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MARIE ANTOINETTE

AND

THE END OF THE OLD REGIME

BY

IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND

TRANSLATED BY THOMAS SERGEANT PERRY

WITH PORTRAIT

-^UIFORN}^

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1890

COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

CONTENTS.

PAGB

Introduction 1

CHAPTER

I. The Birth of the Dauphin. 13

II. The Grand Duke Paul at Versailles 21

III. "The Marriage of Figaro " 31

IV. GusTAVus III. AT Versailles 43

V. "Tnii Barber of Seville" at the Trianon.... 51

VI. The Cardinal de Rohan 60

VII. Cagliostro 68

VIII. The Countess de La Motte 76

IX. The Necklace 86

X. The Arrest 95

XI. The Trial 104

XII. The Verdict 115

XIII. A Picture op Madame Lebrun's 128

XIV. Madame Elisabeth at Montreuil 135

XV. Cazotte's Prophecy 150

XVI. The Beginning of the Revolution . . 1601^

XVII. The Assembly of Notables 168

XVIII. The Procession of May 4, 1789 181

V

VI CONTENTS,

CHAPTER PAeX

XIX. The Opening Session of the States- General . . . 188

XX. The Death of the Dauphin 196

XXI. The Advance of the Revolution 201

XXII. The Departure of the Duchess of Polignac... 213

XXIII. The Queen and the Marquis op La Fayette . . . 222

XXIV. Marie Antoinette and the Duke of Orleans . . 230 XXV. The Banquet of October 1 241

XXVI. The Fifth of October 246

XXVII. The Sixth of October 267

Epilogue 270

MARIE ANTOINETTE

iCND

THE END OF THE OLD REGIME

MARIE ANTOINETTE

AND

THE END OF THE OLD REGIME,

,1781-1789.

INTRODUCTION.

THE old regime is drawing to its close ; the hour of the great catastrophes is nigh ; soon the deep roar of thunder is to be heard ; yet, so far as appears, nothing is changed : the splendor of Versailles still dazzles every eye by its magnificence ; everywhere one sees the same life, the same animation, the same brilliancy. There are nearly four thousand persons in the King's civil household, nine or ten thousand in his military household, and at least two thousand more in those of his relatives. There is a vast accumulation of rich costumes, of uniforms, liveries, coaches. How beautiful is the park of Versailles on a spring morning, when the chestnuts are in blossom, and the sun lights up the spray of the great foun- tains! The terrace is crowded with women richly dressed, and with men quite as gorgeously arrayed, in their knots of ribbons, their lace ruffles, and their

1

MARIE ANTOINETTE,

yellow, or pink, or sky-blue silk coats. The military bands are playing beneath the trees. One may see the Swiss Guards in their sixteenth century uniforms, with their halberds, ruffs, plumed hats, and full jer- kins of various colors; the body-guards with their red breeches, huge boots, and blue coats adorned with white embroidery. One beholds, too, the crowd of courtiers with their attentive, discreet air, with the distinction of their gait, speech, and smile, with their reverence for etiquette, and their boundless courtesy.

Let us imagine ourselves at the last court balls of 1786 and 1787. The place is the small theatre be- tween the Court of the Princes and the park where the southern part of the palace begins. The building, which was constructed under Louis XIV., but is now destroyed, is thus described by the Count d' H^zec- ques in his Memories of a Page. It was fitted out with wooden pavilions, which were kept in the house of the Menus Plaisirs, and can be set up in a few hours. The entrance was in a green grove, adorned with statues, and at the end was a billiard room, which was a little sombre in color, so that the illu- mination shone out with greater brilliancy. To the right, small paths lead into the dancing and gaming room. One of the doors consists of a great piece of plate glass so clear that a Swiss sentinel is posted there to warn people from trying to walk through it. Marble basins, surrounded with moss and flowers, contain water-jets which splash all night, in the bril-

INTRODUCTION.

liant blaze of lamps and candles, giving forth an agreeable coolness. The guests at these delightful balls are the most distinguished, the most attractive people of the fascinating society that sets the fashion for all Europe. M. Taine thus describes their charms, with real enthusiasm, in his noble book, The Origins of Contemporary France : " There is not a toilette here, not a pose of the head, not a tone of the voice, which is not the fine flower of worldly culture, the dis- tilled essence of the most exquisite products of social art. It takes, we are told, a hundred thousand roses to produce an ounce of that unique ottar which the kings of Persia use. This drawing-room is like that, a minute flash of gold and crystal. It contains the substance of a human vegetation. To fill it, there was required a great aristocracy transplanted into a hothouse and so rendered sterile of fruits, though rich in flowei"S, in order that in the royal alembic all its purified juices should be concentrated into a few drops of perfume. Its cost is most extravagant, but only in that way are delicate perfumes made."

Up to its last moment, the monarchy was imposing. The royal star, before it disappeared beneath the horizon, continued to shine in great splendor. Cha- teaubriand was presented at court May 19, 1787, and he thus describes the occasion : " No one has seen anything who has not seen the pomp of Versailles, even after the disbanding of the King's former house- hold. It is because Louis XIV. is always here. Hence a presentation is not a thing of trifling impor-

MARIE ANTOINETTE.

tance. A mysterious destiny hangs over the new arrival. He is spared that air of scornful protection, which with extreme politeness forms the inimitable manners of the great nobleman. Who knows whether this newcomer may not become the master's favor- ite ? " The doors of the King's bedchamber are opened, and the King, who has just finished dressing, takes his hat from the hand of the first gentleman in wait- ing, and comes forth to go to mass. The future au- thor of The Martyrs bows. The Marshal de Duras pronounces his name, " Sire, the Chevalier de Chateau- briand" ; and the famous author, recalling this memory of his youth, says : " Vanity of human destiny ! This sovereign whom I saw for the first time, this mighty monarch, was Louis XVI., then within six years of the scaffold; and this new courtier, at whom he scarcely glanced, commissioned to separate bones from bones, after having been presented to the gran- deur of the descendant of Saint Louis, on proving his titles to nobility, was to be again presented to his ashes, on proving his fidelity — a twofold tribute of respect to the twofold royalty of the sceptre and of the martyr's palm."

After his presentation to Louis XVI., Chateau- briand passed through the gallery to meet the Queen returning from chapel. "She soon came in sight," he says, " surrounded by a large and brilliant suite ; she made a dignified courtesy, appearing enchanted with life. And those fair hands, which then held so gracefully the sceptre of so many kings, were, before

INTRODUCTION.

they were tied by the executioner, to patch the rags of the widow, the prisoner of the Conciergerie."

Unhappy Queen ! The moment was drawing nigh when she was to be abandoned even by her courtiers. At the last court ball in 1788, no one wanted to dance with her. Madame Vig^e-Lebrun, who was present, speaks of the festivity most sadly : " The box in which I happened to be was so near the Queen's that I could overhear what she said. I saw her in some agitation inviting the young men of the court to dance, among them, M. de LamethJ who belonged to a family which she had overwhelmed with deeds of kindness, and others, who refused her ; so that it was impossible to make up the sets for the square dances. The indecorous conduct of these gentlemen struck me ; their refusal seemed to me to be a sort of revolt. The Revolution was approaching ; it broke out the next year."

