. The King ratifies the New Constitution Festivities The Queen's Last Visit to the Theatre The Last Possibility of a Reconciliation between the Royal Pair and the Due d'Orteans, . . . .188 XXXV. Intercourse between the Tuileries and Coblentz Marie Antoinette plays a Double Game, . . .194 XXXVI Foreign Powers The New National Assembly The Deputation from San Domingo Family Life in the Tuileries The Political Situation Marie Antoin- ette's Letters to the Emperor Leopold and to Catherine II. of Russia, . . . .197 XXXVII. Fersen's Last Visit to Paris Death of the Emperor Leopold and of Gustavus III. France Declares War The Comtesse de la Motte's Libel The Girondists in Power Dumouriez, . . . 205 XXXVni. June 20th, 1792, ... ... 212 XXXIX. Public Feeling in France after the 20th June, 1792 Federation Festival Lafayette Conversation of the Queen with Madame Campan, . . . 215 XL. The Morning of August 10th, 1792 The Last Review, . 222 XLL The Royal Family leavo the Tuileries In the Journal- ists' Gallery Death of the Swiss Guards Fall of the Monarchy, ..... 227 XLIL Three Days in the Fouillants' Convent, . . .233 xii CONTENTS. CHAP. PAOB XLIIL Life in the Temple, . . 236 XLIV. The Prinoesse de Lamballe Murdered, . . .241 XLV. The Koyal Family Removed to the Tower of the Temple- Louis XVI. Arraigned before the Bar of the Con- vention, 244 XLVL The King is Condemned to Death, . . . .247 XLVIL Louis XVI. takes leave of his Family His Execution, . 252 XLVIII. Marie Antoinette as a Widow Feeling Abroad on the King's Death Fresh Plans for Escape Toulan and Jar j ayes, . . * . 258 XLIX. Dumouriez wishes to restore the Monarchy The Temple Searched Illness of Charles Louis Madame Tiaon becomes Insane Baron Batz, Cortey, and Michonis, . 264 L. Charles Louis taken from his Mother The Cobbler Simon, ....... 269 LI. In the Conciergerie, . . 273 LIL Last Attempts to rescue the Queen The Jailer Bault, . 278 LIII. Marie Antoinette before the Tribunal, . . .281 LIV.^-The Queen's Will Her Last Days, . . .288 LV. Count Fersen and the Due de Polignac Death of the Princesse Elisabeth Last Sufferings of Louis XVII. Is the King's Son Dead in the Temple ? Fate of the Princesse Marie Therese "Chapelle Expiatoire" Conclusion, . . . 293 MARIE ANTOINETTE PART I. JLtttointtte'* itt, rien que vtritt, tout* la vtritt." CHAPTER I. Birth of the Archduchess Maria Antonia Her Education The future Queen of France leaves her home. Six months before the beginning of the Seven Years' War, on November 2nd, 1755, the south of Europe was shaken by a terrible earthquake, and Lisbon was destroyed. Thirty thousand persons perished, and the King and Queen of Portugal had to flee from their palace, which became a heap of ruins. This was All Souls' Day, the birthday of Marie Antoinette. Her parents were Francis Stephan of Tuscany and Maria Theresa of Austria, and she was christened Maria Antonia Josephine Johanna. Even before her birth a wager had been laid on the little one. The Empress, who had already five daughters, but at that time only two sons, wished for a third. " Will it be a son or a daughter ? " she asked at an evening reception in Schonbrunn during the summer of 1755. "A son, certainly," said one of the courtiers present. " You think so," replied Maria Theresa, " but I bet you two ducats it will be a girl." The courtier lost the bet, brought the ducats wrapped in paper, and presented them kneeling to his sovereign. On the paper were written the following lines, composed for the occasion by Metastasio : "Ho perduto : '1 augusta figlia, A pagar m' ha condamnato ; Ma s' e vero ch' a voi simiglia, Tutto 1' mundo ha guadagnato." "I've lost: the baby proves a maid, And so the money must be paid ; But as she's said to be like thee, The world has gained instead of me." Life in the court of Maria Theresa was very simple, almost homely. Not that etiquette was entirely banished from Burg 2 ' MAfilE 'ANTOINETTE. and Schonbrunn, but it played no great part in either home. On the other hand, although the etiquette at court was so slight, family life also held no prominent place in Marie Antoinette's home. The Queen of France often spoke with delight of her childhood; but it always strikes one that her father, the Emperor, stood far nearer to the heart of the girl than her mother. Accustomed as she was to command, the Empress understood the art of inspiring respect in her own family, and fear restrained the affection of her children, who never forgot, in their intercourse with her, that they were in the presence of a sovereign. Politics and the cares of govern- ment allowed Maria Theresa but little time to devote to her children. It was the duty of the court physician to visit them every morning, and then to go at once from their apartments to the Empress, who enquired most precisely about the well- being of her little flock ; but she herself rarely saw them more than once a week. Their education was entrusted to tutors and governesses, whom the mother selected with great care, and for whom she in a great measure traced the course of instruction to be followed, though she did not watch very closely that her plans were carried out. Those teachers who felt safe from motherly supervision were often far too indulgent towards the imperial children, and Marie Antoinette's governess was dis- missed because Maria Theresa accidentally discovered that some specimens of writing, said to have been done by her daughter, were the work of her teacher. Countess Brandeisen, who came in her place, loved her pupil and gained her affection, but she also spoilt her ; and if she tried to be severe and to reprove her favourite, a loving reply or a caress was sufficient to make the Countess as gentle and lenient as ever. Marie Antoinette remained in her charge until her twelfth year, and she con- sidered it quite a misfortune that she had come into her hands so late, and so soon had had to lose her. Countess Lerchenfeld, who succeeded, was a stronger character, and much more severe. But she suffered from both bad health and bad temper, and was in no way suited to guide the lively, joyous little girl. Metastasio gave her lessons in Italian, and taught her to speak the language with grace and fluency ; she also translated difficult Italian books without effort. Gluck was her music master, and she retained her liking for his style through life. In other branches too she had the best instructors, but she made no progress in anything, except Italian and music ; and her mother complains in her letters that her youngest daughter does not profit from the instruction of her teachers. The Archduchess Antonia, as she was called in Vienna, always spelt incorrectly, and her handwriting was almost illegible. " Her drawings had to be improved before they could be shown to her mother, and in geography she was more ignorant than many a peasant child. MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 3 Not only general history, but that of her own family was almost unknown to her. She was not wanting in ability, but she had no wish to learn; and her ignorance, which could not remain unnoticed, caused many persons in France to have a very poor opinion of her understanding. But though she was so very deficient in knowledge, she had, on the contrary, great facility for adapting herself to the manners of society, and even as a child she astonished people by her pretty self-assurance, while she gained all hearts by her grace and friendliness. Both the Emperor and the Empress were fond of music, and as often as they could they spent their evenings in the large music room at Schonbrunn. Pianos and harps were ranged along the walls, and Gluck or Haydn played, or Metastasio read aloud, when the imperial children were frequently allowed to be present. It was on such an evening that Mozart made" his entrance into the great world. Unaccustomed to the highly-polished floor, and dazzled by the lights, he fell, as he was advancing to bow before the Empress. The courtiers thought him clumsy, and smiled at his misfortune ; but no one went to his assistance, until the Archduchess Antonia hastened forward to raise and comfort the little man. As we have said, the cares of state prevented Maria Theresa from occupying herself in detail about her children; but she nevertheless liked to be looked upon as an anxious mother in the eyes of the world. If travellers of distinction came to Vienna the Empress invited them to the Castle, and on these occasions she showed herself in the bosom of her family. Then, from time to time, she liked the newspapers to insert notices about the abilities of the princes and princesses, and to know that people spoke of their goodness or cleverness. Her loyal subjects repeated with delight any pleasing stories told of the archduchesses. For instance, when Antonja, one winter's day, gave all her savings to the poor, the news spread from mouth to mouth, and all Austria could tell of the remarkable speeches which she and her sisters had made. It is true that they occasionally read speeches in Latin aloud, but the populace did not know that the girls understood not a word of what they were reading. * * * * * # For hundreds of years the reigning house of France had been obliged to defend her rights against the house of Habsburg, which, in possession of Austria, Spain, and Holland, surrounded her on three sides, and it had been the constant aim of all her kings to destroy this triple power. The people too were accustomed to consider Austria as their hereditary enemy. But by degrees the situation changed, for the conquests of Richelieu and Mazarin, the victories, as well as the defeats, of. Louis XV., .had altered the map of Europe The house of Habsburg had 4 MABIE ANTOINETTE. been driven from Spain for ever, and at the same time a new power, the house of Hohenzollern, had arisen in Germany. Signs too were not wanting that France and Austria wished to forget their hereditary feud. Maria Theresa's father, Charles VI., had made the first advance, and Cardinal Fleury, Prime Minister during the minority of Louis XV., did not appear unwilling to accept the proffered friendship. As for the young Empress, her hostility towards the King of Prussia made her eagerly desire the alliance ; and during the war against France and Prussia she offered a separate peace to the former country, and upon this being accepted, she still continued her friendly advances. Although for a time nothing came of these pre- liminary courtesies, France showed herself by no means insensible to Austria's expressions of regard; and in 1756 Louis XV. entered into the alliance with Maria Theresa, which gave rise to the Seven Years' War. The Empress wished to retain in the future the ally she had now gained, and after peace was declared her ambitious and enterprising mind laid plans for a matrimonial union between the two royal houses. Louis XV. and his minister Choiseul were aware of her design, and Maria Theresa selected her youngest daughter, not fifteen, as the future Queen of France, hoping that Maria Antonia's beauty would gain more power in France than her soldiers had hitherto been able to achieve. The union between the Austrian Archduchess and the Dauphin of France was arranged long before the engagement was announced. When Antonia was eleven years old the brilliant Madame Geoffrin visited Vienna and was most graciously received by the Empress, who introduced all her daughters to her, but Madame was especially struck with the beauty of the youngest. " What a charming child," she exclaimed. " I should like to take her away." " Take her with you," said Maria Theresa, delighted ; " take her by all means." She let Madame Geoffrin clearly understand that it would please her if she would speak of the little one in the literary salons of Paris, and say how pretty she thought her. Miadame Geoffrin fulfilled the wishes of the Empress with zeal, and in consequence the future Dauphiness and her charming manners were discussed in the capital during the following winter. Louis XV. obtained information as to her progress through his ambassador, and a renowned artist was sent to Vienna to paint her portrait. As soon as it was finished the King was so intensely anxious to see it that the artist had to send his son with it to Versailles, in order that it might be delivered as rapidly as possible. Maria Theresa surrounded her daughter with everything that could contribute to prepare her for her new position. She had to wear her hair in the French fashion, and to study the language. A French actor was appointed to read to her, but MARIE ANTOINETTES YOUTH. 5 as he was a man of bad character the choice greatly displeased the French court. The ambassador at Vienna was therefore requested to call the attention of the Empress to the reader, who was dismissed ; and Maria Theresa begged that a priest might be sent to her court from France. On the recommenda- tion of the Bishop of Toulouse, Abbe Vermond was selected, and immediately on his arrival in Vienna he made a plan for his lessons, which was sanctioned by the Empress. Maria Antonia had not completed her tenth year when she lost her father. The Emperor was going to Innsbruck to be present at the marriage of his second son, and before he left home he desired that his daughter Antonia should come to him. " I felt a longing to embrace that child," he said with emotion, as he held her in his arms for the last time. A few days later he fell down dead at his son's wedding banquet. His sudden removal was a hard trial for his children, though still worse for his wife, whose previous troubles were quite cast into the shade by this unexpected blow. But even sorrow could not long depress the energetic Empress, who seems from this time to have had Maria Antonia frequently with her. She talked to her of the instability of thrones, and made her own shroud in the presence of the child. Then she took her down into the vault where former rulers were laid to rest. " The same honours are now paid to me that these enjoyed in their day," she said. " They are forgotten, and I shall share their fate." Maria Theresa was too clear-sighted and too accurately in- formed about the life of the French court to allow herself to be dazzled by the high position which awaited her child, and could not shut her eyes to the fact that the throne which the young Princess was to occupy was undermined and tottering already. She told her daughter about her own troubled youth, the thorny path by which she had approached the throne, and all the illusions that lay buried in her memory. This strong ruler wept over her persecutions and misfortunes, but especially over the loss of Silesia. Then, quite suddenly, she would take the child into her arms and exclaim : " Think of me when misfortunes overtake you." At other times she would take her to visit hospitals and asylums to see the sick and orphans, and while she showed her all this misery she impressed upon her daughter that work faithfully done is the only thing that can give lasting peace and satisfaction. Marie Antoinette could not understand her mother's seriousness, nor could she grasp the joy that inspired the Empress after the accomplishment of her duty. And the mother recalled that there had been a time when she too had longed for amusement and sought it, and that it was only through adversity that work had become dearer to her than anything else. 6 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. Her departure from home drew near. The wedding was to take place in Versailles, but brilliant farewell banquets were given by both the Empress and the French ambassador in Vienna. During the interval before the wedding Maria Theresa could hardly look at her daughter without her eyes filling with tears. She had her bed brought into her own room, she took her on to her lap, kissed her fair hair and her eyes, talked to her of her future, and begged her not to forget Austria, because France was to become her home. " How glad I should be if I could keep you with me," said she, " but I sacrifice my own feelings for the good of Austria and for your happiness, which I trust is secured. Write to me frequently. I shall weep over your letters. I cannot write like Madame de Sevign6, but I love you quite as dearly as she loved her daughter." The ceremonious offer of marriage had been made April 16th, 1770, through the French ambassador, le Marquis de Durfort, and the following day the Archduchess renounced all pretensions to the Austrian throne. The imperial document was signed at the Hofburg in Vienna, when the family, the court, the nobility, and the deputies filled the state-room and surrounded the throne. When all were assembled, the Empress entered with the young Princess. They were received in deep silence, and Maria Theresa was so overcome with emotion, and her hand shook so painfully, that she could hardly guide her pen to affix her signature. Then Marie Antoinette signed her name, deeply touched too at the thought of leaving her beloved home. She left Vienna /'April 21st. Her mother could hardly release her from her embrace, and sobs choked her voice, so that at last Antonia had to tear herself from her arms and hasten from the Castle, through crowds of friends and servants, to throw herself into the carriage, which had difficulty in forcing a way through the crowded streets. An eye-witness relates that " Austria's capital looked a perfect picture of sorrow." Sobs were heard every- where, and all were inconsolable at the departure of the Princess. In one account of the period we have, " The whole city had come forth, at first in silent sorrow. Then she appeared lying back in the carriage, her face bathed in tears ; now covering her eyes with her handkerchief, now with her hands. Several times she put her head out of the carriage window and looked at her father's castle to which she was never to return, while expressing- her sorrow and gratitude to the masses of people who crowded round her to say ' good-bye.' Then the populace broke forth, not into tears, but into a piercing shriek." MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. CHAPTER II. Marie Antoinette's Journey Her "Reception in France Wedding Festivities. MARIE ANTOINETTE'S journey through Munich, Augsburg, and several other cities lasted a fortnight. Everywhere there were crowds curious to see the Austrian Archduchess who was to' become Dauphiness of France, who were charmed with her graciousness, and as she crossed the frontier of the lands under her mother's rule she lost all self-control, exclaiming as she wept bitterly, " I shall never see you again." At the French frontier, on a small island in the Rhine, a tent had been erected for the occasion, with one large partition and two smaller rooms, of which one was for the suite of the Archduchess from Vienna, the other for the French ladies who had come to meet her. Here her first lady-in-waiting, the Comtesse de Noailles, approached her and made three formal curtseys ; but, lively and natural as she was, Marie Antoinette did not notice the stern appearance of the lady, but threw her arms round her neck, while she begged her to comfort her and to be her guide and friend. In the same moment the ladies who had accompanied her from Germany drew near to kiss her hand for the last time. She embraced them all, wept, and sent loving messages to her mother, her brothers and sisters, and her friends. Then she turned to the FrencK ladies and said, " Forgive me ; these tears are for my family and the country I am leaving; but from this moment I will not forget that I am French." The reception which she met with in France surpasses all description. As she had been loved in Germany, so on the other side of the Rhine all hearts turned towards her as she passed along. Fourteen years old, fair and refined, with the stamp of innocence on her brow, she conquered all hearts in spite of French prejudice against the house of Habsburg. Her grace and amiability called forth a perfect delirium of enthusiasm. Peasants came from every direction, and the roads were strewn with flowers, while girls in their smartest clothes offered her bouquets. Her carriage was surrounded, and when her face could be seen there was a cry as from one mouth, " How lovely our Princess is ! " While she was thus nearing her journey's end amid rejoicings, but inward anxiety, the royal family had assembled in Com- piegne in order to welcome her, and Louis XV. was especially excited at the thought of the meeting. No sooner did Marie Antoinette perceive him than she rushed from the carriage and threw herself at his feet, Louis looked at her with more 8 MARIE ANTOINETTE. curiosity than fatherly interest. He found her much more beautiful than he had expected, far lovelier than the picture which had been sent to him from Vienna. He raised her and kissed her, while Marie Antoinette blushed under this mark of affection and the King's questioning looks. During all this time the Dauphin stood by his grandfather's side, much more embarrassed than his fiancee, uneasily moving his body back- wards and forwards without finding a word to say to her. At last he allowed himself to follow the custom of the French court, and silently and coldly kissed her on the right cheek. Surrounded by shouting masses the royal procession drove from Compiegne to St. Denis. Here the Archduchess was in- troduced to the King's second daughter, who had retired into a Carmelite nunnery in that city, and from there they drove to " La Muette," where she was received by Clotilde and Elisabeth, the Dauphin's two young sisters, so that it was not till late in the evening that she reached Versailles. The following day, May 16th, the marriage was to take place, and at ten o'clock in the morning the Princess entered the marble hall of the Castle, where she was met by both the King and the Dauphin ; then, accompanied by their suite, they entered the chapel. Here, kneeling and much overcome, the young couple swore fidelity to each other at the foot of the altar. The marriage certificate had been previously signed, and the superstitious remarked and remembered that the bride had made a blot which effaced one half of her name. The ceremony was hardly over when a fearful storm broke forth, Versailles was to have been illuminated, and the people of Paris had hastened thither to see the bridal procession, but the Bengal fire could not be lighted, and the illuminations were drowned in rain. The curious spectators, who were wandering through the 'Castle gardens and the streets, fled in the greatest disorder, pursued by perfect streams of water, lightning, and crashing thunder. In the interior of the Castle the royal festivities were progressing, but even in these splendid halls there were signs that here also all was not bright. In order to do honour to Maria Theresa, Louis XV. had decided that the Princess of Lorraine, cousin to the Empress, and the only relation of the Dauphiness in France, should take precedence immediately after the royal princes and princesses, which greatly incensed the dukes and high nobility of France. Several duchesses were absent from the ball, while others obstinately refused to let the Princess of Lorraine dance before them, until a royal command forced them to obey; even then immediately after the dance they ordered their carriages and returned to Paris. A series of brilliant court festivities followed the wedding- day, and the elegant dresses, glittering ornaments, handsome MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 9 carriages, richly furnished tables, and Bengal illuminations formed a sad contrast to the condition of the capital and the country, where the people were in want of bread. Nevertheless, they hastened every evening to Versailles in order to admire the four million lamps that were hung in the garden and park, and shone like stars in the clear spring night. The fetes lasted continuously for a fortnight, and it was not till the music was silent and the lights were extinguished that the nation realized that all these ceremonies had cost twenty million francs. The sum was to come out of the State coffers, and of course it was not yet paid. When Versailles had finished, Paris wished to celebrate the marriage with a popular fete and a magnificent display of fire- works on the Place Louis XV. Unfortunately the necessary precautions were not taken, the Bengal fire was a failure, and the mob became uncontrollable. The police were absent, or inefficient, and the city guard, who were at hand, tried to maintain order, but could not restrain the crowd. Pickpockets, reaping a good harvest, added to the confusion, while a fire broke out, and the scaffolding round the statue of Louis XV. was burnt down. Many were trodden to death in the struggle, others were pushed into the river, numbers were wounded, and thirty-two dead bodies were found. The Dauphiness was driving to Paris to see the illuminations, and heard of the misfortune on the road. She at once gave all the money she possessed for distribution among the survivors, and the Dauphin was equally distressed with his wife at the accident which accompanied the last of their wedding festivities. He sent his income for a month to the prefect of police in Paris, and begged him to alleviate the distress. His example was followed by the other princes and many of the nobility. But a general depression reigned in the capital which simple beneficence could but slightly touch, and there were many who saw in this painful circumstance omens of the awful future in store. CHAPTER III. Court Life in Versailles The Due de Vauguyon The Daughters of Louis XV. The Dauphin and his Diary. No court was ever more beset with conspiracies than the one into which Marie Antoinette had entered, where bitter party strife, low and foul intrigues, hatred, spite, and inordinate striving after power prevailed on all sides. Two parties were struggling for the upper hand at the French court in 1770. 10 MARIE ANTOINETTE. One, at this time the stronger, was that of the chief rninister f Choiseul. The other was led by the chancellor, Maupeou, and the Comtesse de Marsan, gouvernante to the Dauphiness. To this same party belonged, moreover, the Due de Vauguyon, the Dauphin's incompetent tutor, and, finally, the King's mistress, Madame du Barry, whom Maupeou had induced to come over to his side, mainly because she could not forgive the proud, independent behaviour of Choiseul towards her. In addition to these principal parties were a number of smaller ones, of which the members were all, more or less, intriguing, false, and immoral. This life in Versailles, where men put their wives on one side for their mistresses, where wives thought it only natural to deceive their husbands, where the King himself set the very worst example, was indeed but a sad one into which to introduce a child of fifteen, who had never seen anything but what wa good at home. Opinions, rules, life itself, all was different to what she had been accustomed to. People did not seem to worship the same God ; she did not understand their conduct, and she was certainly not understood by them, so that it was indeed difficult for her to carry herself aright in this slippery path, where the least false step meant danger. Much as she may have wished to hold herself aloof from parties, it became impossible for her to do so, and she was obliged to place herself on one side or the other. Her mother had advised her to attach herself to Choiseul's party, for, as it was he who had brought about her marriage, a feeling of gratitude alone required her to give him her confidence. But this would have exposed her to the hatred and persecution of the opposite side, some of whom spoke ill of her and tried to destroy her popularity. Others wiser in their generation did their utmost to gain an influence over her, and she had not been a month in Versailles before she was surrounded by countless intrigues. The first step was to dismiss Abbe Vermond, who had accompanied her to France; afterwards the Comtesse de Noailles. A maid- servant of very doubtful character was then put in close attendance, and even an untrustworthy father confessor was forced upon her. Not only was every effort made to turn Louis XV. against her, but also to keep her husband away from her. The Dauphin should have been her natural guide and pro- tector, but his own indecision of character kept him continually in leading strings. As a child his health was weak, and he was sent, under the charge of the Comtesse de Marsan, to Bellevue, where an entirely country life for many years restored him to health. His father, the only son of Louis XV., had died in 1769, so that young Louis was only fourteen when he became Dauphin, and about sixteen when he married. When Marie Antoinette came to France the credulous youth was still entirely MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 11 ruled by his tutor, the Due de Vauguyon, who by no means meant to lose his influence, in spite of this change of circum- stances. The teacher would not understand that his power ceased the day on which his pupil was married, and he did not shrink from even the most despicable means to plot against the Dauphiness. He maintained he had a right to enter their presence at all hours, and placed Marie Antoinette's apartments as far away as possible from those of her husband. He ques- tioned the servants, listened at her door, and accused her to the King. This continual spying went so far that Marie Antoinette became angry and impatient, and one day she said to Vauguyon, " The Dauphin no longer requires a tutor, and I do not need a spy. I request, therefore, that you will not enter my presence again." * * -x- * * * With Louis XV. lived his three unmarried daughters Adelaide, Victoria, and Sophia. As we have already said, a fourth daughter, Louisa, had left the court to retire to a poor nunnery, though the veil which separated her from the world did not completely shut it out from her knowledge. Cardinal Fleury, who had improved the financial system in the early part of the reign, had carried his economy so far as to persuade the King to allow his daughters to be brought up in a nunnery as ordinary boarders. In consequence, the princesses did not know their alphabet at twelve years old, and they could not read fluently until after their return to Versailles, when the Dauphin interested himself in his sisters ; and partly under his guidance, partly alone, they tried to make up for the defects of their cloister education. Princess Adelaide, the eldest, had the best abilities. In her youth she had been pretty, but all traces of beauty had com- pletely disappeared. She had awkward manners, a hard voice, and something masculine in her whole being which was not attractive. She had an insatiable desire to learn, and played all kinds of instruments, from a bugle to a Jew's harp. She studied the Italian and English languages, mathematics, clock-making, and carpentering. Although it was not quite usual at this period, it is worthy of note that she wrote her own language well and correctly, and was, besides, well versed in the history of her country. She was the favourite child of Louis XV. Her active mind made her long for a more prominent position, but hitherto she had had no scope for her powers. Ambitious and conscious of her rank, she suffered acutely at being treated as a cipher; but she would allow no contradiction, and avenged herself for the neglect which tortured her, by " pin-pricks," which she dealt right and left whenever she had the chance. Princess Victoria was prettier than her elder sister, and was naturally mild and good; if she had had the courage to follow 12 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. the dictates of her own heart she would probably have made the court much more comfortable than it was. But she was phlegmatic, not to say apathetic, and all the four princesses had but one will, that of Adelaide. Sophia, the youngest, had an unusually unprepossessing appearance, and she was painfully timid. In order not to see people, and yet to be able to recognize them, she had acquired a nervous side glance, which made her look like a hare, and she was so shy that one might pass years in her company without hearing her utter a word. And yet there were occasions when this peculiar princess could become courteous and communicative, and that was during a thunderstorm ! So great was her terror then that she went up to any person near, and if it lightened she pressed their hands, and when the thunder rolled she kissed the court ladies in her fright. But as soon as the weather changed her usual stiff demeanour returned, and again she would pass by her companions apparently without seeing them. It was not until a fresh storm roused her fears that her frendli- ness was again shown. After the death of their mother, Marie Leczinska, the princesses had for a time fulfilled the duties of hostess at the court. Enslaved in the toils of his mistress, the King saw comparatively little of his family. He went every morning by a secret stair- case down to Princess Adelaide, sometimes carrying a cup of coffee, which he drank in her apartment. Then she rang a bell to let Victoria know that the King had come, and while the latter was hastening to her sister, another bell summoned the Princess Sophia. The apartments of all three were large, and numbers of rooms had to be traversed before the daily meeting-place could be reached. Although Sophia ran quickly, arriving tired and breathless, she had barely time to greet her father, who went hunting immediately on leaving Princess Adelaide's room. Every afternoon at six o'clock, both princes and princesses went to the King, accompanied by chamberlains, ladies-in-waiting, pages and lacqueys, carrying wax candles. This visit was strictly one of ceremony, and seldom lasted more than a quarter of an hour. The three princesses were devout but extremely narrow-minded in their religious views, and we are led to believe that they were not particularly amiable. They kept themselves in the back- ground, were awkward when they had to see people, and stood in great awe of their father. They did not know what they ought to do or to say; in short, they never understood the art of inspiring the respect to which, by their high birtH, they were entitled. But in secret they were involved in all kinds of intrigues, and were all the more eager to make a show of possessing influence, as they had really none. They were not elderly, Adelaide was thirty-eight when Marie Antoinette MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 13 came to Versailles, but they were old maids, and had all the weaknesses of the class : they were exacting, jealous, narrow, sensitive, and fond of scandal. Still, in spite of their faults, it was natural that Marie Antoinette should try to be friendly with them, and before she left home her mother said to her, " Keep close to your aunts, they are virtuous and accomplished, and you are fortunate in having them. I hope you will make yourself worthy of their friendship." Since the death of the late Dauphiness they had taken pre- cedence at court, but the arrival of Marie Antoinette gave them the second place, and it is undoubted that Adelaide, at least, looked with displeasure on this child, who was usurping her position. But, although full of secret hate, the aunts received the young Austrian with apparent friendship. We cannot believe that they acknowledged any duty towards this young niece, cast without guide or rudder on the stormy waves of court life at Versailles; still less is it probable that they felt them- selves under the influence of her bewitching charm. It is far more likely that they attached themselves to her for their own ends. Jealous of the new star that had appeared on the court horizon, they watched their rival only to be able to injure her the more easily. A certain intimacy sprang up between Marie Antoinette and the elder ladies, the result of which was soon apparent. The princesses did not like public life, they lived in a little circle of their own, the very air of which was filled with ill-natured gossip ; and, although a stranger, Marie Antoinette was easily persuaded to take part in their disgraceful calumnies. Naturally bright, and ready to be amused at the ludicrous side of her companions, she did not weigh her words, but thought she was safe in this inner circle. Her fun was told to others and maliciously interpreted. It was said that she imitated persons in high positions behind their backs, and laughed in the face of others. The cheerfulness of the Dauphiness did not last long ; she was soon as embarrassed as her aunts, and did not dare to address a word to persons in a high position. She withdrew as much as possible from public duties, and when compelled to fulfil them she was painfully nervous. " The princesses are jiot content with influencing the Dauphiness in things which concern her personally," the Austrian Ambassador once wrote to Maria Theresa, " they extend their control over those in her service. They treat her prerogatives with contempt, and ignore the marked difference of rank that ought to exist between their household and that of the Dauphiness." The mother became alarmed at this undue influence, and wrote to her daughter, " I hear in all my letters that you only do what your aunts tell you. I esteem them, but they have never been able to command respect, either in their own family or in the nation, and you seem to be following in their footsteps. Does my 14 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. affection, my counsel, deserve less respect than theirs? I confess this thought distresses me greatly. Think of the recep- tion they have met with in the world, and it costs me an effort to say it what a part I have played! You must trust me all the more if I advise you to act differently from them. I do not compare myself with these worthy princesses, whom I esteem for their sterling qualities ; but, I must repeat it again and again, they have not understood how to make themselves respected by their people, or beloved by a single person. By their ultra good nature and submission to others they have become unpleasant, uncomfortable, and wearisome to themselves and others, as well as a centre for intrigue and gossip. Am I to be silent if I see you treading the same path? I love you too much to be able, or willing, to do so. Your obvious silence on the subject grieves me very much, and gives but little hope that you will alter your conduct." But a change had come. By degrees Marie Antoinette began to see that her mother was right. She could not all at once burst the bonds which her youth and isolated position had helped to form, and which daily life had strengthened, but her confidence was shaken. Respect and habit made her attentive to the advice of the princesses, though in the course of a year or two their influence became weakened, and when she yielded to them it was from politeness or fear. The elder ladies did not bear with complacency their loss of power over their niece, and began to criticise her in public, instead of only in private as formerly. So great was their zeal to find causes of complaint that they appealed to the King because she had one day come to them without ceremony and in shabby clothes. Louis XV. made her understand that such neglect of court ceremony was injurious to the respect due to the princesses, adding that her parsimony would render her unpopular among the French trades- men. " My court dresses," replied Marie Antoinette, " shall be as elegant as those of any previous dauphiness or queen of France, if such is the wish of Your Majesty ', but I beg my dear grand- father to be indulgent about my morning gowns." The malicious conduct of her aunts was a continual hindrance to the daughter of Maria Theresa; for, when they found it impossible to rule her as Dauphiness, they determined to injure her as Queen of France, and unfortunately gained their end only too well. Their influence had been pernicious, their hatred was fatal, and at the Castle of Bellevue, where the princesses lived during the reign of Louis XVI., there was always a warm welcome for anyone who could tell a compromising story about Marie Antoinette, whom Adelaide pursued through life with bitter hatred. The Queen's enemies knew they had a friend in the Princess, whose house was a centre for all intrigues against Her Majesty. It was Adelaide who gave her the nickname of "the Austrian/' and a large number of libels which had been sent MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 15 broadcast over the land to injure her character could be traced to Bellevue. Years before his marriage Aunt Adelaide had exercised great influence over young Louis, whom she had solaced in his lonely childhood and loved almost like a mother, and when he became King, Louis retained a very high respect for her opinion and judgment. She represented to him the dangers that might arise from a union with Austria, and revived half-dormant family recollections, telling him about his father, who had been put down and treated as a child by the minister Choiseul. She hinted to her nephew an old report that his father's death was caused by poison, and prompted the suspicion that Choiseul had had something to do with it. The influence of the tutor Vauguyon had originally separated Louis from his bride, but it was the work of his aunt that Marie Antoinette remained his wife in name only for seven years. Long after, when Louis thad changed from the indifferent husband to the submissive and devoted lover, the Queen said to him, " Your aunts are still trying to set you against me; it is they who would dictate your very words." The lonely country life which Louis had led in his childhood and early youth had made him timid, awkward, and diffident. He would have preferred to remain Due de Berry all his life, and replied with sobs to the first congratulations upon becoming Dauphin. He had no intercourse with the outer world, and people took no notice of him, except to contrast his life with that of the courtiers of Versailles, where he was completely ignored by his grandfather. His great physical strength called for bodily exercise, which made him take to manual labour. He had a tower built and fitted up as a smithy, so that the odour of the workshop, not that of the court, pervaded his whole person and his grimy hands. Madame du Barry called him "that fat, ill- mannered boy." Count Mercy-Argenteau, the Austrian Am- bassador, relates that he was nearly always busy at the forge, doing mason's work, or carting materials, and that he left his occupation bathed in perspiration, and looking as exhausted as if he had just come from a battlefield. Courtiers overlooked the stingy, silent prince, who had no thought for beauty; but the people called him " their darling," and during his country walks he liked to visit the peasants, chat with them, and shake hands. Having two brothers who possessed more shining qualities than himself, he was not slow to notice that they were treated with far more deference than he was, and this depressed him, making him more shy and irresolute than he was by nature. Pained by these continual slights he soon became bitter, and as a child he was often found crying, while his brothers and sisters were playing around him. " I want somebody to love," he would exclaim with his eyes full of tears; "there is nobody here that cares for me." And once, when a man from some country 16 MARIE ANTOINETTE. district made him a speech and praised him, he answered hastily, " You are mistaken, it is not I who have these talents but my brother, the Comte de Provence." It was in such moments as these that his aunt Adelaide had come forward, taken him to her heart, and laid the foundation for the intimate, confidential intercourse between them. Louis was upright ; he loved the people, but he was wanting in the firmness which inspires respect. His goodness often became weakness, his candour made him violent in speech, and his jokes were generally coarse. He was short and clumsy. His head was well formed, and he carried it well; but his large puffy cheeks, and his dull, protruding, near-sighted eyes made him look irresolute and stupid, while his uncertain gait and general shy appearance tended to deepen the impression. His voice was hard when it was not shrill ; his hair stuck out on all sides, as he had a habit of incessantly running his fingers through it ; he was generally seen with dirty clothes and black hands ; and, moreover, he was entirely wanting in those personal advantages one expects to find in the descendant of an old and noble race. He avoided women, their society was a worry to him, and when his feelings were at last roused towards her who was chosen to share his destiny, his love was barely strong enough to master his shyness. " He is not like others," Louis XV. said of him, and a courtier called him, not without cause, " the best, but not the most attractive man in the kingdom." His faulty education, combined with the Princess Adelaide's unwholesome influence, were the real causes of his reserve towards Marie Antoinette ; but in Versailles it was entirely attributed to his dislike to a marriage with a princess of the house of Austria. His wife, who had no other advantage from her title than that of seeing her husband eat and drink vora- ciously, even to excess, felt herself hurt at coldness, the cause of which she could not understand. It was but scant consola- tion for her to be told that the Dauphin had declared himself quite satisfied with her, and had said that he thought her pretty. How little Marie Antoinette occupied his thoughts can be seen in Louis' diary for the week in which his marriage took place : Sunday, May 13th [1770]: "Left Versailles. Supped and slept at Monsieur de Saint Florentm's, in Compiegne. " Monday, May 14th : "Met the Archduchess." Tuesday, May 15th : "Supped at La Muette, slept at Versailles." Wednesday, May 16th: "My wedding. A party in the gallery. Royal banquet in the theatre." Thursday, May 17th: "Opera Persew.s." Friday, May 18th : " Stag-hunting. Big field at Belle-Image. Shot one. Saturday, May 19th : "Ball in the theatre. Illuminations." The first month after his wedding winds up with the following observation in his diary : " I have had the stomach-ache." MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 17 CHAPTER IV. Marie Antoinette's First Introduction into the great World How the Dauphiness Spent her Day The Comte and Comtesse de Provence The Comte and Comtesse d'Artois Theatricals and Dancing. IN spite of the plots and intrigues which so many persons were weaving round Marie Antoinette, her early days in France were far from unhappy. The King felt his youth renewed for a moment at the sight of this pretty, innocent child, whose presence brought a breath of purity into the vitiated air of the court. He noticed that she was too lively and too childish, but still he thought it natural at her age. He loaded her with presents and gave her a set of diamonds on her arrival, besides a casket full of ornaments on her wedding-day. Later on he gave her the pearls and diamonds which had belonged to the late Dauphiness, together with a necklace which Anne of Austria used to wear. The people were infatuated by her friendliness and gracious manners, and the members of her household felt themselves flattered by the consideration which she showed them. Old courtiers were charmed with her, and Choiseul left her, after long interviews, completely enraptured. But the Austrian Ambassador, Count Mercy-Argenteau, who knew the manner of life at Versailles and understood the French character, was not blind, and he knew that even this warm reception might be the precursor of danger. A few months after her arrival he wrote to the Empress : " We must not let ourselves be dazzled by this welcome, which she deserves, but remember that with this frivolous, lively people, and at a court so full of intrigue, it is far easier to gain popularity at first than to maintain it after- wards." She had far too many persons about her whose interest it was to injure her, and her own personal charms were too striking not to be dangerous. From the first, without reflection and without reticence, she did not hide her feelings nor weigh her words. The spontaneous frankness which was one of her charms was also a source of trouble to her. Her easily-won confidence exposed her to gossip and slander, while her good heart made her the dupe of all who sought her favour. The following letter which Marie Antoinette wrote to her mother, June 12th, 1770, gives a description of how she passed her day : " Your Majesty is kind enough to be interested in me, and writes to know how I spend my time. I will therefore say that I get up at half-past nine or ten o'clock, and after I am dressed I say my first morning prayer. Then I breakfast before going to my aunts, where I generally meet the King this visit lasts? B 18 MARIE ANTOINETTE. till half-past ten. At eleven o'clock my hair is dressed, and at twelve the courtiers are called in and anybody is admitted, except common people. I rouge myself and wash my hands in their presence ; then the gentlemen leave, and the ladies remain while I finish my dressing. In the middle of the day there is divine service, and when the King is at Versailles I go with him, my husband, and my aunts, to hear mass. If he is not there I go with the Dauphin alone, but always at the same hour. Then we two dine in public. This only lasts about half an hour, as we both eat very fast. Then I go to the Dauphin's rooms, or, if he is busy, I return to my own apartments, where I read, write, or work. I am making a waistcoat for the King, which does not get on very fast ; but I hope, with God's grace, it will be finished in the course of a few years. At three o'clock I go again to my aunts, and often find the King with them. At four o'clock the Abbe comes to me, and every day at five a music or singing master, who stays till six. At half-past six I nearly always return to my aunts, unless I go for a walk, when, you must know, my husband generally accompanies me. From seven to nine we play cards, unless the weather is fine, when I am out, and they play without me, at my aunts', instead of in my apart- ments. We have supper at nine o'clock, and, if the King is present, my aunts come to us ; but if he is away, we go to them we generally wait for the King till a quarter to eleven. While we are waiting I lie on a large sofa and sleep till the King comes ; but, if he does not appear, we go to bed at eleven. This is our whole day." It was a life filled with petty social duties, but empty, void of any serious occupation. She had barely time to write to her mother, and was often obliged to do so while being dressed. If a few minutes to fulfil this filial duty were not to be had, it is clear that she found still less time for her own education, which was far from complete, as we know, and which she had certainly not the least wish to improve, to the great grief of Maria Theresa. The mother felt too late that she had not sufficiently watched over her daughter's education, and she wished Marie Antoinette to make up for all deficiencies now. / She begged for precise information about the daily employment of her time, and desired that an account might be sent to her at regular intervals. This request caused much embarrassment to Marie Antoinette, whose dislike to reading, and easy yielding to pleasure, had continually led her to neglect the lessons which were appointed in the crowded programme of her daily life. She therefore did not know how to reply to her mother. Too frank and honour- able to tell a lie, it was none the less a great effort to her to say what was true. Maria Theresa repeated her request again and again, sometimes writing with a severity which was not always justifiable. MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 19 One day she wrote to her : " Try and fill your mind with good reading ; do not neglect to turn this sort of learning to good account ; it is more useful to you than anything else, doubly so because you are not accomplished in any way. You are no musician, you cannot draw nor paint, nor dance, nor are you possessed of any special talent, which makes me revert again and again to your reading, and I desire you to order