In 1787 Marie Antoinette had already noticed threatening symptoms. In the Secret Correspond- ence, published by M. de Lescure, there may be read, under date of February 19 : " Last week the Queen was much applauded when she reached the Opera ; and, as usual, she made courtesies to the public. At that moment a hiss was heard from the crowd. Although this piece of insolence must have come from a madman or a wretch, it much distressed the Queen." Certainly he was right, for that hiss at the Opera was the first sound of the most horrible tempest.

MABIE ANTOINETTE.

In the same Correspondence^ under the date of Au- gust 1, 1787, we find : " The name of Madame Deficit is given to a great lady who has made certain sacri- fices to the nation which was in no way authorized to demand them." And, September 25, " ' Athalie ' was recently played in Paris. The public applauded with as much warmth as indecorum these four lines : —

" * Confound in her designs this cruel queen ! Deign, deign, my God, on Mathan and on her To let fall that spirit of imprudence and error. The fatal foreteller of the ruin of kings.' "

The moment chosen for this ill-will towards Marie Antoinette was the very one when she had abandoned these faults and had become serious and exemplary. We find, again, in the Secret Correspondence^ De- cember 5, 1786, this sign of growing gravity : " The Revolution, which has been so long prophesied at our court, is beginning to show itself. The Queen turns a cold shoulder to all the young men who had as- sumed an air of familiarity which seemed justified by the destruction of all etiquette. She admits to her society only reasonable and decent men, if such there be. All the high officers and servants of the King and the Princes are to be obliged to live at Versailles. In this way, (Eil-de-Boeuf and this gallery, which were deserted, will be crowded again. It is supposed that the Queen is becoming devout. She would thus follow her mother's example at an early age."

So long as Marie Antoinette was frivolous and was

INTRODUCTION.

guilty, not of real faults, but of imprudent actions, she was the recipient of general flattery and admiration. But so soon as she became absolutely irreproachable, she was overwhelmed with harsh judgments and ill- will. Such is the world's justice I

The same thing may be said about the nobility. As M. Taine has justly remarked, never was the aris- tocracy so worthy of power as at the moment when it was about to lose it. The possessors of privileges had become excellent citizens, worthy, enlightened, charitable managers. They defended the tax-payers from the treasury, suppressed the duty service, multi- plied good works, taught the poor, protected agricul- ture, directed every reform.

Turn to the memorials of the nobility prepared in the bailiwicks on the eve of the States-General, and you will see that they demanded for the French people all the civil and political rights which the Revolutionists pretend to have wrung from them. These great lords, who fought in the war like heroes, and at Versailles so well represented the splendors of the past, were, in their own homes, the most amiable of hosts, the most delicate patrons of letters and the arts, the sturdiest supporters of the new ideas. They were rich, but they were generous ; they were envied by the ungrateful, but noble hearts blessed them.

The Viscountess of Noailles said with much truth : ^" The horror of abuses, the contempt of hereditary distinctions, all those feelings with which a sense of

MARIE ANTOINETTE.

their own interest inspired the lower classes, acquired their first charm from the enthusiasm of the great. Those of lively imaginations hoped soon to see their wildest dreams come true, or gladly deprived them- selves of everything of the nature of an abuse, in the simple thought that they should thus attain a moral height which the masses would be generous enough to understand and to respect."^ Going back to the Golden Age of the Revolution, she exclaims : " Heaven knows how unjust we are to that time ! What generosity, loftiness,*delicacy, belonged to that distinguished society ! How solid was every tie ! What respect for sworn fidelity, even in the un- worthiest circumstances ! Never has romance so manifested itself in life as then. I know it is pre- cisely the reproach, and a well-founded reproach, that can be made against this society, that it lacked moral poise to an extent that left a vagueness peril- ous to virtue. But is not that the general spirit of the century?"

The whirl of new ideas, the general animation and fervor, made conversation varied, witty, and elo- quent. The differences of opinion struck out sparks of brilliant wit. The French nobility, though old in certain ways, had remained young in others. Yes, even when the old regime was in its agony, it was still young in ardor, courage, and hope. It was young because it believed in love, and because it did

1 Life of the Princess of Poix nee Bemiveau, by the Viscountess of Noailles (bom in 1791 ; died in 1851).

INTRODUCTION. 9

not know the general disenchantment, the despairing scepticism, the disgust with life which are the shame and the punishment of decadent society. It was to fall, but gracefully, easily, like an ancient gladiator, delighted to unite in its last years all its qualities, all its charms, as if to make itself missed and to permit Prince Talleyrand to be able to say, " No one who did not live before 1789 has any idea of the charm of life."

" Gaiety," wrote an English tourist in 1785, " is a peculiar quality of the French." This good humor, this singular combination of irony and excitement, of indifference and enthusiasm, the French nobility preserved up to the time of their severest trials. It seemed as if, knowing their days were numbered, they were anxious to pass them joyfully, to multiply their pleasures, their adventures, their emotions, as much as possible. To those who prophesied -the ap- proaching calamities, they answered with an incredu- lous smile. As Madame de Genlis said, their feeling ing of security amounted to extravagance.

June 29, 1789, at a meeting of the King's Council at Marly, Necker said very innocently (for this so- ciety was perhaps even more innocent than refined) : "What could be idler than fears about the organi- zation of the States-General ? They can do nothing without the King's assent." Was not the Revolution, in their eyes, like a vast lottery in which every one imagines that he has a winning ticket ? What could happen, thought the nobles, even if the worst should

10 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

arrive ? A little war, gentle and charming, like that of the Fronde. No long campaigns or tedious ma- noeuvres. A few sharp thrusts, and fiddles, balls, comedies, love affairs, and songs, and, afterwards, wise reconciliation, useful reforms, progress, phil- anthropy, the triumph of tender souls, the progress* of humanity ! We shall speak, shouted the lawyers, who are always ready to speak ; we shall ascend the tribune, we shall become famous and be appointed ministers. We shall make money, said the financiers. And financiers favor revolutions; for, as a clever woman of the time said, discount forms more than a third part of a banker's opinions.

All forms of amusement followed one another with giddy rapidity. Fashionable men and women lived a double life, now in Paris, now at Versailles. A steady stream of carriages with swift horses was rolling incessantly from the city of the great King to the real capital, that of pleasure and public opin- ion. At Versailles etiquette still ruled; in Paris there was freedom. There were delightful suppers, such as Madame Oberkirch describes : "Without wit, without eloquence, without knowledge of the world, of good stories, of the thousand trifles which make up the news of the day, no one could dream of being admitted to these charming gatherings. Only there was there any conversation, and it was on the most trifling subjects ; it was all a mere foam that was evaporating fast, leaving no trace behind, but its taste was most agreeable. After once tasting it.