Abbe Vermond to send me each month a report of what you have done, and a plan of your future work." This letter was too severe, and missed its mark. Marie Antoinette felt deeply hurt. " The Empress will make people think I am a goose," she said, as she showed her teacher the letter her mother had written ; though, after she had become calmer, she added " rt I will write to the Empress and say that it is not possible for me to study regularly during the carnival, but that I will begin to be more industrious in Lent. That is true, is it not 1 " " Yes," answered the Abbe, "provided you really mean it." In the meantime Maria Theresa was not to be appeased with promises, and in her next letter she returned to the charge "I am expecting with impatience, and by return of post, the report of your reading and industry. It is allowable to amuse one's self, especially at your age. But to make pleasure an occupation, to do nothing serious or useful, to kill time with walks and visits, alasl my child, in the long run you will learn how empty such a life is, and you will bitterly regret that you did not employ your time more profitably. I must call your attention to the fact that your letters become more and more incorrect and badly written. You ought to have improved in the course of ten months. I felt quite humiliated when I saw the letters you had written to some ladies at court pass from one to another. You must write copies, so that your handwriting may become better and more regular." The neglect of fixed occupation was far from being the only reproach which Maria Theresa addressed to her daughter. The very air wafted towards her from home was full of reprimands, and motherly care was watching over her in everything. Between the lines of her mother's letters the Dauphiness seemed to see the anxious furrowed brow of the Empress, and, in spite of all severity, she was thirsting to see her again, and wept each time she saw the familiar handwriting. Maliciously persecuted, surrounded by spies, married without being a wife, alone in the midst of a scandalous court, without support, without a soul in whom she could confide, her thoughts reverted to her mother a thousand times with love and tenderness. ****** The year after Marie Antoinette's arrival in France the Dauphin's brother, the Comte de Provence, married the elder daughter of the King of Piedmont, and the following vear the 20 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Comte d'Artois married her younger sister. These three couples thus formed a little circle of their own, apart from the disgraceful pleasures of the King and his mistress. They led a quiet life without exciting much attention. The Comte do Provence, who was the intellectual head of the family, was not on the best of terms with the Dauphin, and never forgave him for being the firstborn, and thus heir to the throne. The Comtesse, too, would have had the precedence if her husband had been Dauphin, and she could never conceive how it was that an Austrian archduchess had been chosen for Louis before a princess of the house of Savoy. So Marie Antoinette was quite justified in feeling but little confidence towards her and her husband, although she was apparently on good terms with them. The Comtesse d'Artois was more good-natured than her sister, simple in her habits, and modest of character. She has, more- over, been described as a little goose, whose only merit consisted in providing the house of Bourbon with heirs. So insignificant was she that once, when she was dangerously ill, the remark was made : " The day of her funeral will be the first on which she attracts any attention." Chivalrous and gay, but thoughtless, given to gambling, and too fond of pretty women, the Comte d'Artois was the leading spirit in every amusement. He enjoyed life in Paris and Versailles, on horseback, at the card table, and at court and theatrical balls, imitating at every point the vicious life of his grandfather. But the Dauphin preferred his thoughtlessness to his other brother's calculating reserve. In these early days Marie Antoinette received a great deal of attention from her younger brother-in-law, whose lively taste and disposition were in accordance with her own. In order to bring a little variety into their monotonous life, Marie Antoinette, the two brothers-in-law and their wives, took to acting plays, while the Dauphin, lolling in an easy chair, represented the audience. He yawned from sheer weariness if all went well, but if the actors did not know their parts he became attentive, and began to laugh and enjoy himself. His loud snoring during the per- formance one day warned the young players of the effect their efforts had upon him, and this want of interest did not fail to rouse the wrath of Marie Antoinette. " If you do not like our acting," she exclaimed angrily, " go away, and your money shall be returned to you." But the actors took their revenge on him for his lack of artistic perception. The Dauphin, who looked upon dancing as hard work, had one evening summoned up courage to dance a quadrille, and emerged from this sort of bath steaming with perspiration, besides having made so many mistakes that he was requested not to think of dancing again until he had had pome practice. He began, therefore, to study the art with closed doors, and ordered that on no account was anybody to be allowed MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 21 an entrance. So His Royal Highness hopped about and around, while the perspiration streamed down his flabby cheeks. But in the midst of his exertions he was disturbed by a sudden sharp sound, and, looking up, he saw his younger brother in a gallery whistling and laughing to his heart's content. The Dauphin was very angry and shook his fist at the disrespectful observer, but he continued his exercise. A few hours later he met the Comte d'Artois in another part of the Castle, and, presuming on his privilege as the eldest, boxed his ears. His brother returned the blow, and Marie Antoinette, who had hastened forwards, tried to separate the combatants, getting scratched for her pains in the heat of the dispute. But the two brothers were soon reconciled. The Dauphin continued his efforts to learn dancing, but the theatricals had to be abandoned, as the aunts, the ladies-in-waiting, and Abbe Yermond had found out fwhat was going on. CHAPTER V. The Dauphiness and Madame du Barry Maria Theresa's Correspondence with her Daughter. PRINCESS ADELAIDE was not the only one to whom the union with the house of Austria had proved distasteful. It had been discussed with great coolness in France, and the arrival of Marie Antoinette was looked forward to without joy ; and it was only when people saw how frank, childlike, pretty, and bright she was that they took to her, and considered Madame de Pompadour less culpable than they thought for yielding to the temptation of this alliance with Maria Theresa. Choiseul, too, twas less loudly blamed for his zeal in promoting the marriage. But it was not so easy to pacify the different court parties, and those usually holding opposite views the French princesses and the King's mistress joined in disapproving of the union, because it had been brought about by Choiseul. Louis XV., who, as we know, allowed himself to be ruled by his mistresses, had, after the death of Madame de Pompadour, fallen under the influence of a woman of notoriously bad character, known in history as Madame du Barry. With health shattered by evil living he had crowned his long list of scandals by raising a woman from the very lowest dregs of society Jeanne Becu, nicknamed " The Angel " to the rank of countess, and a resi- dence in the royal castle. When Marie Antoinette came to the court the King was almost a helpless tool in the hands of his mistress, who formed one of the first obstacles in the path of the Dauphiness in her new home. The very first evening she spent MA IMK ANTOINETTE. v.'illi I In-, royal family i IK- had In r.np hefo/e I IK- eye : of MM |'iil)lic, n,l tin- i'a.me I d.lc will) l,lii>} ill 1'ii.nn 'I \\oni in. 'l'li- youn;_' I'linee'iM I'cll, deepl, huil, ;i.ml In r punly revoll.ed a^ailiKl, Urn indeeenemH !,<> which I lie, KinjMi weakneSi WEi 6XpOlil)tf her. though him did nol, openly < her displeasure on thin occasion. After : upper ( ,nc. <,|' I, ho court mis hied lo entrap llOF hy ad. im- lie.r how H!I \vilh Ht,upid, inipnd<-nl erealnre," U,M nlie. called her. She could not l.rin/' ImrMelf |. H lmw the I.M.I favour lo Ihe Connleiis, nor eonde.'.rerid to speak a word t,n undi a vieioiin woman. 'Ihe Dauphin had I h- taiim repulcion a'ain l ndl'a I her'H "MM, and hid it, no heller than liin wife. Madame dn |{.-.rry ne ularnied al, HUM hoslile allilude, and her friendu, who had nolliini^ in llm world lo hope I'm- from the Daiipliimr.H, did nil thai lay in I heir power lo injure her. They ;a.w die had a till-on;- will in I'.pjlr c.f her youth, and Ihey le;u-,-d, u |,,.i, ;ud.,! I'.V liei per:'.oii:d ;, . I \ ;i i , I n; '< , her inolher'H c.oiHiHrl, and the iiii|.porl, of Chou'eiil, Hhe would rain influence ,,,,,-, I he Km-, which inij'hl, prove dan-MMoUM lo the other Hide. The qU6ttiOQ of Autilria.i inlliien. I, a.nd it, waH I'c^olvcd l,o |>re\en( il. ly I he downfall of I he inini:;ler. The Kin," wan incited l.y hin iniKtresH, who, after many vain aUempln, \va,H aJ.le |<. pru.ure the diHluiHHal of ( 'hon.rnl. ||i : ; HUCC,-M :or, Ihe, Due, d'Ai-Miillnii, O|M^M| her to iho lUnr ; and I'"' I wo ph.lled together ftgaillHl Ihe D;iuphine; , vd,,,., p,,:ih,, M l'-"l indeed hucoilIC a dillicult one. \\',||, InH iiiiniNler .,M ;Mde a IK I hi : mill., on tin- other, the K j h ;r |, s |Mied i nces;,;i 1 1 1 I v lu f(iiipl;i,iiitn iind aceiiMiilioiiM agalnil Mane Antoinette, uhoin IK- trciilrd with cohlncMM and indi (Vereiice, in Nj.ile of hi.s :;how of ip al lu-Ht. lie W { IH f.,nd of Inn ehihlrei. an. I -rand , hnl |,iti |,,\r was a very f ,clli:,h one, and provided they him free nrop.^ uilh refcr.-nce h, his ploaSUTei anil debauoheriei he granted ihem perfect iii,,. r iy. He ul, Henf, fur one of ln-r l;idi lln he;/;m UK- convcr-;il ion hy |.i of Marie Anl.oinel.l.e, lull, complained of her freedom wilji reference to heheved I.o have not i'. i -I The lad-/ returned i" h< ' and ''" hait.encd i.o who eould nol, ri-Mh-.l. her child like charm. He em bet hand;-., af'reem)' v/illi her, l.oo, when i-:lie eomphimid ,f |ji-r c l-.l ;i I ir '. ; HO l,h;i,l, l'.r l.lii;-. I.JMH-. l.ln-.y W0W foiled. Afl-.r bWl Hilt I" I'"- King iho fell. Htrori^ I" .orrili:tf. \vil.li freiili wc.-i.poiiH /i.ny ii(?w UliilJUatioriH of h'-r Hut, K!J> WHH nlill<-d ruled |iy MM; -ld-r princeiMOi, who di ff< I, ml J-JJMJI-H, whil<- iODI Jind |.l;ui.' ,iil.inu;i.lly h<-ni|' rn;i.do to i-,l.;il'.c I In-. -onfi'l'-noe of L,uri X V. in li-r. OHM d;i.y 1,ln-. A n -.1 ri;i.n Amli;i.r-.".;nlor wa Hinnirioii-d f.o l,li<; tpartZnentl of M;i.d;uri-. du |{;i.rry, wln-r- I.I. d tr, i.o iiim. Aliiion,"ii : u/-|.ried at request! wliicd !'.-. Mi'-d \<> |,n,i ;m nxfMiH" I.o nli'-,c dim into l.lm inr.l i ' .( -I'M ;i|)!i.rl.- menl ., the AinL-i>-'.;i.dor Look j'ood f.uro l.o ohcy. II<-. w;i.4 I;I'|;M.IC du |J;i.rry, v/lio lir I. of ;i.ll n .:, un-.d Iiim of friendlhlp, ;md lli(-n c.otilid<-.d I.o liirn wli-'j.t, WUM i I.roljlll/J| r lif t.llf Kio.l. ;i,liom i f lii.hle il.iii'li-r lo ;i,li :ii;i.l <-. from me I In: ehleem r,f (lie, I );i,upli iti(-HH," H.lie, DfH Hol, let, ;i. day P;I.MM wil.houl, Ife.ilm;' OODtempt." 'I In- AMili:i.!i'-:;i.dor n-.|ili-d l.li;i.l. In- knew noi i it.. In tin- mid -.! .of (lie con V(-j--.;il ion llie d(>or (jpen-d ji.nd Lorn:'. XV. enier,<| ' 1 1 il.lierf.o," K:I id t IK- Km*', "you li.ive he,. M Ariil*;tHiiador I.o l.li'j I'iinpn-.MH of Auulria. I OH to MIC, mine, ;i.l, |e.;, : ,|, lor ;i, v/l.il'-." 'I IM-II IK- I,I-";MI I.o complain of I. he, huuplime . :-.. llr- Ihout'lil, her ul.l r;i/:l.i ve ; hut, yonri" ;ir,d lively n. u K!M! wan, and m;.rned |. ( , ,-,. m;,n v/lio WJI.M un;i.hle lo /Hide her, il, w;i. i impo;-:: j ,i hie for her lo cHeupe f)il.f;i.Iln. Sli'; heri<-lf I.M pii-jiidice. and uncalled for haired. |! \\\\' liow hadly KM l.ie :i .l.ed -;ome peiTIOfM v/hom the Kin;' h;id mado hi ; inl,im:i.l. .:: .-md . h he.|,;i.viour pi'oduecd a fa.rt,y ,urL " Vi:.il. the, I);i.uphme,;-(M fn-j nenl ly ," he f;onl,imied ; "I authoriM you lo repeal, to her wlial, you like from me. Sornehody [| fT/in?' h' i h-'i.d advie.e, wliicli i-.he cejl;unly nnl. foil-. (lounl, Me.rcy waH loo devol.ed lo M;irie A nt oi/iel Ic, and Haw loo clearly lluou-di I. IK- net, of inl.ri'iien th;il, wai'. woven ai lo delay .i.c.(jii:i.inl.inj' her v/il.h I he | J II(i o ;i.dopl. a decided If H!IM wished il. (.( he uniji:r}'.l.ool thai, i-.lm wai awar<3 of the. po;..ilion of M.-i.dame. du Harry al. eoud, h<-i di;'nily required l.lial, I-.|M: ;,h<,uld i 24 MABIE ANTOINETTE. the King to forbid this woman to enter her drawing-room. If, on the contrary, she allowed it to appear that she did not understand the footing on which the mistress stood, she must treat her as she would any other lady who was introduced at court, and address a few words to her when an opportunity arose. The advice caused some excitement among those in attendance on the Dauphiness, who, in spite of her mother's warnings, was still led by the Princess Adelaide. Besides, as she had such an intense aversion to Madame du Barry, she felt she could not bring herself to speak to her. " My aunts do not wish it," she explained. But, persuaded by Count Mercy, and in a measure by her husband, she was at last induced to yield a little, and it was arranged that at one of the court receptions the Ambassador should enter into a conversation with the mistress, when the Dauphiness should join in with a few words. The evening came, and all was going smoothly. Mercy went up to Madame du Barry as Marie Antoinette began her tournee round the room. She had already reached the spot where the Countess was standing when her aunt Adelaide, who had not lost sight of her for a moment, suddenly raised her voice and said " It is high time for us to go. Come I " The Dauphiness lost her self-possession when she heard this harsh voice, and in her con- fusion hurried away, so that nothing came of the advance that had been planned. The King was much displeased, and his mistress felt affronted. " Your advice has no effect," Louis said to the Austrian Ambassador ; " I shall be obliged to help you." Mercy became anxious; he was afraid the King's wrath would lead him to some unfortunate step, and, to prevent this, he appealed to Maria Theresa, and forcibly entreated her to interfere. The Empress at this juncture was negotiating with Prussia and Russia about the first partition of Poland. Her magnani- mous character revolted against taking part in a political scheme {which, as she expressed it, " was a stain upon her whole reign " ; and while Count Kaunitz and her son Joseph were trying to persuade her, she persistently wished to defer the deed. A fresh alliance between France and Austria seemed to her the only means of bringing this about, and made it necessary for her to encourage Marie Antoinette to be very conciliatory towards the party now in the majority. Hitherto she had not named Madame du Barry to her daughter, but now she suddenly over- whelmed her with reproaches, and expressed opinions contra- dictory to her character, for she was generally most zealous in inculcating high principles of morality. " Overcome this reluctance, this fear of saying good-day," she wrote to her daughter. " A simple word about a gown, or some other unimportant thing, seems to cause you to shrink with disgust. You have allowed yourself to be cowed to such an extent that neither reason nor duty has the power of convincing you. MABIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 25 I can no longer keep silence. After all that my Ambassador has said to you about the King's wishes in this respect you dare to refuse obedience. What reason can you allege as your excuse? None! You must not see Madame du Barry with other eyes than as a lady who is received at court, and is on intimate terms with the King. You are the first among his subjects, and owe him obedience. It is your duty to set a good example to all at court, and to see that your sovereign's will is carried out. If anything wrong, or even familiarity, were required of you, neither I nor anyone else would counsel you to yield. But a simple word, a little consideration not for the lady, but for your grandfather, your sovereign, your benefactor. You so obviously refuse to please him the very first opportunity when you could render him a service, and such an opportunity will not so easily recur." " If Your Majesty could possibly see what goes on here," Marie Antoinette wrote in reply to her mother, " you would understand that the said lady and her set would certainly not be satisfied with a word or two, and I should be continually called upon to enter into conversation. I do not say that I will never speak to her, but I will not do so by appoint- ment some fixed day and hour, so that she may tell her friends beforehand, and rejoice in her triumph." Madame du Barry possessed all the impudence belonging to the class from which she had sprung. At the wedding of the Comte d'Artois she had behaved in the same scandalous manner as at that of the Dauphin, and dined with the whole royal family. On the latter occasion she wore jewels to the value of five million francs. During the evening reception in the King's apartments she carried her effrontery so far as to seat herself by the side of the Dauphin. She called upon the Dauphiness repeatedly. " If only the Empress could see her behaviour she would excuse me," said Marie Antoinette ; " no patience can put up with it." Instead of counselling her daughter with wisdom, Maria Theresa continued to write her angry, imperative letters, and, in order to appease her, the Dauphiness at length let a word drop which might seem to be addressed to Madame du Barry. The Austrian Ambassador was much pleased, but his delight was of short duration. " I have spoken to her once," said Marie Antoinette, " but I am firmly resolved never to speak to her again. That creature shall not hear the sound of my voice." It had already been an immense effort to her to speak this once to a being whom she so utterly despised, and she thought that both her mother and the Ambassador ought to be satisfied with the sacrifice she had made. " I do not doubt," she wrote on this subject to her mother, "that Mercy has told you about my behaviour on New Year's Day, and I trust that Your Majesty is satisfied with me. Believe me that I will always put my own prejudice or antipathy on one side if only I am not required to 26 MARIE ANTOINETTE. do anything shameful or dishonouring. It would make my life- miserable if contention were to arise between our families. My heart is continually with you, so that in such a case it would indeed be difficult to fulfil my duties here. I shudder at the thought, and trust that nothing will ever destroy our unity, but especially that I shall not be the cause of any estrangement." Maria Theresa saw in these words a pretext for her daughter's disobedience, and replied, not without bitterness " Can you imagine that my Minister and I would give you advice inconsis- tent with either honour or propriety? What interest can I possibly have but in what concerns the well-being of your country, the Dauphin, and . yourself ? Who can advise you better, or deserve your confidence in a higher degree, than my Minister, who thoroughly understands the State and those who are guiding it ? " In Versailles the Dauphiness was blamed for thinking too much of Vienna, while the court there accused her of forgetting the home of her childhood. Her mother and Count Mercy strove in vain to make her give up her hostile conduct towards the King's mistress, and the Due d'Aiguillon, too, urged her to treat her with less contempt. Even the Princess Adelaide, who was beginning to make common cause with the other side, tried to force her niece to tread in her footsteps, but in vain. Neither French influence nor appeals from home could change her feelings towards Madame du Barry. Even when the mistress seized an opportunity of introducing a newly-married relation at court the Dauphiness would neither speak to her, nor to the bride, her niece. And when Princess Adelaide attempted to influence her Marie Antoinette replied : " Aunt, I advise you to keep aloof from d'Aiguillon's intrigues ; he is a bad man." CHAPTER VI. Entrance of the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette into Paris Louis XV. dies. IT was the custom for the Dauphin and Dauphiness to make a solemn entry into the capital on some fixed day, but on account of these innumerable plots and intrigues it had been delayed from month to month, from year to year, though when Louis and Marie Antoinette came at last in the summer of 1773 the popular enthusiasm was unbounded. Such crowds lined the streets that the gala coach could hardly force its way. The streets were decorated with flowers arid triumphal arches, which MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 27 gave a festive look to the whole city, while the air rang with wild, enthusiastic shouts. People rushed towards the carriage, seized the hands of Marie Antoinette and kissed them, almost coming to blows for the honour of touching her. They over- whelmed her with blessings and good wishes, and did not seem to tire of looking at her and listening to her voice. They clapped their hands, waved their handkerchiefs, and threw their hats into the air; while for each individual Marie Antoinette had a smile, a greeting, or a beaming look from her beautiful eyes. After this triumphal entry into Paris there was some improve- ment in the position of the Dauphiness, and the intercourse between the young couple was on a better footing. Louis began to feel himself attracted towards his wife, and she began to appreciate his estimable character. Still, one has rarely heard of such irony of fate as that which cast these two people together, and it would be difficult to meet with characters that offer a greater contrast to each other. It was as though fire and water had been united; not only opposite characters, but different races, tastes, opinions, sympathies, wishes, and feelings were in collision. Marie Antoinette was warm and lively ; Louis cold and apathetic. He was silent; she was talkative. She was elegant and graceful ; he was clumsy and heavy. Even his good nature was not satisfactory to Marie Antoinette, for it was rough, repulsive, and vulgar, wanting in a certain delicacy and romance of feeling which she prized. She sought in vain for the husband of her dreams and the future King in this Prince, who had no decided liking for anything but smithy work, and who spent his days with his blacksmith friend Gamain. The com- plete neglect of his person was a great cause of annoyance to his young wife, and one day she bitterly reproached him for being so dirty and untidy in his dress. Louis was affronted at first, then he began to weep, and Marie Antoinette was sorry she had offended him. She began to cry, and they became reconciled. Then her position in the inner court circle was more comfortable, for, after some violent domestic quarrels, the elder princesses had apparently ceased to annoy her for a time. Some other members of the Royal Family did their utmost to please the future Queen, and finally Madame du Barry left off com- plaining and plotting. She could see for herself what others took care to point out to her, that the King was old, and that it might be to her advantage to be on a good footing with the young heirs to the throne. Louis XV. had long been a stranger in his own kingdom. His mistress had tried in vain to rouse him to travel about and to organise fetes, but there was nothing left that could please a man who had tasted of all with so much facility, and his health was already shattered by continual 28 MAKIE ANTOINETTE. debaucheries, when he was attacked by small-pox in April, 1774. The doctor told him that it was time to think of a future life, and on his fear of God being thus aroused, Madame du Barry was commanded to leave the Castle. The news of his dangerous illness was received in Paris with indifference, bordering on pleasure, and ambitious court officials hardly knew whether it was better to cling to the setting, or to turn their thoughts to the rising sun. "When it was known that his death was pretty certain the courtiers rushed out of Versailles as though driven by a hurricane, while others hastened towards the Castle to ascertain if the King's condition was worse. Louis suffered most awfully in the agonies of death. Sometimes he hid his face that he might not see anything, sometimes he pushed away the crucifix that was held before him, screaming out that he was unworthy of the cross of Christ. At other times he gazed anxiously upwards, seized the crucifix, pressed it to his heart, and kissed it with penitence and burning tears. After taking every precaution against infection, the doctors entered his bedroom with disgust and loathing, while many persons were attacked with the disease simply from passing .through the corridor outside. One courtier, who had opened the door a little way and looked at the King for two minutes, died, and it was with great difficulty that servants could be induced to enter the room. Some functionary noticed a boy shedding tears, and asked if he was weeping for his master. " For the King 1 Not in the least," answered the youth. " I am crying for a poor fellow there who has not had small-pox. He* will get it and die." Both the Dauphin and his wife kept away by command of the King ; his daughters and a few servants were alone present at his death. Courtiers and friends left him, but the Princesses Adelaide and Louise were not absent a moment. They encour- aged him by their prayers, supported him by their devotion, and attended to him in every detail with the almost certain prospect of infection. It was in vain that the doctors begged them to go away from this terrible death-bed ; and even though the King joined his entreaties to theirs, the princesses would not leave their posts. A lighted candle was placed in one of the windows of the Castle as a sign that the King was still living. He breathed his last May 10th, between four and five in the afternoon, when the candle was extinguished, and those outside knew then that the King was dead. All who could fled from the Castle. The Master of the Ceremonies and a few officials, whose duty it was to see that the sovereign was buried, alone remained. The body was hastily wrapped in a sheet and thrown into an oak coffin, trebly lined with zinc, to be carried away by two scavengers, the only men who could be induced to undertake the task. In spite of all precautions, such a pestilential smell MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 29 came from the coffin that the 1 priest who was present was only restrained by his religion from taking to flight. In the middle of the night the dead body was conveyed in a cart to the royal vault at St. Denis. A few belated revellers from the roadside inns greeted the monarch on his last journey with jokes and drunken allusions. "His birth," said one wit, "was paid for with paper-money. He gave us war when he grew up, famine when he was old, and the plague when he died.'* CHAPTER VII. Accession to the Throne Court Ceremonials The Comtesse de Noailles Abbe" Vermond. NEVER has a King of France had less ambition than the well- meaning youth of dirty, blacksmith's hands, who ascended the throne on the death of Louis XV. He looked upon greatness as a burden, which only Christian resignation could enable him to bear. When his father died, and he was called Dauphin for the first time, he turned pale and fainted. The Comtesse de Noailles and Abbe Vermond had been the first to enter the apartments of the royal pair after the removal of the old King. They went to greet them as King and Queen of France, but were met with tears and sorrow. " Oh, God ! " they exclaimed, as they both knelt, "we are far too young to govern." It was a cry from their very hearts, and at the same time a reasonable one, for neither was experienced enough for the high position they were called upon to fill. Louis, who was barely twenty, had been systematically kept back from any share in the government ; and Marie Antoinette, who was not nineteen, had neither liking nor understanding for State affairs. The court was split up into hostile parties, the exchequer was mismanaged, and respect for royal authority was almost at an end. Difficulties arose on every side, and the cry for reform was universal. The first few days were passed by the people in an enthusiasm of joy. They wrote ironical elegies on the King who had been called "the well-beloved," and sang of him : "Ci-git Louis, le pauvre roi, II fut bon, dit-on, mais a quoi?" At the same time nothing but praises and blessings were showered on Louis XVI. and his charming consort, and on the pedestal of the statue of Henri IV. somebody wrote " Resurrexit." After the old King's death the royal couple took up their 30 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. temporary residence at " La Muette," a little castle in the Bois de Boulogne. From early morning crowds of people collected outside the Castle gates, and shouts of " Long live the King" were heard from six o'clock till sunset. They expected much from the young King, whom they knew to be serious, well-informed, and benevolent, in spite/ of his shy appearance ; and not less was looked for from the young Queen, whom they knew to be so good and pretty. The plots, which up to the last moment had been seething round the death-bed of Louis XV., were just as subtle, just as mischievous in their nature, when his grandson ascended the throne. Even before the plague-stricken corpse of the old King had been taken away in the dead of that dark night, disputes and struggles had arisen for posts and titles of honour. The most pressing request of the people 1 was granted, and the day after the King's death his mistress was finally dismissed, while her brother-in-law, Count Jean du Barry, who had been the leading spirit in all the court intrigues, had to fly in haste to England. But with that inconsiderate haste which is characteristic of Frenchmen, they wished all who had hitherto been in power to be dismissed within four-and-twenty hours. " I am uneasy about this French enthusiasm," wrote Marie Antoinette to her mother one of the first days after her husband's accession. " It is impossible to satisfy everybody in a country where their natural impatience requires that all shall be seen to in a moment." Maria Theresa was even less confident. "I am afraid the good days are over," she said to her Minister, as they were speaking of the change of rulers. And to the 1 young King and Queen she wrote, " You are both very young, my dear children. The burden is heavy ; I am anxious, oh ! so anxious about you." When the* Empress arranged the marriage of her daughter with the Dauphin she thought she was acting in the interests of her own policy. But she could hardly have selected one less suitable to carry out her wishes, for of all heir daughters Marie Antoinette was the one who had the least interest in affairs of State. Princess Adelaide took small-pox when attending her father's death-bed, but she fought against her sufferings and recovered to carry on her plans. From the very beginning of her nephew's reign she made it apparent that she meant to lead the young King, and to determine the choice of his ministers. She talked to Louis in his father's name, and repeated to him the political instructions he had drawn up for the guidance of his son. While the Queen was taking her daily walk, the Princess arranged a meeting with closed doors, and read aloud to him the list of the men whom his father had wished to be selected as counsellors. Marquis Maurepas was chosen as head of the ministry, and the appointment was acceptable to the Princess ; if less in accordance MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 31 with the wishes of Marie Antoinette, we must confess that she was in part to blame. She had allowed her aunts to live under the same roof with the King and herself, although it had been decided from the first that they should be separated for a time. She had been too timid to dispute Adelaide's appointments, and even weak enough to back up the choice of one or two of the new ministers. It seems as though she had only the one ide& of getting d'Aiguillon dismissed, whom she hated and called " that ugly man." Personally she would certainly have liked to honour Choiseul, who, as we have seen, was her friend and the promoter of her marriage. In the meantime she 1 tried hard to lessen the King's prejudice against him, but all she could obtain was that he might return to court on a short visit. The young Queen met him in the most friendly, gracious manner. " I am delighted to see you again, Monsieur Choiseul," she said, " and I shall be very glad if I have brought about your return. It is you who have created my happiness, and it is but fair that you should be a witness of it." Louis was far from being as amiable ; he had not forgotten the ugly libellous stories with which his childhood had been poisoned. " How fat you have become, Monsieur Choiseul," was the first thing he said to the former minister; "you have lost your hair and become bald." The duke had not expected much from this visit, and had ordered horses for the return journey before the audience took place. * * * * * * The life> of the royal pair was not unlike that of prisoners, for watching eyes followed them at every turn, and the staff itself represented warders, under whom the discipline of the Castle was like that of barracks or a jail. One of the things which annoyed Marie Antoinette when she became Queen was this almost cruel surveillance, a relic of former times. Etiquette met her at every step she took; it hindered her movements, destroyed her pleasures, and interfered with her friendships. In sickness or in health, in her home life or on state occasions, she was ruled by the strictest ceremony. Petty regulations followed her even into the privacy of her bedroom. Every detail in her private life, and the choice 1 of her clothes, even the style of a ribbon bow, was determined by the rigid laws of etiquette. One of these laws required that the King and Queen should dine in public, waited on by women only. Even early in the morn- ing, while she drank her chocolate, people were allowed to enter her room, whether she was in bed or not; though the regular large refception did not take place before twelve o'clock. Princes, officers, court officials, any who liked, came in to pay their respects, and she had to dress in their presence. If she asked for a glass of water it was brought by a servant on a salver; but he did not present it to the q^een, he gave it to the lady-in- 32 HABIE ANTOINETTE. waiting who passed it to the maid of honour, and if one of Her Majesty's sisters-in-law was there the glass was given to this princess, when it finally reached the thirsty sovereign. Nothing was handed directly : handkerchief, gloves, anything that she required, was first laid on a salver, which was passed on from hand to hand. In this way, though surrounded by so* many servants, the Queen was often but poorly attended to. A story told by Madame de Campan in her Memoires gives a picture of this unbearable, tyrannous etiquette. It happened one winter night that Marie Antoinette stood undressed, waiting for her night-gown. The lady's-maid was holding it in readiness to put over the Queen's head, when one of the 1 court ladies came in, took off her gloves, and received the garment. But again there was a knock at the door, which was opened to admit the Duchesse d'Orleans. She also removed her gloves and came forward to take the Queen's night-dress. The rulers of etiquette would not allow the first lady to give it direct to the Duchess ; she had to return it to the lady's-maid, who again handed it in correct rotation. But there was another knock at the door, and this time the Comtesse de Provence came in. The Duchess d'Orleans returned the linen to the lady's-maid again, and it finally reached Her Majesty's sister-in-law. The Queen was standing all this time shrinking with cold, hardly covered, her arms crossed, waiting and shivering. Her sister-in-law saw the situation and how perished she was, and with gloved hands at last put the night-dress on. Marie Antoinette laughed to hide her impatience, but she could not refrain from murmuring, " This etiquette is simply unbearable." Instead of this etiquette being lessened, it was increased tenfold by the lady now chosen as the Queen's gouvernante. The Comtesse de Noailles was conscientious, beneficent, and of pure morals ; in short, she was a thoroughly estimable person. But there was nothing pleasant about her, either in person or manner. Her carriage was stiff, and her whole appearance- severe. A smile, not allowed by etiquette, was a grave fault, and a ribbon awry made her quite ill. So great was her love for regularity that her occupations from the beginning of the year to its close never deviated one minute from the prescribed routine. As she had been gouvernante to Marie Lesczinska, the formed Queen of France, it was a matter of course, according to Court regulations, that she should hold the same position under Marie Antoinette. She had made etiquette a complete study, and the wife of Louis XV. had followed her directions in every particular. She had even fixed the width of the Queen's skirt, to prevent her jumping over the tiniest rill, or making the least movement inconsistent with her dignity. In her inmost heart Marie Lesczinska thanked God for having raised her to such a high position; but, at the same time, she MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 33 L|j} not the smallest wish to be reminded that she had only been an obscure Polish princess before she was made Queen of France. This accounted for the importance she attached to every mark of respect, and her expressed wish that the rules of etiquette should be strictly adhered to. But her grandson's wife thought otherwise. When her gouvernante wearied her with questions on some subjects it often happened that she answered sharply and quickly, "Madame, decide it as you like. Do not think tnat a Queen, an Austrian Archduchess by birth, attaches the same importance to such trifles as a Polish princess, who was prohfotedt to be Queen of France." But the slight importance that Marie Antoinette attached to ancestral customs, even reject- ing many of them, was not without its evil consequences. Apart from ridiculous exaggeration etiquette had its advantages with such a volatile people as the French, who hated to be ruled, and the mystery with which courtiers veiled the royal house helped to preserve a fascinating glamour round the reign- ing sovereign, .which was necessary. The Comtesse de Noailles ought to have made the Queten understand that her dignity required her to hold fast to the old institutions, and how dangerous it was for a. stranger, on whom all eyes were fixed, to introduce new customs into the old court. Finally, she ought to have impressed upon her that etiquette was a sort of bulwark behind which the Queen could entrench herself. But, instead of doing this, she wearied her with endless rebukes. " Here" she said, " Your Majesty ought to have bowed in such a manner, there in another way. Your Majesty smiled when it was not seemly,' nodded when a curtsey was requisite." This surveillance had annoyed Marie Antoinette as Dauphine&s, and as Queen she found it unbearable. One day, when she was on a donkey, the animal threw her, and courtiers hastened forward in great alarm, while the Queen lay on the grass laughing. " Run quickly," she exclaimed, " and enquire from Madame Etiquette how a Queen of France ought to behave when thrown by a donkey." The nickname of " Madame Etiquette " has clung to this sedate lady ever since. * * * * * * Maria Theresa advised her daughter to free herself as far as possible from these trammels, while Louis XVI. encouraged his wife to cast off the yoke which he himself could not bear ; and, of the same opinion as her mother and her husband, was still a third person, who continually urged her to do away with so much ceremony. This was her former teacher, Abbe Vermond, a man remarkable for the influence he had acquired over the Queen, which he had exercised without ostentation, but which he had not gained without some calculation. The Abb6 had been teacher at the Sorbonne, and librarian in c 34 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Mazarin's College, before he had been recommended to the Austrian court. The- son of humble parents, his vanity had been roused and fostered in Vienna, where Maria Theresa allowed him to spend his evenings with the Imperial Family. Up to that time he had neve* been in contact with the great of the world, and was simply intoxicated by the reception he met with at the Austrian court. Even in his later life he appreciated nothing more thoroughly than the simple manners of this family circle. The Abbe" was an original in every respect. He despised honours, and only cared to act as the friend and adviser of Marie Antoinette. He 1 treated persons in the highest position as his equals, almost as subordinates, and sometimes received ministers and bishops who wished to interview him, seated in his bath. In Versailles he was both feardd and hated, and when Louis XVI. became King, it was hoped he would be dismissed. Strenu- ous efforts were made to influence the weak King, but the Abbe remained, and the Queen's confidence in him continued unshaken. The King could not bear his wife's private secretary, and never spoke to him. The following little incident is an index to his treatment of him. On the death of Maria Theresa, Louis sent a message to Vermond requesting him to announce the sad news to the Queen. When he had performed his task the King said, " Thank you, Monsieur 1'Abbe, for the* service you have rendered me." This was the only time in about twjenty years that the King addressed a syllable to his wife's confidential adviser. In all doubtful cases Marie Antoinette was accustomed to appeal to the Abbe's judgment ; but it is probable that he often tried to persuade her to adopt a course of action, the bearing of which she did not understand. He openly strove to make her rebel against the pressure of court etiquette, thus encourag- ing her in her natural aversion to it, and he did not grasp that the maintenance of the Queen's dignity made adherence to traditional customs a necessity. CHAPTER VIH. Domestic Discord Removal to Paris Bale d'opira Marie Antoinette's Love of Ridicule. Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette met with opposition and jealousy immediately on their accession to the throne. The Comte and Comtesse de- Provence and the Comte and Cbmtesse d'Artois began by refusing to wait upon the King and Queen MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 35 every morning, according to the custom of the previous reign. Louis, who was kindness itself, did not like his brothers to call him " Your Majesty," and Marie Antoinette, who was just as good-natured, at times far too easy, allowed the same liberty. The Empress of Austria disapproved of their conduct. " One must keep one's place," she wrote to her daughter, "and understand how to play one's own part, which makes life easier for one's self and others. It is right to be obliging and considerate, but avoid confidences and unnecessary talking, which only cause dissension." On public occasions, when the Royal Family were assembled, there was apparently such an equality between the King and his brothers, that strangers had often some difficulty in deter- mining which was the ruler. The Comte d'Artois especially exhibited such striking familiarity as to astonish all who saw him. He jostled his eldest brother, trod on his heels, and continually sought for an opportunity to contradict him. The Comte de Provence was more cautious, and did not put himself forward ;' but he was less honest, and soon became one of Marie Antoinette's secret enemies. We know that the Princess Adelaide was full of gall and bitterness, and her sister Louise, who had left her convent in St. Detais to pry into court affairs, was not more kindly disposed towards the Queen, while the Comtesse de Provence never let go an opportunity of speaking against her sister-in-law. But on her side Marie Antoinette let the two Savoy princesses understand that her double superiority, as an Archduchess of Austria and Queen of France, was very clear. They replied, showing but little good breeding, that the court of Turin was quite on an equality with that of Vienna, which caused many bitter words, now from one side, now from the other. The Queen, who was fond of pleasure and extremely imprudent, laid herself open to criticism far more than her sisters-in-law did ; while, thanks to their zealous care and that of her aunts, the net of scandal was drawn ever more and more tightly around her from the most opposite quarters. The last years of the reign of Louis XV. had been dull ones. Withheld from joining in any court amusements on account of her aversion to the 1 King's mistress, living among peevish, capricious, disappointed aunts, on the one hand, and a gouver- nante on the other who, at the least step that she took, preached to her about the stringent laws of etiquette, the poor Queen had been obliged to fight against her natural liveliness and youthful longing for excitement. Coming to the throne at such an early age, with liberty to do as she liked, her complex nature seems to have undergone a complete change, and qualities, which had hardly been suspected before, suddenly burst into life. After having been condemned for five years 36 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. to the dulness of pure routine, she now seemed to be famished, simply hungry for pleasure; and unfortunately there were plenty at court who shared her tastes. She was fond of Paris, and one of her greatest delights was to visit the theatres, so that she often drove to the capital. The people were at first pleased at her frequent visits, but when she began to attend private, or masked balls, they thought it unsuited to a queen. It is true that the so-called bals d'opera were patronized by the best society, also that the King allowed her to attend them, although he himself accompanied her but once. She nearly always went with her brother-in-law alone, wearing a riding habit or some simple domino, which commanded no respect and yet excited curiosity. She danced at these balls till daylight, and seldom returned to Versailles before seven o'clock in the morning. She thus naturally exposed herself to malicious criticism, and even to direct accusation. Stories were soon afloat that she was leading an irregular life. At first the people did not believe this ; but the court, which delighted in scandal, and lived far too heedless a life to believe in the virtue of others, accepted them with avidity. Hints and allusions at last reached the ears of the King, whose hasty temper was roused, and he overwhelmed his wife with violent reproaches. It is probable that she was not half so thoughtless as she 1 was said to be, and posterity can distinguish between the stories in circulation, some of which were untrue and some exaggerated. With inexplicable carelessness, Marie Antoinette did not even notice that she was causing scandal, nor conceive that she was pro- viding the canvas on which gossips and libellers would paint a false picture of her life. She looked upon the bals d'opera merely as an innocent pleasure, which could never have any consequences, and yet there is not the slightest doubt that the attendance at them proved highly prejudicial to her. Full of spirits she would go about and talk to all with a freedom from constraint which was irreconcilable with her dignity, and had the effect of cold water on the ardent feelings of her people. The Queen did not seem to remember her high position, which made it not unnatural that others should begin to overlook it too. "Always more conscious of her sex than of her rank," says one of her contemporaries, " she forgot that she was born to live and die on a real throne 1 . She was too eager to enjoy the imaginary and fleeting power that pretty women can get at any time, and which creates them queens but for a day." First among the many reproaches the 1 court addressed to Marie Antoinette was her want of grief on the death of Louis XV. We know that as Dauphiness she had caused offence on account of her love of ridicule. She had even given nicknames to the respectable elderly ladies at court, and called them "bundles," "centuries," "stand-up collars," etc. A few days after their MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 37 grandfathers funeral, the young King and Queen received visits of condolence from all in authority, and on this very first occasion Marie Antoinette made herself enemies among the oldest nobility. "While receiving some of these sympathizing callers, Marie Antoinette began to laugh at the antiquated dress of several noble ladies, who had come from aristocratic convents or castles all over the kingdom. They could not tolerate this laughter, and returned full of wrath to their homes, where they related how Marie Antoinette had made game of estimable persons who had hastened to do her homage, adding that she had ignored all the rules of good breeding, and that none of those whom she had ridiculed would care to show themselves at her court again. This ill-timed merriment gave occasion for the* first libellous song against her, which began thus : "Petite reine de vingt ans, Vous qui traitez si mal les gens, Vous repasserez la Baviere." It is evident from these lines that it was the secret wish of her enemies to bring about a divorce, and send her back to the land from whence she came'. The young Queen was by no means happy in her exalted position, and felt herself more a stranger than ever. Cere- monious receptions wearied her to such a degree that at last, even on the most solemn occasions, she paid no heed to people who from their rank, importance, or services were entitled to receive attention from her. The more serious members of the court soon turned against her, and fresh disparaging remarks about her life were daily repeated. She saw herself obliged to form a clique of her own, but in this she was sadly wanting in reserve and judgment. She would send witty, joking messages to women who we're not cheerful, and to men who were neither good-looking nor young. She surrounded herself with courtiers whose lives were an open scandal, and with women notorious for their irregular conduct. Her adviser was not the King, whose peculiarities caused her such constant amusement, but the Comte d'Artois, who accompanied her early and late, on horseback or in her carriage. Every detail of her private life was distorted by those around her and eagerly circulated, which naturally served to increase the difficulties of her position. Her opponents found a staunch ally in the Comtesse de Marsan, the King's former governess, whose opinion carried weight on account of the esteem in which she was held, and the post she had formerly filled. In the eyes of the Countess the conduct of Marie Antoinette was simply that of a courtesan, whose light airy dress reminded the elder ladies of some theatre princess trying to arouse the passions of her audience. If the Queen looked up, Madame de Marsan criticised her expression MARIE ANTOINETTE. as that of a consummate coquette ; if she spoke in her natural cheerful way, it was nothing but empty chatter; if there was a sympathizing look on her face the Countess thought she was insufferable, pretending to understand everything; if she laughed joyously it was affected merriment. The old lady suspected and maligned her at every turn. Marie Antoinette retaliated with jeers, and forgot that Madame de Marsan had brought up her husband and his brothers and sisters, that she was the intimate friend of her aunts, and a person of unbounded influence at her court. CHAPTER IX. Marie Antoinette's Beauty The Queen's Apartments in Versailles Mademoiselle Bertin, the Milliner The Absurdities of Fashion. IT is quite evident from the* last chapter that Marie Antoinette was wanting in many qualities essential to a queen. She possessed all outward advantages in the highest degree, for she was Queen of France and Queen in the realm of beauty. She had been attractive as Dauphiness, but by no means lovely, and Madame du Barry had scornfully called her "the little red-haired thing " the first time she saw her. But, on the other hand, she fascinated some people by her bright smile and ruddy lips, by the undeveloped figure of her fifteen years, her charming profile, and her large, speaking eyes, which shone with laughter, though they could also flash with scorn or anger. The five years that intervened between her arrival and the death of Louis XV. had marvellously developed her personal appearance, and on her accession to the throne she united the beauty of the woman to the dignity of the queen. If she had belonged to the very lowest stratum of society, her appearance would have attracted the attention of all. It is therefore easy to understand the enthusiasm she excited, if we remember that she was the wife of a King and the daughter of an Emperor. When she entered a room a long-continued murmur of admira- tion greeted her, and at the theatre every eye-glass was at once directed towards the Queen. She inspired some men with feelings that almost bordered on madness. Madame Yigee Le Brun, who painted her portrait in 1779, describes her appear- ance at this time : " The Queen," she says, " stood in the glory of youth and beauty; she was twenty-five years old, tall, remarkably well-made, plump, without being stout. Her arms were especially beautiful, her hands small and well-shaped, and she had pretty feet. No woman in France had a better walk. She carried her head high, with such dignity, that as she stood MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 39 surrounded by he* court, one glance was sufficient to recognize the ruler. But at the same time this regal bearing in no way affected the kindness and benevolence of her whole being." The young royal pair spent the summer after the death of Louis XV. at Choisy, la Muette, Marly, and Compiegne, and returned with the whole court to Versailles in the beginning of September. The suite of apartments occupied by Louis as Dauphin was assigned to the> Comte de Provence, and the room in which Louis XV. died became the bedroom of the new King until October 6th, 1789. The Queen retained the same rooms she had had as Dauphiness, which were those of former Queens of France, and which Imbert de Saint-Amand has described in his work, Les Femmes de Versailles: " We ascend a marble staircase," he says, " and on the first floor we find a door, by which we enter into the Queen's apart- ments. The first room is reserved for her bodyguard, and the adjoining one is called either ' the Queen's antechamber ' or the ' large dining hall/ in which the King and Queen dine in public, though for the latter it is a mere pretence 1 , as she really has her meal later on in her private room. The King, on the contrary, eats his dinner with a voracious appetite. In this same hall solemn TDanquets on the occasion of a royal marriage are given. There is music during the feast, and the magnificent crown porcelain is used. Ladies of the highest rank are present as companions to the royal pair, but they do not dine. Princesses and duchesses sit on low stools or chairs round the table, but all other ladies stand. In the next room the Queen holds her great receptions, seated on a dais under a canopy, and distinguished ladies and gentlemen are presented to her. Adjoining this is her bedroom, in which, before he* time, fifteen princes and princesses first saw the light, two dauphinesses, and two queens had died; and here, in due course, all her own children were born. In a recess of this room there was an almost invisible door, which opened into a narrow corridor, called ' The King's Way.' This passage led to the former room of Louis XIV., the council chamber, and the King's bedroom, through which Marie Antoinette fled from her murdefrers the morning of October 6th, 1789. This suite of the Queen's larger rooms terminates in the magnificent Salle de Paix, which opens on to the mirror galleries." But the Queen spent very little of her time in these state apartments ; she preferred four modest, ill-lighted rooms, which she had chosen exclusively for her private use, consisting of a boudoir, two libraries, and a vestibule, which led into her bedroom. Before her accession to the throne, Marie Antoinette had been comparatively shabby in her dress, and had been accustomed to pay any visits in the morning in a thin light gown, which, 40 MARIE ANTOINETTE. as we noticed in a previous chapter, had displeased the French princesses, who wore their stiff court drees from early morning until they went to bed. A dressmaker, the renowned Mademoiselle Bertin, completely changed the taste of the Queen in this respect, and it was she who roused and encouraged the Queen's extravagant wastefulness in dress. The Duchesse de Chartres later Duchesse d'Orleans first mentioned her, and Marie Antoinette thought she would like to consult her on the subject of her wardrobe; but it was not till months after the first interview that she ventured to receive her, except in her little boudoir. Mademoiselle Bertin, who was peremptory and exacting, gained a strong influence ovel* the Queen, and treated her with great familiarity, giving even a tone of command to her advice on fashions. " She is my ' costume minister,' " said Marie Antoinette of her dressmaker, " and helps to keep in- triguers away from me." This good-natured remark made Mademoiselle Bertin so conceited, that she really imagined her post to be as important as that of a royal counsellor. In a former chapter we saw some of the rules respecting the dressing of the Queen which were adhered to for a long time, but when Mademoiselle Bertin became her directress she did away with many of the customs which obliged her royal mistress to dress, as it were, in public. People continued to enter her bedroom, but she withdrew with a bow, and Mademoiselle Bertin was the only person admitted to the little room, where she assisted her at her toilet. When it was nearly completed, the Queen went into the former dressing-room, where she received all who approached her with petitions, and at the same time placed herself in the hands of the court hairdresser. Made- moiselle Bertin is to blame for the extravagant styles that came into vogue when Marie Antoinette and her ladies wore perfect towers of gauze, flowers, and feathers, mixed among crimped hair, false curls, and plaits. The most incredible things were to be seen on the head, and the designs, which were often from thirty to forty inches in height, represented whole biographies, a botanical garden, or mythological pictures and idylls ; in short, the most remarkable conceptions. One lady wore a meadow, with two little lambs, a shepherd, a brook, a windmill, and other, things. Another had a head-dress that represented the four quarters of the globe, together with the sun, moon, and stars. On the head of a third a parasol was arranged, which opened and closed according to sunshine and shade. A fourth wore a bird made of diamonds, with wings outspread over a full-blown rose. Fresh styles were invented for every occasion. The Duchesse de Chartres appeared at a court ball with a man-of-war in full sail on her head, while another evening her hairdresser allegorically represented her little son, Louis Philippe, sleeping in the lap of his nurse. MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 41 The court friseur Leonard called himself " Academicien de coiffures et de modes," and as all the grand ladies wished to have their hair dressed by him, they were often obliged to put themselves in his hands in the evening, or even the morning, before a fete, on which occasions they had to sit upright on a chair all night, in order not to disarrange his splendid works of art. These erections were most inconvenient either for walking or driving, and even doors had to be made higher to allow ladies to pass through them. Carriages were too low, and the occupants had to crouch or drive with their heads out of the window ; others even knelt all to take care of their wonderful headgear. Those who went on foot were liable to be caught by bushes and boughs, like the authoress Madame de Genlis, who shared the fate of Absalom when on a visit to Voltaire' at Fernay. Whilst hastening forward to greet the great man she was caught by her hair, which remained hanging to a bough. If at a ball, it was impossible to walk a step without touching a lamp or a chandelier; while at the theatres angry words, and even blow?, were exchanged about these hair scaffoldings, which quite hid the stage and the actors. Attacks were made on the fashions in the comic papers of the day, but they produced no effect. One picture represented an inconsolable widow ordering an elegant coffin made of hair, and it is evident that many carica- turists distinctly copied the features of the Queen in their illustrations. Mademoiselle Bertin was content with no half measures, and every month, sometimes every week, she per- suaded Leonard to increase the height of his coiffures. One day when Marie Antoinette entered her dressing-room a servant appeared with a wooden stool, the use of which she did not understand. " What is that for ? " she asked of her maid. The hairdresser came forward, bowed, and represented humbly to Heir Majesty that it was impossible for him to fasten her hair right up to the top without the help of a ladder ! The Queen presented her mother with a picture which represented her with this extravagant erection, adorned with a feather more than a foot in length. Maria Theresa returned the portrait with the following words : " My daughter ! I am sending back the present you have made me. There must be some mistake, as I did not receive the likeness of the Queen of France, but of an actress. I therefore return the picture, hoping to receive the correct one from you." Her mother's remarks about her dress produced but little impression on the young Queen. She looked upon them merely as outbursts of bad temper, the result of increasing ill-health. Changes of fashion with respect to colours were as frequent and exaggerated as the styles of dressing the hair. One day the Queen appeared in a pale yellow gown. "That is the shade of Her Majesty's hair," said the Comte de Provence and 42 MARIE ANTOINETTE. it immediately became fashionable at court. Locks of her hair were sent to the silk manufacturers in Lyons, who copied it exactly in their stuffs and ribbons. Another day she wore a dark brown gown. " That colour reminds one of a flea," exclaimed the King. And fleas began to play an important part in the realm of fashion. Materials were made which were called "old flea," "young flea," etc. "Let me instruct you," said a courtier to a stranger who wished to gam admittance to the Palace : " Wear a puce coat and waistcoat, and walk in with assurance. At the present time nothing further is needed for success." Side by side with all this extravagance and exaggeration there was a simulation of straitened means. Courtiers who appeared one day in gold-embroidered velvet suits were seen on the next occasion in plain burgher clothes. Ladies in fashionable society dressed one day in the glories of the Queen of Sheba, and imitated the costume of a peasant the next. Marie Antoinette took a lively interest in all questions of fashion, and there were times when she could talk of nothing but dress and ornament. The Comtesse de la Marck, who described the French court at this period, says of her: "The Queen goes incessantly to the opera and theatres, gets into debt, drives from one thing to another, bedizens herself with finery and feathers, and makes a fool of herself in every possible way." The example which she set had a bad effect on all ranks. Women belonging to the most different strata of society copied her, and strove to have the same style of hair-dressing, the same feathers, flowers, and wreaths. Their expenses were thus con- siderably increased. Husbands and fathers complained, many rushed into debt, and domestic quarrels became frequent ; estrangement and discord arose between couples who had been living comfortably together, but who now agreed to separate ; and public opinion pointed to Marie Antoinette as the one who was ruining her sex by her bad example. CHAPTER X. Marie Antoinette's Friendships La Princesse de Lamballe La Princesse de Guem6nee La Comtesse de Polignac. ALL through life Marie Antoinette had a weakness for the friend- ship of pretty women, who could easily win her heart and exercise great influence over her. Her lively temperament and transient emotions made her constantly long for something MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 43 new and surprising. Not without reason has it been said that before her intimacy with the iComtesse de Polignac she did not realize what friendship can be. As soon as the new star arose in her circle, it was not the least effort to her to abandon those whom the previous day she had simply overwhelmed with expressions of devotion and marks of kindness. And while this new friend was basking in the light of her favour, her predecessor was exposed to the discomfort and bitterness conse- quent on her loss of position. As Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette had been attracted for a short time by the Duchesse de Picquiny, the youngest lady then at court, whose facility for caricaturing hetr elders had encouraged the love of ridicule of the Dauphiness, and created innumerable enemies for her when she became Queen. Her intimacy with the Duchess soon turned to coolness, which was followed by complete indifference. The Dauphiness liked to be amused, so she changed her friends, and Madame de Saint-Megrin took the place of the Duchesse de Picquiny. After her came Madame de Cosse, who was replaced by the Marquise de Langeac. The year before the death of Louis XV. a young actress, Mademoiselle Rancourt, was creating some sensation in France, and the Dauphiness became much interested in her personally, besides admiring her unusual talent. She invited her to Versailles, flattered her, paid her debts, and overwhelmed her with tokens of affection. The Marquise de Langeac, who at that time was first in favour with Marie Antoinette, became simply inflamed with jealousy at the sight of this devotion to Mademoiselle Rancourt. But her tears and reproaches only served to bring about more quickly her own dismissal, while all difference of rank and position appeared to be forgotten between the Dauphiness and this " priestess of Thalia." At a soiree given by the 'Comtesse de Noailles, the Prince sse de Lamballe was introduced to the future Queen, who no sooner caught sight of this graceful appearance than all her former friendships seemed to pale. Marie Therese Louise de Savoie- Carignan was born at Turin, September 8th, 1749, and was the daughter of Prince Louis Victor de Carignan and the Princess Christina Henrietta of Hessen-Rheinfeldt-Rothenburg. At the age of seventeen she had been brought to France in order to marry Prince Lamballe, the only son of the Due de Penthievre, so highly renowned for his benevolence and his noble character. The union had proved a short and unhappy one. Under the bad influence of his brother-in-law, the Due de Chartres, the Prince had taken to evil courses soon after his marriage, and died in a year from the consequences of his licentious living. His widow was one of the most attractive women at the French court, and has been called "spring clothed in ermine," and "the rose in the snow." Innumerable reports have been invented and circulated to defame all other women who lived 44 MARIE ANTOINETTE. at the court of Marie Antoinette, but not a cloud has ever rested on the reputation of this friend, not an enemy has dared to cast a doubt on her purity. In her first grief on the death of her husband she went into a convent, but afterwards lived with her father-in-law, who loved her as his own child. On her arrival at Versailles to take part in some festivity her beauty attracted universal admiration. Louis XV. was infatuated by her, while Madame du Barry and her party began to fear that Princesse Lamballe would become Queen of France, and the mistress's reign would be over. In the meantime she was by no means attracted by the old King. The sorrows of her youth had made her melancholy, and she preferred to live in retirement away from the excitement of the world. Her troubles and her unhappy marriage made her doubly interesting in the eyes of the Dauphiness. Everything seemed to draw them together, their age, their beauty, which they mutually admired, and their high birth, of which they were both proud. The devotion of the Dauphiness excited confidence, which developed into intimacy. At the close of the reign of Louis XV. they were constantly together, and the accession of Marie Antoinette to the throne only strengthened the bond between them. The friendship of the Princess could not be without an undercurrent of seriousness, and she gave to the young Queen the tenderness that her husband had disdained, and which had since lain hidden beneath her outward coldness. The feelings she had towards her were blended with respect, gratitude, admiration, and the warmest devotion. Even the contrasts in their characters became a point of union between these two. The Queen's liveliness roused the Princess from melancholy, while her calm- ness gave repose to the Queen's restlessness. Marie Antoinette had scarcely become Queen before she expressed the wish to attach her friend to the court, but the high birth of the Princess hindered her from accepting the post of gouvernante. The position of intendante was the only one compatible with her rank. The Due de Bourbon's daughter, the Princesse de Clermont, had held this office under the former Queen of France, but on her death in 1741 it had ceased to exist, and no steps had been taken to renew it. The dis- pleasure was universal when it was rumoured that Marie Antoinette wished the appointment to be recognized again, and in favour of Madame de Lamballe, a foreigner. The King would not hear of it, and the Minister of Finance at the time, Turgot, was strongly against it. But at last they both yielded to the Queen's repeated entreaties, and she wrote to Count Rosenberg : " You cannot picture to yourself how happy I am ; I am giving pleasure to my friend, and making myself even still more happy." The appointment was made in September, 1775, when the MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 45 Princesse de Lamballe was twenty-six. It raised a perfect storm at court, and dissatisfaction was expressed on all sides. Madame de Cosse the former friend tendered her resigna- tion, which was accepted. Several other ladies said they would not be under the intendante, and refused her obedience. The Comtesse de Noailles had neither forgotten the nickname of " Madame Etiquette," nor forgiven the ridicule cast by the Queen on all the old customs : she sought for dismissal from her duties in the same moment that Madame de Lamballe entered upon hers, and retired full of bitterness against her royal mistress, which she nursed into perfect hatred The Princesse de Lamballe was straightforward, but somewhat narrow-minded, and though we must admire the constancy which led her to martyrdom, it cannot be denied that she had failings which have clung to her memory. Through the Queen's influence she obtained for her brother, the Prince de Carignan, the command of an infantry regiment with an annual pay of 30,000 francs, while she insisted on 150,000 francs for herself as intendante. It was these exactions that roused the indignation of the court-, and not without good cause. But, on the other hand, it must be confessed that it was never her intention to spend this money on herself, and many complaints were unjust, as nearly all of it went to relieve urgent distress. Her statue- like beauty seemed to warm into life, and she became genial and responsive on seeing misery, and no sufferer ever appealed to her in vain. The Princess was strictly ceremonious, and fulfilled her court duties with accuracy; but if she thought that her office was but reluctantly recognized by some people, she clung all the more tenaciously to the privileges to which she considered herself entitled. Her royal friend, who hated all questions of ceremony, had, on her appointment, indefinitely left both duties and prerogatives to her discretion, which naturally caused dis- cord between the Princess and the other ladies, so that every moment brought fresh difficulties on the subject of etiquette, which resulted in imperfect service and universal discontent. The Queen had continually to hear complaints or settle disputes ; she became angry with her friend, and gradually cooled in her devotion towards her. Though she did not altogether neglect her, she flitted from one friendship to another as before. But these new confidantes, who amused her for a time, were so eager to profit by her royal favour that she soon found out that the Princesse de Lamballe was her best and truest friend. " She is the only woman I know," she said, " who never bears a grudge; neither hatred nor jealousy is to be found in her." There is one friend of this period deserving of slight notice, namely, the Princesse de Guemenee, niece of the Comtesse de Marsan, who began her court career as governess to the Princess NKTTB, TVit C3tv3* Kv^sissvsl K&ta^r of xxMn^r p**pK *^ ****d **** SMUWtai l^F lb*Ur Utt$*ttlT bftMKVWW. >w^ oaw IV Ett did iw* cbiu% bar taa** nd l^t^rlUtkfcdl lMMi%^Hito uwite him it v^ liMurtT mff^^KA ^ft^ bound to Imraatt and T& ^irii i -"^--fc ^. h _m. _ ^.^.J y^_^ m. > A rasa? rv-^ofvi ts*a$ &s sd^ atra few t^usraLDd w>sr t*T Hr cmwrrtticsr nunm bad . ._ .... : ;. ^_. , . ^ fl^wnnAk 9eBiimi MV lO tb 0ar*L ATvi *^*^* it w*s he*- drr in ^^^^^^^^^ ^>^a^ VM^avw * ^^W0 4^^m ^i^Vvy W M ABIE AyTODTEITFS 1m A peat a* flat U girm to a qpi j^l t?xfff/::L z+jd gzre her cmlifc far. Of a T. '' 'T. ',.*. VII V> .'-%r ST%.* "*:. crVV. .'. Ctto ^^.:L~ ****** *o*d Oienew faronrite to *" , * . *.^- ^"w nmtKUce on tnttr faroon, and althoogh i tts 48 MARIE ANTOINETTE. This partiality of Marie Antoinette for Madame de Polignao did not at first appreciably affect her behaviour towards the Princesse de Lamballe, who probably hoped that a devotion, which had arisen so suddenly would cease in the same manner as so many of the Queen's former friendships had done. But this violent attachment began to arouse jealousy among the old nobility, and when Madame de Lamballe saw that Marie Antoinette's enemies were making use of it as a weapon against her, she considered it her duty to warn her of the dangers to which she was exposing herself. This was more than sufficient to arouse the enmity of the Countess against Madame de Lamballe, the issue of which it was not difficult to foresee. The outspoken Princess was powerless ; her adversary had all the charm of novelty, and was, moreover, upheld by her family, and friends well experienced in court politics. Madame de Lamballe was one of the best of women in the highest circle of French society, but she was not looked upon as a woman 'of strong character, or as capable of any decisive action. She was thought insignificant and wanting in intellectual tastes it certainly cannot be denied that she soon became painfully wearisome as a companion. Madame de Genlis, who often met her at the house of the Due d'Orleans, is severe in her judgment of her. She declared that she had no intelligence, and was incapable of sustaining a conversation ; also, that it was tire- some to be with her, on account of the nervous fainting fits to which she was subject. The Comtesse de Polignac and her adherents took advantage of the Princess's weakness, and spoke continually of her exactions, forgetting their own exorbitant claims. They blamed her jealousy and her frankness, which they called stupidity. At first the Queen tried to reconcile the rivals, who both besieged her with complaints, but by degrees she became very tired of Madame de Lamballe, and gradually, but insensibly, withdrew more and more from her society. The Polignac family ridiculed the Princess and encouraged the Queen to laugh at her former friend, who, after a time, was not merely neglected, but in real disgrace with Her Majesty. Madame de Lamballe may not have been a clever woman, but she had known adversity in her younger days, and was too proud to let the world see what she was suffering now. She could not immediately withdraw from the duties of her high position, but she appeared less and less frequently, and at length finally withdrew from court. She acted wisely, for she had lost the Queen's favour, and nobody sought to retain her. She returned to her father-in-law and shared his lonely life until, danger threatening, the Queen induced her to return to Versailles. Her devotion had not been without exactions; but when nearly everybody left Marie MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 49 Antoinette, she remained faithful, loving, and giving far more than she herself received. * # * * * * The Queen was constant in her attachment to her new friend at all hours and on every possible occasion. Instead of dining in public with the King, according to old court custom, she had dinner with the Countess, except on Sundays. Nothing was allowed to disturb her intercourse with her, the lady-in- waiting was dismissed, and nobody was permitted to enter the room in which the Queen and Madame de Polignac were together. In the evening she would take her arm and walk about with her. When the Countess was in the country, the Queen wrote to her constantly with all the gossip of Versailles. If she was ill, the Queen went to see her and overwhelmed her with attentions. The Countess had the measles; the Queen took the complaint from her. The Countess was expecting her confinement, and the whole court had to remove to Marly that the Queen might be near her. In short, the Countess was the only person about whom it was impossible to open Marie Antoinette'e eyes, though she could generally judge clearly, often severely, of those about her; but she would not suffer the least disparaging word to be uttered about this friend. But this passionate attachment fostered all the Queen's least amiable qualities. The Polignac entertainments could not be select, and the reckless, wanton life injured the reputation of the Countess, as well as that of the Queen, who continually assisted her friend to invent new pleasures. Marie Antoinette was lively, bright, and fond of amusement. She exposed herself to reports without meaning it in the least, and her daily visit to the Countess at last became a real necessity, as well as a habit. Goncourt has drastically observed : " All Marie Antoinette's efforts tended to raise Madame de Polignac to the Queen's level, and to lower the Queen to that of Madame de Polignac." The warmest attachment, especially among the great, often degenerates into indifference. It was known that the Princesse de Lamballe had not been less dear to the Queen, and yet the favour she enjoyed melted like dew before the sun. Madame Polignac' s friends had noticed this and reflected ; they therefore hastened as one man to gather warmth from the bright rays in which she was basking.. A perfect shower of favours was distributed among the Polignac family. The father-in-law of the Countess, quite an ordinary man in every respect, was chosen as envoy in Switzerland, a much-coveted post, for which there were many more suitable candidates. Diana de Polignac was appointed governess to the Princess Elizabeth; Count Julius was made Master of the Horse, when his income was increased by 80,000 francs. The title of duke was granted to him and to D 50 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. bis heirs, and it was generally believed tbat busband and wife together were in the receipt of half a million francs. " There are few examples in history," says Count Mercy-Argenteau on this subject, " where in so short a time royal favour has done so much for a single family." Those outside the circle considered such distinction excessive, while the familiarity between the Queen and her subjects was unheard of at the court of France. Versailles and Paris spoke out bitterly, and let it be clearly understood how completely they disapproved of this unsuitable and exaggerated intimacy. Marie Antoinette's real friends saw the storm that was coming on, and tried to open her eyes on the subject of this undesirable friendship that was patent to all around. The Princesse de Lamballe had been the first to use her influence, but she only lost the Queen's affection. Abbe Vermond followed in her footsteps, but the Queen did not appear to understand him, and always avoided any serious conversation about her intercourse with the Countess. The Abbe left the court, only to return, however, after a short absence, to touch again, with the greatest solicitude, on the painful subject. CHAPTER XI. Trianon. BEFORE she became Queen, Marie Antoinette had often expressed the wish for a country house of her very own, in which to enjoy life quietly amid woods and birds. The King knew of this wish, and said to her not long after his accession : " Now I am able to satisfy your longing, and beg you to accept Trianon for your private use. It has always been the residence of the King's favourites, therefore it ought to be yours." Marie Antoinette was delighted, and answered jokingly: "I accept it on the condition that you will never come without an invitation." Little Trianon is a two-storeyed building. In former times there were eight small thatched cottages round about for poor families, each with a little garden. Then close by were a wind- mill and a schoolhouse. Etiquette was dispensed with in this retired country life. The Queen left Versailles on foot in the morning to hasten to her pretty chalet, where she ran about in the gardens and gathered handfuls of flowers. She superin- tended the workmen, crocheted or sewed under the trees she had had planted, churned butter, and preserved fruit. She had her favourite cows, which she occasionally milked; her doves MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 51 and hens, which she fed ; and her flowers, which she tended. It was country life in all its comfort and liberty, such as was led under Maria Theresa in the old patriarchal home of the Habsburgs. The evenings were spent in the drawing-room, with windows and doors opened on to the garden, and, when she had visitors, the Queen herself handed them tea. They went and came, sat down, walked about, or chatted; in fact, they did exactly as they pleased. The piano stood open ', first one then another sat down to it, or the Comtesse de Polignac played the harp, to which Marie Antoinette sang little ditties of her own composing. The verses had no beauty, and the Queen's voice was very poor ; but her French listeners were not so honest as Gustavus III. of Sweden, who said to her, " For a queen you do not sing so badly." On Sundays she allowed all well- dressed people to come to Trianon, and to dance on the lawns or under a tent; she even danced with them in order to add to their enthusiasm. Ill-natured people called her country retreat " the Queen's little Vienna," an expression which annoyed her as much as her own nickname of " the Austrian," and she always refused permission to those who asked to see her " little Vienna." The King went unattended to Trianon, and the Princess Elizabeth was frequently there ; but the Comtesse de Polignac and her circle were among the most regular guests. They came in morning dress even for dinner, and walked, played, or lay on the grass. Ladies remained sitting if the Queen went up to them, and the gentlemen never thought of inter- rupting a game of billiards on her approach. They played at blindmanVbuff and other games in the garden, and jumped over flower-beds and low hedges ; or they rushed through rooms, shaking the furniture, and overturning statues and porcelain vases that were thus broken to atoms. Once, when the Princesse de Lamballe was complaining that she had not been invited to Trianon the previous evening, the Queen replied : " You lost nothing by your absence; not a thing was broken." Malicious tongues which never ceased to pursue Marie Antoinette as^ long as she lived, and attacked her every word and action especially singled out Trianon with which to reproach her. When she was on her trial the judges brought against her the sums she had squandered there, and maintained that she had wasted millions on this favourite retreat. When the Revolution was near at hand, and the National Assembly was about to meet, people came from all parts of France strongly prejudiced against her on account of her extravagance and reputed immoral life. Everybody wished to see Trianon; but the magnificence they expected to find waa not there, though they would not believe in its apparent plainness. Members of the National Assembly had heard ^pf rooms studded with diamonds, and when they could not find them they maintained they had 52 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. been denied entrance to the most splendid apartments. The buildings were far from being as magnificent or the expenses as enormous as the enemies of the Royal Family made both themselves and others believe, though the park and pleasure grounds were certainly very beautiful and expensive to keep up. There are proofs that the Queen's improvements, with all expenditure for maintaining the house and garden in order, did not exceed two million francs, spread over twelve years. This was, no doubt, a large sum when we think of the prevailing distress, but little in proportion to the other expenses of the court, and the incredible sums that were lavished on other estates. But if malice has magnified the Trianon expenses, life there was not without its dangers. Sceptre and shepherd's crook do not go well together, and it is unwise, even for a brief period, to exchange a golden crown for a wreath of field flowers. Goncourt remarks, " Private life and its amenities are forbidden to royal personages. Their pleasures must be regal, and their friend- ships without partiality, their smile the portion of all. Not even their heart can be called their own, and they may not indulge their feelings. If a queen yields to her own tastes though they may be in accordance with her sex and age, the purity of her soul, and the inclination of her heart she can claim neither the indulgence of courtiers, the silence of malicious tongues, nor the mercy of the historian." And this was the long and painful experience of Marie Antoinette. Little Trianon, where life seemed to be so peaceful and innocent, was, on closer inspection, only a centre of intrigue where she was besieged for favours, and where it was more difficult to resist the importunities of her friends than amid the ceremonies of Versailles. Charming women and unscrupulous men dared to remove their masks, expose their ambition, and urge their claims. One of the gentlemen, who played duets with the Queen, aimed at becoming a minister ; another, who amused her with his witticisms, wished to be made ambassador; while a third used every persuasion to gain some other lucrative post at court. Fortune and appointments were looked for from this intercourse with the Queen; in short, it was hoped that the narrow staircase of private life would lead up to posts of honour in the Royal Castle. The Comtesse de Polignac was looked upon as an especially useful tool in the hands of these people, who led her on to interfere with both the court appoint- ments of the Queen and the politics of the King. She even tried to bring about changes in the Ministry. Her sister-in-law, Diana, lived so completely with her friends that she forgot that she was in the service of the Princess Elizabeth. The King's young sister was nearly always about alone, and even ran away MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 53 one day to a convent, from which Louis XVI. himself fetched her home again. When guests of distinction arrived at the court of Louis XVI., an excursion to Trianon was always included in the pro- gramme for their entertainment. The most frequent royal visitor was Gustavus III., King of Sweden, who some years later espoused the cause of his hosts with so much chivalrous zeal. He often stayed in Paris for some time under the name of " Le Comte de Haga." Louis always welcomed him with cordiality, and Gustavus was accustomed to drive out to Versailles without notice, which sometimes rather upset the day's routine at court. One day when he suddenly appeared the King was out hunting. He was sent for immediately, but as his valets knew nothing about his return there was nobody in his room to assist him to change his clothes; so he managed by himself as well as he could and put on all his orders, but the wrong side out. He changed his hunting boots for court shoes, but as he could not find a pair he put on his right foot one with a silver bow and red heel, and on the left one with a gold bow and black heel. The Queen was much displeased when she saw her hus- band, and asked him angrily if he were dressed for a mas- querade, or if he had only the intention of giving the King of Sweden an idea of the good taste of the French. On another occasion Gustavus arrived unexpectedly at Trianon and invited himself to dine with the Queen, who sent into the kitchen to enquire if there was anything suitable to offer to a royal guest. " Do not be disturbed," exclaimed Gustavus laughing. " Where there is enough for two people there is always sufficient for three." Marie Antoinette was not attracted by his blunt manner, and Gustavus does not seem to have been especially taken with the Queen. He frankly criticised her playing and singing, and let it be understood that her performances wearied him. One evening, when the Queen had refused to dance, alleging that she was too old, he asked her jokingly if she had been fond of dancing in her youth, a question which at that time was not acceptable to Her Majesty, who was barely twenty- eight. CHAPTER XII. The Queen's Extravagance Gambling Scandals at Court Marie Antoinette's Connection with Art and Literature Royal Actors at Trianon. IF the manners in France had been the same as those to which Marie Antoinette had been accustomed at home, she would have shone in her new surroundings. Her taste was decidedly for 54 MAKIE ANTOINETTE. family life, and she would certainly have sought for happiness in the domestic circle. In the position she was called upon to fill, as the centre of a corrupt court, neglected, and a stranger to her husband, without serious interests, but with an intense craving for affection, she had been compelled to seek for happi- ness outside herself. As Dauphiness she had not shown the smallest inclination to be extravagant; on the contrary, she had been particularly economical, and when she became Queen she could boast of being without a single debt. Also, in the early days of her reign, she does not seem to have had any intention of incurring unnecessary expenses. But she was dazzled by her elevated position, and, incited by her friends, soon rushed into a perfect vortex of pleasures, which, as we have seen, cost enormous sums. Then, in addition to this, she developed a passion for the possession of ornaments, especially diamonds. For instance, in January, 1776, she bought a pair of diamond ear-rings which cost 40,000 francs. Hardly six months later a bracelet, valued at 250,000 francs, besides innumerable other jewels, and this at a time when thousands of her subjects were crying out for bread and a roof to shelter them. The charges brought against Marie Antoinette are exaggerated in more than one respect; her dignity under suffering deserves sympathy, but her extravagance with famine in the land is a stain on her memory which can never be obliterated. The Queen was persuaded to join in gambling, which was pre- valent at court, and lost enormous sums. At first she played privately with her friends, but one day at Fontainebleau she obtained permission from the King to send a messenger to Paris for a banker to advance money for herself and the com- pany while they played. Louis objected at first, but, with his usual weakness, yielded "for this once." They took him at his word and did not leave the card-table for a day and &, half. A night, a day, and the following night the Queen played uninterruptedly. From this time it was an established custom at court, and Marie Antoinette became an ardent gambler. On the first of each month she received 500 gold pieces her pocket money, as she called them and these were often lost at cards in the course of the same evening. Once in Marly she lost 7000 gold pieces (140,000 francs) at one swoop. When she and her ladies returned from these parties, the front breadths of their gowns were often so black with the piles of money they had had in their laps that they were obliged to change before they could be seen. The meetings generally terminated with noise and confusion. The Comte d'Artois screamed with joy when he won, with rage when he lost, and several of the courtiers were such heavy losers that they had to relinquish their posts. More than one adventurer, more than one spendthrift, reaped a rich harvest from the royal gambling MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 55 tables. An Englishman of doubtful reputation, who had returned from India in the possession of a large fortune, received an intimation that he must stake 200,000 gold pieces at cards. He was introduced to the Queen and played with her, the royal princes and princesses, and gentlemen at court. In a short time he had won from them 1,500,000 gold pieces, or 30,000,000 francs. This extravagant play brought discredit on the crown itself, and Count Mercy seriously blames the Queen in his letters, though he is not less severe in his censure of the King, who allowed her and his court to indulge in amusement so opposed to royal dignity. Games of hazard were forbidden by the police regulations in France, and yet they were coun- tenanced to such an unlimited extent in the King's house. It is easy to foresee that serious consequences had to follow : the whole world was scandalized, loud murmurs of displeasure were heard in Paris, and the peace of innumerable families was destroyed. *#***# We have gathered from all this that Marie Antoinette avoided the society of steady women of experience and preferred the flattery and admiration of men, especially if her own sex addressed her with words of warning or counsel. She was far from clever, and we know that her education had been pain* fully deficient; but still she tried to appear intellectual. It is an historical fact that her library, both in Versailles and Trianon, consisted almost entirely of immoral books, which had been selected and read by her court ; and, with the exception of these indecent novels, or plays in which she wished to act, Marie Antoinette, as Queen, hardly opened a single book. She did not even seek the information society can give. If a serious topic was introduced, weariness was expressed in every feature. Her conversation was always abrupt and superficial ; she darted from one subject to another, and took pleasure only in the trifles of the day. Her great delight was to hear the current gossip and scandal, of which there was always plenty. She encouraged literature merely to keep up appearances as Queen of a large kingdom, and had no understanding for the treasures of philosophy and poetry in her land, no ear for the voices of the times. Voltaire's visit to Paris was an event in her husband's reign which attracted universal attention, and this king of genius, who died, stifled as it were by laurel wreaths and popular favour, had hardly arrived before he expressed the wish to be received by Louis and Marie Antoinette. This great scoffer, whose vanity is almost as renowned as his name, longed, even at the age of eighty, for the adulation of courtiers and the favour of kings. He had called the young Queen of France "the divine Antoinette," and said that "he felt the most intense admiration for her." But Louis only saw in him 56 MARIE ANTOINETTE. the enemy of Christianity, and especially of Roman* Catholicism, while Marie Antoinette felt but little interest in him as an author, and did not fear his baneful influence as an atheist. She was besieged with petitions to receive him at Versailles, but on this one occasion she refused to yield to the importunities of her friends. She declared she did not wish to see him, and the doors of the Castle were closed to the great man. Voltaire was disappointed. One of his friends comforted him with these words: "Let me tell you what you would have experienced at Versailles. The King, with his usual tact, would most likely have laughed in your face. The Queen would have talked about the theatre. The Comte de Provence would have questioned you about your income. His wife would have quoted some of your verses. The Comtesse d'Artois would have said nothing. Her husband would have discoursed to you about ' La Pucelle.' " * But the enthusiasm of the Parisians made him forget the neglect of the royal couple. " For the last few weeks," says the Count de Sgur, " there have been two courts in France : that of good King Louis, in Versailles, which is very dull, and that of Voltaire, in Paris, where noisy homage is paid him day by day." The philosopher from Fernay was received, not only with shouts of enthusiasm, but of devotion, the echo of which reached the ears of the Queen and aroused her curiosity; but she could not understand it. While laurel wreaths were being placed on the head of the poet in the Theatre Franais, and he was weeping with emotion, as he murmured, " You are stifling me with roses," Marie Antoinette was in the neighbouring opera house. She had not thought it worth while to go to the theatre that evening. And Jean Jacques Rousseau was treated with the same indifference that she showed to Voltaire, the " prince of biting satire." Grimm relates how she one day visited the grounds of Ermenonville accompanied by her court. She stood for some time on the poplar island where Rousseau is buried, and it was hoped that thoughts of the deceased philosopher had induced her to make the pilgrimage. But no such honour was paid to his memory on this occasion. The Queen looked at the tomb and found the architecture tasteful, the spot pleasant. Then she suddenly began to talk of something else, without a spark of interest in the man to whom the monument was erected. Music was the only talent that Marie Antoinette can even be said to have possessed, and almost her sole interest at this time, the one art that she encouraged. In the midst of her wild pursuit of pleasure and general instability it was always dear to her, and even after she became Queen she continued to take lessons both in music and singing. She learnt to play *A celebrated satirical poem of Voltaire's. MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 57 the harp, though never very well still, she read at sight with facility, and very frequently gave concerts in her own apart- ments. She liked to talk as a connoisseur of music, although she understood far less about it than she thought she did. " I do like French music," she remarked one day as Dauphiness, " there is something empty about it which surprises me." The director of the opera, who wished to please her, sent for Gluck from Vienna to conduct some performance in Paris. For Marie Antoinette Gluck was not only the great composer, but a memory of her native land and her childhood. His Iphigenia in Aulis was given, and the Dauphiness, who sat in the royal box, applauded and clapped her hands in honour of her former teacher. But the French audience did not share her enthusiasm, and Gluck's chef d'ceuvre was but coldly received. This per- formance took place early in 1774, when Madame du Barry was in full power, patronising the Italian composer Piccini. It soon came to open warfare between the adherents of the GermaD and Italian schools, resulting in family disunion and the separa- tion of friends. The opponents of Madame du Barry cried: " Long live Gluck ! Long live the Dauphiness ! Down with the Countess! Down with Piccini!" Things went so far that even in the theatre people of opposite views tore each other's hair, and Madame Oberkirch tells us in her Memoir es that the frenzy and shrieking were so tremendous " that it was some- times necessary to separate the disputants by force." Piccini's admirers thought it good taste to stop their ears at the sound of Gluck's music, while the latter's friends considered it their duty to weep with emotion when they heard their master's melodies. The battle between these musical adherents continued during the early years of the reign of Louis XVI., and when Marie Antoinette became Queen she gave Gluck a yearly pension of 6000 francs, with the entree to her morning receptions. When his next opera, Alceste, was performed, and the audience was again unappreciative, she was present, and applauded in striking contrast to their indifference. Disappointed and embittered the master left Trianon, after a residence of five years. But he had to promise his royal pupil to return, and later on she bestowed on him the title of music-teacher to the King's children. Madame Saint-Huberti was the prima donna who undertook the chief character in Gluck's Armida. She was German by birth, but was looked upon as the most brilliant artiste in the French opera. Gluck himself taught her the role of Armida, and Marie Antoinette greatly admired her talent. She was more generous to her than to many others of her class, and ordered Mademoiselle Bertin to provide her with dresses. In addition to this she repeatedly paid her heavy debts. August Vestris, the ballet-dancer of European renown, was also at 58 MARIE ANTOINETTE. this time high in the Queen's favour. " This god of the dance," as he was called, was most cavalier in his treatment of the public, and sometimes capriciously refused to appear. One evening it happened that the Queen was in the theatre, when the young man declared that he did not mean to dance, and he was immediately arrested. Alarmed at the possible conse- quences of his son's indiscretion, his father in his time also a famous dancer implored the Queen to forgive him. " My son did not know," he said, "that Your Majesty was honouring his performance with your presence. If he had known it, how could he have refused to dance before his royal patroness? I am in despair at this misunderstanding between the houses of Vestris and Bourbon, that have hitherto lived on such a good footing." Marie Antoinette was greatly amused at the pride of the old dancer, and sent one of her pages with the message that his son was to be released. August Vestris reappeared and exerted himself to the utmost, gaining warm applause from the Queen. As she was leaving her box both the old man and his son came forward to thank her. " Monsieur Vestris," said Marie Antoinette to the father, " you never danced so well as your son did this evening." " That is easily explained, Your Majesty," was the rejoinder, "/ never had a Vestris for my master." Marie Antoinette had been fond of the theatre from her earliest youth, and we saw in a previous chapter how she delighted to act in secret with her brothers-in-law and their wives. There was a small stage in most of the French castles at this period, and during the twenty years of the reign of Louis XVI. private theatricals were the fashion. The Queen, who was always seeking for some fresh amusement, thought she would like to have a theatre with actors of her own, and ordered a pretty room in Trianon to be arranged for the purpose. This little theatre, where actors from Paris