INTRODUCTION. 11

everything else seemed flat." There were the plays in which politics mingled with literature, and the audience was more interesting than the performance. There were private theatricals in which the most serious professions furnished excellent comedians ; many judges took the parts of Crispin and Marcarille. Great ladies, actresses, demi-reps, made great show of luxury, and without associating together, had yet perfect knowledge of one another's deeds and actions. Among the fashionable promenades was the Boule- vard du Temple, where, especially on Thursday, men used to ride ; the large avenue of the Tuileries, and besides, to the left of the Palais Royal, another equally famous rideway, where good company was wont to assemble in gorgeous dress. In summer this was a favorite resort after the theatre; the women used to carry huge bouquets which, in combination with the perfumed powder they put on their hair, ren- dered the air most fragrant. There they used some- times to sit till two in the morning, listening to harps and guitars. Saint Georges would take his violin there, and Garat and Alsevedo would sing, giving an improvised, open-air concert in the moonlight. The French nobility, which was as admirable at a ball as on the battle-field, generous with its heart's blood and its money, which greeted the first rays of rising freedom, was to maintain its dignity to the last. Even in prison, even before the court, even on the platform of the guillotine, it was to remain what it had been, — amiable, courteous, comme ilfaut. Of the

12 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

Conciergerie it was to make a drawing-room ; at the end of a corridor in which four candles were burning, it was to compose madrigals and songs, and continue as gallant, as gay, as graceful as before. Is there any need of becoming cross and sullen because you are detained by accident in a wretched inn ?

Yet, even behind bolts, the women will keep alive the holy fire of fashion, the charm of elegance, and the prison-court will resemble a flowery terrace set in a framework of iron. To quote from Count Beugnot, himself a prisoner in the Conciergerie : "There misfortune will be treated like a naughty child who has to be laughed at, and in fact the divinity of Marat, the priesthood of Robespierre, the magistracy of Fouquier-Tinville will be loudly laughed at, and all will seem to say to the bloody gang : ' You may kill us when you please, but you can't prevent our being amiable ! ' " French nobles, you will not only be gentle, you will be courteous with death! After knowing how to live, you will know how to die, and you will find a way to honor the scaffold by leaving upon it your coat-of-arms I

THE BIKTH OF THE DAUPHINo

THE most touching thing in the world is the suffering and then the joy of a woman who gives birth to a child. Those tortures endured with so much courage, the anguish so distressing to the husband or the mother, that waiting in which min- utes seem like centuries, the solemn moment in which the woman seems to hang between hope and death ; then the ineffable, ecstatic joy, the heavenly rest, that sweetest of sounds, the child's first cry, the first look the mother gives it ; — what is sublimer than the mys- tery of birth, than the living poem of maternal love, than this outburst of the deepest and truest feelings of nature ? The day for which Marie Antoinette had so longed was at last come, and Heaven granted her the immense happiness of giving a Dauphin to France and to the King. Poor Louis XVI., whose lot was soon to be so piteous, with what love one saw his happiness ! with what sympathy were regarded the tears of joy that bedewed his honest and loyal face !

It was October 22, 1781 ; the whole palace of Ver- sailles was agitated by the liveliest emotions. It was

13

14 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

one in the afternoon when a Dauphin was born. On this occasion there had been abandoned the old bar- baric custom of letting a crowd fill the Queen's room, and only a few persons had been admitted. At first they refrained from telling the Queen that it was a Dauphin, lest the excitement should be too great for her. She noticed their silence, and sup- posed it was a girl. " See how reasonable I am," she said; "I don't ask any questions." The King did not wish to prolong her uncertainty, and called out, " The Dauphin asks leave to enter." At these words the tender, — dare I say happy ? yes, for at this moment she was, — happy Marie Antoinette lifted herself up, held out her arms to the King, and then the couple, closely embracing, mingled their tears, which were so delicious that the Dauphin lay for some moments by their side before they noticed him. As a Swede, the Count of Stedingk, said, the Queen's ante-chamber was a charming sight. The joy was complete ; every head was turned, and all were alternately weeping and laughing. Men and women who were scarcely acquainted found them- selves hugging one another. But it was very differ- ent when, at two o'clock, the door of the Queen's room was thrown wide open and the Dauphin was announced! The governess of the royal children, the Princess of Gudmdn^e, held the little child in her arms. The applause and the clapping of hands made their way to Marie Antoinette's chamber, and cer- tainly to her heart. An archbishop wanted the

THE BIRTH OF THE DAUPHIN. 15

Dauphin to be at once invested with the order of the Holy Ghost. "No," said the King; "he must first be made a Christian." At three o'clock the child was baptized in the chapel of the palace by the Grand Almoner, the Cardinal de Rohan. He was held at the font by the Count of Provence and by Madame Elisabeth, who represented the godfathers and godmothers, the Emperor Joseph II. and the Princess of Piedmont (Madame Clotilde). In his joy, Louis XVI. gave his hand to every one, taking every opportunity to say, " My son " or " The Dau- phin." In the streets all were talking and embracing one another. All classes of society, from the highest to the lowest, seemed to form one happy family.

Madame Elisabeth's friend, Madame de Bombelles, wrote to her husband on the day of the Dauphin's birth : " What touched me extremely was the King's delight during the baptism ; he was continually look- ing at his son and smiling at him. The cries of the people who were outside of the chapel at the moment the child entered, the happiness expressed on every face, moved me so much that I could not keep from tears."

The child's nurse was named Madame Poitrine. "She is well named; for it is enormous, and the doctors say her milk is excellent. She is a genuine peasant woman, the wife of a gardener at Sceaux. She has a voice like a grenadier, swears with the greatest readiness ; but that makes no difference, in fact, it is an advantage ; for nothing surprises or

16 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

disturbs her, so her milk is not affected. The laces and linen given to her did not surprise her. It seemed to her very simple ; and she merely asked not to be compelled to put powder on her hair, be- cause she had never used it ; and she wanted to put on a cap worth six hundred francs over her hair, as she used to wear her mob-caps. Her voice amuses everybody, because she sometimes says very amusing things."

Every one admired the royal child; they even adored it. " I saw our little Dauphin this morning," Madame de Bombelles wrote again, October 29. " He is very well. He is as lovely as an angel ; and the enthusiasm of the populace continues the same. In the streets one meets nothing but fiddles, and singing and dancing. I call that touching ; and in fact, I know no more amiable nation than ours."

The general happiness spread over France, and even to foreign parts. Gustavus III., King of Sweden, wrote to the Count of Stedingk : " The de- tails you sent to me about the delivery of the Queen of France gave me infinite pleasure. No one could take more interest in it than I do ; and I assure you the joy at Drottningholm over the Dauphin's birth is as great as it can be at Versailles."