appeared on the opening night, soon tempted the Queen to become a performer herself. It was arranged at first that the company was to consist exclu- sively of ladies and the Comte d'Artois, who expected to share in everything that could be called pleasure. The only spectators to be admitted were the King, the Comte de Provence, and the royal princesses who were not acting. But these arrangements were soon altered. The Comtesse de Provence, prompted by her husband, refused to act, and showed without disguise that she considered it beneath her dignity to tread the boards. Then, on the other hand, at the very first appearance several gentlemen took part, and the Queen's ladies, their sisters and daughters, were allowed to be present, so that there were certainly not fewer than forty spectators. Later on permission was granted, not only to these ladies, but also to officers of the guard and others, so that the number of spectators was MABIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 59 increased to at least three hundred each evening. Minor pieces were at first chosen, to be quickly followed by more ambitious plays, for which instruction was given by actors from Paris. It was Marie Antoinette's freshness and youth that gave the charm to these evenings, and in spite of her great dislike to reading, she always learned her part most accurately. She acted all sorts of characters a farmer's wife, a mistress, a housemaid, only never a queen. Her ordinary, rich, full-toned voice was naturally so melodious that she needed but little expression to satisfy her hearers. Considering the actors were but amateurs they seem to have played well on the whole, though the Prince de Ligne certainly says that Marie Antoinette played " royally badly." Grimm, on the other hand, says " that she played with that bewitching charm which she knew how to cast over every- thing she undertook." He adds that "the acting in Trianon \Yas better than that of dilettanti generally." In a more serious period of her life Marie Antoinette lamented that her love of theatricals had enticed her to frequent the company of actors, to listen to their counsels, and to play their parts. It was irreconcilable with the dignity of the crown that the Queen of the land should act the part of a soubrette on the stage, and these performances were doubly hated by the popu- lace, who could not witness them. People can forgive extrava- gant expenditure if they derive some benefit from it, but if they are excluded from all participation in the pleasure, the temptation to blame and exaggerate is but the stronger. Those who had no admittance to the Queen's plays looked upon the performances in Trianon as ruinous waste and an insult, in face of the scarcity in the country. Innumerable stories were circulated about these plays, and were universally believed. It was said that the Queen acted so badly that the King hissed his royal consort, who screamed to him from the stage, " Hold your tongue, barbarian ! " Some maintained that the King generally slept during the performance. Others assert that the Queen ordered a detachment of soldiers to be admitted to the theatre, as she did not consider there were sufficient spectators to admire her acting and herself. It is also said that she so far forgot her dignity that she stepped before the footlights immediately the piece was over and shouted to the soldiers, " I have done my best to amuse you. I wish I could have played better, that your pleasure might have been greater." This last story is unhappily true. 60 MARIE ANTOINETTE. CHAPTER XIII. Marie Antoinette's Secret Troubles Visit of her Brother Joseph The Queen becomes a Mother for the First Time Death of Maria Theresa Birth of the Dauphin. WE dare not judge the Queen too harshly for yielding to this mania for amusement which absorbed her, nor implicitly believe every report against her. It is easy to see her faults, but we have no right to overlook the grievous mistakes in her husband's conduct towards her. Louis' coldness had been a disappoint- ment to the Dauphiness, and his separate life a trouble to her. A childless wife always lacks something, and for a Queen the void is even greater. Adherents to the dynasty consider them- selves aggrieved, and even if they do not express their thoughts, they generally think that such a royal wife is not fulfilling the end for which she herself was brought into the world. Marie Antoinette, who was more devoted to children than many women, saw herself, year after year, in a humiliating position. It was her greatest sorrow to be childless, to feel a painful void in her apparently brilliant life ; besides, it was the greatest reproach against her at this time. The Comtesse d'Artois, who had married the year after her, had long since been a mother, and when Marie Antoinette saw her sister-in-law surrounded by her children, it was hard for her to restrain her tears. " Give heirs to the throne," shouted the old fishwives after her in the street. She was afraid things would never be otherwise, and so rushed into society and pleasure in order to forget her secret sorrow. She sought for amusement in the absence of happiness. Such a life was not calculated to strengthen a woman who had not a single bracing task to fulfil. And while she was striving with unhealthy zeal to be a Queen of society, there was pallor beneath her rouge, and discontent hidden by her exuberant mirth. The eagerness with which she courted pleasure sprang in a great measure from her longing to forget ; it was the veil she cast over her disappointment. She felt that she was looked upon as a stranger in France as long as she had no children. Wounded to the quick by the King's indifference she lost patience, and many a bitter word escaped her. She was angry with her husband, whose apathy and coldness continually dis- appointed her hopes. She began to look upon him as a being without energy or character, a being who could claim no con- sideration, but whom she imagined she could rule by fear. This was a mistake on her part, to be attributed far more to her overstrained nerves than to her heart. Finding no response to her warm feelings in her husband she sought it among her MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 61 friends, whom she chose without discrimination; and we have seen that it was they who led her into those mistakes and indis- cretions of which she has been accused. But young, alone in a strange land, it is not to be wondered at that she clung to attachment wherever she believed she had found it, and that she was often mistaken in her longing for affection. Maria Theresa was distressed that her daughter had no children. A mother's pride was united to the interests of a ruler, and she felt that it was difficult for Marie Antoinette to have much power as long as she was childless ; besides, Austrian policy demanded that she should strengthen her influence in France. Far from comforting her daughter in her trouble, the Empress irritated her continually by telling her of the births in the families of her other daughters and daughters-in-law. She returned to the subject again and again with especial persistency, using it as a spur, which hurt the poor Queen to the quick. In spite of his indifference to the Austrian Archduchess, Louis felt himself attracted more and more towards her as years rolled on. The first sign he gave of his warmer feelings was a hearty shake of the hand every night when he retired, so hearty indeed that the Queen sometimes felt tempted to scream with pain. Then, to her surprise, he began to kiss her on the fore- head before he went to bed. Years afterwards the Queen reproached herself that she had never had the courage to complain to him about her desolate condition. By so doing she would probably have spared herself sorrow with reference to his apparent coldness, and would have been able to silence the scandalous reports which were gradually destroying her reputation. In spite of the King's reserve he was by no means unfriendly towards her. Whether he believed in the superiority of her mind, or feared her impetuosity, or had already been long in love with her, as many believed, it is certain that he liked to please her. Whenever she turned to him it was easy to see by his countenance and manner how eagerly he wished to fulfil her wishes. In many respects she acquired such strong influence over him that he was like her slave, but for all that her burning thirst for happiness could not be satisfied with Louis' cold, timid, embarrassed affection. It is not improbable that they would have continued this estranged life together if Marie Antoinette's eldest brother had not visited his sister and brother-in-law at Versailles. It was he who at length broke the ice, and induced the King by his arguments to live on con- jugal terms with his wife. Joseph came to France in 1777 under the incognito of Count Falkenstein, and this was almost the first visit that Marie Antoinette had received from her relations. Her youngest brother, the weak-minded Maximilian, had been a few years previously, and had irritated the court, excited the contempt 62 MARIE ANTOINETTE. of the people, and driven his sister to despair with his stupidity and want of tact. Joseph, on the contrary, was the very man to gain favour in France, and to charm society with the originality of his wit. Art, science, philosophy, and literature all united to greet the young Queen's brother. Even the " dames de la halle " paid him flattering compliments. " The King, the Queen, and we," they shouted after him in the streets, " are all delighted to see you. Your sister is our mother, therefore you are our uncle." Marie Antoinette's joy was intense at seeing her favourite brother again. Seven years had passed since she left home, and the innocent child from Burg and Schonbrunn had become the brilliant Queen of France. Joseph was charmed with her appearance, though by no means blind to her faults. He became her counsellor and friend, but his criticism was somewhat too public. Instead of whispering his remonstrances in her ear, he shouted them so loud that the whole of France heard them. One morning, when he came into his sister's room, he saw a wonderful tower of flowers and feathers on her head, a work of art, just completed by Leonard. Marie Antoinette asked him if he did not think her hair was nicely dressed. " Yes," he answered drily. " Do you not think the style suits me ? " she asked further. " To say the truth," replied her brother, " I think your head-dress is too fragile to bear a crown." He wished to see more taste for reading and less frivolity in his sister's life, but above all, a deeper realization of her royal dignity. He reproached her again and again for her imprudence, and Maria Theresa was told by him, as well as by her ambas- sador, how addicted her youngest daughter was to pleasure, luxury, and gambling. " It is quite certain," said her brother, "that if this continues the court of France will sink down into a mere gambling house." But in spite of their disagreement the brother and sister were mutually distressed when the time came for them to separate. " I left Versailles with regret, and feeling devoted to my sister," wrote Joseph to Maria Theresa ; " she is amiable and charming, and I spent hour after hour with her without noticing the flight of time. She was much distressed when I left, though she maintained her com- posure, and I had to summon up all my courage to take my leave of her. . . ." * * * * * * On August 5th, 1778, the court was informed that the Queen was likely to become a mother, and the whole country went mad with joy. Marie Antoinette was delighted, and exclaimed again and again, " I am going to have a child." She had the news spread abroad among the people, and sent letters to announce it to her relations, while she constantly spoke of the care and tenderness with which she would surround her little MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 63 one. From the apathetic husband of former days Louis was now transformed into the passionate admirer of Marie Antoinette, and his honeymoon was beginning, after all these years of marriage. The expected event led him to display magnificent hospitality, and luxurious entertainments were provided for all connected with the court. The enthusiasm created by the news made the Queen forget the reproaches with which she had been overwhelmed, and it seemed as though the slanderous reports of the lower classes would be silenced altogether. They were, at any rate, for a time. The press, literature, poetry, and art did honour beforehand to the long-expected child, and all the cloisters, universities, noble, ecclesiastical, and military associa- tions ordered solemn masses to be said, while prayers for the Queen were offered up in all the churches of France during many hours each day. People rushed to the C'astle, deputations brought good wishes, and magnificent festivities were indulged in all over the land. And yet there were a few who did not share either the joy of the people or that of the royal pair. After such a long, hopeless waiting, and the insults to which her neglected position had exposed her, the Queen was fully justified in her happiness, but the King's aunts found it scan- dalous. His brothers and sisters-in-law behaved with apparent cordiality, but among their intimate friends they let fall ex- pressions which showed how far they were from sharing in the universal rejoicing. The Minister, who had hitherto ruled the King, now began to fear the power of Marie Antoinette, and such of the courtiers who were not among the friends of Madame de Polignac were affronted at being kept in the background just now. At the very moment when it seemed as though her position as Queen was becoming more secure, shameful verses were being distributed in Paris and Versailles, and a few days before her confinement a volume of libellous songs about herself and her frieads was thrown into the Castle garden close by her door. The event, which had been anticipated with so much impatience, took place December 20th, 1778. From early morn- ing crowds of curious people filled the gardens and galleries of the Castle, while the suite of the King and Queen stood packed together in the royal apartments. But in the decisive, critical moment the crowd rushed through these, in terrible uproar, on into the Queen's bedchamber, behaving as if on a public square on a market day. The child was born about noon and was a daughter, the future Duchesse d'Angouleme. She was carried into an adjoining room, when most of the crowd rushed after the nurse and baby. The birth of the princess nearly cost the life of the Queen. The heat, the throng, and the noise, possibly some disappointment that the child was not a son, brought on a sudden fainting fit. " Air ! warm water ! " exclaimed the midwife; "the Queen must be bled." The window could not 64 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. be opened, and there was no air till the King rushed forward and broke a pane. The crowd, who had forced their way in, were ejected by the soldiers and servants, while the most agonizing fright and confusion reigned in the room. The Queen did not open her eyes for nearly an hour, but her life was saved. She had hoped for a dauphin and was disappointed, but she was the mother of a lovely, healthy baby. " Poor little one," she said, as she pressed her firstborn to her heart ; " you are not the long-wished-for child, but you shall not be the less dear to me. A son would have belonged to the State, but you will share my joys and lessen my sorrows." The King had but the one thought of happiness in his child and pride in his new dignity. Then all at once he seemed troubled as to how he could show his love. He ran from his wife to his daughter's cradle, took the little thing in his arms, put her down again, then finally carried her to her mother, and thus quite banished the disappointment of the Queen by his tenderness. In order not to leave her he even gave up hunting, one of the few amusements that he had cared for. He was the first by her bedside in the morning, and spent both the after- noon and evening with her. Every minute he went to look at his daughter, and never seemed to tire of contemplating and caressing her. The princess was baptized Marie Therese Charlotte with great ceremony in Paris. The capital was illuminated; bread, wine, and sausages were distributed among the poor, and free admission provided at the theatres. But the joy of the people was less than had been expected. There was scarcity in the land and the taxes were oppressive ; besides, they were not pleased that the child was a girl. The day after her birth one of the ladies at court wrote : " We hope that the Queen will behave better next time." And the Empress of Austria said in a private letter : " This little Marie Therese is superfluous." She was more impatient than ever for a grandson in France. As a politician she knew that it was essential for the strengthening of her daughter's position ; and as a mother she wished it eagerly, because she hoped that the birth of a dauphin would crown the domestic happiness of her child. She continually reverted to this in her letters till it became a fixed idea. The wish was to be fulfilled, but not in the lifetime of Maria Theresa, whose health declined rapidly under the strain of sorrow and State cares. November 24th, 1780, she became seriously ill, the doctors gave no hope of recovery, and she received the last sacraments. The mentally strong woman would not take to bed, even on the approach of death, but remained up to the very last. " I have always wished to die thus," she said, "but I feared that it would not be granted to me. I see now that by the grace of God one can do anything." She MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 65 discussed several political points with her son Joseph, gave directions for her burial, and thought of her children, both absent and present, as well as of her subjects. She settled some details relating to disturbances in her dominions, thus preserving her clear judgment and strength of character till the hour of her death, immediately before which she pronounced a final blessing over her children. Her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears when she came to the name of Marie Antoinette, for she must have felt convinced in this farewell thought that sorrows and dangers were awaiting her favourite child. The news of her death reached Versailles the sixth of December, and the daughter's grief was indescribable. She remained in her room for twelve days and spoke of nothing but her mother, her virtues, her counsel, and her example. This time she was not alone in her sorrow. In spite of prejudice against the Austrian Imperial house, expressions of respect and condolence were heard all over France. In Germany they were almost immoderate. Even Frederick the Great, her obstinate opponent, was loud in his grief. " I have shed genuine tears at her death," he wrote to a confidant. " She was an honour to her sex and the throne. I have made war against her, but she was never my enemy." **-**** A year after the death of the Empress a dauphin was born in France. In order to avoid a repetition of the disturbances at the birth of her first child, it was decided that only the nearest relations should have access to her room, and that the Queen should not be told whether the baby was a son or a daughter before all danger was over. Early in the morning of October 22nd, 1781, the Royal Family and the Comtesse de Polignac received a message that the Queen felt unwell. The ladies and gentlemen of the court ran from their rooms in the greatest haste, but had to remain outside. Full of eagerness and impatience they formed into groups, but they had only the comfort and amusement of laughing over each other's incon- gruous appearance, for in their haste not one of them had taken time to dress~ In the meantime Marie Antoinette was delivered of a son in the adjoining room; but the assistants looked so serious that the poor Queen thought that it was again a girl. " You see how reasonable I am," she said ; " I ask no questions." The King could not restrain his joy, and said to her with tears in his eyes : " The Dauphin begs for permission to greet his mother." A perfect burst of joy spread over the whole land ; there was laughing and weeping side by side. Strangers who had never met fell on each other's necks, and even those who were hostile to the Queen got carried away in the universal enthusiasm. For a whole month congratulations E 66 MABIE ANTOINETTE. came pouring in, and fetes were daily held in honour of the baby. If any human being can be described as happy in this world it was the Queen of France at this time. She seemed to possess everything that she could desire. She suddenly found herself surrounded by the crowd of admirers and friends that always accompany the fortunate. High and low rushed to the foot of her throne with offerings and congratulations. Both strangers and acquaintances pressed round her to see her smile, or feel the pressure of her hand, wiiile apparently kindly looks followed her every step. Marie Antoinette's dream was ful- filled : she was the mother of a dauphin. She was nearer to her husband, and she believed she was in closer relationship with her own people. She seemed to be loved by all ; she was the first in the first country of Europe. CHAPTER XIV. Baptism of the Dauphin Marie Antoinette's Reputed Lovers The Comte d'Artois Baron Beseuval Lauzun Count Fersen Castelnaux. THE joy of the Queen at the birth of the Dauphin was too great to be of long duration, and the event which removed the brothers and sisters of the King from the throne roused in them bitter discontent, in the midst of almost universal rejoicing. When the Comte d'Artois took his eldest son to the Castle to see the Dauphin, the boy exclaimed, as he caught sight of the cradle, " How tiny my cousin is ! " "A day will come," answered his father bitterly, " when you will find that he is more than big enough." The Dauphin was christened at the close of January, 1782. The King was in a very bad temper that day, and yawned with ennui all through the evening entertainment. Then at dinner he had complained that the fish was badly cooked and that the meat was tough, while he crossly refused everything that his wife suggested. The dukes and many distinguished men who were present also complained that the food was poor, and declared they had had nothing but radishes and butter set before them. Then the populace grumbled that money should be wasted on unnecessary . illuminations in such a season of scarcity. Worse than the King's bad temper, worse than these petty expressions of displeasure, was a horrible, libellous report full of disgusting stories about the Queen, which was found nailed on the church door the morning of the child's christening day. In the early days of their marriage, when Louis had MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 67 lived apart from her, his wife had longed for him. She was undoubtedly kindly disposed towards him, though her feelings were not warm. But while the King was passing from the indifferent husband to the passionate lover, other sentiments were taking root in the heart of Marie Antoinette, who had been left to herself while the gulf had been widening between them. The natural consequence was that she became passionate, nervous, and discontented. When they at last came together her heart was absorbed with affection for her female friends ; or men, better looking and more attractive, had claimed her attention. Clumsy Louis, who rolled about the drawing-rooms more like a blacksmith than a king, without speaking a word, had indeed received her hand, but not her heart. It had been no easy thing for the Queen to turn away from the adulation that met her at every step. Her slightest word, her most casual look, every petty mark of attention, was con- strued into favour or attachment on her part. She was young and strikingly beautiful, with none but courtiers and flatterers around her, and it would have needed far more experience and wisdom than she possessed not to be dazzled by the homage paid her. Whatever his age, his family ties, his difference in rank might be, no man could approach Marie Antoinette without slanderous tongues assailing her honour and pitying the King. When she stood at the bar of the National Assembly a list of twenty men was produced, of all ages and conditions, with whom she was alleged to have had illicit intercourse. But it was her brother-in-law, the Comte d'Artois, who more than any other injured her reputation, and his licentious life was well known in every circle. No wonder, then, that the Queen's frequent companionship with him gave malicious tongues fruitful topics for slander. The whole of France spoke of her intimacy with him, and maintained that Marie Antoinette lost no opportunity that could serve to alienate the Comte more and more from his good-natured, modest little wife. Although the King did not attach much importance to the rumours about this intercourse, he could not refrain from re- monstrating with his wife on the subject. But, accustomed as she was to rule her peace-loving husband, his warnings do not seem to have made the shadow of an impression on her, and she continued to play, dance, and flirt with her brother- in-law. But Marie Antoinette was mistaken if she thought that her perfect innocence was sufficient to prevent slander. The Comte de Provence, the natural protector of the throne, hated his sister-in-law, especially after she had become a mother. Even in the cathedral of Notre Dame, at the baptism of little Marie Therese, he slandered her in a most atrocious manner. He was proxy for the absent godfather, the King of Spain, and 68 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. the officiating Cardinal asked him what name was to be given to the child. "That is not the first question," answered the royal Prince; "the first is to enquire who are the father and mother of the baby?" The sneering tone with which he pro- nounced the words sufficiently indicated his meaning. They fell on fruitful soil, and it was believed at court that the Comte d'Artois was the father. The report was current for a time- before it reached beyond the highest circles. But as the hatred of the people increased against Marie Antoinette, public opinion accepted the insinuation which the Comte de Provence had expressed, and clung to it tenaciously. Among the gentlemen whose company Marie Antoinette enjoyed Baron Besenval deserves to be mentioned, as he had decided influence over her will for many years. He belonged to an old Swiss family, and, after having served the King of France with honour in the Seven Years' War, had been made a field-marshal and commander of the Swiss Guards at Versailles. He was no longer young, in spite of a juvenile appearance. He had retained the frugal habits of the Swiss, and was apparently without ambition, though he liked to pose as a protector in order to show off his influence. He was courted for his liveliness, but dreaded on account of his biting sarcasm, as he allowed himself to express his opinion sharply to every- body and about everything. The Queen appreciated his superior intelligence, and listened to him the more eagerly as he openly declared himself an ally of the ex-Minister Choiseul, thus showing Swiss steadfastness of character by his adherence to a man in disgrace. But still we must confess that his influence was unhealthy, and his malicious remarks continually excited the Queen's love of ridicule. Besides, she carried her intimacy with him so far as to reveal to him the secrets of her married life, and to join with him in making fun of her husband. In the streets was heard : "La Reine dit imprndemment A Besenval son confident : 'Mon mari est im pauvre sire.' L'autre r^pond d'un ton leger : 'Chacun le pense sans le dire, Vous le dites sans y penser."' Besenval's influence received a check one day when a bright smile and kind look from his royal mistress's beautiful eyes roused the feelings of the Swiss to fever heat. Forgetting his fifty years, and especially that she was a queen, he threw himself at her feet and stammered forth the declaration of his love. " Rise, Besenval," said Marie Antoinette, " the King must not hear of this imprudent act, which would lose you his favour for ever." She felt herself affronted as a queen; but the woman in her saw no great insult in his words. Declara- MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 69 tions of love are injuries which a woman in the depths of her heart can nearly always find it easy to forgive. Her confidence was shaken ; but her resentment did not last long, and she remained on a friendly footing with Besenval even after that day. He lived to see the French monarchy fall to pieces with regret, and defended it, sword in hand, till shortly before the 'crash, and died two years prior to the Queen. * * * * * * The Due de Biron, known under the name of Lauzun, has left Memoires which have injured the reputation of Marie Antoinette. He had every advantage possible on his entrance into society, including an attractive appearance and a ready wit. He was nephew to the Duchesse de Choiseul, who> was 1 his mother's sister, and, when only nineteen, had married the beautiful Made- moiselle de Bouftlers, granddaughter and heiress of the Marechal de Luxemburg; but, although his wife was as amiable and clever as she was beautiful, he persistently neglected her. The Queen first met him in the society of the Princesse do Guemene, and received him with kindness as a relative of her old friend, the former Minister, Choiseul. She is hardly free from blame in this intercourse, and though she may not have been in love with him, her preference for his society was far too apparent. Lauzun maintains that he never became her lover, simply because he himself did not wish it. Whatever her feelings may have been they did not last long, and her goodwill towards him soon cooled, though the handsome noble- man continued to express an insulting passion for her, and in order to attract her attention he adopted the livery of the royal servants. He followed her like a shadow by day, and all through the night he sat like a watch-dog at the threshold of her room. All his advances remained unnoticed, and yet he did not tire of his menial disguise. One day when Marie Antoinette was about to enter her carriage he had the conceit to kneel and force her to use his person as a step. The Queen, who was short-sighted, looked at this supposed lacquey through her eyeglass with amazement; but, on recognizing him, she appeared not to know him, and called for one of her pages. " See that this man is dismissed," she said ; " he is a lout, and cannot even open a carriage door." A few years before the Revolution broke out the old Due de Biron died, and Lauzun, who was heir to his name and titles, should have been promoted to the post of commander-in-chief of the French Guard, but another was chosen in preference, according to the wishes of the Queen. He afterwards joined the party of the Due d'Orle&ns, and became one of Marie Antoinette's bitterest enemies. In 1792 he was the darling of the democrats and a general in the Republican army ; but three months after the execution 70 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. of the Queen lie too mounted the scaffold, and is said to havei exclaimed in his last moments : " I have been faithless to my God, to my station in life; and to my King; I die full of faith and repentance." He sullied the reputation of the Queen during his life, and has continued his persecution of her after his death, for Les Memoires de Lauzun, which were published in 1818, are a shameful accusation of the woman whom he pretended to love so deeply. # * -x- * * * It was the 10th of January, 1774, that the Swedish Ambassador, Count Creutz, introduced his young countryman, Johan Axel Fersen, to the Dauphiness, when neither of them could possibly realise that this was the first step towards a, friendship which was to prove of such exciting import to them both. Fersen was only nineteen on his arrival in France. The Dauphiness was the same age, so that they were almost children at the time of this first meeting. Marie Antoinette was eager to please and welcome the Swedish Count, the bearer of a well- known old name, with cordiality. Fersen was already attractive with his manly carriage and his calm, beautiful, though some- what cold features. The very first impression he made on the Dauphiness was, however, not a very deep one. A few days after the introduction chance procured them another meeting, this time at a masked ball. He was walking about, contem- plating and admiring the scene, when a domino approached him and began to talk. She was elegant and her voice was refined. He enjoyed the adventure, and the stranger remained talking to him for some time, while all around people were laying their heads together and whispering, " Who is this stranger 1 " One can easily picture his surprise when the mask made herself known as the Dauphiness. Fersen remained some time in Paris, where he was welcomed in the highest circles. Before his return he was present at a court ball in Versailles, when he met the Dauphiness for the third time, though on this occasion she did not address him. He left France a few weeks after the death of Louis XV., and did not return for three years. It is hardly likely that he flattered himself the Queen would recognize him ; but, at any rate, he did not expect the reception he met with when he went to Versailles to be presented to the new sovereigns. Just before the introduction, a voice, which had been fixed in his memory, exclaimed : " But that is an old acquaintance." Marie Antoinette had recognized him the very minute he had entered the room, and his joy at this mark of royal interest was heightened, as he felt that it was not due to a caprice of the moment. The Queen took evident pleasure in showing him each day fresh marks of her favour. He constantly received invitations to Trianon, and was one of the most welcome guests. Balls, theatricals. MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 71 and fetes followed one after the other, and Fersen shared in them all. When he talked to ladies there was such grace in his movements, such gentleness in his voice, and such a mixture of devotion and respect in his manner, that he won all hearts. He was called "Zephyr," or "beautiful Fersen," and all were unanimous that he was one of the most polished courtiers that they had seen for a long while. There is no doubt that the Queen read his admiration of her in his looks, and the intimacy between them soon became apparent, while a thousand small signs showed that they were on the verge of a mutual attach- ment. During one of the reunions in Trianon the Queen sat down to the piano and sang with evident emotion one of the pretty verses from the opera of Dido, beginning : "Ah ! que je fus bien inspire Quand je vous reus dans ma cour ! " As she sang she looked expressively at the bashful Fersen, who hardly dared to admit to himself that he had made so deep an impression. He had too much penetration not to perceive that JMarie Antoinette's attention might become dangerous to them both in the face of the jealous watching and slanderous remarks to which they were exposed. In contrast with the French courtier, who proudly boasted of the favour he conceived himself to possess, the chivalrous Fersen only thought of saving her reputation at the cost of any sacrifice to himself, and there was only one means of silencing malicious tongues; he must leave the Queen and the French court. Circumstances con- curred to further his plans. The War of Independence had broken out in America, and the cause of the rebellious colonists had aroused great sympathy in France, from whose harbours arms and military supplies were constantly being shipped. His wish to lessen the power of England induced Louis XVI. to side with those who were struggling for liberty against the mother country, and crowds of young Frenchmen were leaving for the war on the other side of the Atlantic. Axel Fersen joined them, and asked for permission to enter one of the regiments being formed by Lafayette and Rochambau. Marie Antoinette was as unable to disguise her sorrow at his departure as she had been to hide her affection for him, and she could not refrain her tears each time she looked at him before he left. Her favourite did not relax in his respectful reserve. Referring to his journey, the wife of an envoy said to him : " How is this, Count, you are renouncing your conquest?" "If I had made a conquest I would not renounce it," answered the cautious Fersen. " I am leaving France free from every tie, and unfor- tunately without a regret." At the conclusion of the war h returned. The favour in which he again stood was calculated to awaken the surmises which his stay in America was to have MARIE ANTOIXET dispelled. Tlie Queen received him among her most intimate friends, and made him even still more her favourite. His father, as well as the Swedish Ambassador, repeatedly tried to induce him to make a suitable marriage. At first the young man appeared willing to enter into their plans, but invariably with- drew from an alliance before the decisive moment. In spite of the Queen's inconstancy and Mightiness there is every reason to believe that this was the man who really loved her, and we may certainly point to all her helpers and defenders B hour of need as men whose affection for her was genuine. ****** After having dwelt, one by one, on the men who were suspected at the time of being the lovers of this unfortunate Queen, we must turn our attention to one who was recognised as " the man who suffered from an unfortunate attachment for Marie Antoinette," His name waa Gastelnaux, and his home was at Bordeaux. For ten years he followed her like a shadow. He moved with the court. Wherever the Queen appeared he was to be seen, standing immovably. In church he was always in . and was never absent when the royal pair dined in presence o peopK*. he theatre he was as close as possible to the royal box, and at Marie Antoinette's public card parties, which lasted two hours, his eyes were fixed upon her from the moment she arrived until she left. He went to Fontainebleau, Cloud, or to one of the other castles as soon as he knew of the movements of the Royal Family, and on the arrival of Majesty he was the first person she saw as she alighted from her carriage. Castelnaux never spoke to a soul, be was simply engrossed in the contemplation of the Queen's features. Thin, silent, and wan, with large melancholy eyes, he gave the impression of being s. sane. But 'it was impossible to prevent him from meeting and following the Queen with his ardent looks exc< resting him, and Marie Antoinette would not allow this. He at first frightened her, but afterwards she felt compassion for him, and became accustomed to his presence, which she even missed during her own time of trouble. When she was led away to prison Castelnaux shut himself up in a room in Paris, and there, not wishing to survive the Queen's misfortune, he sought and found death by his own hand MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 7 CIIAPTEK XV. Marie Antoinette and Politics. SINCE the days of Anne of Austria no queen of France bad taken any active part in polities. Tradition kept them aloof from affairs of state, and the consorts of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. occupy no place in history. Marie Antoinette had not the least interest in the subject, and even if she had possessed the ability, it would have been extremely difficult for her to exercise her talents during the early years of the reign of Louis XVI. Maurepas, -who had become Minister on the accession of her husband, had held the office under Louis XIV., and had aided three kings with his counsel. He was a man of great ability, and Louis XVI. looked upon him as indispensable as a leader. The nation, on the contrary, compared him to a windmill that noisily beats the air with its wings, but to very little profit. He was not a bad man, and his plans for the State were useful, but from the beginning he was hostile to Marie Antoinette. He knew how much she felt she owed to Choiseul, and how earnestly she wished to see him take his place again at the King's council board. He feared this would happen if the Queen had any influence, so that circumstances made it essential for him to rank among her enemies. But it was only in secret that he opposed the Queen in her presence he played the part of a devoted subject. When she let it be seen one day that she did not like his influence over the King, he answered in his suave courtier tone: "If I displease Your Majesty you have only to request the King to dismiss me. My horses are ready ; I can leave at any moment." The Queen' allowed herself "to be deceived by his duplicity, and Maurepas remained Minister until his death. Although the King was now beginning to love his wife, lie carefully avoided imparting political secrets to her. It If ported of Maurepas, on good authority, that he encouraged her love of pleasure and rejoiced over her imprudence, because it injured her in the eyes of the people and distracted her thoughts from more important things. The following fragment of a letter from Marie Antoinette to her brother gives an insight into her connection with French politics during the long years that Maurepas was in power. It was written while Joseph II. was urging her to use her influence to the advantage of her native land: " The King is not naturally communicative," she writes, "and it rarely happens that he talks to me about important matters, even when he has not the least intention of hiding them from me. He 74 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. replies when I ask him a question, but he does not tell me things of his own accord. If I get to know a few details, I have to use all my diplomacy to induce the Ministers to tell met the remainder, by making them believe that the King has already told me the whole. If I reproach Louisi for not having mentioned these tilings to me, he is not angry ; he either looks confused or replies straight out that he had never thought of it. I can clearly see that I have not the least influence over politics. Before my marriage the King's natural distrust was encouraged by his tutor, and Monsieur Vauguyon inspired him with fear of the dominion a wife would gain over him. His sinister nature took pleasure in filling his pupils with false reports, designed to depreciate the house of Austria. Although Monsieur Maurepas is less determined and less malicious, he has thought it desirable, for the exercise of his own power, to maintain the King in the same convictions. Monsieur Vergennes also adopts this plan, and probably uses his correspondence about foreign affairs to spread mischief and lies. I have spoken seriously to the King more than once on the subject, and more than once he lias replied angrily. As he is not willing to talk to me, I have not been able to convince him that either his Ministers are mis- informed or they are deceiving him. I am not blind with refer- ence to my own influence ; I know that about politics especially my power over the King is small indeed. . . ." The visit of her brother was not simply concerned with the wish to see his sister again and to learn something about France. Some old rights that the house of Habsburg thought to possess had aroused in him the longing to appropriate Lower Bavaria, and the moment seemed favourable to claim the aid of France. Although they had parted with expressions of mutual esteem, Louis XVI. did not approve of his brother-in-law's political plans. The attempt of Austria to enlarge her borders was, moreover, met by the King of Prussia with the assurance that he would give his support to those already in possession; and when alt attempts at mediation proved useless, Frederick the Great marched into Bohemia with a large army in the summer of 1778. Even Marie Antoinette's own mother, whom she really loved, found it difficult to awaken her interest in politics. But at this crisis Maria Theresa did not appeal in vain to the Queen's filial feelings. She wrote to her not as to a child she was scolding, but an important ally, whom she entreated to further the cause of Austria and watch over the house of Habsburg. There was no wish in France to break with the house of Austria, but also not the least desire to support this present scheme. Three anxious months passed with entreaties on the part of Maria Theresa " to save a mother who can do no more." The pressure she used and her despairing letters finally made her daughter quite ill. Marie Antoinette had disputes with the King, and MABIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 75 when she appealed to the Ministers she wept, and sought by every means to influence them in favour of Austria. Maria Theresa, who shrank from bloodshed in her latter years, was at the same time using other means to prevent this War of Succession, and it was by the mediation of France and Russia that the disputants were reconciled ; but Joseph had to relinquish his claims. This is the only instance in which the mother's earnest entreaties seem to have overcome the Queen's personal dislike to politics, but Madame de Polignac had several times proved more influential, and drawn her into mischievous interference in the home politics of France. One of Marie Antoinette's first and most egregious errors was to join the opponents of honest Turgot. He displeased her because he opposed the appointments she wished. She im- prudently encouraged court intrigues against him, and finally so worked upon the King that he reluctantly dismissed him. Malesherbes succeeded Turgot, and the people, who began to suspect Louis' indecision, blamed the Queen for the dismissal of honourable and capable Ministers. Maurepas died a month after the birth of the Dauphin, and the King, who had visited him several times during his illness and shown him every mark of sincere attachment, was deeply grieved by his loss. Marie Antoinette's influence became more prominent after the death of the old Minister. Without bearing the title, Vergennes was the virtual head of the Ministry. He had supported his predecessor in his efforts to prevent the Queen's interference in affairs of State, and was determined to continue the same policy. But the Polignac clique was more powerful than the statesman. Clever and ambitious courtiers persuaded her to meddle in affairs she could not understand for want of insight and experience. Too ready to accept the views of her friends, and too easily con- vinced by their arguments, she perceived too late that she was their dupe. Her political activity was neither good for herself nor profitable to the State. " Alas ! " she exclaimed one day to Madame Campan, " I have not been happy since I became a mischief-maker. Yes, it is true, a woman who meddles in things she does not understand things beyond the limits of her capacity is nothing better than a mischief-maker." One main point of which she is accused is the appointment of Calonne to be Minister of Finance " Controleur General " which is universally ascribed to Marie Antoinette. At first she had no particular liking for Calonne, but the crafty courtier had managed to ingratiate himself with financiers, the nobility, and the royal princes. The Comte d'Artois and the Comtesse de Polignac were enthusiastic about his proposed reforms, while other influential men and women declared that he, and none other, was capable of bringing order into the finances. Madame de Polignac went to the Queen and begged her to use her influ- 76 MABIE ANTOINETTE. ence in favour of Calonne, whom she believed to be a man of extraordinary ability, and Marie Antoinette allowed herself to be again persuaded to listen to the pleadings of her friend. She soon repented it, and did not hide her displeasure. "I am afraid," she said in Madame de Polignac's salon, " that the financial affairs of the State have passed from the hands of an honest but incapable man into those of a clever schemer." By means of a new loan Calonne was in a position to act with reckless extravagance. He strained every nerve to gain the favour of the Queen and the higher classes, and by degrees he became a constant guest at Trianon. Marie Antoinette's distrust vanished. She wished to believe that such a pleasant man in society must be an equally reliable statesman. Whenever she expressed a wish, Calonne used to reply with his diplomatic, courtier smile : " If what Your Majesty desires is possible, it is already carried ,out ; if it is impossible, it shall be carried out." The American war had recently come to an honourable ter- mination. Everything seemed to be secure in the kingdom, and thousands of gold pieces passed from the hands of the generous Finance Minister into those of the Queen whenever she said she had need of them. It had been stipulated in her marriage contract that the State should purchase a castle, which was to become her private property. She thought that this was the suitable moment in which to claim the fulfilment of the promise, and cast her eyes on the Castle of St. Cloud, which be- longed to the Orleans family. Calonne replied to her enquiries that the Treasury could well afford this outlay, and the Castle was purchased for six million francs. But the repairs, the furniture necessary for a new royal residence, and the laying out of the gardens, in which the Queen took a great interest, in- creased the expenses to as much again. Calonne's star waned, and a cry of anger broke out over the land at the lavish expendi- ture of Marie Antoinette. But while the Minister was blamed for the failure of his plans, she was held responsible for his appointment. The Comtesse de Provence gave her hated sister- in-law the nickname of " Madame Deficit." It was an ill-omened one, for it awoke an echo among the people, and confirmed the belief that she was the cause of their lack of money. Choiseul died before the dismissal of Calonne, and during his illness the Queen had daily sent to enquire after him. On his death she lost an old friend, whose return to the Ministry she had hoped for up to the last. A week after Calonne was dismissed, Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, became Minister of Finance. Abbe Vermond, who had been chosen as teacher for Marie Antoinette on his recom- mendation, had already repeatedly tried to procure him an appointment in the Ministry. The King had little wish to see him at the council board, but the Queen, who, thanks to Abbe* MABIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 77 Vermond, had a high opinion of the Archbishop, had accus- tomed herself to look upon him as a future leader. Among the clergy his influence was unbounded. He was a member of the French Academy. The Due de Choiseul had recommended him to Louis XV., and public opinion envied him the post formerly filled by Fleury, Richelieu, and Mazarin. Marie Antoinette spoke to the King repeatedly on the subject, and finally persuaded him that it was necessary to appoint Brienne. They both believed that it was a vital question of safety to the State. But the Archbishop was evidently not the man to restore peace and content in the land. The disappointment at his inefficiency was great, and before a year was over he had to resign his post. He had been immoderately flattered before he became Minister, and after his fall he was blamed with equal exaggeration. Brienne's appointment was the last public act in which Marie Antoinette exerted her influence before the hatred of the popu- lace broke out in all its fury. It was notHill a later period of her life, when the royal bark was tossed on the tempestuous waves of the Revolution, that it became necessary for her in all seriousness to support its weak helmsman, the King, with her guidance and her counsel. CHAPTER XVI. Marie Antoinette as Mother Madame de Polignac as Gouvernante to the Royal Children Beaumarchais and his Comedies. MARIE ANTOINETTE felt the importance of her fresh duties as a mother. The unreality of court life had long been burdensome to her, but now its emptiness pained her, as she craved for some- thing more satisfying to her mind, and she renounced many of the pleasures that had formerly occupied her time. It is true that she was still very imprudent the habits of seven or eight years' standing cannot be discarded in a day but it was easy to see that she meant to lead a different life. She knew that her own education had been imperfect, and she was anxious with her own children to avoid the mistakes of Maria Theresa with refer- ence to herself. She became a tender, but at the same time a strict and sensible mother, and as the waves of the Revolution seemed to roll nearer and nearer she applied herself all the more seriously to her work, as she felt that it was she who was responsible for the education of the heirs to the tottering throne of France. Three years after the birth of the Dauphin (1784), another prince was born to the royal house, who, later on, bore the name 78 MARIE ANTOINETTE. of Louis XVII., and had the title of Duke of Normandy. The following year saw the birth of a princess, Sofie Beatrice, who only lived a year. It seems that it was the birth of the Duke of Normandy that really roused the Queen to a more serious life. During her most pleasure-seeking days she had rarely forgotten her religious duties, but now she began to confess much more frequently, and to hold long conversations with her father- confessor and other priests. She instituted a complete reform with reference to her wardrobe, banished all extravagant styles of dressing, and even the use of flowers and feathers. Her more intimate friends were alarmed at this change in her taste, and began to fear that their influence must yield to that of the priests. She allowed no pride of birth to take root in her children, and banished everything that could foster arrogance in them. She was especially strict with her eldest daughter, whom she loved, but to whose faults she was not blind. " My daughter, who is now six years old," she wrote in a letter, " has rather a difficult character, and is intensely proud. She feels far too strongly that the blood of Maria Theresa and Louis XIV. flows in her veins. It is right she should remember it, but only to prove herself worthy of her descent. Gentleness is just as necessary, just as powerful a quality as dignity, and a haughty character is never beloved." At ten o'clock the Princess was brought to her mother's room, where teachers were waiting to instruct her till twelve o'clock ; but it happened one morning that " Madame Royale " was not disposed to read. She complained of head- ache, and requested that the master might be dismissed. " Cer- tainly, my little one," said the Queen. "You shall go to bed, as your head is bad, and you need not dine to-day." A few hours later the Princess was very hungry, and asked for some- thing to eat. She was reminded of her headache, and of the com- mand of the Queen that she was to remain in bed without food. But her hunger became unbearable ; she confessed the untruth, and begged her mother's forgiveness. Marie Antoinette for- gave her, but she insisted that she should not lose the lesson she had tried to escape. When the time for her daughter's confirmation was approach- ing she had her instructed with different young girls of her own age, and would not allow the least distinction to be made between them. The Princesse de Gueme'nee, of whom we have already spoken, was the first gouvernante of the royal children. Her husband was at one time possessed of a large fortune, but the boundless extravagance of himself and his wife had brought them to the verge of bankruptcy, and he had long been borrowing at usurious interest on the one hand to cover pressing claims on the other. Early in the eighties his position was untenable. He could pay nothing more, and his bankruptcy caused a painful sensation, as it also brought about the ruin of numbers of small MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 79 tradesmen, servants, and artisans, who had trusted the man of rank with their last hardly-earned shilling. His wife could not possibly be retained as gouvernante to the royal children after this scandal, and the Queen at once turned to Madame de Polignac as a suitable person to replace her. Her friend shrank from the responsibility of the appointment. She was, moreover, aware of the jealousy to which she would be exposed, and of the number of fresh enemies she would create for herself, if she accepted the office. But her relations urged her to yield to the Queen's entreaties. Tlie appointment was made, and Marie Antoinette's favourite was promoted by this step to the highest position of power and influence. Her residence was not the modest suite of apartments which former gouvernantes had been accustomed to occupy, but it was a magnificent castle, the usual residence of Her Majesty. " Here I am myself," the Queen used to say. She spent whole days with her friend, and commanded that the nobility should assemble there. In this way the home of Madame de Polignac became the rendezvous for all the great of the land, the Ministers, and the Ambassadors. There was only one thing missing, and that was the royal guard. Their absence alone showed that these salons were not literally those of the King and Queen. The position of the favourite was not without its discomforts, though it is true that, especially in the beginning, Marie Antoinette divided her affection fairly equally between her children and their gouvernante. The delicacy of the elder Prince added considerably to the duties of Madame de Polignac, who was in constant anxiety -concerning the health of the heir to the throne. The little Prince, who had formerly been so quick and lively, had become thin, wan, and deformed. One shoulder was higher than the other, a hump had formed on his back, and he had already lost all the brightness and buoyancy of childhood. His mother, who had been so proud of her child, hid him from the eyes of strangers, for the future wearer of a crown who could not bear his own weight was but too often a subject for ridicule. Madame de Polignac was selfish in many respects, but it must be said in her praise that she spared no pains in her care for the suffering and exacting Prince, and tried to prevent the occurrence of anything that might distress the child, whose days seemed to be numbered. His tutor, the Due de Harcourt, and his wife were filled with jealousy of Madame de Polignac, and excited the hatred of the young Prince towards his mother's friend. Young as he was, he ordered her to leave the room in which he was. He would take nothing from her hand, and listened to her remonstrances with the most utter contempt. The gouvernante complained bitterly about the persecution of the Harcourt family, and the dissension between them was a source of great grief to Marie Antoinette, who did her best to pacify SO MAKIE ANTOINETTE. her son, and made herself a perfect slave to his caprices. She would most probably have succeeded in restoring the Dauphin's confidence in Madame de Polignac, if an abominable slander had not turned away the heart of the child from his mother. Her enemies spread the shameful report that, in consequence of the bodily infirmities of her eldest son, the Queen had transferred ah 1 her affection to her second boy, who was stronger and perfectly made. Harcourt maliciously used this lie for his own evil ends. He persuaded the Prince not to eat or drink anything that had not been examined by the doctors, and hinted that the women who were in closest attendance on him were seeking to shorten his days. These scandalous suggestions had such an influence on the delicate, excitable, nervous system of the little Dauphin, that after a time he never saw his mother without screaming. * # * # * * The most powerful families in the land had cooled in their affection towards the Queen from the moment that she had raised the Polignacs, poor and provincial, but of noble descent, to posts to which they, as of higher birth, considered themselves entitled. The aristocracy never forgave her the slight to them, when she selected as her intimate friends those whom they looked upon as immeasurably beneath them. As they were not invited to Trianon, they did not care to go to Versailles. The nobility withdrew, the royal Castle was deserted, for few considered it their duty to attend. The ladies-in-waiting, who were no longer needed except on Sundays and festivals, vented their wrath in slander, not only about the elect who had access to Marie Antoinette's private circle, but especially about their Queen who dispensed her favours so unjustly, with so much partiality. Court officials, and those who had business at Versailles, were the only people present, even on Sundays, when the King met his Ministers, and the little town which had been the scene of Louis XIV/s triumph, and to which all Europe pressed to study chivalry and polite manners, was at the close of Louis XVI 's reign not much better than a village, which people left as quickly as possible when their necessary business was accomplished. On a week day the gardens, the ante-rooms and the inner apartments, where gay crowds had formerly moved about, looked so deserted that a stranger might have thought the King was not there. But ambition and avarice were as prominent as ever, only instead of appealing direct to the King and Queen, applicants turned with their cringing petitions to those who were then enjoying the royal favour. Those who had rejoiced on the accession of Louis XVI. now declared that he had neither the virtues nor the tastes of a king. But Marie Antoinette was more bitterly hated, for she had contributed far more than her husband to set aside MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 81 what the people liked and had been accustomed to. Le Mariage de Figaro, by Beaiunarchais, which in its original form was full of satire against the royal house, strengthened every class all over the kingdom in their unfavourable opinion of Marie Antoinette. The poet begged in vain that his play might be performed, but the King was persistent in his refusal. His opposition, however, only served to stimulate curiosity, and people were at length determined to hear it read in their own drawing-rooms. In spite of the King's prohibition, Beaumarchais had the assurance to declare that it should be performed, even if it were in Notre Dame itself. The Comte de Provence greatly admired the piece, and laughed loudly as it was read to him, not even caring that his merriment was heard below in the street, while the Comte d'Artois incessantly repeated : " It is only small minds that fear small writings," an expression that occurs in the piece. The Queen could not conceive why her husband should attach such importance to the performance of a play, and the higher classes, who wished to see themselves depicted, were eager for the representation of a comedy por- traying the foibles of the day. Louis ended by yielding to the pressure of public opinion. Everybody was delighted, and immoderately eager to see Le Mariage de Figaro. " It will be a failure," remarked a gentleman to the actress Sophie Arnould before the first representation. " Then it will be a failure fifty days following," replied the famous artiste. She was right; it was played not on fifty, but on one hundred consecutive nights, and from eight o'clock in the morning people stood in long rows outside the theatre waiting to buy their tickets. " There is one thing which is madder than my play," said Beaumarchais, " and that is the success it has had." It was full of malice against the higher classes, and ambiguous insult to the royal house. In a moment of exasperation the King sent Beaumarchais, not to the Bastille, but to St. Lazare, which was much more humiliating. Public opinion thought this unjust, and Louis repented of his hastiness. Marie Antoinette, wishing to compensate the author for the wrong done to him, determined that his next piece should be played at Trianon, and that she herself would take part in it, with Beaumarchais as director. This was a triumph for him, but intense imprudence on the part of the Queen. In spite of the small number of spectators who were present at the per- formance of Le Barbier de Seville^ there were more than enough to spread the details, and it was remarkable to hear a royal prince,* certainly in joke, but on the Queen's own stage, utter bitter reproaches against the nobility, and even the King, of France. *The Comte d'Artois played Figaro. F 82 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. A dangerous party had long been forming against the Queen at the very foot of the throne itself, and the enmity of the old nobility at the tune when other classes were intriguing against their rulers had weakened the royal power to defend its rights. Blind and egotistical as they were, the aristocracy could not see that the grave they were digging for their Queen was opening for themselves, and that every blow against Marie Antoinette was shaking, not only the throne, but even their own privileges. CHAPTER XVII. The Necklace. THE smouldering disaffection of 1785 resulted in an attack on the dignity of the Queen, which drove her enemies to unite and show themselves openly, and the chief characters in the famous diamond necklace episode, which ushered in her misfortunes, are the Comtesse de la Motte-Valois, and Louis, Prince de Rohan, priest and cardinal. The Comtesse de la Motte, a very attractive and clever, but intensely artful woman, maintained that she was a descendant of the house of Valois, through the Baron St. Remy, an illegiti- mate son of Henri II. But her high birth had not prevented her mother from running away with a soldier, and her father ended his miserable existence in the workhouse. Johanne Saint- Remy Valois had come to Paris to beg for charity, when she was found by a benevolent lady, who kindly had her trained as a seamstress, and finally took her into her own house. The young girl fled from her benefactress under the pretext that she had been grossly insulted. Circumstances, however, made it advisable for her to marry Comte de la Motte, a man of loathsome appearance and disreputable character, who was moreover steeped in debt. Without possessing fortune or friends, proud of her family name, but humiliated by poverty, Madame de la Motte dragged out her miserable existence in discontent and penury. She strained every nerve to obtain the favour of the great, and sent petitions in every direction. One day she would go to Versailles, another to Luciennes, where Madame du Barry was then living, thus besieging by turns the mistress of the deceased King and the courtiers of the reigning sovereign, without practical result in either quarter. She begged Madame du Barry to allow her to fill the post of companion, not forgetting to tell her she was a Valois; but the Countess sent word that the Mistress of Luciennes was not of sufficiently high rank to take a lady of such noble birth into her MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 83 service. Then she gained admittance to the ante-room of the Duchesse de Provence, and pretended to faint; but even this comedy was unavailing to fill her empty purse. Finally, she once tried to force her way to Her Majesty's carriage during a procession, but the short-sighted Queen passed on without seeing her, or even her outstretched hand. Marie Antoinette could therefore maintain with truth that she did not know Madame de la Motte, and that she had never even seen her. The second chief character in the story of the diamond neck- lace, Prince Louis de Rohan, belonged to one of the most renowned families in France, and had been appointed envoy at the Austrian court shortly after the marriage of Marie Antoinette. It would have been difficult to make a more un- suitable choice. His knowledge was defective in every department, he was incapable as a diplomatist, and personally objectionable to Maria Theresa on account of his instability and immorality. Rohan calculated on dazzling Vienna by the display of luxury and extravagance, but his lavishness was disapproved of at court, and he rarely obtained a private audience with the Empress, who expressed her opinion unre- servedly about his conduct, both as a priest and a diplomatist. Difficulties soon arose, and this empty show was but of short continuance. In order to get money, Rohan abused the power he had as envoy, and even smuggled with such audacity that the Austrian Government was obliged to withdraw the privilege of exemption from duty on his account. In the course of a single year more silk materials were sold from the Embassy than in Paris and Lyons together. One of the first steps taken by Louis XVI. on his accession was to recall Rohan from Vienna, and then to refuse to receive him on his return. Marie Antoinette did not address a single word to him. She could not conquer an anxious presentiment that this man would work her mischief, though by what means she could not possibly foresee. But never has any fact been more clearly proved than her deep, persistent aversion towards the Cardinal. Marshal Soubise was the head of the family, and the Comtesse de Marsan was his sister and aunt to Prince Louis Rohan. The Princesse de Gu6menee also belonged to the same family. The diplomatist had barely returned from Vienna after his disgrace than his family united to procure him fresh honours and emoluments. They defied the coolness of the Queen and the displeasure of the King with such persistency that they finally gained their point. He was made an archbishop, court chaplain (grand aum6nier de France), and, at the request of the King of Poland, the Pope created him a cardinal. The young Queen used all her influence to dissuade the King from appointing him a court chaplain, but her power at this time was very slight, 84 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. und the family of Rohan Soubise triumphed over the weak and vacillating King. Cardinal Rohan was not only extremely shallow and extrava- gant, but inordinately vain. Treated with marked coolness by Marie Antoinette, received with scant courtesy when he waited on the King, humiliated in his high position, and his ambition as a courtier ignored, he understood but too well that as long as he was in disgrace with the Queen he was deprived of all power and influence. He exerted himself to the utmost to gain her favour and wrote letter after letter to her, which she did not even deign to open. In spite of his own efforts and the exertions of his family on his behalf, he was never honoured with one word or one look from Her Majesty. All the memoirs of the period, as well as every detail connected with the necklace story, confirm the truth of this statement. But the prelate was not to be deterred by the futility of his efforts. On the contrary, Marie Antoinette's coolness only increased his ardour, till it became an ungovernable passion. The Comtesse de la Motte unhappily crossed his path at this juncture, and though his position as a priest ought to have precluded intimacy with the adventuress, she succeeded in a very short time in gaining his confidence. She told him of her pecuniary difficulties, and he gave her money for her most pressing needs. Then she discovered without effort his burning desire to become intimate with the Queen, though it was not till after they had been acquainted for a couple of years that she told the Cardinal that Marie Antoinette was her friend, and that she was distressed to find how misfortunes had overwhelmed a descendant of Henri II. She said that the Queen could not bear the thought that a lady of the house of Valois should be in such misery, and was generously assisting her, besides honour- ing her with her friendship. She maintained that she was allowed secret meetings with the Queen, who often begged the Comtesse to execute private commissions for her. Although the Cardinal himself was in disgrace, his powerful family con- nections would have made it easy for him to ascertain the truth of these statements. But this never seems to have occurred to him, and in the meantime he believed the woman, who to complete her deception showed him letters full of kindness, which she said were written by the Queen, containing " My dear Comtesse," "My dear heart," and similar friendly and tender expressions. The Comtesse pretended to be quite touched by the generosity of the Cardinal towards her in her poverty, and assured him that she was prepared to use her influence on his behalf. Her plan was laid, and she followed it out with discretion and perseverance worthy of a better cause. Rohan was charmed, and his temptress kept him in good spirits, assuring him that Marie Antoinette's prejudice against MAEIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 85 him was gradually disappearing, and that she would at last consent to receive a written explanation from him. With Madame de la Motte as intermediary a supposed correspondence between Her Majesty and himself was begun. Rohan's letters were full of gratitude and enthusiasm. The Queen's were also very friendly, and were written by a former police officer, a friend of Monsieur de la Motte, who undertook the trouble of imitating Marie Antoinette's handwriting. Rohan had not the least suspicion; he was blinded by hope, and there was only one thing wanting to crown his happiness he longed to hear from the Queen's own mouth the words of forgiveness that had been repeated again and again in her letters. The Comtesse de la Motte was somewhat puzzled by this request, but the Cardinal was so persistent that she finally promised him a personal interview with Her Majesty. The meeting was not to take place in the Castle at Versailles, but in the garden; not at one of the usual receptions, but some evening. Rohan was happy. He walked patiently up and down in the park, one evening after another, anticipating the moment which was to crown his bliss. Late one evening the Comtesse came to him and said, "Be quick; the Queen allows you to approach." The Cardinal hastened after the deceiver, who showed him the way to a dark path bordered by a hedge. Here he saw a lady dressed in white, who handed him a rose as she murmured, " You know what this means." At the same moment a man hastened towards them. " Look," he whispered, " there are the Duchesse de Provence and the Duchesse d'Artois coming this way." " Hasten, hasten," cried Madame de la Motte, and the lady disappeared behind the hedge ; but the Cardinal remained, con- vinced that he had seen Marie Antoinette and had heard her voice. He knelt on the grass which the supposed Queen had pressed, covered it with burning kisses, and returned home, simply intoxicated with joy. " That bewitching rose," he wrote the following day to Marie Antoinette, " is on my heart. I shall keep it all my life, and it will continually recall to me the first hour of my happiness." The Countess took his glowing letter in order to give it to the Queen. She and her husband read it together, enjoyed them- selves heartily at the expense of the too credulous Cardinal, and threw the paper into the fire, which had already consumed so many previous communications. The deluded priest never suspected the duplicity of Madame de la Motte. He had always been kind and sympathising towards her, and could not think that she was plotting his further disgrace. The renowned quack, Cagliostro, whom many people looked upon as a supernatural being, and in whom Rohan placed great confidence, had more- over told him that this correspondence would bring about his 86 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. promotion to the very highest position, and that power and fortune depended on his silence and patience. While Rohan was besieging Madame de la Motto with enr treaties to help in bringing about a meeting with the Queen, her husband had noticed in the streets a woman whose features recalled those of Her Majesty. He followed her and made her acquaintance, when he learnt that she was Mademoiselle le Guay, a chorus-singer in one of the minor theatres in Paris, a girl of doubtful reputation, known under the name of Oliva in the society which she frequented. After about a week's interval, the Count went to see her in her own home, and told her that a lady in a very high position wished to see her, and intimated that a meeting between them would shortly be arranged. The same evening Madame de la Motte herself visited the girl in her garret. " My dear," she said, " you do not know me, but I beg you to trust me. I am connected with the court ; in fact, I am the Queen's right hand, and possess her entire confidence. She has deputed me to find a lady who would be willing to do her a service when the time comes, and I have thought of you. If you will oblige me I will give you 15,000 francs, and you may expect a still more valuable gift from the Queen." To prove the truth of these words she showed her the forged letters which had already induced the Cardinal to believe in the friendship of Marie Antoinette for the Comtess de la Motte. They con- vinced Oliva that one of Her Majesty's intimate friends had condescended to enter her humble dwelling. The stranger spoke of services required of her in the highest quarters, which naturally surprised this low-born girl, though she was delighted at the honour that had been shown her. It was arranged that Count de la Motte was to fetch her with a carriage next day, and accompany her to Versailles. He arrived at the appointed time, and with him Marc-Anton Retaux de Villette, the accomplice in the plot, whom we have already seen. They drove to Versailles, where the Countess had preceded them with her maid, and alighted at the hotel in which she generally stayed. The two gentlemen disappeared for a moment, but returned quickly to tell Oliva that the Queen was delighted that she had come, and was impatient to see her the next day. "What am I to do?" asked Oliva. "You will know to- morrow," was the mysterious answer. The meeting between Rohan and the supposed Queen was fixed for the next day, and the descendant of Henri of Valois prepared this girl for the occasion with her own hands. She dressed her in a white gown over a pale pink under-skirt, arranged her hair in the style the Queen was then wearing, threw a little white cloak over her shoulders, and finally placed a letter in her hand. "I shall accompany you into the Castle garden," she said. "A gentle- MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 87 man in a very high position will approach you. Give him this letter and a rose, as you say to him, ' You know what this means.' That is all that will be required of you." The meeting in the garden took place as we have related, but in her confusion Oliva forgot to give the letter she held in her hand. She hastened away, satisfied that she had been able to render the Queen a service and to enjoy herself so much at the same time. She spent the remainder of the night with riotous companions in a neighbouring public-house, and does not appe-ar to have given any further thought to the comedy in which she had acted a part. The Comtesse de la Motte's task was finished, and she could at last enjoy the fruits of her labours. A month after the mysterious meeting the Cardinal received a letter from Marie Antoinette, in which she expressed the wish for 60,000 francs, which she wanted to use for benevolent purposes. The Queen's wish was a command for him. He gave the money to Madame de la Motte, his usual messenger, who still possessed his unshaken confidence. Instead of the 15,000 francs which she had promised, the Countess only. gave 4000 to Oliva, though she assured her that she had acted to the entire satisfaction of Her Majesty. The remainder, by far the larger part of the amount, was used for the support of the la Motte family. Three montha later the supposed Queen was again in pecuniary difficulties and begged this time for 100,000 francs, which the Cardinal paid without delay. The la Motte family began to live in magnificent style, increased their staff of servants, and bought horses and carriages, while the report of the friendly relationship in which the Countess stood to Her Majesty spread rapidly in every quarter. ****** \ We now come to the other part of the story. The court jewellers, Bohmer and Bassange, had made a necklace of diamonds which they valued at 1,600,000 francs. Of course they did not expect to sell it to any but a royal person, and as they were aware of Marie Antoinette's taste for good jewels, they hoped that she would purchase the necklace. One of the courtiers undertook to show it to the King. The Queen had just presented him with their first child, and Louis would have liked to make her the present to mark the occasion. Marie Antoinette examined it and thought it very beautiful, but would not have it. The American war was just beginning, and she rightly maintained that it was far more essential to buy a man-of-war than a necklace. The jewellers sent the ornament to most of the European courts, but all were alarmed at the prohibitory price, and it remained unsold. In despair that he tould not realize the large sum, Bohmer begged Marie Antoinette for an audience. He threw himself on his knees before her and 88 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. wept, and entreated her to purchase the necklace. " Madame," he exclaimed, " I am a ruined man, I am dishonoured if you do not buy it. I cannot survive such a misfortune. I shall drown myself when I leave you." " Rise, Bohmer," said the Queen severely. " I did not order you to make this ornament. The King would give it to me, but I refuse it. Never mention the matter to me again. Take the diamonds out and try to sell them separately, but do not talk of drowning yourself." Bohmer retired, and for a long time was seen no more in Versailles. Then he heard of the intimacy which, according to report, existed between Marie Antoinette and the Comtesse de la Motte. He saw the latter and tried to persuade her to use all her influence to induce Her Majesty to purchase the costly necklace. The Countess asked the jeweller to allow her to see the ornament, and he brought it to her the next day. In the meanwhile she made no promises, and Bohmer began to fear that this last step would prove as useless as his previous attempt. Then, after an interval of three weeks, she told him that the Queen had decided to purchase it, but that she did not wish to negotiate with him personally. A statesman of high rank would communicate with him and conclude the transaction. A few days later Rohan went to him to act on the Queen's behalf. They came to terms about the price of the 1 necklace, which was fixed at 1,600,000 francs. The Queen was to pay the amount in five instalments, with an interval of six months between each one. In the meantime she did not wish her name to appear as the purchaser, but commanded perfect silence respecting the transaction. "When the bargain was concluded Rohan pro- duced a receipt signed : " Received, Marie Antoinette of France." The signature and the letters to the C'ardinal in which the Queen acquainted him with her wishes respecting the necklace were written by Madame de la Motte's former accomplice, Retaux de Villette On other occasions Bohmer had always done business with the Queen herself, and he did not know her handwriting. The Cardinal was of far too high rank and position to allow of suspicion without very good grounds. The jeweller, therefore, confidently gave his diamonds into the hands of a dignitary of the Church. Rohan drove to Versailles the same evening, accompanied by his valet, carrying the casket with its precious contents. He went at once to Madame de la Motte, who had again taken up her quarters in her usual hotel, and hardly had he entered when a messenger arrived with a letter in his hand. The Countess took it, read it, and exclaimed : " It is from the Queen." The man who had brought it was said to be one of the court lacqueys, and the Cardinal really recognized him as the person who had been present in the garden the previous year when he MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 89 had had that nocturnal meeting with Her Majesty. The royal servant, who was of course none other than Retaux de Villette, went out but soon returned. The Cardinal saw with his own eyes that the Countess gave the ornament to him, and he never doubted for a moment that it finally reached the hands of Marie Antoinette. The following day there was a grand fete at court, and the jeweller hastened out to Versailles to see the Queen wearing the diamond necklace. Rohan also drove there to see her with the jewels she had procured through his intervention. They placed themselves in the path of the Royal Family, but a great disappointment awaited them both. Marie Antoinette, who passed them magnificently dressed, was only wearing her old jewels, and Bohmer was surprised that she had given herself so much trouble to procure a necklace which she did not mean to wear. The Cardinal, too, was rather perplexed, but the loving letters he continued to receive quickly consoled him for a time. Months went by. Other fetes took place, but Marie Antoinette never wore the famous necklace. She came to Paris for the christening of the Due de Normandie, but even on this occasion she did not wear it. She met the Cardinal, but treated him with the same coolness and contempt as before. He could not understand her capricious behaviour, but still no suspicion ever entered his mind. In the meantime the Countess, her husband, and their accom- plice had taken the necklace to pieces and sold the diamonds, partly in London and partly in Paris. They had already begun to live as rich people, but now they launched out into unlimited luxury and extravagance. Madame de la Motte squandered money on all sides. She filled her house with treasures, and her caskets with diamonds and pearls. She bought a lovely villa by the seaside, but when Rohan visited her he found her in a miserable garret home ; and when she left the city in the summer she made him believe that she was going to some poor relations in the country. One day when Bohmer met the Cardinal the latter reproached him for not having expressed his thanks to the Queen, and the jeweller hastened to repair his fault. When he was sending his bill for some small present she had bought, he enclosed a note in which he thanked her for the larger order he had recently executed, and concluded with these words: "We feel genuine satisfaction in the knowledge that the handsomest collec- tion of diamonds in existence is in the possession of the most beautiful and best of queens." Marie Antoinette thought that Bohmer was out of his mind. She burnt the letter, and determined to have no more business transactions with the madman. The day for the payment of the first instalment drew nearer and nearer, but the Queen did not pay, and the Countess 90 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. brought the Cardinal instead a much less sum in Her Majesty's name, with a petition that he would effect a temporary post- ponement. Quite by accident Bohmer's partner, Bassange, became ac- quainted with the Queen's genuine handwriting. He compared it with the signature on the receipt in possession of the firm, and detected the difference. The difficulties that had arisen with reference to payment had made him uneasy, but the sight of Marie Antoinette's own handwriting had aroused increased anxiety. "While Bohmer again hastened to Versailles to see the Queen, Bassange hurried off to Madame de la Motte, and threatened her with such proceedings that at length brought her to bum her ships. The bow that had been strained too tight had to snap at last, but the Countess was prepared. She considered this the favourable moment, and let it snap with the most smiling of faces. Her plan was straightforward and its execution easy. " The Cardinal pays for the necklace," she argued, " it is therefore of the greatest importance to him to hide his stupidity and his credulity. He must use every means to avoid the publicity of a transaction which would result in his banishment from court and render him ridiculous for ever." She confessed to the jeweller that he was the victim of a fraud, and that the Queen's signature was a forgery. But she pacified him with reference to the consequences of the deception by impressing upon him that Kohan was bound on his honour moreover, compelled to pay for the necklace to ensure silence on the part of the jewellers. Leaving Bassange standing there at his wits' end, the enterprising Countess hastened to her clerical friend and entreated him to protect her against the Queen, who, she persisted, had ordered the necklace to be purchased, but denied having received it. The prelate now began to discern the abyss into which he had fallen, but still he would not believe the whole truth. He had heard the Queen's voice and had kissed her hand in that dim light in the garden; then all the incidents of the last year, the warm and friendly letters he had received, could not be mere creations of his own brain. His family, to whom he had not confided his supposed intimacy with Marie Antoinette, knew nothing about his despair and anxiety. But he again consulted Cagliostro, hoping that his friend would be able to enlighten him. Far from comforting him, Cagliostro confirmed his anxious suspicions, and advised him to confess everything to the King, or to seek an interview with Bohmer and Bassange as quickly as possible. In the meantime Bohmer had tried, for the second or third time, to gain admittance at Versailles. Marie Antoinette was at Trianon, but he saw one of her ladies, who assured him that Her Majesty had not understood one word of his mysterious letter. He hurried away to Trianon. The Queen was busy MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 91 rehearsing her part in Le Barbier de Seville, and either could not, or would not, receive him there. On her return to Ver- sailles she gathered from the lady that Bohmer was not out of his mind, as she believed, but that he had been shamefully duped. A few days later she sent for him, when the entire plot was brought to light. The Cardinal was then summoned, and the whole court had congregated in the hall when he appeared, wearing his priestly robes. He was ushered into the King's study, where the Queen also was awaiting him. Ten years had passed since the last time he had had the opportunity of looking closely at the real Marie Antoinette, and as he compared her with the woman he had seen in the garden, he lost all self-possession. The Queen had become stouter in the long interval, and her face was more oval in form than that of Mademoiselle Oliva. He shuddered Crom head to foot, and could hardly speak distinctly. " Who ordered you to buy a necklace for the Queen of France 1 " asked the King. " Your Majesty," stammered the Cardinal, " I see, too late, that I have been deceived." " What have you done with the necklace 1 " asked the King further. " I thought the Queen had received it." " Who gave you the commission to buy it?" "A lady named la Motte-Valois, who brought me a letter from the Queen. I thought I was rendering Her Majesty a service by executing her commission." " You thought you were rendering me a service," exclaimed the Queen, beside herself with anger "me, who, since your arrival here at court, have never addressed a single word to you? What could have led you to believe that I should make use of a bishop to do errands that belong to my servants' duties ? " " I understand that I have been duped," repeated the Cardinal. "I will pay for the necklace. I was blinded by the wish to serve Your Majesty, and I suspected no treachery." He then took from his pocket-book the document which bore the supposed signature of the Queen. " This resembles neither the handwriting nor the signature of Her Majesty," said the King, as he examined the receipt. " How is it possible that a Prince de Rohan, the highest ecclesiastic in the land, can believe that the Queen signs herself ' Marie Antoinette of France ' ! Every- body knows that a queen merely signs her Christian name. I am compelled, though reluctantly, to consider you guilty," he continued, " and I demand an apology from your hand. Go into the adjoining room, where you will find ink and paper." Rohan obeyed, but in his confusion and agitation he was hardly able to write a legible line. He returned at the end of a quarter of an hour with a paper in his hand, which the King took and said, " I now inform you that you will be imprisoned." " Sire," exclaimed the Cardinal, "I must always obey your commands. 92 MARIE ANTOINETTE. but spare me from, being arrested in my priestly robes, and before the eyes of the court." "It must be so," answered the King sternly, and left the room. In broad daylight, in the royal castle, the Cardinal was arrested and conducted to the Bastille. But before this he had found an opportunity of sending a message to his private secre- tary, Abb6 Georgel, with orders to burn his letters, and especially those that he had received from the Comtesse de la Motte. They were already burnt when the Commissioner of Police arrived to seal his papers. The King's counsellor, the Comte de Vergennes, who knew that many of the nobility would make strenuous efforts to save their kinsman, wished to hush up such an unheard-of scandal. But the Queen demanded the light of publicity, and she had the King and the other Ministers on her side. In the first instance, she was only angry with Rohan, and believed that he had formed the plot in order to effect her downfall. It was not long after the imprisonment of the Cardinal before the Comtesse de la Motte was found, and she, her husband, and Retaux de Villette were brought to justice. Cagliostro and a few more of Rohan's friends were also arrested, and the girl iwho had personated Her Majesty was imprisoned. Can we picture the sensation caused by this incident 1 ? A Prince de Rohan sent to the Bastille; a Cardinal accused of unlawfully appropriating a necklace? Astonishment waa universal, but anger, too, prevailed on all sides. The nobility were indignant at this proceeding against one of their prominent members, and the priesthood bewailed the imprisonment of their chief dignitary. The Queen's most intimate friends leagued together against her, and the members of the Royal Family, aunts, brothers, and sisters-in-law, loudly blamed Louis and Marie Antoinette for the step they had taken. All who were opposed to sovereign supremacy, those who were discontented or jealous, the Cardinal's friends/ and Marie Antoinette's enemies united against the Queen. The Comtesse de Noailles, the conscientious " Madame Etiquette," took advantage of the opportunity to express her long-concealed hatred. She sided openly with the opponents of her former mistress, and exerted herself to defend Rohan. Madame de Marsan and Madame de Guem6nee also joined the party of his relations. They wore mourning, and appealed beseechingly to the judge on his behalf. There was hardly a noble family in the land that did not consider themselves aggrieved by these proceedings against the Cardinal. His own family and their dependants took care that sympathy with the accused should be shared even by the very lowest of the people ; but their influence was little needed, as Marie Antoinette was already so hated that many were only too delighted to have a cause for vilifying her the more. The MAKIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 93 Queen's name played a chief part in the scandal, in which she really was the most prominent character. History has exone- rated her from every connection with Madame de la Motto; but the people who knew her former extraordinary friendships, and blamed her lavish expenditure, firmly believed that Rohan and Madame de la Motte were made to suffer in order to cover her delinquencies. The Cardinal, who had acted like a fool, was looked upon as a scapegoat, He had involved the Queen in a disreputable transaction, and that was sufficient to render him popular. When he entered the court he was received with respect and honour, not treated as a culprit, but as a prince, almost as a ruler. Songs were sung about the streets in his praise, one of the verses of which ran thus : "Notre Saint Pere 1'a rougi; Le roi, la reine 1'ont noirci, Le parlement le blanchira, Alleluia!" The Comtesse de la Motte, who began by denying every point and laughing at the Cardinal's stupidity, was flogged and branded with the letter V (" Voleuse "), besides being condemned to imprisonment for life. She behaved as an insane woman in " La Salpetriere," where she was confined, and managed to arouse such universal interest and sympathy that after the course of a few years she was assisted to escape to England. Her husband and Retaux de Villette were condemned to hard labour for life. Cagliostro was banished from France. Mademoiselle Oliva was set free, as an innocent tool in the plot. The Cardinal was acquitted, and led in triumph from the court. He was un- doubtedly innocent as regards the deception that had been practised, but he was guilty of high treason for alleging that Marie Antoinette had made an appointment with him at night. It was this crime that gained for him the sympathy of the people, and the real victim in the episode of the necklace was not he, but the Queen. CHAPTER XVIII. Threatening Clouds Increasing Hatred of the People. No wall is so high that scandal cannot climb over it, no corner so hidden that it cannot creep into it, no lock so firm that it cannot open it. Scandal and slander walk triumphantly through the land, they dance in the castle halls, they dog the footsteps of the poor woman in the streets, and find an entrance every- 94 MARIE ANTOINETTE. where. They sneak even into the vaults of the dead, and bid defiance to the golden crowns and rusty swords that rest upon the tomb. Time wears away the inscription from the gilded sarcophagus, about which the spider spins her web ; and slander, as it hisses round the memory of the dead, seems endowed with " endless life." For years slander had been unceasingly circling round the Queen of France in a thousand different forms. First, in satirical songs, then in newspaper articles, or pamphlets of a cowardly defamatory nature, had become like a novel, read not only in France, but in every court of Europe. Everything was turned into a weapon against her : her country, her descent, her family, her beauty, her friendships, and even her tastes. The ground was prepared and the moment was favourable for attacks from every quarter, for which the episode of the necklace had given the signal, and a new series of libels, coarsely assailing her virtue, came into circulation. Impure reports were spread broadcast over the land; she was more maligned than any beautiful envied woman has ever been, more persecuted than any other hated queen. Libellous pamphlets were hidden under the King's napkin at table, he heard his family and courtiers murmur accusations against his wife, and saw from their looks how they pitied him as a husband. Scandal forced its way through all classes. From its source, at the foot of the throne, it spread to the castles of the nobility, to the salons of the literary, down to the lowest strata of the capital. It strode like a pestilence through the land, openly now, where it had formerly crept in darkness. Accusations against Marie Antoinette were printed in hundreds of thousands and distributed in the towns and villages of the land, even by the help of the very court officials. They were also sent to all the schools, where the children were trained to despise their Queen. Marie Antoinette herself, who had been so thoughtless and careless, was at last aware that there was no greeting or shouts of joy as she passed along the streets, and on the occasion of the christening of the Due de Normandie she said, as she sighed deeply : " They shout hurrah for my son, but there is no applause for me." The necklace incident in the following year had taught her that slander is like a wasp's nest one must not touch it without a certainty of being able to destroy it. After the trial connected with that unfortunate ornament all brightness seemed to leave her. One blow after another assailed her, as though Providence would thus prepare her for the still more terrible calamity that awaited her in after life. Her eldest son and her youngest daughter both died. Friends forsook her, and enemies grew bolder. Her happy past seemed a mockery to her, as the hatred of the people increased in strength and influence. She had her portrait painted in the shepherdess dress she used to MARIE ANTOINETTE'S YOUTH. 