The different guilds went to pay their respects to the King and Queen. When they had entered the courtyard of the palace, headed by bands, they formed groups, as if they were on the stage. Chim- ney-sweeps carried a chimney, on the top of which

THE BIRTH OF THE DAUPHIN. 17

they had fastened one of the smallest of their num- ber. Chairmen carried a richly gilded chair with a nurse and child inside of it. Butchers appeared with a huge ox. Locksmiths were beating on an anvil. The cobblers had a little pair of boots for the. Dauphin ; the tailors, a suit of his regimental uni- form. But alas ! even at the happiest hours of Marie Antoinette's life there is no lack of black presenti- ments. There is a note of Shakespearian tragedy in her lot. Among the guilds there was a gravedigger's scene, in which they appeared with their tools ; for- getting the gloomy nature of their duties, they wished to take part in the general rejoicing. But at the moment when they were passing along the terrace, Madame Sophie, the aunt of Louis XVI., had a shiv- ering fit, and a few weeks later she was dead.

When the guilds had all passed by, fifty women from the Market, dressed in black, and nearly all wearing diamonds, were introduced into the Queen's room and had the honor of presenting their congrat- ulations. Then came the turn of the fishwomen. "Sire," said one of them, "if Heaven owed a son to a king who regards his people as his family, our prayers and wishes had long demanded one. These are at length answered. We are sure that our chil- dren will be as happy as ourselves, for this child must be like you. You will teach him, Sire, to be good and just, like yourself. We take upon ourselves the duty of teaching our children how to love and respect their king." Then, turning to Marie Antoi-

18 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

nette, the fishwoman said : " It is so long, Madame, that we have loved you without daring to say so, that we need all our respect in order not to abuse the permission to express it to you." Finally, turn- ing to the cradle in which the Dauphin was lying, " You cannot understand the wishes which we utter over your cradle ; but some day perhaps they will be told to you ; they limit themselves to seeing in you the image of those who have given you life."

The locksmiths of Versailles accompanied their homage to the King with the present of a piece of their workmanship. It was a secret lock. Louis XVI., who took a great interest in mechanics, wanted to find out the secret for himself; he did so, and at the moment when he found out the combination, there sprang from the lock a steel dauphin of admi- rable workmanship. The King was delighted; he said that their present gave him great pleasure, and rewarded them handsomely.

January 21, 1782, the city of Paris gave great fes- tivities to celebrate the birth of an heir to the throne. January 21 ! Always fateful dates ! Always mys- terious forebodings ! What was to happen exactly eleven years later to a day? But why think of the ter- rible future ? Let us drive away gloomy thoughts ! Is it not right that Marie Antoinette, with such trials and tortures before her, should have her hour of glor}^ and triumph? What grace and charm masked the beautiful and august Queen on that day when Provi- dence seemed to bless her, and France was uttering

THE BIRTH OF THE DAUPHIN. 19

one long cry of love, admiration, and devotion ! What success ! What applause ! What ovations ! How majestic she was when she appeared beneath the portal of Notre Dame, or when she ascended the grand stair- case of the H6tel de Ville ! That evening, all Paris was illuminated ; the Place Vend6me, the Place Louis XV., the Palais Bourbon, were ablaze with lights. The decorations of the H6tel de Ville were magnifi- cent with golden vessels filled with lilies, purple stuffs, columns, balustrades, and bands of music. The fireworks represented the Temple of Hymen. Before the door France was to be seen receiving from on high the august child just born.

Ah ! let the Queen enjoy in peace these last mo- ments of happiness ! Let her still believe in the fidelity and kindness of her subjects ! Let her still nourish the illusion that she rules over a loyal and chivalrous people ! She is at the summit of her glory ; but there are certain heights which cannot be reached without peril. In happiness, as in the at- mosphere, there are certain limits which mortals may not pass. Whoever has been the object of enthusi' astic praise and intoxicating flattery must await crit- icism and abuse. Kings and queens, geniuses and great artists, suffer this same fate. All happiness and glory must be paid for. Whoever you may be, if you are the idol of the multitude, tremble ; unhap- piness is not far off : after the palms. Calvary !

How false is joy ! What is blinder than hope ? This Dauphin, whose cradle is girt with such cries

20 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

of love, so many blessings and songs, is to have a glooniy fate. His agony will coincide with that of the French Monarchy. A child, weak and doomed, like the royalty he represents, he will be plunged into sadness and overwhelmed with grief. His suf- ferings will plunge his mother into despair, and will throw a black veil over a period already so gloomy. He is to die at the moment when the States-General are opened, which were so fatal to the crown ; and the public, in its revolutionary fervor, will pay but little attention to the death of this child, whose birth called forth such transports. The deputies of the Third Estate will have no respect for the tears of Louis XVI. They will want to talk business with him in the first hours of his mourning ; and the un- happy father, wounded by this lack of tact and such indifference to the holiest feelings, will not be able to refrain from exclaiming with bitterness, " These gentlemen then have no children ! "

I

II.

THE GRAND DUKE PAUL AT VERSAILLES.

BEFORE considering the calamities, it is pleas- ant to linger over the period of the last illu- sions— the time when, as the Count of Segur said, the old social edifice was undermined, although there was no slightest sign of its approaching fall; when the change of manners was unperceived, because it had been gradual ; when the court etiquette was the same, and one saw only the same throne, the same names, the same distinctions of rank, the same forms. The royal star, like a setting sun, still lit the horizon with magnificent brilliancy. France was more influ- ential than ever. The Revolution was only lying latent ; and the aristocracy, like a man smitten with mortal illness, but thinking himself in perfect health, was never fuller of charm, of elegance, of fire.

Let us glance at the court at a moment when, for an extraordinary occasion, it appeared in all its glory and in a sort of coquetry exhibited its full splendor. The richest uniforms, the costliest dresses, made their appearance ; the most precious jewels issued from their cases. Louis XVI. himself desired pomp, and

21

22 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

remembered that he was the heir of Louis XIV. Marie Antoinette was in full radiance.

The son and future successor of Catherine the Great, the Grand Duke Paul, who, travelling under the name of the Count du Nord, with his wife, Marie Fedorovna, Princess of Wiirtemberg, Montbdliard, had just reached France to visit Louis XVI. May 19, 1782, he went to Versailles incognito and heard mass, hiding in a tribune of the palace chapel, took part in a procession of Knights of the Holy Ghqst, and re- turned to Paris in the evening, full of enthusiasm for the court, the dresses, the ceremonies, and especially for the Queen's beauty.

The next day the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess, accompanied by the Russian Ambassador, Prince Bariatinsky, and all the members of the Embassy, made their formal entrance into Versailles. Louis XVI. was waiting for them in his large study (the bedchamber of Louis XIV.). " Sire," said the Grand Duke as he approached the King, " how happy I am to see Your Majesty ! That was my main object in coming to France. My mother, the Empress, will envy me this happiness ; for in that, as in all things, our feelings are the same."

Then the Grand Duke entered the Dauphin's apartment. He called him a very fine child, kissed him several times, and asked many questions of his governess, the Princess of Guemende. "Madame," he said to her, " speak very often to the Dauphin of to-day's visit; remind him of the attachment I prom-

THE GRAND DUKE PAUL. 23

ise him in his cradle ; let it be a pledge of a lasting alliance and union between our countries."