95 wear at Trianon, and the report immediately spread that she was only in her underclothing. Scandalous verses were sung about her from various platforms, and courtiers, with their wives, drove out to hear them and applaud the singers. When Choiseul had selected her as the wife of the Dauphin, he meant to create a bond of union between the house of Habs- burg and that of Bourbon, but his expectations were bitterly disappointed. Distrust was awakened, and Marie Antoinette was looked upon in her new home as a spy, acting solely for the benefit of her own family. The faults of the Government were attributed to her influence, and she was made responsible for the promotion of one minister and the mistakes of another, as well as for the emptiness of the State coffers and the burden of the taxes. All bitterness and discontent that wanted an outlet were heaped up against the Queen, and those who were most indebted to her were the first to leave her a bitter experience in the school of adversity! As her position became more and more untenable hei opponents resorted all the more frequently to the house of the Polignacs, so that the Queen could not even visit her friend without first enquiring whom she was likely to meet. Far from having compassion on her, the Countess was even rude to her, and one day impudently observed : " It surely cannot be necessary that I should close my doors to my other friends because Your Majesty wishes to visit me." Marie Antoinette still found excuses for the friend whom she had so dearly loved, though she left off visiting her. Although the favourite and her circle had brought it upon themselves, they were greatly displeased at the Queen's with- drawal. They could certainly do without her society, but they did not like that the marks of favour, the appointments, and many other advantages they coveted should be unattainable through her absence, and they now began to seriously join the ranks of her worst enemies. One of Madame de Polignac's friends, who more than any other owed gratitude to Her Majesty, composed the most shameful lines that have ever been published about her. They were founded on an impudent lie, and received with joy by hor enemies in Paris and Versailles. When she went to the theatre she was hissed. Painters did not dare to exhibit her portrait, but caricatures' of herself and the King were sold in the open streets. One represented the Queen dining and the King emptying his glass, while the mob was standing outside shrieking with hunger. At length there dawned a day when the head of the police told her that she must no longer show herself in the capital. The light-hearted Queen had indeed become lonely. She was almost without a protector, almost without a friend. She was pursued with hatred on all sides, and surrounded with treachery 96 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. and desertion. Even the few whose devotion was beyond all doubt were suspected, and the Queen was less able than ever to distinguish between falsehood and truth. It therefore happened that she often mistook genuine coin for what was counterfeit.' Her mind was full of presentiment of future ill, and she was seized with attacks of cramp, in which she foresaw her terrible fate. She shut herself up in her own Trianon, where all was arranged as before ; but still it was different it was joyless. Laughter was banished from the rooms which had held so many joyous spirits, and which were now only the tomb of her brighter recollections. But she was soon to be taken away from the spot she loved above all others. The foliage had faded, the summer was over, and she wandered over withered leaves. The summer of her life was over also, and her happy days had come to an end. PAET II. JLntohtette anil the fkbateticm. CHAPTER XIX. Meeting of the States-General. THE eighteenth century is nearing its close. The Trianon Theatre is empty, and the balls in Versailles are over. The days of monarchy are numbered, and the Queen is hated by her people. Tramps swarm in the neighbourhood both of Paris and Versailles, and the entry of provisions is rendered difficult on account of political disturbances. In spite of all their efforts, the tradesmen cannot bring the necessary food within the city walls. Incendiarism, famine, robbery, and assassination combine with the great upheaving of the people, which neither the King nor his counsellors seem able to understand. A fearful hail- storm has destroyed the corn crop, and the winter, close at hand, threatens to be pitiless and inclement. Charity is busy in the land, but poverty is far greater than the efforts to alleviate it. In the midst of this seething uneasiness one thought occupies alike the minds of court and people. After an interval of 175 years the States-General of France have again been assembled, and the Government is far from easy as to what this may bring. But the people are clear in their views and dream of better days, when taxes will be less oppressive and poverty less pinching. Money and bread will again be abundant in the land ; the court and the proud nobility will be forced to give way. Amid the applause of Paris and the provinces the curtain rises for the great national assembly, which is to bring about the numerous (reforms the country has longed and waited for. Ideas of im dependence have advanced with giant strides, but the whole people still hope that a constitutional government may yet be built on a solid basis. Unusual excitement reigns in Versailles, May 4th, 1789, when preparations are being made for the grand procession which is to introduce a new order of things into the government of the kingdom. Carpets are laid down in the streets. Crowds have arrived from Paris, and in spite of incessant rain, all the public squares and roads are filled with spectators. Whole families have passed the night in the open air, sleeping on steps and even standing, in order not to lose the G 98 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. spot they have fought for on the route the procession is to follow. The clouds disperse and the downpour ceases as the day dawns, while occasional sunbeams promise finer weather. The streets get more and more thronged with excited, eager men hurrying to the place of meeting, and wearing a feverish look as they press forward to see and share in the business of the day. Window places are paid for in gold, especially in houses near the Cathedral, from which the deputies of the three estates are to start, and where they are already stationed, each with a wax taper in his hand. It is ten o'clock. A murmur runs through the expectant crowd. The court is approaching. In front ride masters of the horse, pages, and Royal Hussars. The King is in a state coach, with the Comte de Provence on his left and the Comte d'Artois opposite to him. In the next carriage are the Queen and the Princesses. Several court equipages follow, all with horses wearing tall plumes that wave and nod in the wind. Shouts of " Long live the King " greet the first carriage, but as the Queen drives by all is silent as the grave. The Royal Family alight at the Cathedral, where they wait while the procession is arranged, and at length it begins to move, headed by the clergy of Versailles, while the French and Swiss Guards form a barrier to keep back the crowd. In accordance with the etiquette of 1614, a very humble dress has been chosen for the people's representatives, who walk in two rows, wearing black clothes without ornament, and broad- brimmed hats without feathers. But one man forms an exception to all the others, a workman from Bretagne, who appears in his usual peasant garb. The third estate is greeted with loud shouts of applause as the power that inspires con- fidence for the future, and well-known deputies are looked at with lively interest, especially Mirabeau, the great orator, with his strikingly ugly face. The nobles follow after the third estate, but there are no shouts of applause. Their gold- embroidered cloaks, their long waving plumes, but especially their haughty looks, simply arouse bitter feelings and evoke no respect. One only among the nobility is greeted with any warmth, and that is the Due d'Orleans, who has refused to sit with his family, but walks among the deputies from his own district. He is applauded as the friend of the people, but especially as the enemy of the court and Queen. The clergy, who follow the nobles, are divided into two groups : the lower priesthood and the bishops. The Archbishop of Paris carries the host under a canopy, preceded by Life Guards and a regi- ment of Swiss, the cords of the canopy being held by princes of the royal house. The King comes next in a magnificent cloak embroidered with gold, accompanied by the highest officials of the Crown, and holding a wax taper in his hand, like all the members of his suite. The Queen follows a little behind, THE REVOLUTION. 99 at the head of the princesses and ladies of the court. Art and nature seem to have exhausted their resources on this occasion to make her a picture of incomparable beauty and dignity. But no applause greets Marie Antoinette ; all are cold as ice as she passes on her way. The procession advances in the light of the spring sunshine; and on the balcony of the Castle there lies a child, supported by pillows, a sallow, sickly, emaciated boy. This is the elder son of the royal pair, the Dauphini of France, little Louis Joseph, whose eyes follow the procession with a languid, sorrowful expression, and shine for one moment (at the sight of this strange, brilliant scene; the last pleasure granted to him here below, for in a month he will be dead. His mother sees him, and raises her head to look at her poor child, as she forces herself to smile for him a withered smile and goes on her way filled with gloomy thoughts. The menacing silence of the throng is suddenly broken by a cry that thunders on her ear : " Long live the Due d'Orleans ! " It is a shameful exclamation, for the Duke is her bitterest enemy, who has, perhaps, more than any other contributed to awaken and disseminate the hatred to which she is exposed. It is not so much to honour the Prince that the people shout, but to insult their Queen. A crowd of women from Paris has come to greet her with scorn, and three times she is subjected to their impudent, hateful cries. The King appears to hear nothing. iMarie Antoinette turns pale, stands still, then totters, her whole frame quivering as she feels for somebody to prevent her from falling. The princesses hasten forward to support her, while the King's friends, who are prepared for an attack, shout: " Long live the King 1 Long live the Queen ! " " Remember that you are the daughter of Maria Theresa," she hears a voice say quite near to her. " I do remember it," she murmurs, nearly fainting, though striving for self-command. It is proposed to stop the procession, but she prevents 1 this by a movement of her hand. Her head is burning and her lips are dry, yet with majestic dignity, though wearing an expression of deep sorrow, she goes on her way. Early the next morning a considerable number of men are assembled before a narrow side-door which leads into the hall where the opening of the Parliament is to take place. They are talking in groups; some are calm, others excited, but all are serious and determined. At length the door is opened and through this modest entrance they slowly pass, these men in humble garb, whom the people greeted yesterday the six hundred they themselves have elected. Gilding, candelabra, royal magnificence attract their attention as they enter the splendid hall. The throne stands under a richly-gilt canopy, by the side of which is an easy-chair for the Queen, while stools are placed for the princesses and low chairs for the princes. 100 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Seats are arranged for the clergy on the right, for the nobles on the left, while magistrates, generals, and secretaries of state occupy places in the centre. Then, furthest from the throne, at the very end of the hall, are benches for the third estate, who are thus made to feel their inferior position at once. The people see before them the successors of the old ecclesiastical dignitaries, followers of those who, by their virtue or their wisdom, have built up the Church of France; and the nobles, inheritors of those titles and privileges which have been given by former kings to reward their faithful generals and statesmen. The places of honour prepared for the clergy and nobles, and the magnificent robes of all these, do not, however, make the masses forget the six hundred sombrely-clad members who attract their sympathy, for their hopes are all centred on the men who have entered by the narrow door set apart for them. Louis XVI. opens the States with a speech full of goodwill and attachment to his people. He says that he has longed for this day, and that he has not delayed to renew a custom which he hopes will become a source of greater strength and happiness both for the people and the kingdom at large. This is the last time, under the old constitution, that Marie Antoinette appears as Queen on a public occasion. She seems to have a presentiment of it, and with difficulty conceals her emotion under the ceremonious smiles and bows with which she greets all present. While the King is speaking and promising devotedness and justice towards his people, while Necker is reading his statement of accounts, her eyes wander over the vast hall trying to decipher on the countenances of those present what are their real feelings towards the King and his family. CHAPTER XX. Slander against the Queen The Due d'Orteans. THE Queen was the one dark, threatening spot amid the universal hopes called forth by the meeting of the States-General. Slander had done its work. The shouts of joy which still greeted Louis each time he showed himself were instantly silenced on the approach of Marie Antoinette. Nobles from the provinces, village priests, and country burghers, who had arrived from every quarter, were all filled with cruel prejudice against her, for they had got accustomed to believe that she had not only brought about the scarcity of money in the land by her extra- vagance, but also that she was the chief hindrance to all progress and success. The abusive songa and pamphlets which had THE REVOLUTION. 101 been maliciously circulated, the mysterious reports which, were whispered from one to another without the possibility of tracing their origin, had continually increased a spiteful hatred towards " the Austrian." One thing with which her enemies never ceased to reproach her was what they called her devotion to her own country, and they incessantly accused her of sacrificing the interests of her husband to the advantage of her brother. At the close of the American war France had pledged herself to advance two million livres for the United States, and the term of payment coincided with the early days of the Revolu- tion. Reports not only increased the sum a hundredfold, but misrepresented facts. It was alleged that Marie Antoinette was secretly assisting the Emperor Joseph of Austria, who was in pecuniary difficulties, and that the considerable sums sent to Vienna were the cause of starvation and an empty exchequer in France. Shortly before the meeting of the States-General the spectators in the Italian Opera had noticed an enormous bill affixed to the Queen's box, bearing the words, " Tremble, tyrants ; your reign is over 1 " And when Brienne was dismissed the mob lighted a bonfire, and shrieked, " To-morrow it will be the turn of the Queen's confidant, 1'Abbe Vermond 1 " Necker had been appointed successor to Brienne in accordance with the wishes of the people, and Marie Antoinette had approved of the Minister's wishes to double the numbers of the third estate, and to withdraw many gifts and privileges from favourites and dependants. Louis' incapacity as a ruler became more and more apparent ; but adversity was developing the character of his wife, who was no longer the thoughtless child she had hitherto been. All the noble qualities that had lain dormant beneath her flightiness and love of pleasure now shone forth, and the elegant woman of the world gave place to a Queen full of strength and power. But her calm dignity and her contempt for danger came too late to avert her fall. It was useless now for her to separate herself from her friends, or to urge the King to reform abuses. Her voice never reached the people, who had no faith in the noble motives of Marie Antoinette. For fourteen years the public had looked upon her as an enemy to the constitution, and, as the spirit of rebellion spread, their hatred towards her became more and more deeply rooted. Revolutionary France unanimously turned upon " the Austrian," who was the chosen victim from the very first. During the days preceding the opening of the States-General the roads between Versailles and the Trianon had been thronged with pedestrians, lawyers, priests, citizens, and deputies, who even in remote corners of the kingdom had heard of the Queen's little Trianon. All wished to gain admittance to see things with their own eyea. They even questioned the servants about the King's reputed addiction to drink, and nothing could shake 102 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. them in their conviction that the Queen was leading a dis- reputable life. The reports which hovered round the name of Marie Antoinette were made up of the most incongruous materials chidings of the old princesses, slanders of Madame de la Motte, jealous speeches of the Comte de Provence. Joseph II., Charles d'Artois, princes and lacqueys, had all unintention- ally contributed to lower her in the eyes of the people. Even she herself had in no small degree helped to bring about her fall by her thoughtlessness, her feathers and diamonds, her love of gambling, her extravagance, and her Comtesse de Polignac. But more than all this, there was a prince of the royal house who had gained popularity and consideration for himself by joining the ranks of the Queen's enemies. The licentious Due d'Orleans, a grandson of the guardian of Louis XV., had opposed himself to the court during the increasing disturbances in the land in order to further his own selfish ends. The " Palais Royal " of the Orleans family waa the rendezvous for the conspirators, because, according to the old privileges of this family, no messenger of the law could enter the house, and the slanderous stories which formed the foundation for the Queen's scaffold chiefly emanated from here, to find a ready welcome before they were echoed forth to the world. It was within these walls that the storming of the Bastille was arranged, and also the details for June 20th and August 10th. The Due d'Orleans, formerly Due de Chartres, had, when quite a young man, married the Due de Penthievre's daughter, who admired the handsome man, though perfectly aware of his dissolute life. The Prince, who was far more attracted by the lady's fortune than by her virtues, married her without a spark of affection. He was addicted to sensual pleasures before his marriage, and his irregular connections were not dissolved when he became a husband. He opened his house wide for men and women of vicious habits, and arranged the wildest orgies for them. He ruined, both morally and physically, his brother-in- law, the Prince de Lamballe, who, if he lived, would have been sole heir to his father's renowned name and immense estates. When Marie Antoinette arrived in France, this son-in-law of the Due de Penthievr openly paid court to the young Dauphi- ness, who received his attentions .with her usual easy frankness. Members of the house of Bourbon had for generations looked askance upon the Orleans family. In the event of the extinction of the direct line from Louis XIV. the princes of Orleans were entitled to the throne, and this right of inheritance had already aroused the dislike of Louis XV. towards them. When the old Duke had announced to him that his son wished to marry the Due de Penthievre's daughter, and begged for the King's per- mission, Louis replied : " It does not please me that a prince belonging to our family's younger branch should become richer THE REVOLUTION. 103 than my grandchildren; uncomfortable complications might result from it. But as the throne is secured on the direct line through my three grandsons, I will offer no opposition to the desired alliance." Louis XV.'s son had brought up his children to believe without scruple that the Orleans family would shrink from no means, not even from crime, to pave a way to the throne. This view, which had become firmly rooted in the mind of Louis XVI., influenced him during the great Revolution. And even before it broke out he had felt a dislike to the young Duke, while he observed with anxiety that the Due d'Artois seemed to be warmly attached to him. Although Marie Antoinette had in the first instance received the Duke as a friend, she had come to look upon him as a disturber of the public peace. His lack of good manners and his disreputable life displeased her, while his deliberate disappearance each time the Royal Family was in danger aroused the suspicion both of the King and the Queen, Marie Antoinette rarely resisted the temptation to utter a jesting word or to obey a humorous suggestion, and she con- tinually ridiculed the Due d'Orleans, who at first accepted her mockery with tolerable good nature. He had built three large houses, which he let, and thereby greatly increased hia already considerable income. " We hardly see you here on Sunday," said the Queen, referring to this ; " I suppose it is because you are keeping shop." As time went on, and she opposed his plan of becoming High Admiral of France, and finally, after the birth of Marie Therese, scornfully rejected his proposal of a union between her daughter and his son, Louis Philippe, he was roused to show himself her declared enemy. Conscious of the increasing coolness of the King and Queen towards him, the Duke came less and less fre- quently to Versailles, and finally broke with this elder branch of his family. As we have already said, he sought the favour of the people in order to enrol himself among the Queen's enemies, and as Prince of the blood he became a dangerous tool in the hands of the conspirators. Still it is a mistake to see his influ- ence and to hear his voice in every disturbance. The Duke was more to be pitied than blamed, for his error arose from weak- ness, not from malice ; and it was, moreover, terribly difficult for him to leave the path of the Revolution after he had once entered upon it. In the meantime his hatred towards Marie Antoinette was sadly fraught with danger. He accused her of having brought him into the false position he was holding, and of having continually incensed the King against him. He re- proached her bitterly for having humiliated him by her scorn, and for causing him to join the enemy's camp by her animosity. His mistresses, especially his children's governess, the spirituelle Madame de Genlis, did nothing to lessen his hatred. The 104 MARIE ANTOINETTE. conceited authoress had repeatedly felt herself affronted by the Queen, who had not sufficiently recognised her merits, and the bitterness towards Marie Antoinette, which is certainly per- ceptible in the personal recollections of Madame de Genlis, must surely have been aggravated by her daily intercourse with the Duke. When Marie Antoinette for the second time became a mother, the Prince of Orleans swore with insulting bitterness that this child should never become King of France. He was banished on account of his disloyal expressions towards the Royal Family; but although it was he that had led her husband into the very depths of licentiousness, the Princesse de Lamballe interceded with the King for him, and as both Louis and Marie Antoinette were attached to the Princess as well as to the Duke's unfortu- nate wife, who was totally unlike her husband, the sentence of banishment was withdrawn. The Duke remembered at intervals that he belonged to the house of Bourbon, and that he was a royal prince. "When he thought of the fact he repented of his errors, and seriously resolved to show himself a reliable relative and a loyal subject. Then his revolutionary friends again excited his hatred towards the Queen, and a strange fate led to most of the plots against the royal house being developed in his palace. To him belonged the shame of being connected with them, and the misfortune that the conspirators used his name as a shield. CHAPTER XXI. Political Disputes Louis and Marie Antoinette lose their Eldest Son Fall of the Bastille the King visits Paris. VIOLENT disputes arose immediately after the meeting of the States-General. The third estate on the one hand, the nobles and some of the ecclesiastics on the other, were soon opposed to each other in open quarrel, and the contention became all the more fierce as the increasing demands of the one party were met by the determined resistance of the other. The attitude of the people became more and more menacing, the position of the Government more and more untenable, and, in addition to this, famine was raging in the land. L'Abb6 Sieyes, the member for Paris, had given a strong impetus to the movement by his book, What is the Third Estate? To this question he had answered, "Nothing." "What ought it to be?" he had replied, "Every- thing." In accordance with his proposition, and after many stormy discussions between the two parties, the third estate assumed the name of National Assembly; and Bailly, a cele- THE REVOLUTION. 105 brated astronomer who had quitted his peaceful study to mingle in the conflict, was chosen president. Thus, using their own absolute power and without awaiting the King's permission, the third estate appropriated to itself sole authority over the whole nation. Events followed each other in rapid succession, and the leader chosen to direct their proceedings had neither the neces- sary qualities as a statesman nor the power to gain the confidence and esteem of the army. And, with his natural infirmity of purpose, Louis too possessed neither the one nor the other. The Queen, whose counsel he sought in his dire perplexity, was one day in favour of reform, but strongly conservative the next. The court restrained her on the one hand, while the distrust and bitterness of the people's deputies influenced her on the other, and she was made responsible for all that occurred. But her sorrows as a mother hushed the ever-increasing political anxieties to silence for a few days. In her youth Marie Antoinette had had all the faults of a woman of the world; she had been frivolous, fond of dress, selfish, extravagant, and criticising. But, side by side with her many and serious failings, she possessed at least one good quality she was an excellent mother, and devotion to her children had aroused in her both thought and reflection. Now, in the evil days of her adversity, she looked for strength and courage in the care of her children ; but the heir to the throne, whose birth had given rise to such genuine expressions of joy among the people, was dying, and his bitterness and distrust of his mother painfully increased the difficulty of nursing him. His condition had caused anxiety for a whole year, but the physicians had tried to make the mother believe that the terrible malady which was sapping his strength would yield to treatment in time. He was sent to Meudon, but the change brought no alleviation, and Marie Antoinette's eyes were at last opened. In the spring of 1789 the fact could no longer be ignored; the Dauphin's com- plaint was incurable, and he himself knew that he was dying. While the throne itself was tottering, the mother's hope was being crushed. The Princesse de Lamballe and the Comtesse de Lage went to see the sick child at Meudon, and returned deeply saddened and depressed. " It is heartrending to see his sufferings, his patience, and the clearness of his mind," wrote the Comtesse de Lage. "He was listening to reading when we arrived, and had expressed the strange wish to be laid on a billiard table. As the Princess and I exchanged glances, the same thought struck us both : his position resembled that of a corpse. The Princesse de Lamballe asked him what he was reading. ' I am reading a very interesting portion of our his- tory, the reign of Charles VII.,' he answered ; ' it tells of so many heroes/ I ventured to enquire if His Eoyal Highness was read- ing in chronological order, or if he was only choosing striking 106 MARIE ANTOINETTE. episodes here and there. ' I am reading it straight through/ he replied. 'I have not sufficient knowledge to be able to choose, and I am interested in the whole.' His beautiful fading eyes looked fixedly into mine as he was speaking." The end was approaching, and Paris, which had been agitated for weeks with political excitement, relented for a moment, thinking of the child that had been welcomed seven years ago, softened by the difference between then and now. The evening before his child's death, the King went to Meudon to see him. His tutor sent out his secretary, Lefevre, to request His Majesty not to enter the room. An eye-witness relates : " The King hesitated a moment, and then exclaimed with sobs : ' Alas, my son is dead ! ' ' No, sire,' replied Lefevre, ' he is not dead, but he is as ill as it is possible to be.' The King sank into a chair near the door. Almost in the same minute the Queen rushed in and threw herself down at her husband's knees as he said to her, with tears : ' Alas ! our dear son is dead, for I am not allowed to see him/ The secretary repeated that he was not dead. The Queen continued clasping the King's knee as she said, with tears streaming from her eyes : ' Let us take courage ; nothing is impossible with God. Let us hope that He will save our dear child.' " The following day, June 4th, the heir to the French throne died. It was exactly a month since that procession from the Cathedral which preceded the meeting of the States-General. A few days later the royal vault at St. Denis was opened to receive the King's son, and the people carelessly turned their thoughts for a brief moment to the coffin of their little prince. But in the Castle of Meudon the poor mother lay on her knees with her head buried in her hands, and would not be persuaded to leave the empty bed, while her sad thoughts incessantly dwelt on the child who had suffered so terribly, and on the hopes extinguished by his death. Her agony is well expressed in the few words she sent to the Pf incesse de Lamballe : " How happy you are not to be a mother." * * * * * * But sorrow for the death of their son could not free the parents from anxiety connected with the political situation. It was a wild, seething, tempestuous time, and the air was filled with rumours that threatened some awful calamity. The day after the Dauphin's death Bailly arrived at the Castle to express the sympathy of the National Assembly, but in the same breath he had the audacity to request that a certain number of dele- gates might be received by the King in order to discuss with him " the rotten condition which " as he expressed it " would allow of no middleman between the King and his people." "Are there no fathers among the deputies of the third estate?" asked Louis with unwonted bitterness. Bailly, how- THE REVOLUTION. 107 ever, repeated his request in such a commanding tone and such forcible words that the King had to yield and receive -the delegates at once. It would be too tedious for us to follow exactly the events which ensued and which history relates in detail. The causes of displeasure were numerous In a solemn assembly the King had revoked the resolutions which the third estate had passed and confirmed with an oath. Necker, the man on whom all moderate patriots had fixed their hopes, had sent in his resignation, although, at the instance of the King and Queen, he had again resumed office as Finance Minister; but it was an open secret that his adversaries were unceasingly plotting his overthrow, and several regiments were summoned to the neighbourhood of Versailles in order to support the Government if necessary. Necker was dismissed when the conduct of the new Ministry was entrusted to the Queen's favourite, Baron Breteuil, a violent opponent to the popular party. " I cannot go to bed till I have told you that Necker is gone," wrote Marie Antoinette that same evening to her friend, the Duchesse de Polignac. " God grant that we may at last do the right thing, which is our one and only wish. The moment is a fearful one, but I am brave." The dismissal of the Minister excited the wrath of many, who saw a slight to the whole French nation in the disgrace of their favourite, and it was feared that the troops would seize Paris. TFhe busts of Necker and the Due d' Orleans were hung with crape and carried round among silent crowds, who respectfully bent their heads. The people talked of treachery and national bankruptcy, and declared it was the intention of the King to commit Necker to the Bastille and behead the Due d'Orleans. In other words, that the horrors of St. Bartholomew awaited the people's repre- sentatives, that the capital was to be given up to hired troops, and that the Queen, incited by the Polignac family, would personally urge the soldiers to cruelty and lawlessness. The exasperated populace responded to these dangerous lying reports by formidable preparations. They tore up the pavement in the streets, arrested the King's messengers, and stole the secrets of his correspondence; they plundered peaceable travellers, burnt and pillaged, shouted, and threatened to attack Versailles. The National Assembly was not less excited and impatient than the dwellers in the capital. Mirabeau thundered against the court with his powerful eloquence. Sinister pro- phecies and imprecations were uttered against the Queen, who was looked upon as the author of Necker's fall. L'Abb6 Gregorius compared "the Austrian" with Jezebel, while Mirabeau screamed : " It is weakness, not a virtue, in a French- man to trust in kings." The royal troops were stationed outside Paris, under the 108 MARIE ANTOINETTE. command of Baron Besenval; but the soldiers who had been pressed into the service wavered so constantly between their sympathy with the people and the oath of allegiance which they had sworn to the King, that instead of keeping the populace within bounds, they more frequently increased their excitement. To the east of Paris lay the Bastille, an old building which had acquired a sorrowful notoriety under former kings. The uses to which it had been put through the despotism of rulers and their Ministers had rendered it even more famous than its strength as a fortress ; for, during the Ligue and the Fronde, it had been conquered and reconquered five or six times. It was a hated, execrated pile, with none but painful memories, constantly rehearsed by the people. Innumerable victims to the caprice of rulers or their favourites had sighed within its walls, and men were filled with horror of the spot where these numerous martyrs to their opinions had been imprisoned. It therefore seemed quite natural that their anger should be directed against this standing threat to the city this old symbol of the absolute power of kings. There was hardly a kinder-hearted man to be found in all France than Louis XVI. He had done away with the low, dark dungeons in the Chatelet prison; and he had ordered "la Force" to be used only for debtors, in order that they might not mix with thieves and other criminals. But the Bastille was, as it were, a sign of his royal prerogative ; he was attached to the old fortress, and was reluctant to have its importance destroyed. While the severity of other prisons was mitigated, this one retained all its former discipline. In the year 1789 the Bastille was, however, but the shadow of a fortress, guarded by 82 "Invalides" and 36 of the Swiss Guards. But its cannon commanded a great part of Paris, and the reports in circulation aroused fears that they would be used against the capital itself. On the morning of July 1-ith the people rushed into the Hotel des Invalides and seized what arms they could lay their hands upon. They then hurried to the fortress, shouting with all their might, "We will have the Bastille." The garrison commanded the insurgents to withdraw, but none obeyed, and the crowd continued to ' grow as men pressed forward from every quarter, and priests and women joined the throng. Then the struggle began, and lasted from noon till five o'clock. One of BesenvaTs cavalry regiments had advanced, but was obliged to withdraw and leave the capital in the hands of the populace. At length de Launay, the Governor, could hold out no longer. The mob took the fortress, murdered de Launay, and stuck his head on a pike. Then, surprised at the victory, they revelled in the smoking ruins, and gloried in the good deed that had rendered their bugbear powerless, utterly destroyed, levelled to the ground. A white- THE REVOLUTION. 109 bearded veteran, whom they had found in one of the dungeons, was carried in triumph through the streets of the city. Bonfires were lighted and crowds danced round the ruins, congratulating each other on their share in storming the fortress,^ while poetry, the arts and sciences, all and everything, vied in celebrating the event. The long smouldering French Revolution may be said to have begun on the day the Bastille fell ; but, even while celebrating their victory, the populace prepared for defence, collected arms, and barricaded the streets against the royal troops. Then, black with gunpowder and soiled with blood, they declared themselves the protectors of the city, while drunken furies added to the excitement. During the unwonted confusion the National Assembly met at Versailles, and undertook to manage the affairs of the capital. A citizen guard afterwards the renowned National Guard was formed, and regiments were gradually drafted to all parts of the kingdom. The Minister, de Liancourt, hastened to the King the moment he heard of the events in the capital. "It is a riot," exclaimed Louis, when Liancourt had finished his report. " Sire," answered the courtier, " it is more : it is a revolution." The King had hitherto contemplated these serious warnings with indifference, and had failed to realize either threats or rebellion. But his confidence was shaken by this attack, and the fall of the Bastille was like a blow that affected his own heart. " This is too much," he repeated again and again. And this loss of the city fortress affected not only the King, but every Government official, whose terror simply strengthened the progress of the Revolution. They had not believed in the power of the people, but had ridiculed their efforts, and the court party were panic-struck when they saw their confidence in the army was vain. The Parisians were amazed at their own power, and the court was appalled at its own helplessness. Indecision and fear within the Ministry paralysed individual effort and resolution, till the King's counsellors slowly began to understand that the Revolution had grown under their very- eyes, and was now threatening even the throne itself. During these days the National Assembly had vainly sent messengers again and again to the King, to persuade him to withdraw his troops form the environs of the capital. But now Louis hastened to comply with their wishes of his own accord, and the morning after the fall of the Bastille he and his brothers went on foot, without escort, to the National Assembly. At that very moment Mirabeau was shouting with his stentorian voice that "the counsellors in the Castle, however high their rank, were each and all responsible for their country's misfor- tunes." " Tell the King," screamed the orator to the delegates, whom he was just sending for the last time, "and make him 110 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. understand that these foreign troops were yesterday visited by princes, princesses, and court ladies, who flattered and encouraged them with words and gifts. Tell him that these foreign mer- cenaries gorged with gold and wine, have been shouting all night about the subjection of France, brawling out their impudent songs, and drinking to the overthrow of the National Assembly. Tell him that the inmates of his own palace have danced to the sound of this barbarous music, and that it was thus the night of St. Bartholomew's began." Just as he was finishing his speech, it was announced that Louis was on the way to the meeting. He was received with coldness, but his good-natured, confiding expression once again aroused their sympathy. " I am one with the people," he began ; " I rely upon you." As he finished speaking the deputies applauded, and without regard to precedent or rank they crowded round him and insisted on accompanying him to the Castle. He returned with more confidence than he had left, accompanied by the cheers of a veritable mob. The Queen was awaiting him on the balcony with her little son, Charles Louis, in her arms, and by her side stood her daughter, Marie The'rese. All looks were turned towards the weeping Queen. Her appearance was so touching that for a moment not a heart was closed against her, the gloomy faces of the crowd brightened, and their silence was broken by joyous shouts. By this visit to the National Assembly this conciliatory step the King had sacrificed much of his authority. His decision to ignore himself does not seem to have pained him, and, after wavering between good nature and dignity, he abandoned the latter in the hope of peace. The National Assembly had re- quired him to recall Necker, to dismiss the troops, and to approve of all that had been done in Paris, to which he agreed. He forgave revolt and murder, and retired from a struggle begun without forethought and carried on without consistency. The Ministry was dismissed and Necker was sent for. The King announced that he was on good terms with the National Assembly, and that it was his intention to visit the capital shortly. Bailly was made Mayor of Paris, and General Lafayette took the command of the National Guard, which was to play such a prominent part in the history of the Kevolution. He belonged to a highly respected noble family, but held Liberal opinions, and had fought with honour in the American War of Independence. News was received from Versailles that a recon- ciliation had taken place between the King and the National Assembly ; but the streets of Paris still resounded with the cries of "Vengeance on the aristocracy! Vengeance on the court party ! " "When Louis arrived, July 17th, he was filled with anxious forebodings. He had attended Mass and confessed before start- THE BEYOLUTION. Ill ing, and had secretly given authority to the Due de Provence to assume sovereign control in the event of his own life or liberty being attacked in Paris. Marie Antoinette was averse to the King's condescension, and put no faith in peace purchased at the expense of regal dignity. Weeping and kneeling, she had entreated her husband to renounce his journey to the rebellious capital. The day of his absence seemed interminably long to her, and she wandered in feverish nervousness from one room to another, finally shutting herself up in her private apartments, and wringing her hands as she paced to and fro. Then, tremb- ling with fear, she wrote the draft of a speech she herself would deliver in the National Assembly if the rioters, whom she con- sidered capable of anything, should oppose the return of the King, while with excited impatience she exclaimed again and again : " They will not let him come back 1 " But the day passed better than she had dared to hope. Louis received the keys of the city from the hands of the Mayor, Bailly, who said : " Sire, I hand over to Your Majesty the keys of our good city, Paris. They are the same that were once presented to King Henri IV. He had regained his people ; now it is the people who have regained their King." The women handed him weapons adorned with flowers, saying : " the presence of Tour Majesty disarms us." Hats, caps, and even the statue of Louis XV., were decorated with red and blue cockades, which had replaced the white lilies of the Bourbons, while the bands played, " Ou peut-on etre mieux qu'au sein de sa f amille 1 " About six o'clock a page arrived in Versailles to announce the success of Louis' visit to the capital. He himself returned at nine o'clock, exhausted with fatigue, but thankful that no disaster had marred the day, on which he had entered with so much anxiety. Marie Antoinette hastened downstairs to meet him, and the King embraced her, his children, and his sister, while they all wept for joy. Paris had received their sovereign in a friendly spirit ; but his condescension had simply tended to excite the confidence and vanity of the people, who were by no means peaceably inclined. The Queen was far more clear-sighted than the rest, and had foreseen that they would be more likely to be elated by the weak indulgence of their King than touched by his gentleness and favour towards them. 112 MARIE ANTOINETTE. CHAPTER XXII. The Comte d'Artois and the Polignac Family leave France- Emigration begins. THIS would have been a splendid opportunity for the princes of the royal house to show their courage and resolution if only they had understood how and where to do eo, but the support upon which the King had counted within his own family was absent in his hour of need. Before the storm broke the Comte d'Artois had ostentatiously represented himself to be the defender of royal authority, without in the least understanding the events that were agitating France, threatening new things, and crushing the old on their path. He had been the loudest of all in con- demning his brother's weakness. His own lascivious life and his contemptuous behaviour towards the people had long since roused their exasperation, and he was universally hated before the Revolution broke out. Again and again the mob had pursued and hooted him in Paris, and even in Versailles he had been insulted more than once. More anxious for his own safety than uneasy about his brother, whose conduct he had formerly criticised so severely, he fled from the country with his wife and children as soon as he began to suspect that danger threatened him in France. He meant to say farewell for a month to the land which he was not to see again till five-and-twenty years had rolled away. The Due d'Enghien, the Due de Bourbon, the Prince de Conde, the Prince de Conti, the Due de Vauguyon, 1'Abbe Vermond, Baron Breteuil, and many other dismissed Ministers left at the same tune as the Cointe d'Artois and his family. These noble- men especially the King's brother encouraged emigration, which was not only a mistake, but even became a danger, because it removed the natural protectors of the throne, opened the way for the victory of their opponents, and placed the most powerful weapons within their grasp. Distrust of Marie Antoinette continued to prevail, and she was thought to share the political opinions of the 'Comte d'Artois, while public opinion made her answerable for the dangerous plans of the court party. Reports, too, were current that she and her brother-in-law were in secret negotiation with foreign powers. They were without foundation, for her confidence in the Comte d'Artois had long since given place to distrust, and her political position at this time is clearly seen in the following words of her brother, the Emperor Joseph : " She has adopted the only course suitable for her. She lives in complete retire- ment, and occupies herself exclusively with her children." But she had been hated for so many years that prejudice could no THE REVOLUTION. 113 longer be silenced. Great changes were undoubtedly at hand, and a mighty stream of events was ready to crush many hearts and alter the fortunes of thousands. The Queen's person was not yet actually in danger, but the lives of her friends were certainly insecure, and then the cry that the Polignac family should be sacrificed, assassinated, or killed in the public streets was heard and repeated without fear, even at the foot of the throne itself. Madame de Campan relates that she one day heard a man in disguise say to a veiled lady : " The Duchess is at last in Versailles. She is like a mole working in the dark, but we shall soon get hold of her." Marie Antoinette had long known what the people thought of Madame de Polignac, and felt that in the present state of affairs threats might soon become a stern reality. She forgot her own danger while thinking of that of her friends, and used every persuasion to induce the Polignac family to seek safety from the fury of the populace. She sent for the Duchess on the evening of July 16th, after the fall of the Bastille, spoke to her alone, explained her great anxiety, and begged her to leave that very night. " They will take you, but it is me they really want," she said. " I fear the worst. Go ! Do not wait to leave until they have claimed me for their victim." Nothing less than a revolution was needed to rekindle the friendship of the Polignacs. Marie Antoinette was on the verge of ruin, and perhaps her friend thought she herself had had no small share in bringing about the dangers and misfortunes that threatened the Queen. At any rate, it is certain that she realized that the time had come for her to show her devotion more than ever. She would not listen to any entreaty, nor con- sent to forsake her benefactress when trouble was at hand, and in this resolution she was encouraged by her husband. Marie Antoinette alternately besought, wept, and commanded; but neither would yield and become cowards, in spite of their years of ingratitude. The Queen was at last in despair as to what means she could use to ensure the departure of her friends. She trembled for every minute of delay, and finally appealed to the King for help. It was not till Louis pleaded, together with his wife, that he spoke of the flight of the Comte d'Artois, and finally ordered them to go, that the Polignacs consented to leave France. It is impossible to love another for years, and believe too that the affection is mutual, without an aching heart when the moment for separation arrives. For fourteen long years Marie Antoinette had seen her friend almost daily, had exchanged thoughts and opinions with her, and shared both her joys and sorrows. Now, when it was imperative to send her away, she realized but too keenly how close this intercourse had been. Her resentment during the last few years towards Madame de 114 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Polignac was certainly justifiable; but still she could not part with composure from the friend who had been with her in her happiest days, and whom she had loved far above all others. In this last moment thoughts of the past were aroused in the hearts of both, and their former warm feelings for each other awoke anew; but in the loving struggle it was again the royal friend that gave the most. The Queen, who had shown herself strong on so many occasions, was weaker than she had foreseen when the hour of parting arrived. " Farewell, my dearest, tenderest friend," she wrote to her that same night. " How terrible is that word farewell ! I am powerless even to embrace you." An hour later, Madame de Polignac was seated, disguised and trembling, by the side of a hired coachman, her husband and daughter, with a priest who was travelling with them, being inside the carriage. They had been assisted in the preparations for their flight by the Swedish Count Fersen and the Venetian envoy Pisani. They stopped at Sens to change horses, and found the town in a perfect uproar. The travellers were asked if the Polignacs were still with the Queen. " No," answered the priest ; " Versailles is happily freed from those people by this time." When the driver left them at the next stage he whispered to the Duchess, " There are faithful folk all the world over. I recognized you all in that drive from Sons." Late one evening they reached Rome, and to celebrate their arrival the Pope ordered the biggest bells of the city to be rung, the people to offer up Ave Marias for the safety of France. While the Queen's favourite was nearing this temporary asylum accident had brought her in contact with one of her bitterest enemies, for in Basle she had met Necker, who was triumphantly on his way to Versailles, summoned by the very people who were driving her and her family into exile. * # * * * * Joy and enthusiasm greeted the Minister on his way. A few days after his return the Comte de Noailles proposed in the National Assembly that the personal servitude of the peasants should be abolished, and that a complete reform in the whole system of taxation should be effected. His proposition was unanimously accepted. The night between the 4th and 5th of August saw the death of the old feudal system, and in the course of a few hours the traditions of hundreds of years were utterly destroyed. The Commons followed the example of the nobility, and abolished every exclusive right and privilege throughout the kingdom. A spirit of generosity seemed to pervade every class, and a Te Deum was sung in the royal chapel to celebrate this memorable night. But even while these deliberations for the good of the people were going on, they themselves were being carried away by a spirit of unbridled fury. The peasants refused THE REVOLUTION. 115 to pay their taxes, banded themselves together in wild confusion, killed their landlords, and pulled down their houses. It soon became evident that Necker was not the man to restore order in the land. The spirit of revolt spread from Paris to the pro- vinces, and murder, with all its horrors, was the order of the day. The National Guard was powerless and the army without disci- pline, without officers even, and there were no magistrates. Trade was at a standstill, convents were plundered, castles burnt, and their owners hung, maimed, or beaten. One deputy, who had given all his plate and valuables for the benefit of the poor, received the thanks of the people in the form of stones, with which they mercilessly assailed him. Count Axel Fersen, who, as an officer in the French army, was at this time in Paris, wrote letters to his father, which give us some idea of the state of things. He says that between 12,000 and 13,000 soldiers deserted from their regiments in less than a month. "There is neither law nor order, neither justice nor discipline nor religion," he exclaimed in one of his letters ; " all union is destroyed, and how can it be restored?" "The King has lost all authority," he wrote another day. " The National Assembly trembles for Paris, and Paris is in fear of some forty or fifty thousand tramps people without house or home, who have settled in Montmartre and in the Palais Royal, who cannot be dislodged, and who keep the city in a continual ferment. The country people are intoxicated with the idea of the perfect equality of all men, which has been preached to them for so long in the writings of the ' philosophers/ The abolition of all feudal ties and other rights, which in the course of three hours and after a social evening had been so rapidly resolved upon by the National Assembly, has only confirmed them in their con- viction that no payment of any kind can be required of them. The nobles are in despair, the clergy seem to have lost their wits, and the third estate is filled with displeasure. . . Many regiments have revolted ; others have laid violent hands on their officers." The King, who had looked for support in the National Assembly, and who still believed that concessions would bring peace, saw his moderate propositions rejected with disdain. Famine was increasing. Rumours were heard of a probable war and the Queen's secret plotting, while a revolutionary spirit was spreading from the " rulers " of the land down to the very lowest of taverns. The misery of each individual home seemed to be abroad, poisoning the minds of all. Every arrogant word that had been spoken by a noble to his humblest peasants met with its response now in the wild shouts of the people. There needed but a spark to put the whole kingdom in flames, and unfortunately it was the King and Queen themselves who 116 MARIE ANTOINETTE. imprudently kindled the match, which the infuriated populace utilised to drive them forth from their old home. In consequence of the continued desertion of the soldiers, Versailles was insufficiently protected, and was unable to quell even the slightest disturbances among the people. Le Comte Saint Priest, the only man in the Ministry who possessed any resolution, summoned the regiment called " Flanders " to Versailles, one of the few whose fidelity could be relied upon. But this precaution proved dangerous, for the arrival of the soldiers roused the displeasure of the citizens. The royal guard invited their new comrades to an entertainment, which had been arranged in the theatre. Every one accepted, and all that the court could still offer, men of rank and beautiful women, assembled to meet them. Wine flowed in abundance, and the evening seemed to prove to the persecuted royal pair that there were still voices to welcome them with enthusiasm, and strong hearts and arms ready to defend them. The desire to see their majesties in their midst increased as the evening advanced, and some of the court ladies went to tell the Queen, who at first refused to appear, though longing to be present. The King had just returned from hunting, when Marie Antoinette was being urged to accept the invitation, and although Louis much pre- ferred rest to any ovation, he too was asked to show himself. The Queen neither pressed him to go nor deterred him from yielding ; the courtiers finally induced him to comply with the wishes of his friends, and the Royal Family joined the meeting. Their appearance seemed to electrify every one present, and forgetful of etiquette, both officers and soldiers collected round them. Marie Antoinette, who was holding the Dauphin by the hand, smiled through her tears. All eyes were fixed on her, while flowers and garlands were cast at her feet. The officers drew their swords, and all present joined in singing "0 Richard, 6 mon roil L'univers t'abandonne." The song that wo may look upon as that of the dying swan, over the expiring kingdom. Ladies put white ribbons on their dresses, while the red and blue cockades were torn from the officers' uniforms and replaced by a white one, the Bourbon device. The King seemed more surprised than pleased with this homage, to which he had become so unaccustomed ; but he had not the firmness necessary to reject the dangerous demonstration. The Queen was carried away in the general enthusiasm, and deceived herself with the belief that it augured renewed hope for her, in spite of the present troublous times. When they left the theatre all present accompanied them, while at every step they took renewed noise and enthusiastic shouting proclaimed the devotion of the regi- THE REVOLUTION. 117 ments. Feasting went on till long after midnight, enthusiasm gave place to disorder, and songs and toasts became threatening in. their tone. Processions, dancing, and wild shouting went on in the court, " which they name! court of marble," till daylight. The feast had taken place in the night between the 3rd and 4th of October, and the following day it was discussed in Paris, when the report was spread that the court, with the King and Queen, had on this occasion thrown off their mask. They had laughed at the famine in the land as they sat at their luxurious feast ; they had laid a plan that the friends of the people should be hung and the National Assembly be dissolved. It finally passed from mouth to mouth that the Queen's sole aim was to avenge the events of the 14th of July. The people had wished for an excuse for their wrath, and now they had found one. They had waited for the court to take some step which could be construed into a crime, and they greedily seized on this feast as a pretext for fresh disturbances, which began on the morning of October 5th. Again it was women who clamoured for action, arid declared that the time had come to march to Versailles, welcome Mirabeau, and whisper a word of warning to " Fat Papa Veto." " Louis is a kind man," they said ; " he will not refuse us the bread we are craving for. Why is he hiding himself in Versailles when we want to see him in Paris? Why does he sit there surrounded by bodyguards and foreign, regiments, when his people offer to protect him?" Some pro- posed to go and tear him away from the surroundings that were cutting him off from his subjects, while others were even more violent and not averse to blood-shedding. A young girl seized a drum belonging to one of the guard and ran through the streets beating an alarm, as she shrieked at intervals, " Bread 1 Bread ! " " Les dames de la Halle " were the first to advance, and they were soon joined by the women from the Faubourg St. Antoine, who compelled all whom they met to accompany them by threatening to cut off the hair of those who resisted. At this time there were literally crowds of women in Paris who had eaten nothing for days, and who were simply faint with hunger and privation. The dominant feeling among these wretched beings was hatred of the higher classes, whom they envied because they could satisfy their appetites. But it was not hunger alone that drove the mob out to Versailles. Many of the market women, for instance, were comfortably off. They approved of the Monarchy, but for that very reason they were eager that the King should live in their city. Then they felt the effects of the prevailing famine, though not personally, for sitting as they did day after day on the public squares, they had more opportunity than others of watching its sad effects. Others were carried away by the universal movement, excited by its strength and determination. Shop-women, actresses, 118 MABIE ANTOINETTE. concierges, girls of light character, all helped in large numbers to swell the procession. The mounted National Guard stood with drawn swords in the streets of the town, but the women were not to be deterred. They threw stones at the horsemen and at the infantry, who could not make up their minds to fire on the other sex, many of whom were well dressed and wore white gowns in honour of the occasion. Others looked wild and starved, as they shrieked for bread and arms. Others, again, who had been forced to join the throng, were sick with terror. Finally a number of idle men marched among them, and not a few who had disguised them- selves as women. The wild disorder increased as the mob grew, and talked of taking Louis prisoner and proclaiming the Due d'Orleans King in his stead. They advanced on to Versailles under the leadership of Maillard, who had been present at the storming of the Bastille. Some ten or twelve drummers marched at their head, and a few guns were discernible in their midst. Those who had been unable to procure arms of any kind tied knives and heavy bunches of keys to the end of their sticks. " Here are weapons enough to finish off the Austrian," they shrieked ; " she is the cause of all our sufferings." " She has danced for her own pleasure, but it shall be to our tune this time," screamed others. " Antoinette ! we will make ribbons of your skin ; we will fill our ink-pots with your blood ; we will carry your entrails in our aprons," howled yet others. The procession, which numbered some 7000 or 8000 from the beginning, was continually increased by fresh groups that joined them as they marched. The roads were soaked by the rain, and the day was cloudy and cold. " See," said many of the women, who were wet through and covered with mud, " see what we look like. Antoinette shall pay for this. We will not leave the palace till our work is done." " For my part," said a greasy butcher, " I have no mind to kill Fat Veto ; but as for Antoin- ette, it would give me great pleasure to sever her head from her body." The most exasperated were of opinion that the Comte de Provence, the Due d'Orleans, and the Dauphin should suffer too. The sound of the alarm bell announced to Versailles the approach of the mob, and the report of the first shot was awaited with feverish anxiety. Marie Antoinette had gone to Trianon as usual after dinner, accompanied by a single servant. She had looked after her favourite plants, had watered them, and given her orders to the gardener for the coming winter. Now she was resting for a moment on the soft moss of a grotto, quite alone, and looking out over the garden. A chilly autumnal wind made her shudder from head to foot as it blew her hair about her face ; it was damp and clammy. As she sat she recalled the vague dreams of her THE REVOLUTION. 119 youth about her life in this new home, and thought of recent public events and the weak, vacillating King who was her hus- band. She dwelt on the son whom she had lost, and the two dearly-loved friends who had left her. She sighed, for most of those she had called friends had either deceived her or fled for their own safety. Her own life was in danger, and her dignity as a woman and as a Queen was wounded day by day. She asked herself what fate could be in store for her, and especially for the son she still possessed, the child she most dearly loved. The clouds gathered, and a few drops of rain fell on her head. She rose, and through the opening of the grotto saw a page approaching towards her. She hastened forward, seized a letter he was holding in his hand, and read : " The people of Paris are in arms and on the march to Versailles. The town is in an uproar. The van of the procession is already in sight, on the road to the palace. Within an hour they will storm the gates." The Queen stood for a moment lost in thought before she set out for Versailles. CHAPTER XXIII. The 5th and 6th of October, 1789 The Royal Family leave Versailles. THE meeting of the National Assembly had been a stormy one that day. The King had long since changed his mind about ratifying all that had been resolved upon the night of August 4th. He definitely sent a message to the meeting to the effect that it was not possible to judge of such important laws except in their entirety, but that he would nevertheless agree to them in consideration of the threatening aspect of affairs, and on the con- dition that the executive power should resume its former influ- ence. "If we "consent to the King's proposition," Robespierre had exclaimed on the subject, " there will be no constitution at all, and no claim to have one." Several of the other deputies had expressed the same opinion. The procession of women had hardly reached Versailles before a deputation, with Maillard at their head, rushed into the hall of the National Assembly. They were at first moderate in their demands. " When we visit the King and the National Assembly," Maillard said, " when we wish to soften and appease, we do not come in warlike guise." He had sent the guns to the rear that they might not be seen, and had persuaded the women on their arrival at Versailles to begin singing " Henri Quatre." " We are come," he continued, addressing the members, "to ask for bread, and to demand that the guards who insulted our cockade shall be punished. We are all good patriots." 120 MAKIE ANTOINETTE. Some of the deputies of the National Assembly replied with friendly words, others with threats. A priest offered his hand to a woman to kiss, but she pushed it roughly away, saying : " I was not made to kiss a dog's paw." Someone suggested that they should go to the King and repre- sent to him the deplorable condition of Paris. This advice was received with approval, and a fresh deputation was soon on the way to the royal palace, where they found everything in the wildest confusion. The King, who had been summoned from the hunting field, was walking aimlessly up and down while giving the most contradictory orders, which were instantly recalled. First he thought of flight ; then he said he would remain in Versailles ; finally, that he would go to Paris. It was the Queen alone who preserved her calm and self-possession. " I know that they are come to take my life," she said. " My mother taught me not to fear death. I will wait patiently for it." The Minister, Saint Priest, advised the Queen to escape, but he wished the King to remain, and show fight and resistance in accordance with his duty. Marie Antoinette consented to leave, but not without the King, who was far too irresolute to be left alone. " Then you must flee at once," said Saint Priest, " and the King must put himself at the head of his troops." The Queen tried to persuade her husband, and orders were given for carriages to be got ready. But Louis could come to no decision. He ran round the room with long strides, exclaiming : " A King in flight ! A King in flight ! " In the meantime the carriage had driven up to the gates, and Marie Antoinette was again entreated to flee alone ; but no persuasion could move her. " Danger is at hand," she said quietly ; " my place is at the King's side." Meanwhile the deputation of women had obtained an interview with the King, and a pretty young woman named Louison Chabry had been chosen as spokeswoman. When she saw Louis she was so,pvercome that she could only utter the word " Bread," and then fainted away. The King got help for her, and when she attempted" to kiss his hand on leaving he embraced her, gave her a written order for corn to be distributed, and commanded that every hindrance to the supply of provisions in Paris should be removed. But hunger and hate were still raging round the palace. The open places and roads were full of armed men and ragged women, shrieking for bread, but really thirsting for blood. Every now and again a soldier in the royal guard was recognised and bespattered with mud, or cudgelled by the mob. Some had installed themselves in the Guards' barracks, others in the hall of the National Assembly, while men with sinister expressions and threatening gestures went in and out among the masses, and communicated their evil designs. They all knew that the Queen's life was in danger, and this formed the subject of THE REVOLUTION. 121 ^whispered words on all sides. Rain was streaming down, and night and darkness coming on. The streets were barely lighted by a few poor lamps, all the shops were closed, and these crowds from Paris were hammering at the doors calling out for food. Towards midnight Lafayette arrived at the head of the National Guards, and as he entered Versailles he had mad the men swear again their oath of allegiance to the laws and their King. He went alone and at once into the palace, and all eyes sought to read on his countenance if he came as friend or enemy. " Here comes Cromwell," says one courtier. " Sir," answered Lafayette with dignity, " Cromwell would never have ventured here alone." He explained to the King that with his 20,000 men he felt himself quite capable of restoring order. It was by this time between two and three o'clock in the morning. Maillard and the majority of the women, among them Louison Chabry, had returned to Paris immediately on the arrival of the General. The King went to bed, the Queen too retired to seek rest, and for the moment all seemed quiet in the town. The National Guards were wet through and exhausted, they simply longed for food and to get dry, though it was with extreme difficulty that Lafayette could find them quarters for the night; he himself found shelter in the house of his relation, the Comte de Noailles. But it was the calm before the storm. The streets were filled with numberless groups of people, tattered and filthy with mud and ram, while among the dark bushes of the park plans of bloodshed and revenge intermingled with those of secret greed and ambition. Many were sleeping as they leant against the iron railings in front of the palace, their wild countenances betraying, even in their dreams, thoughts of hate and revolt; while close beside them lay noisy drunken women. Early in the morning they howled round the palace, "We will cut out the Queen's heart from her breast; we will make cockades of her entrails." Marie Antoinette was aroused out of her short sleep between five and six o'clock. Under her window the noise was heard, which came from the dense crowds who had pushed their way into the garden, screaming " The Austrian shall die ! Where is that vile woman whose throat we will cut ? " An officer asked how he could manage to approach Marie Antoinette's bedroom, and a soldier, who knew the way, put himself at the head of the throng. " What are they doing now 1 " asked the Queen, terrified at the noise. A lady-in-waiting drew the curtain aside and looked out. " It is the women from Paris," she said, "who could not find a resting place for the .night, and are walking about waiting for the day to dawn." Marie Antoinette accepted the answer and asked nothing 122 MARIE ANTOINETTE. further. A few minutes passed. Then suddenly a confused noise of voices, pistol shots, and shrieks was heard in the direc- tion of the " Court of Marble." The staircases and adjoining rooms were filled with raging crowds, who attacked the royal body-guard as they vainly strove to stem the impetuous advance. Two young men were knocked down, bathed in blood, but one his name was Miomandre preserved sufficient presence of mind before he fell to open the door of the Queen's ante-room and shout " Save Her Majesty ! They mean to kill her ! " One of the ladies-in-waiting heard the words and barricaded the door. " Get out of bed," she shrieked to the Queen ; " you must not wait to dress ; hasten to the King ! " The Queen sprang up. Her stockings were hastily drawn on ; one lady threw a skirt over her head without waiting to fasten it, while another covered her shoulders with a kerchief. And thus, half clothed, she rushed to the King^s rooms, " Open the door, open the door," she cried in despair. The noise and shrieks came nearer and nearer. Miomandre lay a corpse by the side of his comrade Repaire, while the Queen's ladies in vain redoubled their knocking at the door in mortal terror. For five long minutes not a sound was heard. " Open the door ! In the name of heaven open the door ! " Marie Antoinette besought again. At last a servant opened it. The King, who had also been roused by the noise, had seen the crowd on the square, and had noticed that they were moving towards the door leading to the Queen's rooms. He had hastened down to her succour by means of the secret staircase which connected her apartments with his own, while she was hurrying to him. On hearing that she had fled to his rooms, he turned back and arrived a few minutes after her. Almost at the same moment the Princess Elisabeth and the royal children appeared. The Queen took them in her arms, covered them with kisses, wept over them, and almost stifled them with caresses. The Dauphin cried and clung to her skirt, while Marie Therese, choking with sobs, pressed, close to her mother's side. All this time the crowd, still shouting fiercely, were pressing wildly on each other outside the palace and in the " Court of Marble." Several of the body-guard were killed, and the heads of the two doorkeepers were cut off and carried in triumph round the square. The Comte de Provence and his wife, the King's aunts, the court, and domestics had meanwhile gradually assembled. Louis took counsel, while the Queen stood alone in a window recess staring fixedly before her with a strange, weird look, and eyes red with weeping. The crowd did not see her; but she heard their screams and threats. Lafayette was at last roused by the noise ; he collected his men, who swore to sacrifice their lives for the King; and with their help he managed to drive the mob out of the palace. The court, grateful to him THE REVOLUTION. 123 for their present release, overwhelmed him with thanks for his timely appearance. The Comte de Provence seized him by both hands, while the Princess Adelaide kissed him and exclaimed, " You have saved us all ! " Marie Antoinette alone did not thank him. She turned to Madame Necker and said, as the burning tears streamed from her eyes, " They mean to force the King and me to accompany them to Paris, and they will carry the heads of our body-guard on the points of their lances at the head of the procession which shall conduct us to the capital." The crowds that had been chased from the palace assembled under the windows, screaming, " To Paris ! We will take them to Paris with us, we will not leave without them." " We want to see the King," shouted others; "let him show himself." Louis stepped on to the balcony, accompanied by Lafayette. "He wishes us well, and we like him on the whole," said a few among the crowd as they looked up at him; "but he ia ruled by his wife, and it is she who is the cause of all our misfortunes." Fresh shrieks were heard in the rooms, proceeding from the grounds and the barracks. " The Queen ! " howled the mob. " We must see her ! " Marie Antoinette acted aa her mother had done on that memorable day in Pressburg : she took the Dauphin in her arms, and holding her daughter by the hand, showed herself to the people. But the reception she met with was in striking contrast to the homage rendered to Maria Theresa by the Hungarians. Not a single Frenchman shouted " We will die for our Queen." " No children ! " they shrieked, with insulting words about herself and the Polignac family, while others again shouted still louder, " Long live the people ! Long live the Due d'Orleans 1 " Marie Antoinette hastily withdrew with her children. But yet again the cries were heard : " We will have the Queen out upon the balcony the Queen alone ! " " Madame," said Lafayette, " the people are clamouring to see you." " Sir," she replied, " can you really require me to show myself alone to them? Do you not see the menacing signs they are making? Can you not hear their threats against me 1 " But the General persisted in his demand. "Well," said the Queen, " I will go, even if it is to death." She put her children from her, and alone, with her hands crossed on her breast, she Stepped out on to the balcony, and remained standing there. She was simply dressed and her hair was in disorder. With her lips pressed closely together and her head raised, she was learn- ing to face death. Hundreds of weapons were pointed at her. One man raised his gun and aimed at her, but did not dare fire. She stood for two minutes, which seemed a year. Lafayette, who remained at her side, kissed her hand. 124 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Then there was a movement among the crowd. The Queen's courage had brought about a revulsion of feeling, and wrath waa changed into admiration of her fearlessness with death in sight. " Long live the General ! Long live the Queen ! " the people screamed. But Marie Antoinette could no longer trust their favour. It was in this fearful morning hour that her bright hair became white, and under a portrait which she had painted for the Princesse de Lamballe she wrote in memory of the awful time, " Sorrow has bleached my hair."* Fresh shouts were again heard, "We will take the King to Paris." Louis hesitated. He took counsel with his Ministers ; he turned to Lafayette for advice. The General appealed to the Queen to learn her opinion. " I see the fate that is awaiting me," she said, " but it is my duty to die at the King's feet, and in the arms of my children." It was decided that they should go, and written announcements were scattered among the throng to pacify them with the tidings that the King had consented to accompany them. The Royal Family therefore left for the capital, conducted thither by the people. It was a strange procession, headed by women sitting on (cannons laughing and singing. "We are bringing the baker, his wife, and their lad with us ! " they shouted. They were wearing the hats and shoulder-knots of the National Guard, and loaves, or pieces of bread, dangling from the lances they held in their hands. On the road they fell in with some carts with a good supply of flour a welcome sight for a famishing city. These were followed by soldiers carrying green boughs in their hands, after them came carriages with Ministers, ladies, and deputies, and finally the Royal Family, while the mob, on their return march to Paris, surged either immediately before or after the King. The roads were thronged with half-drunken, armed men and women, making their way as best they could on foot, on horse- back, in hired vehicles, or carts they had met on the road. Highwaymen and shrieking furies surrounded the royal coach, while the disarmed guards, exhausted with fatigue and hunger, dragged themselves along among the crowd in the rear. Hardly a word was spoken in the carriage. Marie Antoinette sat silent * Madame Campan asserts in her Mtmoires that the Queen's hair turned white during the journey from Varennes. Mont joy e, on the contrary, in his Histoire de Marie Antoinette, relates that it occurred in the October days of 1789. This account seems the more probable, for Montjoye wrote his history much nearer to that date than Madame Campan compiled her Memoires. On the other hand, it is very remarkable that Count Axel Fersen, who saw the Royal Family in 1792, did not mention the circum- stance in his diary. If he had not previously seen that the Queen's hair vas white the change must have struck him, and he would certainly have referred to the fact. THE BEYOLUTIOK 125 and immovable. But when she heard even the aimless firing of a gun she shuddered with fear for her children, and could not restrain her tears when the Dauphin complained of hunger. They drove at a walking pace for six long hours, while the mob near the coach either shouted cruel insults to the Queen, or boasted of their victory in her hearing. She replied with kind words. " The King has never had any other desire than the happiness of his people," she said. " We do not wish you ill; we love all Frenchmen." Most of those present were astounded at her courage, while some exclaimed, " We did not know you before." Marie Antoinette once looked out of the carriage window just to see how far they were on their journey, which to-day seemed interminable. She cast her eyes back towards Versailles, the scene of her joys and sorrows, and then looked forwards to the capital. Her thoughts travelled further still, as fearful threatening pictures presented themselves to her imagination. And yet the future had far greater sorrow in store for her than she could possibly conceive, even in this trying moment. CHAPTER XXIV. In the Tuileries The Princesse de Lamballe returns to Court Marie Antoinette's Letters to the Princesse de Lamballe and to the Duchesse de Polignac Hatred to the Queen continues. IT was evening when the procession reached Paris. Instead of enjoying the rest they longed for after such an exciting day, the Royal Family had to drive through the principal streets and crowds of people, who dragged their carriage to the Hotel de Ville, where ranting, empty speeches alternated with derisive insults. Bailly spoke in flowery language, and said how pleased the Parisians were to welcome the Royal Family within their walls. The Queen controlled herself and forced herself to smile, though exhausted with fatigue and looking pale as death. The King replied to Bailly that it always gave him pleasure and inspired him with confidence to visit his good Parisians. The Mayor repeated to those present that the King was always glad to be among his people. " And has confidence in them," added Marie Antoinette, who considered the word an important one. " It is of better omen that Your Majesty should say so," rejoined Bailly, turning to the Queen, " than that I should have made use of the expression." It was not till ten o'clock at night that they reached the Tuileries, which had been uninhabited for 125 years, and looked 126 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. dark and gloomy as the grave. The doors would not shut, the paint on the floors was worn and cracked, and the tapestries were hanging in rags from the walls. A few workmen were hastily performing the most urgent repairs, but the poor little Dauphin had to pass the night in a room open on every side. " Everything is so ugly here, mamma," he said as he entered. " My son," replied Marie Antoinette, " Louis XIV. lived here, and liked it. We must not be more exacting than he was." The Queen had hardly arrived when she remembered that she had forgotten to bring any clothes for herself and her children. She had to ask the permission of the National Assembly to allow her to send to Versailles for bedding and other things that had been forgotten on their hasty departure. Furniture, too, was needed, and for several days men were incessantly seen on the road between the old residence and the Tuileries. The members of the Government and their wives called on October 7th to condole with the royal couple, and to congratulate the Queen on her fortitude. Marie Antoinette's proud heart winced at the thought that these people should be witnesses of her humiliation, and with royal dignity in every look and gesture, but in a voice that cut them to the heart, she apologised for the disorder and poverty of her home. " You see," she said, as her voice quivered with emotion, " we were not aware that we should have to come here." " We, too, were moved," says Madame de Stael, who relates the incident, " and found ourselves unable to utter a word in reply." " Each one must arrange as best he can for himself," the King had said, whimpering, when he entered the Tuileries ; " I shall find a place for myself." But after his first outbreak of ill- hurnour was past he went over the palace, accompanied by the Queen. They selected between them the rooms they wished to occupy and gave orders for such repairs as were absolutely necessary. Louis chose a suite of rooms on the second floor, with a couple of smaller ones below. He took for his bedroom the one that Louis XIV. had occupied in his time, which was used by Napoleon I. later on, and also by his own brothers. Marie Antoinette had her apartments on the first floor, level with the garden a bedroom, dressing-room, and boudoir. Her children were upstairs close to the King. The aunts, who had accompanied them to Paris, lived in Marsan's Pavilion, formerly occupied by the gouvernantes of the royal children. One hall of the Flora Pavilion was arranged for the Princess Elisabeth, the other for the Princesse de Lamballe. The Comte and the Comtesse de Provence went to the Luxembourg. They gradually got accustomed to their new homes, and in the early days of their residence in the capital a sort of calm seemed to rule over all. During the week following their arrival in Paris Louis and Marie Antoinette received visits from most of the THE REVOLUTION. 127 principal citizens, and the deputations which, came one after another were all welcomed with kindness by the King, who seems to have quickly forgotten the disturbances in Versailles. Such of the nobility who had not left the city considered it their duty to visit the court as often as possible. The ladies carried enormous bouquets of lilies in their hands, and wore bows of white silk ribbon. Etiquette was much the same as it had been at Versailles, with the difference that the Royal Family dined in public every Thursday and Sunday in order to satisfy the curiosity of the Parisians. But the nobles fulfilled their duties in sadness, for they were far from sharing the King's confidence, and the National Guard the soldiers of the Revolu- tion who were stationed round the palace, only inspired them with distrust and alarm. The very women who had sat upon the cannon, and accompanied the royal couple amid threats and execrations, came to do homage to the Queen in Paris, and Marie Antoinette had to appear on the balcony to return their greetings. Her hat shaded part of her face, and the women begged her to remove it that they might see her better, and she yielded to their wishes. I The following day the palace was literally besieged by crowds, and their intrusion was carried so far that many women climbed up by the window frames and jumped into the apartments of the Princess Elisabeth. The Tuileries gardens were thronged, and the Queen had to appear at every moment, controlling herself and smiling, while her heart was breaking with anxiety. When the women had called her to the window they began their conversation : " You must send away those courtiers, they will be the ruin of the King," they counselled her. " You must love the good citizens of Paris." " I loved you when I was in Versailles," replied Marie Antoinette, "and I will love you equally now that I am here." One woman observed, "We were told yesterday that you meant to flee beyond the frontier." " You believe all that you are told," said the Queen ; " that is the cause of our misfortunes." " We shall not leave you again," shrieked some among the crowd. "We wish for nothing better than to remain among you," the Queen answered. " We desire that hatred may be quenched, and that bloodshed, which we abhor, may cease. Repeat these words to all among you who cannot hear me." Before leaving, the women often begged for some souvenir of their visit, and the Queen had to distribute flowers among them. " It would be impossible," wrote the Princess Elisabeth, /' to be more gracious and courageous than the Queen was during these days." The Monarchy was now nothing more than a toy with which the masses amused themselves before breaking it finally to pieces. The town councillors begged the Queen to frequent the 128 HAEIE ANTOINETTE. theatre, that the people might satisfy their longing to see her, " I cannot go to places of amusement, and so quickly forget the manner of our entrance into Paris," she replied. A whole world lay between the ashy-pale and silent Marie Antoinette of the Tuileriea and the Marie Antoinette who had herself acted comedies in Trianon. A sort of dull despair had come over her since that terrible morning in Versailles. The remembrance of the tragic scenes before the departure of the lloyal Family was still embittering every hour of her life, and visibly destroying her beauty. " Le Chatelet" a tribunal invested with extraordinary judicial authority made enquiries about the disturbances of the 5th and 6th of October. "Witnesses were called, who swore to the insults addressed to the Royal Family, and especially to the Queen, who was asked to assist in punishing the guilty by telling all that she had heard or could remember. " I saw everything, I knew everything, and I have forgotten everything," she replied. When the committee pressed her to say more, she added : " I will never appear as an accuser against the King's subjects." There were many contradictory reports current in reference to those miserable days in Versailles, and suspicions of sharing in the disturbances rested although unjustly both on the Due d'Orleans and on Mirabeau. The Duchesse d'Orleans, who was separated from her husband, was in despair when she heard that his name was connected with the affair. She hastened to the Queen, opened her heart to her, and entreated her not to withdraw her favour from her. The Duchess had no share in the persecution with which her husband annoyed his royal relatives, and the friendship between her and Marie Antoinette remained unshaken. * * * * ***** The Queen could not live without companionship. The more closely difficulties grew up around her, and the more clearly she saw herself forsaken, the more eagerly she longed for the support of confidential intercourse. In her thoughtless youth the Queen, whose delight was to mock and ridicule others, had allowed the Princesse de Lamballe to leave her court with a smile. But even when Madame de Polignac's star was in the ascendant she had occasionally shown her some marks of attention; and a letter is extant to the Princesse de Lamballe dated Nov. 25th, 1781, in which we read : " I see that you still care for me, my dear Lamballe ; it is such a pleasure to me to see your dear hand- writing that I do not know how I can repay you. . . ." The King had never relaxed in his attention to the Princess, who was the only one of his wife's friends of whom he took the least notice. In 1780 he sent her on her " name day " a prayer-book THE REVOLUTION. 129 which his mother had given him, accompanied by the following words : " Madame ! Dear cousin ! "To-day is your 'name day.' I beg you to accept thie book which came to me from my mother, and in which I learned to pray to God. I beseech Him on your behalf. May He grant a blessing on your virtues ! " t j The Queen added the following postscript: "My dear heart! " I too will make use of this opportunity to speak to you of my friendship. I come after the King, but I must rank with him in my attachment to you. My children love you too, and we pray to God on our knees for your happiness. The children know well, my dear Lamballe, that you love them as your own ; they bear you in their hearts, and name you in their prayers." Then at the very end the Princess Marie Therese wrote : " Madame ! I shall never forget you. Your cousin, "Marie The>ese." While those terrible scenes were being enacted in Versailles, the Princesse de Lamballe and the Duchesse d'Orleans were spending a few quiet days with the Due de Penthievre in his castle at Eu. At nine o'clock in the evening of October 7th a courier arrived, covered with dust, and riding a horse ready to drop with fatigue. It was he who brought the first intelligence that the Royal Family was in the Tuileries, together with some details of what had been occurring in Versailles the last few .days. The friendship which had been rejected by Marie An- toinette was as warm as ever on the part of the Princesse de Lamballe. No sooner did she fully realize that the sinister fore- bodings of a revolution had become a reality than her plans were made. The dangers which Marie Antoinette experienced only attracted her friend back to the court where life itself seemed to be in peril. She was not wanted when all was bright, and her wish to be the first amongst the Queen's friends had not been granted. But when the storm began she hastened to her post of danger and devotion, and remained the companion in misfortune, the firm friend in the awful hours that were to come. In the darkest of nights, towards twelve o'clock, she left her father-in-law's peaceful home for Paris, which she reached the evening of October 8th. The servant on duty saw a veiled lady alight from a carriage, then the close embrace of two women. It was not without great difficulty that she persuaded the King to allow her to resume her old office of intendante, for Louis' genuine attachment to her urged him to insist on her absence from court. Marie Antoinette was at first too glad to see her i 130 MARIE ANTOINETTE. again, too fearful of losing her a second time, to be able to entertain such anxious thoughts. In her loneliness she pined for the support of a kindred soul. And when the Princess again returned to her father-in-law for a short time, she wrote her letters full of longing and kind reproaches that the Princess was not more prudent with regard to her health. If the Queen could have foreseen a tithe of what had already happened she would never have believed it possible that she could survive it. So many events succeeded each other with such rapidity that her powers of resistance became weakened and her spirit almost crushed under dejection and despair. Silence and depression reigned in the palace, and there was hardly a ray of brightness to disperse the clouds of sorrow. Madame de Lamballe was the only person that could cheer Marie Antoinette, whose anxious mind found rest as she looked into her friend's steadfast blue eyes, so full of earnest tenderness. A sort of presentiment of her future fate lay in every feature and movement of the Princess, a shadow of patient suffering and sorrow. And yet she had strength to smile, to master her own fear, in order to drive despondency from her friend, and to brighten her home of pain and mourning by her fascinating presence. "Light as a bird," says Lescure, "she came to entice the Queen away from her foreboding thoughts." But although this old friendship was renewed in all its former strength, Marie Antoinette did not forget the favourite whom she had sent away. With anxious thoughts she followed Madame de Polignac in her flight, and was never tired of writing to her, overwhelming her with tender words as if she had been sitting by her side. She often wrote to her every other day, and on one occasion she sent to her twice on the same day. Nothing that concerned the fugitive was forgotten by the Queen. In every letter to her friend there is the same solicitude, the same caressing language. She sympathises in all her cares and interests, and flatters herself that her feelings are reciprocated. She seats herself at her writing-table without knowing what she will say, and can hardly write for her tears; and it is as though Madame de Polignac had taken with her a portion of her very heart, so completely does the Queen seem to live with her still. " But one word, my dear heart," she wrote to Madame de Polignac in July, 1789. "I cannot resist the pleasure of embracing you yet again. I wrote to you three days ago through Herr de M., who allows me to read all your letters, and with whom I talk about you incessantly. If you only knew with what anxiety we have followed you, and with what joy we heard of your safety. I have acted the best for you this time. All has been peaceful since I wrote last, though our prospects are very gloomy. My chief comfort is to caress my children, and to think of you, dear heart! " On July 29th THE REVOLUTION. 131 she wrote : " I cannot, dear heart, let the safe opportunity which has presented itself slip by without writing to you again to-day. It gives me such pleasure that I have thanked my husband a hundred times, because he has sent me his letter. You know that I love and embrace you, especially under present circum- stances. Our position does not seem to be improving, and you have probably heard of the events of July 14th. I cannot forget the horrors and bloodshed of that day. God grant that my husband may be enabled to carry out his plans for good, the one and only thing that he desires. The speech which he made in the National Assembly has produced some effect, for all right- minded people are supporting us. But events occur rapidly, and lead on one knows not whither. You can form no con- ception of the plots that are being formed all around us. I hear of them every day, even in my own house. Oh, my dear friend, I feel so sad and depressed. Herr N. [Necker] has just arrived, after seeing you and talking to you. His return is a complete triumph. May he be able to prevent the scenes of bloodshed that are soiling this beautiful kingdom 1 Farewell, farewell, my dear heart 1 I embrace you and yours with fervour." On the third page of one of the Queen's letters to Madame de Polignac are the following lines in a child's handwriting : " Madame, " I was so very sorry when I heard that you were gone, but be quite certain that I shall never forget you." Marie Antoinette took the pen from her daughter's hand and added : " These three lines were dictated by genuine feeling and simplicity. The poor child came in while I was writing. I suggested that she should write, and left her quite alone. She was not told a word, the thought is her own, and I like to send it as it stands." "How happy I feel," wrote the Queen another time to Madame de Polignac, " to know that you are safe. For myself I look for death insults, threats, disgusting coarseness, meet me every moment of the day. Love me. . . ." January 7th, 1790, she wrote : " I cannot resist the longing to embrace you, dear heart, but it must be in haste, for the opportunity which presents itself is unexpected but sure, and these few lines will reach you by post in a large parcel, all for you. We are watched like criminals, and it is indeed hard to be patient under such restraint. To be continually anxious about those nearest to you, not to be able to appear at a window without being overwhelmed with insults, or to take the poor innocent children into the fresh air without exposing them to shouts and cries; what a position, dear heart! Then, if one had only one's own sorrows to bear. But to live in anxiety for the King, for all that is dearest on earth, for present and absent 132 MARIE ANTOINETTE. friends, all this is a burden too heavy to bear. But I have already told you all this ; I will restrain myself. Farewell, dear heart, let us trust in God, who knows our conscience and can see that we are filled with the sincerest solicitude for the country. I embrace you! " MABHJ ANTOINETTE. " The King has just come in and will add a word." Louis wrote at the foot of the letter : " I will only tell you, dear Duchess, that you are in no wise forgotten here, that we regret to receive so few letters from you, and that whether present or absent, you are beloved you and yours. Louis." This letter was the last but one that reached Madame de Polignac from her royal friend. The unhappy Queen was surrounded by spies, and had to relinquish the correspondence which had been so comforting to her. #'_#'.-*'#.-'.#.# Active opposition seemed to cease for a tune during the first few weeks of the Royal Family's residence in Paris. The King rose early, and devoted an hour to prayer and reading. Then he went downstairs to say good-morning to the Queen and his children. He breakfasted alone, attended by a single faithful servant; but the Queen sometimes came to him during the meal to talk about business. He spent the forenoon in study, especially in examining in minutest detail the history of Charles I. of England, Inspired by the hope that he might learn to avoid the errors of which that monarch had been guilty. He gave up hunting, which in former days had been his greatest pleasure, but he went long rides with Lafayette and other officers, and during the early days of his stay in Paris he regularly walked in the Tuileries gardens. Marie Antoinette, too, occupied herself as usual. In the morning she superintended the education of her children, and employed a good deal of her time in writing letters, or doing large pieces of needlework. Twice a week she received the members of the court before attending Mass with the King. And in the beginning of her residence in Paris she had a few evening parties, when she saw those that remained of the old nobility and some of the new officials, who were gradually replacing the aristocracy of the former regime. But the danger that threatened the Royal Family was just as great as before their removal to Paris. The people were irritated by the continued scarcity and by the violent debates in the National Assembly. The Queen was hated and scorned as persistently as ever; though fat, good-natured Louis, whose appearance bespoke fatherly kindness and placid content, had always been liked. And if Marie Antoinette had not followed him to Paris, but could have resolved to leave the country alone, it is not THE KEVOLUTION. 133 at all improbable that the devotion of the people to the King would have been aroused afresh. There were many, even among the Royalists, who wished the Queen's death and tried to poison her, so that her best friends urged her not to touch the dishes that were placed on her table. But, in speaking to Madame Campan on the subject, Marie Antoinette said : " They are mistaken ; not a single drop of poison will be used for me. It is not the fashion in this century; scandal is used, a much safer instrument, and I feel that I shall die, a sacrifice to its influence." A separation between the royal pair was suggested, and in a conversation with Marie Antoinette, Lafayette observed, with cynical frankness, that he and many others much wished to see her separated from her husband. " We could accuse you of adultery in order to gain our object," he said. The Queen opposed the proposition with dignity and firmness, but from that day she never heard the General's name without being overcome with nervous excitement. Lafayette continually offered her counsel, but she rejected it every time, without even examining its value ; and one day, when he told her about a probable plan of the Due d'Orteans to usurp the throne, she coldly asked, and with direct reference to himself : " Is it necessary to be a prince to entertain such a project?" She never forgot the insult that Lafayette had cast in her teeth, which was undoubtedly the cause of the ill-will and distrust which she nourished against him to the very last. CHAPTER XXV. Emigration The King attends the National Assembly Favras' Execution Death of the Emperor Joseph. EMIGRATION, which had begun during the last few months in Versailles, increased after the Royal Family had been dragged to Paris, where the Tuileries was little more than a prison. The court party grew less and less as the nobles hastily left the land in crowds, and Louis, who had been waited upon by hundreds, could now only count on a small number of attendants, among them noble-hearted Clery, who accompanied him to the tower in the Temple. Desertion thinned the ranks everywhere. It had begun at the foot of the throne in close relationship to the royal pair, then followed the landed nobility and the clergy, while the officers, who were all of high birth, left en masse. Nothing similar had been witnessed since the days of old, when the people wandered forth to flee from the invading 134 MARIE ANTOINETTE. Romans. Necker had already lamented, September, 1789, that in the course of less than a fortnight passports had been given to 6000 of the richest inhabitants of France. At the close of the same year Switzerland was so full of French refugees that house rent had increased everywhere to considerably more than the original purchase-money. England and Italy also gave shelter to numbers of the greatest and most renowned families of France. Officers boasted as they forsook the field of battle, and nobles as they left their King alone. Young, high-spirited men met together in Coblentz, dressed in blue coats, red vests, and yellow trousers, wearing buttons with three lilies the badges of the emigrant host. They assembled in the German towns as in a patriotic meeting, alleging that the King's brother must certainly know best what was becoming in the adherents of their sovereign. As the Comte d'Artois had thought it right to seek this foreign land, it must surely be the best place for all faithful nobles. Louis, who never knew what he wanted or what he ought to do, was unable to decide in this crisis whether he should blame or encourage this emigration, which alternately filled him with fear and hope. He condemned it officially, but in the depths of his heart he hoped to utilise it. There were secret agents, as well as relations and subjects among the refugees, and although he spoke disparagingly of them all in one moment, in the next he wished that he too were with them. It cannot be denied emigration was a grave error. It is easy to under- stand that a faithful aristocracy should accompany their sovereign in his flight ; but in this instance the nobles and clergy of France left their King alone, surrounded by the greatest dangers, while they themselves wandered from court to court, instead of remaining at their posts. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that the nobles were in a most unhappy condition under the Revolution, for those who fled sacrificed their estates and were condemned to banishment, which it was said in France should be permanent. Those who remained in their country were suspected, persecuted, and finally guil- lotined; while those who sought refuge in the army were not safe, even if they performed prodigies of valour. The year 1790 dawned more portentous, more fraught with danger than the close of the old year had been. Fire and plunder continued in the provinces, while assault and murder were the order of the day in the capital. Disturbances and errors on the part of the court gave occasion to so many unwarranted accusations that the Ministers, with Necker at their head, advised the King to take some decided step which should prove that he had accepted the new order of things. February 4th [1790] it was announced to the President of the "National Assembly that Louis intended to be present at their THE REVOLUTION. 