The same day there was a state dinner in the hall of the Grand Convert, and after dinner a concert in the drawing-room of Peace. The palace was illu- minated as on the days of levee. A thousand lights hung from the ceiling, and candelabra holding forty candles were set over each pier-table.

The Grand Duchess had brought with her to France a young lady belonging to the Alsatian nobility, the Baroness d'Oberkirch (who left the delightful Memoirs). Since she was not a Russian, she could not be presented either by the Grand Duch- ess or by the Russian Ambassador; but the Queen sent a footman to the Baroness to invite her to the concert, without the formality of a presentation. She said to the Grand Duchess, " I should have been very unkind if I had deprived you of your friend when I was anxious, on the other hand, to make everything pleasant for you." Then turning to Madame d'Ober- kirch, she said : " You are very fortunate, Madame, to have so illustrious a friend ; I really envy you, but I cannot help envying, too, the Countess du Nord the possession of such a friend as she says that you are." Marie Antoinette spoke to the Baroness d'Oberkirch five or six times during the concert. "You come from a region," she said to her, " which I found on my way here very beautiful and very loyal ; I shall never forget that it was there I received the first greetings of the French. It was there that I was first called Queen."

V

24 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

Madame Campan tells us that Marie Antoinette, who did the honors of Versailles to her Russian guests with such amiable and attractive majesty, was very much frightened before she went into the room in which she was to dine with the illustrious trav- ellers. She asked for a glass of water and said it was harder to play the part of a queen before other sovereigns and future monarchs than with her own courtiers. But she soon overcame her timidity, and was all grace and charm, inspiring every one with her brilliancy.

May 23, an opera was given in the great theatre of Versailles, " that hall which by its shape and the richness of its decorations and its gilding, looked like a fairy palace. The opera chosen was ' Aline ; or, the Queen of Golconda,' which was taken from a short story of the Chevalier de Boufflers, to whom, it seems, something of the sort had really happened. The scenery was new and remarkably lifelike. One would gladly have been Aline, to rule over such a country."

June 6, Marie Antoinette gave a grand festival at the Little Trianon. In the theatre, a perfect gem, was played " Z^mire and Azor," by Grdtry. There was a display of diamonds which dazzled every eye ; then after the opera, there was a supper, with three tables, and a hundred places at each one. The Grand Duch- ess wore on her head a little bird of precious stones, so brilliant that it was almost impossible to look at it ; it was set to swinging while it beat its wings over a rose. That evening Madame d'Oberkirch was try-

THE GRAND DUKE PAUL. 25

ing for the first time a little arrangement which was very fashionable, although tolerably uncomfortable. It consisted of little flat bottles, curved to follow the shape of the head, and containing a little water in which lay the ends of the flowers worn in the hair, thus retaining their freshness. '' That device," she said, '' did not always succeed, but when it did, it was charming. This look of spring on the head, amid powdered snow, was most striking." After supper, they all walked in the gardens. Fireworks lent a magic glow to the trees, the plants, and the lake. The green glass-plots became red, blue, and yellow in turn. A lantern was hung in every shrub. A perfect summer night gave charm and poetry to the entertainment. The illuminations on the earth rivalled with the moon and stars above. A band of music hidden in the greenery filled the enchanted garden with sweet sounds. Marie Antoinette, in all her splendor, appeared like a goddess.

June 8, there was a ball at Versailles in the Gal- lery of the Mirrors. This gallery, which is seventy- three metres long, ten metres and forty centimetres broad, and thirteen metres high, wdth its full arch vault decorated througliout by Lebrun, with its seventeen arched windows opposite which were arches all filled with mirrors, made a wonderful place for a ball. There were abundant chandeliers, and candelabra, and lamps. The King made his entrance from the drawing-room of War, the Queen hers from that of Peace. On these occasions, nobles

26 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

and ladies made it a point of honor to appear in as grand dress as possible. The French nobility moved to and fro in a most brilliant procession, and the for- eigners who were present were amazed at its incom- parable splendor.

At the ball of June 8, the Grand Duke uttered one of those happy phrases which won for him much reputation during his stay in France. Louis XVI., who was surrounded by a throng of courtiers, among whom was the Russian prince, complained of being incommoded by the crowd. Then, when every one was intimidated by this remark of the King's, the Grand Duke said, " Sire, excuse me ; I have become so thoroughly a Frenchman, that like them I thought I could not get too near Your Majesty." He danced with the Queen. Marie Antoinette, who was then in the full flower of her beauty, had never been more gracious or more imposing. In the course of the ball she said to the Baroness d'Oberkirch, with her customary kindliness: "Speak a little German to me, that I may find out if I still remem- ber it. Now I only know the language of my new country." The Baroness spoke a few words of Ger- man; the Queen pondered for a few seconds, and then went on, " Ah ! I am delighted to hear German again; you speak it, Madame, like a Saxon, with no Alsatian accent, which surprises me. German is a fine language ; but French, it seems to me, when I hear my children speaking, the sweetest language in the world ! "

THE GRAND DUKE PAUL. 27

June 9, there was a grand review of the French Guards, at the Champ de Mars, in honor of the Grand Duke. The aged Marshal de Biron marched at the head of this fine regiment, which was always a favor- ite of the city. The Parisians, who always delighted in military displays, were beside themselves with joy, and full of delight and admiration of the French and Russian uniforms. They drank, sang, and danced as if they were at the Porcherons. There was no limit to the applause and merry-making.

The next day the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess went to Chantilly, where the Prince of Conde gave them a magnificent reception. "Chan- tilly," says Madame d'Oberkirch, " is the most beau- tiful place in the world. The lakes, the woods, the gardens, are delightful; the naiads at the fountains have quite the air of the court, and the sandy roads in the forest are a thousand times more charming than those of a flower-garden. The princes of the House of Conde have always been grand and chiv- alrous, and, too, I know not exactly why, they have always been more j)opular with the nobility than their elders, the Princes of Orleans. The Prince of Conde and the Duke of Bourbon have a large suite of gentlemen, all famous for bravery and loyalty. The intimates of the Palais Royal, on the other hand, are held in slight esteem and honor, and are not received anywhere else. They are evil company for a young man ; they are a bad sign. The Count du Nord made some just and profound remarks on the

28 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

subject ; he said, speaking of the Duke of Chartres : * The King of France is very tolerant ! If my mother had a cousin like him, he would not stay long in Russia.' "

Revolutionary ideas were beginning to get a foot- hold at the Palais Royal, while Chantilly was a sort of sanctuary of the monarchical faith. The Grand Duke Paul was much pleased with this charming residence, when the Prince of Cond^, a model of courtesy, received him in great pomp. There were two dinners at the castle ; the table was covered with an inexhaustible supply of gold and silver plate. After each course, the servants, without noise or con- fusion, threw all these magnificent vessels out of the window. But nothing was lost: precious vessels, jugs, and dishes fell into the water of the moats, whence they were taken out in large nets. At the play, the back of the stage opened, disclosing the wood, fields, fountains, and lawn, where Vestris, as ZSphir^ was dancing on the grass. In the evening, supper was served in the hamlet, a collection of huts like those on the stage of the opera, in the middle of an English garden. They passed through the Isle of Love, exactly like one of Watteau's pictures ; there was a statue there of a cupid holding a burning heart. On the pedestal wa^ carved this inscription, which is thoroughly in the taste of the time : —

" Offering but a heart to Beauty, As naked as Truth ; Unarmed, like Innocence ;

THE GRAND DUKE PAUL. 29

Wingless, like Constancy, —

Such was Love in the Golden Age :

We find him not, but we still seek him."

A pavilion had been constructed in the grove, and on the top was placed a band, which could not be seen below, and the music seemed to come from the skies.

Mademoiselle de Cond^, who was then twenty-five years old, who had been but two years out of the convent, and was soon to take the veil, helped her father to do the honors at Cliantilly to the illustrious foreigners. She was a very intelligent woman, of great beauty, and as worthy as she was beautiful. She had every gift and talent ; she sang, played the harpsichord, painted, and composed poetry. The Grand Duchess said that, next to the Queen, the woman Avho best pleased her at court, the woman whom she would have wanted for a friend, was Mademoiselle de Conde. On leaving, the Russian Princess was presented with a bouquet by a pretty boy: this boy was the Duke of Enghien, later the victim of Vincennes.

The festivities at Cliantilly made a great deal of talk, for there had been a greater show of the luxury and magnificence of the old regime than even at Ver- sailles. The Parisians said: "The King received the Count du Nord like a friend ; the Duke of Orleans, like a private citizen; the Prince of Cond^, like a sovereign."

The son of the great Catherine had much success

30 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

in France, where all the wise heads perceived the advantages of an alliance with Russia. Grimm said, speaking of the Grand Duke : " At Versailles he seemed to know the court of France as well as his own. In the artists' studios, especially in those of Greuze and Houdin, he showed great familiarity with art, and expressed intelligent admiration. In our schools and academies he made it clear by his praise and questions that there was no form of talent or of work which did not interest him, and that he had long known all the men whose abilities or vir- tues had honored their time and their countr}^ His conversation, and all his remarks which have been repeated, announce not merely a delicate and culti- vated intelligence, but also an exquisite feeling for the finest points of our language."

The Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess left Ver- sailles June 19, 1782, to return to Russia. As they were leaving, the Chevalier du Coudray addressed them in these lines : —

" By your agreeable presence You have fulfilled all our wishes. By your departure, your absence, Princes, you arouse our keenest regrets. Such are now the farewells of France ! You ought to stay, or you ought never to have come."

III.

• "THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO."

DURING the stay of the Grand Duke Paul in France, Beaumarehais had done his best to interest the Russian prince in the lot of the " Mar- riage of Figaro." This play, which had been written six or seven years before, was famous before it was acted, and in spite of his untiring efforts, the author, skilful as he was, could not get permission to have it played. Against him he had the King, the magis- trates, the Lieutenant of Police, Keeper of the Seals. Louis XVI., after reading the manuscript, had said : " It is detestable. The Bastille would have to be destroyed to prevent dangerous consequences from the performance of such a play. This man turns to ridicule everything which should be respected in a government." "Then it won't be played?" asked Marie Antoinette. "No, of course not," answered the King ; " you may be sure of that."

Well, even after this statement of the King's had become known there were many willing to bet that the play would nevertheless be acted, so thoroughly known were the fickleness and feebleness of the

31

32 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

authorities. Beaumarchais had said in the piece that only little men were afraid of little writings. Many great lords, who were averse to passing for little men, felt obliged ardently to defend the " Mar- riage of Figaro." The Baron de Breteuil and all the members of the society of the Polignacs were among the warmest defenders of the play. The manuscript was handed about in liigh society, and the most distinguished people touched with rever- ence the pages fastened Avith pink ribbons. The privilege of reading the " Marriage " was much sought after by fashionable people, and those who were fortunate enough to have read it were much envied.

The Grand Duke Paul was one of this number; he thought the play very amusing, and Catherine II. offered to have it brought out in Russia. But Beau- marchais, whose course has been so well described by M. de Lom^nie in his excellent book, " Beaumar- chais et son temps," in spite of all his zeal and the influence of liis friends, could not secure the removal of the prohibition which forbade its performance. June 12, 1783, he came very near succeeding by sur- prise. By means of a tacit sufferance, due to the protection of the Count of Artois, he had been able to order a rehearsal of the play at the theatre of Menues Plaisirs; that is to say, in the King's own theatre. Tickets had been distributed bearing a pic- ture of Figaro in his dress of an Andalusian barber. The carriages were beginning to arrive-.

*' THE MARUIAGE OF FIGAEO:' 33

The Count of Artois was on his way from Versailles to Paris, to see this long and impatiently awaited rehearsal, when the Duke of Villequier came to tell liim that it would not take place, that the King had forbidden it. It has been asserted that Beaumarchais exclaimed in an outburst of wa^ath : " Well, gentle- men, my play can't be acted here, it seems, and I take my oath that it shall be played — perhaps in the very choir of Notre Dame." This prophecy was not to be fulfilled to the letter, but the end of the eighteenth century was to see something still more scandalous in the choir of Notre Dame, — a prostitute enthroned upon the high altar, and receiving adora- tion as the Goddess of Reason.

Beaumarchais, this forerunner of the Revolution, this man of intrigues and strife, this many-sided crea- ture, — watchmaker, musician, ship-owner, financier, pleader, comic author, — this immoral moralist, in spite of his pretence of regenerating the world, this bold publicist, distinctly modern in his loud ways and his fondness for advertising himself, was he not the type of the new society? An intelligent observer might have understood that the jingle of the fool's bells would soon be followed by the sound of the tocsin, and before long the Figaros of the time would change their satin and velvet jackets for the carmagnole.

But society, in its giddiness and thoughtlessness, cared only for pleasure. Confident, joyous, full of life, fancying itself strong and renewed, it regarded

34 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

serious men as pedants and liked to see itself laughed at. To amuse itself at its own expense, to hiss its image on the stage, seemed a charming idea ! Were not the noblemen of the time of Louis XVI. like the flagellants of the court of Henri III., who flogged themselves as they walked in processions ? The deeper their scars, the greater their happiness. What awaited the old regime was not illness, but suicide ; a merry suicide, accompanied with jest and song, preceded by witty speeches, biting epigrams, and suppers in which abundant champagne should flow.

Nothing amused the nobles like a satire on nobil- ity. The more they lived on privileges, the louder they denounced abuses. Voltaire had admirers among the clergy. Beaumarchais himself, with all his marvellous intelligence, had no idea of the full significance of his attacks or of the importance of his play, which was not an amusement, but an event. He no more desired the fall of the throne than the overthrow of the altar. At heart he was a monarchist, and he would not have been pleased to see his Figaro turn republican. Cold water and black bread had no charms for him, and he was one of those who, tyrants for tyrants, preferred the red heels to the red caps. He did not have the tastes of a dema- gogue ; possibly he wrote revolutionary literature, as M. Jourdain spoke prose, without knowing it.