135 meeting, and wished to be received without ceremony. A red velvet cloth embroidered with white lilies was hastily thrown over the seat of the President, who remained standing by the side, when the King entered at one o'clock in ordinary dress 3 and without attendants. The meeting rose to welcome him, while people crowded in and filled the galleries, to wait in eager excitement to hear what Louis would say. The moment was an important one. The monarch felt that he must gain a hearing this time, that defeat would be doubly disastrous. In a speech drawn up by Necker he referred to the dis- turbances which had shaken his kingdom. He wished, he said, to enter into closer relationship with the representatives of the people, especially now when resolutions had been laid before him which would lead to changes in the country. He was willing to co-operate with all his might in the establishing of this new regime. Every effort to subvert it should meet with punishment, and he was ready to further it by every means at his disposal. He finally reminded them of the sacrifices that he had made, and called upon all those who had suffered loss to imitate his resignation, and to derive comfort from the expectation of the good things that the new constitution pro- mised to the country. " In conjunction with the Queen, who shares my views," he continued, " I will early train my son's mind and heart to understand the fresh conditions which circum- stances have developed. . . . You, who can influence my misguided people through so many channels, must enlighten them in reference to their true interests these people who are so dear to me, and of whose devotion I am assured by those who would comfort me in my sorrows." The speech was received with applause and emotion, while the meeting thanked the King and overwhelmed him with good wishes. Crowds conducted him back to the palace, and it was resolved to present him and the Queen with a grateful address. By this act the King had pledged himself to uphold the new constitution. The National Assembly would not be outdone by him. Every member came forward and swore to maintain the Government, as ordered by the National Assembly and the King. The Queen, too, was acknowledged, and she wrote to the Princesse de Lamballe: "Dear Friend, Regret that you were not in Paris. We have not had such a day for a whole year. . . . It is so sweet to hope, and I shall yield to the feeling. Even if it should prove nothing more than an illusion, it is a comfort to my heart, because it reassures me about the future fate of my children. Return as quickly as you can, dear friend, that you may see how happy I am. It may last such a short time that you must not lose the opportunity." These bursts of enthusiasm were as fickle as the waves, and 136 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. illusions of peace and reconciliation were extinguished as rapidly as the illuminations themselves. In the happiest days of her life warning visions of future ill had continually troubled the mind of Marie Antoinette, and her presentiments were now to become a fearful reality. At the same time that means were taken to pacify the people, and to arouse, if only a shadow of, the old devotion to the Royal Family, the rulers and the court were called upon to change their habits, even in the smallest detail, and neither the King nor the Queen could understand this claim upon them. The errors of the royal pair were aggravated by the arrogance and in judiciousness of their court, and while the enthusiasm over the King's speech was still warm in all hearts they affronted the citizens by receiving their deputies in quite a different manner to those of the nobility, which seemed to show that they did not consider the former to be of the same flesh and blood as the aristocracy. After a momentary respite the people renewed their clamours and their persecution of the King and Queen and their friends. During the winter crowds assembled nearly every day under the windows of the Tuileries, shouting insults against Marie Antoinette, while shots were fired during the night. A real prison probably housed less misery than this palace, which had been the home of none but royalty. The Queen could not refrain from exclaiming bitterly, " How amazed my mother would have been to see me in such surroundings me, the daughter of an emperor, the wife of a king, the mother of a king; at any rate, the mother of a child who is destined to become a king ! " **#*## It was reported that a French nobleman, named Favras, who had travelled all over Europe and was married to a foreign princess, was the author of a conspiracy against the National Assembly, which had for its object the murder of Lafayette and Bailly, and the rescue of the King by means of 1 200 horse ready in Versailles, while an army of recruits, among whom were many Swiss and Piedmontese, was prepared to join the King and advance upon Paris. Favras was denounced without being allowed to confront his accusers. Witnesses came forward and explained his plan in detail; but proofs were not forthcoming, and no sign could be found either of the presence of the 1200 horse or of the army of recruits. In spite of the absence of proofs, a prearranged verdict was pronounced. " There seemed to be a longing," wrote the Princess Elisabeth to Madame de Bombelles, "to terrify all who might think of serving the King. The people thirsted for blood, the blood of a man who bore the title hated of the multitude aristocrat." Favras was sentenced to be hanged. The populace, who rejoiced to see the sentence of THE REVOLUTION. 137 the law executed on a marquis, hastened in crowds to the place where he was to die, jeering as they went. The accused smiled contemptuously on his revilers, and obstinately refused to reveal his secret. " I pity the men who are accusing me against their own conscience," he said, " but as they insist on a victim I am glad that the choice has fallen on me. Citizens ! " he cried, " I die innocent. Pray to God for me." Then, turning to the execu- tioner, he said, " Well, now, my friend, do your duty." February 27th brought a letter from her brother Leopold to say that the Emperor Joseph had died in Vienna. The political difficulties in which the young Emperor had involved himself, even if he had lived, would probably have hindered him from materially assisting Marie Antoinette; but she missed in him a brother whom she deeply loved, as well as a sound adviser and friend. A few days before his death h had written a tender, touching letter to her in which he had expressed the deepest regret that he had to leave her in such a cruel position, and his sorrow that he could not give her substantial proofs of the devotion he had always felt towards her. In one of the last letters to his brother and successor he had previously written : " Like you, I am deeply grieved concerning the calumnies that are current about the Queen of France. But jvhat can we do with such mad, impudent people ? They cannot be dissuaded from believing that my sister sent me millions of francs in secret, while I, for my part, cannot conceive either why I should have asked her for them or why she should have sent them to me. I have never accepted a single coin from France." " The loss which I have sustained," wrote Marie Antoinette to Madame de Polignac on her brother's death, " has made me very unhappy. But the strength and fortitude which he preserved to his last moment will at all events evoke the respect and admira- tion of the world. I venture to say that he died as became our CHAPTER XXVI. Marie Antoinette as Mother Traits in the Character of Louis XVII. DATS and months succeeded each other in the Tuileries filled with anxiety and excitement. Lafayette expected an attack on the palace during the night of April 13th, and communicated his apprehensions to the King. Louis rose and went to the Queen's apartments, but she was not there. Then he hastened in fear to the children's bedroom, where he found his wife 138 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. holding her son in her arms. " I was looking for you ; you have frightened me terribly ! " exclaimed the breathless King. "I was at my post," answered the Queen, as she pressed the Dauphin to her heart. As her misery increased Marie Antoinette clung more and more closely to her children. Her love as a mother gave her at the same time her greatest joy and her deepest sorrow. She could not look at the Dauphin without tears. Will this child, who seemed to have the promise of such a brilliant future, be a ruler or a martyr? With less and less to do with the world, she devoted her time to her son and daughter. She remembered how her own mother had taken the imperial children in Vienna to see the sick and destitute, and did the same with her own little ones. She accompanied them to the hospital, and taught them to distribute gifts with kind and comforting words. After the flight of the Duchesse de Polignac, Madame de Tourzel became gouvernante to the royal children, and the following letter from the Queen to this lady explains better than many words the solicitude of Marie Antoinette both for son and daughter:-- "July Mth, 1789. " In two days my son will be four years and four months old. I will not speak of his appearance or his external advantages. You will see him. His health has always been good, but even in the cradle we noticed that his nerves were very weak, and that the least unusual sound affected him. He cut his first teeth very late, but they came without sickness or difficulty. It was only with one, the last I think it was the sixth that he had convulsions at Fontainebleau. Since then he has had them twice, in the winter of '87-88, and again when he was inoculated ; but this last attack was very slight. On account of his weak nerves, any noise to which he is not accustomed always alarms him. For instance, he is afraid of dogs, because he once heard their bark close to him. I have never forced him to notice them, because I believe that his fear will decrease as he becomes more reasonable. " He is very impetuous and violent when his anger is roused, but he is a good child, gentle and loving when his passion is over. He has an inordinately good opinion of himself, which, if care- fully guided, may turn to his advantage. He is perfectly f aithf ul when he has promised anything, but he is too frank, and often repeats what he has heard, sometimes adding details suggested by his imagination without the least intention of being untrue. This is his greatest fault, which we must strive to correct. On the whole I repeat it he is a good child ; and with kindness and firmness, without severity, we can do what we like with him. But severity only rouses him, as he is very determined for hia age. To give you an example, the words ' forgive me ' have displeased him from his earliest childhood. If he has been in THE REVOLUTION. 139 the wrong he will acknowledge it in a roundabout way, but the expression 'forgive me' he will not utter without tears and endless trouble. " My son cannot read, and learns with difficulty ; he is too heedless to be persevering. He has no thoughts of greatness in his head, and I hope this will long continue, for our children learn quite soon enough what they are. He loves his sister heartily. If a thing pleases him, either that he may go to some place or other, or something has been given to him, his first impulse is always to ask for the same for his sister. He is naturally cheerful. For his health's sake he ought to be much in the fresh air, and I think that it is better to let him both work and play on the terrace rather than take him further away. The exercise which little children take when they play and run about freely is much healthier than forced walking, which is often trying to the back. " I will now tell you of his surroundings. There are three sub-gouvernantes Mesdames de Soucy, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, and Madame de Villefort. Madame de Soucy, senior, is a particularly amiable woman, very well-informed and exact, but with bad manners. Her daughter-in-law is like her in this respect, but without intelligence. She has not been with my daughter lately, but she does very well with the little boy, as she is reliable and a little strict with him. Madame de Villefort is exactly tho opposite, for she spoils him. She has just as bad, if not worse, manners. They are all on mutually good terms. The two chief waiting-women are devoted to both the children. But Madame Lemoine is an inveterate gossip, and repeats everything she hears, in the children's presence or not it is all the same to her. Madame Neuville is nice-looking, intelligent, and straight- forward, though it is said that she is ruled by her mother, a mischievous woman. " Brunier, the doctor, has my entire confidence whenever the children are ill, but in every other occasion he must be kept in his place ; he is forward, noisy, and familiar. Abbe d'Avreux is all very well to teach my son his alphabet, but neither his manners nor general acquirements fit him to be much with my children, and for this reason I have taken my daughter away from him. We have to see that he is not too familiar with my son out of lesson hours, a point which gave great trouble to Madame de Polignac, and she was not always able to prevent it ; he ranks with the sub-gouvernantes. About ten days ago I was told of some ungrateful expressions of the Abbe, which greatly annoyed me. My son has eight waiting-women. They are zealous in their attendance, but I cannot have much con- fidence in them. Many unsuitable things have been discussed in the children's rooms lately, but I cannot say exactly by whom. There is a certain Madame Belliard among them who does not 140 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. disguise her feelings. So without suspecting anybody it is my duty to be at my post. All his male attendants are faithful, quiet, and devoted to him. My daughter has two chief waiting- women and seven others. Madame Brunier, the doctor's wife, has been with her since her birth, and serves her with fidelity. But though I have not a word to say against her, I would never take her into my own service. She resembles her husband in character, and is too greedy and anxious about the perquisites which belong to her post. Her daughter, Madame Tremindille, is an admirable woman, and although only twenty-seven she has many good qualities belonging to riper years. She has been with my daughter from her birth, and I have watched her continually. I brought about her marriage, and the time that she does not spend with my daughter is occupied entirely with the bringing up of her three little girls. She is gentle, sociable, and very well-informed, so that I look to her to undertake the further instruction of the Princess instead of Abbe d'Avreux. She is quite capable of doing it, and as I am fortunate in feeling every confidence in her, I am sure this plan will be preferable. Besides, my daughter is very fond of her and trusts her. The other seven ladies are good subordinates, and this apartment is more peaceful than my son's. The male attendants have beien with her from her birth. They are quite ordinary men, but as they have nothing to do beyond their service, and as they only remain in the ante-room, they are indifferent to me. " MARIE ANTOINETTE." The little Dauphin was a charming child, with blue eyes, long, curly hair, fresh, rosy cheeks, and a bright smile, which sorrow was so soon to change into a sad one. Nobody under- stood him better than his mother, who had watched his faults with close and strict attention, but also nobody saw his attractive qualities more clearly than she did. Vigilant as she was to detect any weakness, she spared no pains to strengthen and form his character. Endowed with an innate tendency to good, which produced his frankness, he was nevertheless passionate and disobedient, faults which called for strict treatment. The mother had often to resist his caresses, which so easily disarmed her, and strengthen herself against his plausible excuses to escape punishment. One day she heard him whistling during lesson hours, and went in to reprove him. "Mamma-Queen," cried the little one, without waiting for her reprimand, " I was whistling to myself ! " He was not fond of learning, but his filial love overcame his dislike. His mother reproached him one day that he could not read, although he was five and a half years old. He replied, "I will learn to read as a New Year's gift to you, Mamma-Queen." Madame de Tourzel relates that at the end of November he said to his teacher: "I want to know how much time there THE EEYOLUTION. 141 is before New Year's Day, for I have promised Mamma to be able to read by that time." When he heard that there only wanted a month, he said quite calmly : " Give me now two lessons every day, my good Abbe, and I shall be able to do it." He kept his word, and on the appointed day he triumphantly entered the Queen's room, holding a book in his hand. He threw his arms round her neck, saying : " See, here is your New Year's gift. I have kept my promise. . I can read now." In the neighbourhood of the Tuileries, close to the banks of the Seine, was a little garden, belonging to the house in which the Dauphin's tutor lived. Madame de Tourzel persuaded the King to give this piece of ground to the Dauphin, who took possession of it with intense delight. This same little garden was given later on by Napoleon I. to the King of Eome, by Charles X. to the Due de Bordeaux, and by Louis Philippe to the Comte de Paris. " How many warnings," says Beauchesne, " have been sown in that strip of earth, which so soon had to be forsaken by its young owners ! One died in prison when ten years old. The second (the Duo de Keichstadt) was driven from home in his infancy, and only lived long enough to understand the glory attached to his father's name, and to die in possession of his own first sword. The third disappeared, like so many others, in the reign of terror; and the fourth was a fugitive, spending his time alternately in Austria and England." In this little garden the Dauphin looked after his hens and ducks, cultivated his flowers, played and worked in perfect freedom. While passion was raging in the National Assembly and in the streets of Paris he was watching his flowers with keen attention, that he might choose the very best to tie up into nosegays for his mother. He went into her room quite early every morning, laid his flowers on her bed, and then hid himself behind the curtains. When M]arie Antoinette awoke and saw the nosegay she used to say, " My little son is not far away." The ladies tried to impress on the child that there were plenty of gardeners about the palace, and that the Queen had flowers enough. " No other flowers give her as much pleasure as those I gather for her," was his answer. He always tried to please his mother. He rejoiced to see her smile, and suffered when he saw her weep, though without understanding the cause of her tears. When he had been industrious during lesson hours Marie Antoinette played with him, or went with him to his little garden. She took pleasure in seeing him run before her in the avenues of the park, and tied up the flowers that he gathered. He took every opportunity of saying pleasant things to those about him. One day, after a few weeks' holiday, Marie Antoinette was present during the Abb6's instruction. "If I am not mistaken," said the teacher, " I spoke to you in our last 142 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. lesson about positive, comparative, and superlative. But, of course, you have forgotten it ! " " You are mistaken," replied the Dauphin; "I remember it all. It is positive if I say: My teacher, tn"e Abbe, is a good teacher. It is comparative if I say: My teacher, the Abb6, is better than other teachers. Superlative," he continued, as he looked towards the Queen, " is when I say : My mother is the best of all mothers ! " There are hundreds of pretty anecdotes recorded of the child. The Baroness Oberkirch relates the following : " One day Charles Louis wished to purchase a toy, but he was told that it was too expensive. ' When I say my evening prayers,' he said, ' I shall add a few words to our Lord, to ask if He will be kind enough to make me rich/ The old servant, who was undressing him, thought it his duty to reprove him. ' Tour Royal Highness must not pray to God for riches, but for wisdom,' he said. ' My dear Joseph,' answered the Dauphin, 'when I am saying my prayers I can just as well ask God to give me both.' " One day, when Bailly came into the room, he ran up to him and asked : ' Monsieur Bailly, what is it they are going to do to papa and mamma 1 ? Everybody round us is crying.' " Another day Bertrand de Molleville was with the Queen. The Dauphin was hopping about the room, singing and playing with a wooden sword, when he was fetched to have his supper. In a second he had disappeared, but the Queen called him back. ' My child,' she said, ' you left the room without bowing to Monsieur de Molleville.' l Mamma/ answered the Dauphin, who went on hopping, ' it was because I am quite sure that Monsieur de Molleville is one of our friends. Good-night, Monsieur de Molleville ! ' ' He is a dear child, is he not ? ' said Marie Antoinette. ' It is a good thing he is so young, and cannot feel what we suffer, while his brightness is a real help to us.' "Hue, his valet, once saw the Dauphin throw himself into some bushes, and told him it was a pity to run the risk of scratching his face on purpose. The child haughtily replied : * That is the thorny path that leads to fame/ But the Queen did not approve of this kind of heroism, and told him that it was anything but praiseworthy to put out his eyes by rushing into a hedge, and that he had better wait to talk about fame until he had learnt what it costs to win it. The Dauphin reddened, ran up to his mother, and kissed her hand. " He was really just as much devoted to the King, but the respect he felt for his father prevented him from being as much at his ease in his company as with his mother, for whom he had always some kind or loving word. One of the places that most attracted the Dauphin was an asylum for destitute and orphan children. The Queen often took him there, and the poor found- lings were always glad to see him and thankful for his visits. " One day his father found him busily arranging some gold THE REVOLUTION. 143 pieces in a little box which his aunt Elisabeth had given him. ' How is it, Charles,' said his father, in a displeased tone, ' that you are scraping money together like a miser? ' The Dauphin blushed, but answered quickly : ' Yes, father, I am scraping my money together, but it is for those poor children. If you were to see them I am sure you too would have pity on them/ The King embraced him, and said, ' If that is the case, my child, and you are saving for the poor, I will gladly help you to fill your box/ " CHAPTER XXVII. The Summer of 1790 Fete on the Champs de Mars The Queen and Mirabeau. THE spring came, but it brought neither alleviation to the sorrows of the royal pair, nor cessation to the persecution of the people. The Queen was pining for fresh country air. In her happy days she had been fond of St. Cloud, and now she wished to go there again for a few summer months, hoping to be sheltered from the shouts and insults of the populace. The whole royal party went, accompanied by Lafayette and his adjutants. Marie Antoinette was full of delight to be able to sit on the grass once again with her children, to walk in the garden, or rest under the shady trees without being startled every moment by noise and angry cries. Then she could more freely enjoy the pleasures of her correspondence with friends and relations here than in Paris. Their stay lasted for the whole summer, but every Sunday and on special occasions they drove to the capital, that the people might see their King and Queen. Although Marie Antoinette was always thankful to return to St. Cloud as quickly as possible, she felt it was prudent to accede to the wishes of the people, and show herself frequently in her unfriendly capital. The National Assembly had determined that the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille should be celebrated with great cere- mony, and the Champs de Mars was selected as the place where the representatives of all the French provinces and the royal troops were to assemble. " I cannot think of the approaching event without a shudder," the Queen wrote to Comte Mercy. " For us it will mean all that is painful and trying, but we must be present." Preparations had been going on for weeks with zeal and perfect harmony. Men and women of all ages, parties, and positions gave their assistance to the cause, while deputies from all parts 144 MABIE ANTOINETTE. of the country were received at the Tuileries and entertained before the real fete day arrived. The 14th July dawned gloomy and wet. Crowds jostled each other in the streets, collected on the bridges, and took possession of every window. A platform was erected for the King, deputies, and ambassadors. Louis had expressed the wish that places might be assigned to his family by his side, but the National Assembly refused his request, and a few days before the ceremony it was decreed that the King was to appear alone, with the President of the Assembly on his left hand. This was a fresh proof of their distrust of the Royal Family, especially of Marie Antoinette, whom they so pointedly separated from her husband and the representatives of the nation. As she could not receive permission to show herself by the King's side, it was arranged that she and the other members of the Royal Family should witness the pageant from the window of a military school. The King accompanied them, and remained with his family until all were assembled, when he took the place assigned to him among the deputies. The Archbishop blessed the banners, and a Te Deum was sung, after which Lafayette stepped up to the altar and, in the name of the people, swore fidelity to the law and the King. The shout " I swear ! " was repeated in the next moment by the 300,000 people assembled on the occasion. The cannon thundered, the flags waved, and hats and soldiers' caps were thrown up into the air. The King rose and stretched out his hand towards a picture of the Saviour. " I, King of the French," he shouted in a loud voice, " swear to use the authority which the constitutional laws of the State have granted me, to maintain the fundamental laws as prescribed by the National Assembly and accepted by me." The Queen became excited with enthusiasm ; she took the heir to the throne in her arms and leant forward towards the crowd, as she shouted from the window : " Here is my son ! He and I both entertain the same sentiments as the King." This unexpected, spontaneous response was rewarded by the enthusiasm of thousands. The flags were waved, the church bells were rung, and singing and rejoicing were heard on all sides. The fetes lasted for many days, in spite of the incessant rain, which was powerless to damp such an outburst of excite- ment. The majority of the provincial deputies were delighted to see the Royal Family so close, and were charmed with the amiability of the King and the graceful dignity of the Queen. They came in crowds quite early in the morning to the Tuileries garden, and the little Dauphin had continually to show himself on the balcony, from which he threw flowers and green boughs down among the people, who greeted him with shouts of welcome. THE REVOLUTION. 145 " Alas ! " says Thiers, " in moments like these hatred lost its sting, arrogance was cast aside, all were happy in the good fortune of others, and proud that they deserved it. How can it be that such affecting, unanimous joy can so soon sink into f orgetf ulness 1 " The deputies at last left Paris, and the Royal Family returned to St. Cloud. " We have come back well satisfied," wrote the Queen, " in so far as one can be satisfied with applause." These festivities proved to be the very last opportunity that fate had in store for the King to regain his lost authority. Paris was at this time by no means pleased with the National Assembly, who seemed to them slow in granting the exemptions that had been promised to the people. The provincial deputies, whom tradition attracted to the object of their fathers' venera- tion, were well received by the Royal Family, and Necker, who had lost the confidence and affection of the people, was dismissed for the last time. But unfortunately there was no event or circumstance capable of giving power of will to Louis XVI. These fetes that were so full of promise for the reconciliation of all parties only brought about fresh disturbances and causes for further complaints against the King, who was accused of perjury at the solemn meeting. " Alas ! my dear heart," wrote the Queen to the Princesse de Lamballe, "we must pray that God in His mercy will look upon us. This race of tigers, that seems to reign in the kingdom, would indeed feel a savage joy if they knew what we are suffering." In the meantime the court party had begun to attach them- selves to Mirabeau. The Comte de la Marck, a son of the Prince d'Aremberg, and a distant connection of the imperial house of Austria, had come to France on the marriage of Marie Antoinette. He had stood high in the favour of Maria Theresa and was well received in Paris, and eventually joined the army in America under the French flag. He was respectfully devoted to Marie Antoinette in the days of her prosperity, and proved himself a faithful counsellor when troubles came. La Marck had unexpectedly made the personal acquaintance of Mirabeau, and entertained the greatest admiration for his talents. He discovered that the powerful leader of the people still liked to realize his noble descent, and that the Revolution had by no means affected the blue blood that flowed in his veins. He repeatedly assisted Mirabeau with money, and he hoped that the latter's incessant pecuniary difficulties would induce the court to secure him as a useful ally. La Marck zealously and perseveringly sought to bring him into relationship with the King and Queen, but it was long before he could obtain a favourable hearing. "We shall not sink so low, I trust," said Marie Antoinette, 146 MARIE ANTOINETTE. "as to be obliged to seek help from Mirabeau." About the middle of April, 1790, Mirabeau had a secret interview with Marie Antoinette's old friend, Count Mercy, and the following day La Marck was summoned to the Queen, who told him, that after consulting with the King she had resolved to enter into negotiations with the dreaded republican leader. She then asked La Marck rather timidly if he did not think that Mirabeau had a share in the horrible scenes of the 5th and 6th of October. Her friend hastened to reassure her on this point. Mirabeau had spent the greater part of these days in his company, and they were dining together when the arrival of the mob procession from Paris was announced. " I am glad," said the Queen, " for I have been longing to be undeceived on this point." Mirabeau's remarkable talents as an orator and a statesman had made him the leader of the Revolution. But he was not blind to the abyss into which the movement might precipitate France, and good sense withheld him from entirely upsetting the Monarchy. He sent his first diplomatic suggestions to the court, and the Queen assured him through La Marck that the King approved of them. She then questioned La Marck as to what could be done to attach Mirabeau still more closely to their party, and what would satisfy him. La Marck repeated the question to his friend, and Mirabeau replied that he wished to have his debts paid, and that he would be glad to receive a monthly allowance for the future. The following day La Marck again went to the Queen. " While we are waiting for the King," she said, " I will not delay to tell you that he has determined to pay Mirabeau's debts." In accordance with the royal promise considerable sums were at once sent to the leader. La Marck had by no means disguised from Mirabeau the Queen's unfavourable opinion of him ; but for all this, the leader eagerly wished to enter into personal relationship with Her Majesty. He wrote, entreated, and per- sisted in his wish to see her, till at last Marie Antoinette agreed to grant him an audience. July 3rd, 1790, was appointed as the day of the meeting, and both parties took the strictest precautions that the interview should remain a secret. In order to hide his movements, Mirabeau had spent the previous day at Auteuil with his niece, Madame d'Aragon, and the following morning his nephew accom- panied him on his drive by a side road, which led up towards St. Cloud. Mirabeau alighted at a gate leading into the park, where a nobleman stood ready to receive him, and Marie Antoinette was close at hand in a retired spot of her private garden, half hidden by bushes; and here the Queen by birth and the King by virtue of his genius met face to face. Marie Antoinette had hitherto looked upon the revolutionary leader as a being to be abhorred, as one of the bitterest enemies of the THE EEYOLUTIOtf. 147 Monarchy, consequently therefore of herself. She had been told that he was in the very midst of the mob during those fearful days in October exciting the people, who were already inflamed with hatred, hunger, and wine. She was now in the presence of the lynx-eyed, pock-marked man, with an unusually large head, covered with masses of hair, more like a lion's mane. He pleased her, in spite of all that she had heard about him. " It is," says Carlyle, " among the honourable tokens of this high, ill- fated heart that no mind of any endowment, no Mirabeau, nay, no Barnave, no Dumouriez ever came face to face with her, but, in spite of all prepossession, she was forced to recognize it, to draw nigh to it with trust." She spoke to him courteously and kindly, and the idolised popular leader was simply overwhelmed with respect to see her so noble, courageous, and straightforward. " In the presence of such an opponent," said the Queen, " of a man who has sworn the destruction of the Monarchy without a thought of its utility for a great people, the step that I am taking must appear most unseemly but in the presence of a Mirabeau. . . ." This " ' in the presence of a Mirabeau ' seemed to flatter him immensely," said Marie Antoinette, when she returned to her faithful lady-in- waiting, Madame Campan, after the interview. Mirabeau justi- fied himself, offered his help, and promised justice, while he described in striking language the actual state of the kingdom. Marie Antoinette began to entertain a little hope. This man, who had shown himself so powerful to cast down, might also be strong enough to raise what had been demolished. " At last I am listening to genuine politics," she said to him, " for although I cannot agree with all your views and opinions, I am convinced that you are a true statesman." The conversa- tion lasted about three-quarters of an hour, and when Mirabeau withdrew, he said : " When the Empress, your exalted mother, granted one of her subjects the honour of an interview, she never dismissed him without allowing him to kiss her hand." The Queen took off her glove and offered her hand, which the revolutionist kissed, and then said : " This kiss saves the king- dom." When he had returned to his nephew, who was waiting for him, he exclaimed : " She is a very great, very noble, and very unhappy woman, Victor, but I shall save her ! " He was mistaken. It was too late, a vain illusion, for even a Mirabeau was powerless to stem the tide of the Revolution, to control and lead such violent passions as those which were now unchained. He submitted to the Queen many plans in writing, relative to a reconciliation between the popular party and the royal house ; and, according to some accounts, she received him a few times in the apartments of the Princesse de Lamballe in the Tuileries, to which he had gained access in the disguise of a 148 MAEIE ANTOINETTE. monk.* But all reports agree that he had unfeigned admiration for Marie Antoinette. " The King," he said to Comte de la Marck, " has only one man with him, and that is the Queen/' "You do not know the Queen," he said another time, in confi- dence. " Her strength of mind is astounding, and for courage she is a man." In the meantime the Kevolution was continually developing, and though Mirabeau's voice was as powerful as ever, he failed to evoke the old enthusiasm. One day he would defend the Monarchy in the National Assembly, and the next he would attack the King and his adherents, simply to weaken the mis- trust of the people, which was becoming firmly rooted. His position was precarious. The King only partially believed him, and the constitutional party began to doubt him, while the democrats hated him. He wrote again and again to the Queen, and complained to the Comte de la Marck of the apathy of Louis and the irresolution of Marie Antoinette. He passed from serious representations to bitter sarcasm, and from re- proaches to insult, as he spoke of the indecision and imprudence of the royal couple. " They listen to me with more kindness than confidence," he complained, "and are more eager to hear my advice than to follow it." He appealed to Marie Antoinette's amour-propre, and to her imagination, begging her to follow his counsel and act. But his recent speeches in the National Assembly had lessened the Queen's confidence, and made her doubt his sincerity. The democratic count was spared from seeing the failure of the plans he had formed for the rescue of the unfortunate royal pair. His health had been giving way for some time, and as he was going to the National Assembly, March 27th, 1791, he was obliged to stop and rest on the way at the house) of his friend La Marck, where he lay for an hour in a half fainting condition. But still he attended the meeting, where he spoke eagerly on five several occasions, and then left the platform for the last time. April 2nd he felt that death was near. Immense crowds congregated round his residence, and the court sent one messenger after another to enquire. " Keep my head well raised," he said to his servant \ " it is the strongest head in France." " Alas ! " he said in his last hour, " I bear in my heart the death song of the French Monarchy, and all that is left will become the prey of parties." In Paris his death produced a perfect commotion among the people, who daily held meetings to deplore their loss, and the friends of the constitution agreed to wear mourning. Marie Antoinette has left no papers which reveal her feelings on the death of the popular leader, but it is certain that the bells that * Metnoires relatives & la famille royale de France. THE REVOLUTION. 149 were tolled at his funeral resounded mournfully in the private rooms of the royal palace. For some months previously, full of presentiment, she had often exclaimed, " I am certain that I shall not be destroyed while Mirabeau lives." CHAPTER XXVIII. The Elder Princesses leave for Rome The Princess Elisabeth The King and the Clergy Permission to go to St. Cloud. THE situation became daily more and more critical, disturbances in the streets were a natural occurrence, and the National Assembly was not more independent than the Royal Family, for as soon as a measure displeased the dregs of the populace, riots and robberies were the invariable consequences. During this terrible time of anxiety and revolt the Royal Family was entreated again and again to accept help and leave the country. ,As we have already said, the Queen had been advised long ago, and from many quarters, to flee. The King, the Princess Elisabeth, Madame de Lamballe, had all besought her to go ; while the children had folded their little hands and tried to induce her to yield to entreaty. Even at this juncture, as well as in the beginning of the Revolution, more than one oppor- tunity presented itself to escape unnoticed from the land. But rather than leave her husband and children Marie Antoinette endured these months and years of fear and suffering ini France. Whatever her feelings for the King may have been, in former days, she remained firm to him in the time of adver- sity. " I ask for nothing for myself," she used to say ; " it is in the King's arms, and in the midst of my children, that I will live and die." Among all the sovereigns of Europe Pope Pius VI. was the only one who offered hospitality to the Royal Family of France. He tried to persuade all its members to shake the dust off their feet and to seek for protection in the States of the Church. The King's aunts alone accepted the invitation. It had been the aim of both Adelaide and Victoria to hide themselves and seek to be forgotten ever since the Revolution had broken out ; timid Sophie was already dead. Their stay in France became unbearable, and they very soon had no other thought than to leave their rebellious country and remove to Rome, where they could worship in the cathedral of St. Peter. The King did not consider it his duty to oppose the wishes of his aunts, so their passports were prepared and the announcement of their speedy arrival was forwarded to Cardinal Bernis, the French Ambassador 150 MARIE ANTOINETTE. in Rome. They were on the point of starting when an anony- mous notice of their plan was sent to the Jacobin Club (February 3rd, 1791). The members really cared very little about the old princesses, who took no part in politics ; but they were afraid that their departure would be followed by that of the King and Queen. Besides, the resolution they had taken attracted attention to the burning question of emigration in general. It was easy to put difficulties in their way, and a deputation of the members of the Town Council went to the National Assembly and to the Tuileries to protest against their departure. The furies, who used to assemble every evening in the garden of the Palais Royal, agreed to hasten to Bellevue and forcibly prevent the princesses from leaving. The latter received intelligence that these threatening females were on the road, and, without waiting to conclude the preparations for their journey, they fled, undis- covered, in a carriage belonging to a lady who had come to visit them. When the women found the house empty their fury knew no bounds. They were convinced that the princesses were taking the wealth of France away with them, and resolved to revenge themselves by at least hindering the servants from sending their luggage after them. General Berthier prevented this from happening, but he allowed them to go into every room of the Castle, empty the princesses' wine cellars and revel in their beds. On their return to Paris the women rushed to the Luxembourg, as they expected the Comte de Provence too was seeking flight. They screamed for him to come till he was obliged to step out on to a balcony to talk with them, and to promise that he would not leave the country. The revolutionary papers alluded to the departure of the princesses with a mixture of anger and contempt. " The two old ladies are gone to Italy to try the effect of their tears and charms on the princes of that land," appeared in one paper. " The grand master of the order of Malta has sent word to the Princess Adelaide that he intends to offer her his hand and heart as soon as the sisters have left France, and that they can reckon on the support of forty-nine old and young knights. Our Holy Father intends to marry Victoria, and promises to bring about a counter-revolution with the assistance of his army of 300 men." The journey was beset with difficulties. In one of the towns they were nearly arrested, the populace shouted "A la lan- terne," and it was only through the intervention of some officers that they were able to go on their way. In another place they were taken prisoners, and the Town Council decided they should remain in gaol until the National Assembly had sent word whether they had received permission to leave the country or not. It was Mirabeau who obtained leave for their further THE REVOLUTION. 151 journey ; but the little town had no mind to accept the decision of the National Assembly, and broke out into open rebellion. The two princesses were kept in confinement, and it was not till after they had passed twelve days under lock and key in. a miserable room at the hotel that they were allowed to go on, their way amid the shouts of the people. It had been the wish of the Koyal Family that the Princess Elisabeth should accompany her aunts, but she considered that her proper place was by the side of the King, who tried in vain to persuade her to leave him. Elisabeth of France was born March 3rd, 1764, and lost both her parents when three years old. The love which the child would have had for her father and mother was bestowed in all its warmth on her brothers, especially the eldest, to whom she was devoted, and looked iipon as a model, both as a man and a king. Good-natured, phlegmatic Louis was very fond of her, and preferred her to her brothers. The attachment between them was neither intense nor enthusiastic, often cool and tinged with ill-humour on the part of the King. But there was far more endurance and unselfishness in Elisabeth's loyalty than in the feelings of Marie Antoinette towards her husband. The Princess was not good- looking; she was small and undignified, with irregular features, and the very large nose of the Bourbons. But she had the freshness of youth. Her complexion was clear, and it was easy to read in her pure blue eyes that she was good and faithful. She had refused several offers of marriage. " I can marry none but a king's son," she said; "and 1 a king's son must reign in his father's stead. Therefore I could no longer remain French, and I do not wish to leave my country. I would rather remain here at the foot of my brother's throne than occupy that of a stranger." When it was suggested to her that she should escape from the perils in France, and accompany her aunts into exile, she said, " It would be both cruel and cowardly to leave at thia juncture." From her earliest youth she was one of those simple natures who never swerve from the path that seems to be right. She was as clear and convinced in her religious views as in her other opinions, and did not wait for the hour of adver- sity to learn the duty of Christian resignation. In 1786 she already wrote to her friend Madame de Causans : " We must lay our fears, as well as our hopes, at the foot of the cross, which teaches us to bear the trials allotted to us by Heaven, for it alone can raise and comfort the soul that is cast down. Jesus was innocent, and He suffered more than we can, both spiritually and physically. . . . We have to pass through terrible moments in our lives, but it is that we may attain to unspeak- able bliss hereafter. I desire, my God, to recognize Thy almighty power, and especially to trust that whatever may happen to me Thou wilt never forsake me ! " 152 MARIE ANTOINETTE. She was pious, without bigotry, intelligent, and well-informed, cheerful and quick at repartee. Marie Antoinette, who had hitherto looked upon her sister-in-law as a child, was surprised at the admirable qualities which she now discovered in her ; and Elisabeth's lively spirits and deep affection greatly affected the Queen. "I am afraid," she wrote (1778) to her mother, "that I shall become too much attached to her." " The Queen is quite devoted to Princess Elisabeth," Madame de Bombelles wrote the following year ; " she tells everybody that no* on is equal to her in kindness, that she did not know her formerly, but that she has now become her friend, and that her love for her will last her whole life." Marie Antoinette sought by every means to gain the affection of her young sister-in-law. She wished her to have her own establishment, and persuaded the King to purchase for her the house which had formerly been inhabited by the Princesse de Guemenee; then, without saying a word about it to Elisabeth, she took her to it. " Now you are at home," she said, " this shall be your Trianon. The King, who has the privilege of giving it to you, has allowed me to be the bearer of the pleasant news." The liking which the amiable young girl had inspired was changed into deep and steadfast devotion on the part of Marie Antoinette as her esteem for her sister-in-law's sterling qualities daily increased. But her feelings met with no response. Taste, character, everything was different in the queen of twenty-four and the princess of sixteen ; where the former yielded her con- fidence once, the latter was reticent and often distrustful. Elisabeth loved heaven, and longed for it. Marie Antoinette's affections were in the world, and she only looked to heaven when sorrow cried for comfort. Elisabeth's was a strong character. Marie Antoinette's was swayed by every breath, and it was impossible for her to strive steadfastly with one fixed goal in view. She made rash plans, which were continually changed especially before the outbreak of the Revolution and relinquished them as easily, while she listened to* different counsels, and allowed herself to drift with the current. The King's aunts were always trying to arouse Elisabeth's distrust of the Queen, while they and others were wicked enough to repeat to her the belief of the people in the shameful liaisons of which she was accused. The Queen tried to win her sister- in-law as time went on, but Elisabeth continued distrustful, and even avoided Marie Antoinette. In the year 1784 she wrote : " Our opinions are so different. She is an Austrian. As for me I am a Bourbon I " These opposite views led to incessant disputes between them, which continued to the last days of the Monarchy. Elisabeth, who had shunned the society of Marie Antoinette in the Trianon days, became her firm and devoted THE EEYOLUTI01S'. 153 friend in the Temple, where she saw the Queen in her true light. Here .she recognised her worth, and reproached herself for having misjudged her so long. * # # * * # Before the Revolution Louis XVI. had been beloved for his gentleness. But the innumerable insults with which the Queen, the Royal Family, himself, and his adherents had been over- whelmed had embittered him to such a degree that his natural condescension had become changed into sternness, a perfectly new trait in his character. He was not wanting in courage when he alone was exposed to threatening danger, but as soon as it menaced his family he became anxious and incapable of action. Too great distrust in his own powers was the cause of his ruin and the loss of his throne. He listened to opposing counsels, and sought to seize the helping hands that were stretched out to him, only to cast them from him again, to feel for them another time, resolved to make use of them when the opportunity for doing so had long since fled. He was strong and firm in one respect only his connection with the Church, the position of which was causing uneasiness throughout the land. In 1789 the National Assembly had determined that the French clergy should be deprived of the control of all Church property, and shortly afterwards it was decreed that the Church itself should be freshly organised. The number of bishoprics was to be decreased, all orders and convents were to be suppressed, and several other changes introduced. In marked contrast with the people of Paris and the larger towns, the inhabitants of the country continued to cling fast to their old faitn. This new ordering of the Church therefore roused their resentment, and at the same time greatly troubled the conscience of the King, who hesitated and deferred to sanction the fresh regulations. And when he finally was compelled to give his signature, it was with a trembling hand and the exclamation : " Better be King in Metz than in France on such terms. But this shall soon