Nevertheless, lords and ladies were intriguing to have the play brought out. September 26, 1783, one of the leaders of the society of the Little Trianon,

''THE MABRIAGE OF FIGABOy 35

a friend of the Duchess of Polignac, the Count de Vaudreuil, succeeded in having it played at his castle of Gennevilliers, before three hundred persons, by the actors of the Ccmedie Fran^aise. The Count of Artois and the Duchess of Polignac were among the spectators. If we may trust Madame Vig^e- Lebrun, Beaumarchais was beside himself : '' When some one complained of the heat, he did not wait to have the windows opened, but thrust his stick through the panes, so that after the play it was said that he had hit out in two ways."

The amiable Louis XYI. let himself be carried away by the general enthusiasm. He was assured that the play had been much cut ; that it was no longer dangerous, and at last consented to its per- formance. He imagined that it would have no suc- cess, but he was sadly mistaken ; never did a comedy enjoy such a triumph.

The first performance was in Paris, April 27, 1784, in the theatre of the Comedie Frangaise, now the Od^on. There was the wildest struggle for tickets. Nobles applied for a place in the claque. Grandees awaited their turn in the long line. Women of the highest rank took their place, in the early morning, in the actresses' boxes, breakfasting and dining there, putting themselves under their protection, in the hope of entering among the first. The guards were swept aside, the doors burst open, the barriers torn down, people smothered ; nothing was lacking to the author's glory. He had just been dining with an

36 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

amiable priest, the Abb^ de Calonne, a brother of the minister, whom he had invited by this note : —

" Come ! come I My Andalusian barber cannot cele- brate his marriage without your official bond. Like sovereigns, he will invite by placards twelve thousand persons to his nuptials. Will they be happy ? I do not know. This child was conceived in joy. I hope he may be born without suffering. I already feel the first pains, and I have had a wretched time hith- erto. I shall need consolation and very spiritual aid at the moment of the crisis. I expect, them from you and from another priest (the Abb^ Sabathier) in a very dark corner. Venite, ahhati^ maledicemus de auctore ; but above all, let us laugh at my griefs ; that is all I ask. I salute you, honor you, and love you."

In a narrow, close box, between the two priests, Beaumarchais examined the audience with great satisfaction. More than one duchess, as Grimm said, would have been glad to find in the galleries, where ladies never went, a little footstool, by the side of Mesdames Duth^, Carlin, etc. The playhouse was most brilliantly lit by a new method ; the audience was nois}^ and well disposed. When the naval hero, the Bailiff de Suff'ren, entered, there was a round of applause, and another, a moment later, when the charming actress, Madame Dugazon, appeared.

The performance began at half-past five, and was not over till ten. At that time a play that lasted four and a half hours was something unheard of.

" THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO.' 37

Contrary to the usual custom, there was no short play before the long one. Was not the '' Marriage of Figaro " enough to satisfy the general curiosity ? Its success was enormous. As La Harpe has said, " It is easy to conceive of the joy and delight of the public which found a charm in amusing itself at the expense of the authorities, and consented to be ridi- culed on the stage." Sainte-Beuve has said, '' The old society would not have so well deserved its fate, if it had not been there that evening, and a hundred successive evenings, in raptures over the merry, wild, indecent, insolent mockery of itself, and if it had not taken so grand a part in its own mystification." Beaumarchais himself said, '' There is something more amazing than my play ; that is, its success."

The actors and actresses outdid themselves. Every word told ; every bit of satire was received with con- tinual applause. The public recognized itself in this picture of Figaro : " Never out of temper, always in good humor, devoting the present to joy, and caring as little for the future as for the past, lively, gener- ous! generous — "

" As a thief ! " says Bartholo. " As a lord," says Marceline.

There was great delight among the audience at this definition of a courtier : —

" Figaro. I was born to be a courtier. " Suzanne. I am told it is a difficult profession. "Figaro. Receive, take, and ask; there's the secret in three words."

38 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

This reflection, which was also a just one, was re- ceived with laughter : —

" The Count. The servants in this house take longer to dress than their masters.

" Figaro. It's because they have no valets to help them."

Here is an intelligent remark on the chances an official has for promotion : —

" The Count. With character and intelligence, you may some day rise in the office.

^^ Figaro. Intelligence a help to advancement? your lordship is laughing at mine. Be commonplace and cringing, and one can get anywhere."

And after this keen remark is a picture of diplo- macy drawn by the clear-sighted barber: "To pre- tend to be ignorant of what every one knows, and to know what every one else does not know, to under- stand what nobody comprehends, not to hear what every one hears, and, above all, to be able to do the impossible ; often to have for the secret one must hide the fact that there is none ; to lock one's self up to cut quills, and to seem deep when one is only, as they say, empty and hollow; to play a part ill or well, to set spies and pension traitors ; to loosen seals, intercept letters, and try to dignify the meanness of the methods by the importance of the objects, — that's politics, or I'm a dead man."

The diplomatists who were in the audience laughed heartily at this description of their occupation. The great ladies were delighted at the truth of this re.

" THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO:' 39

mark of Suzanne's to the Countess: ''I have noticed how much the habits of society enable ladies to tell lies without showing it." They warmly applauded this democratic, but very true, remark of the same Suzanne : " Do women of my station have vapours ? It is a malady of fashionable people, and prevails only in boudoirs." The lords, who were always sur- rounded with fawning parasites, applauded with en- thusiasm Figaro's remark to Basil : " Are you a prince to be flattered? Hear the truth, you wretch, since you have not money to recompense a liar." But the moment when the enthusiasm turned to delirium, to frenzy, when dukes and peers, ministers. Knights of Saint Louis, and Knights of the Holy Ghost, were transported to the seventh heaven, was when the bold barber, suddenly turning into a tribune, said to them all : " Because you are a great lord, you fancy your- self a great genius ! Nobility, wealth, rank, office, — all that makes you very proud I What have you done for all these blessings? You have taken the trouble to be born, and nothing else ! "

The officials in charge of the censorship were par- ticularly delighted with this sentence in the same monologue : " Provided I don't speak in my writings of authority, of religion, of politics, of morality, of the officials, of influential bodies, of other spectacles, of any one who has any claim to anything, I can print anything freely, under the inspection of two or three censors."

The ministers in charge of public duties found

40 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

much justice in this phrase : ''I was thought of for a place, but unfortunately I was suited for it : they needed an accountant ; it was a dancer who got it." Those in whose drawing-rooms gaming went on felt obliged to applaud this : " There was nothing left for me to do, except steal ; I made myself banker at a faro table ; since then, good people, I sup out, and people who are called comme ilfaut open their houses to me very politely, reserving to themselves three- quarters of the profits."

Napoleon I. said of Beaumarchais's comedy that it was the , Re volution already in action. This Figaro, who said " he had seen everything, done everything, dared everything," who declared that ''for success, tact was better than knowledge " ; this unscrupulous barber, who " left smoke for fools to fatten on, and shame on the roadside, because it is too heavy a load for pedestrians to carry " ; this being, " plying every trade to get a livelihood, here a master, there a valet, as fortune directs ; ambitious from vanity, hardwork- ing by necessity, but idle — with delight ; an orator in danger, a poet for amusement, a musician on occa- sion, in love by fits and starts " ; this man to whom Suzanne, who knows him well, says, " Intrigue and money, you are in your proper sphere," — this Figaro already talks like a member of the clubs. Jests are not enough for him ; he requires long speeches ; he makes advances to the pit. The Revolution is not remote.

Is the " Marriage of Figaro " a school of morality ?

" THE MAliRIAGE OF FIGABO:' 41

Not the least in the world. Basil, that singular par- ody of the Spanish priest, " that pedant of oratorio," as Figaro calls him, has very advanced theories about conjugal fidelity. "Is wishing well to a woman, washing ill to her husband ? . . . Of all the serious things in the world, marriage is the absurdest." Count Almaviva thinks that " love is the romance of the heart; pleasure is its history." Does the play end with a making over of morals? Not in the least. The upshot is that Figaro, become rich, and married to a pretty wife, will never lack friends. "I was poor," he says, ''and I was despised. I showed some Avit, and I was hated. A pretty wife and a fortune" — and Bartholo shouts out, "Every heart will turn to you ! " As to the populace, it will continue to suffer and to sing, as Brid'oison declares in the first lines : —

"Xow, gentlemen, this tjomedy, Which you judge at this moment, Saving error, paints the life Of the good people who hear it. When they are oppressed, they curse and cry And agitate themselves in every way : All ends in songs."

Almaviva is the old regime ; Figaro, the new society. Almaviva is corrupt. He regards adultery as a very simple, natural thing — on tlie part of the husband, that is. But he is always in good form. Even when angry he is a man of good society. Doubtless his faults are great; he is "a libertine from idleness,

42 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

jealous through vanity," yet he is not odious — what do I say ? he is not ridiculous. Derided in the last imbrogli^, he yet plays a better part than Figaro, who believes that he is a deceived husband before the nuptial blessing, and yet, instead of suffering from it, finds time for his peroration and the utter- ance of maxims. Almaviva will never correct him- self. He will still run after Suzanne, but he will never betray his king.

As for Figaro, with his double passion for intrigue and for gold, what will become of him? In summing up I am tempted to say, with a man who cannot be suspected of partiality for the old regime, — with Sainte-Beuve : "If we take the two characters as types of two contraste'd societies, there is room for hesita- tion, if we are honest men, and we may prefer, after all, to live in a society under the rule of Almavivas, than in one which Figaros should govern. . . . Figaro is a sort of professor, who gives systematic instruc- tions, — I will not say to the middle classes, but to upstarts and pretenders of every class, — in inso- lence." However, neither the Count nor the barber is estimable, and Beaumarchais, who had but a faint belief in human virtue, did not paint with glowing colors either the past or the future, either the old regime or the new.

IV.

GITSTAVXJS III. AT VERSAILLES.

JUNE 7, 1784, Gustavus III., who was on his way back from Italy, travelling incognito as the Count of Haga, reached Paris; he took up his quarters in the rue du Bac, at the house of his ambassador, the Baron de Stael, and the same evening he went to Versailles without announcing his visit. Louis XVI. was hunting at Rambouillet ; but when he received word from a courtier sent by M. de Vergennes, he left his brother to sup with the hunters and left at once for Versailles. There he dressed quickly and appeared before his guest with one red-heeled and one black-heeled shoe, a gold buckle and a silver buckle. The meeting of the two monarchs was most cordial. A magnificent apartment in the palace was made ready for the King of Sweden ; but he, desiring greater liberty, declined the invitation to stay there, and took lodgings in the town.

At that time the Swedes were called the French of the north, and the I'elations between the courts of Versailles and Stockholm were very close. Gustavus III. was very popular in Fraijce, where he had already

43

44 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

been, in the reign of Louis XV. The Liberals were very glad to pardon him his coup d'etat in 1772, and the philosophers looked upon him as one of their followers. The most fashionable ladies loved and admired him ; he used to write to them regularly. He was well educated, witty, generous, fond of luxury, the fine arts, and pleasure, and there was about him something very sympathetic, original, and attractive.

In 1784, as during his first visit, all classes of French society gave him the warmest welcome. At the theatre he wds cheered ; and if he arrived after the piece was begun, the actors would go back and commence it anew. At the supper-tables of the Countesses of Boufflers and La Marck, of the Duchess of La Valliere, of the Princesses of Lamballe and Croy, at the Richelieu and d'Aiguillon mansions, he was received with the subtlest flattery and the most delicate homage.

Never had the court and the town been more attractive. Marie Antoinette was in the flower of her beauty and her charm ; the year before Louis XVI. had signed a glorious peace which established the independence of the United States, banished the memories of the Seven Years' War, gave credit to the arms and diplomacy of France, and showed its hon- est and venerable King in the light of a moderate, powerful, peace-loving monarch, an arbiter between two worlds, a protector of liberty for many races. Calonne's financial schemes inspired confidence in

GUSTAVUS tlL AT VEBSAILLES. 45

inexhaustible wealth and resources. A loan that had been skilfully placed gave everything an appear- ance of marvellous prosperity.

All the Memoirs of the time bear witness to the security, the confidence, the satisfied national pride, the content, enjo3^ed by France in this year 1784, when money was abundant, the crops were most rich, optimism was the order of the day, and of all the people in the world, the French seemed the most devoted to their sovereigns and the easiest to govern. Life and hope were full of promise ; a cultivated society, tolerant, animated with new ideas, w^as in the enjoyment of liberty, abundance, and pleasure. It was a delightful epoch, refined, sentimental, witty, when no one believed in the power of evil, and every one hoped, through science and philosophy, to over- throw ignorance and suffering ; when intellectual pleasures were triumphant and every audacious thought dared to assert itself! "Adversity," says the Count of S^gur in his Memoirs, " is harsh, sus- picious, and gloomy ; happiness inspires tolerance and confidence. Hence in this period of prosperity there was a free scope for plans of reformation, for every proposed innovation, for the most liberal thoughts, for the boldest schemes." The government did not want to make itself feared ; its sole ambition was to make itself loved.

French society was then regarded by ali Europe as the highest type of wit and politeness. France, by its ideas, its literature, its luxury, set the fashion

46 MAHIE ANTOINETTE.

for the world ; and foreign princes visited it to pay homage to a superior civilization. Never had Paris been so popular. New quarters had been devoted to amusements of all sorts : the Palais Royal, with its many shops and extreme animation, was laying the foundations of its fame; the boulevards, which had been recently laid out and planted with trees, were filling up with rich dwellings, coffee-houses, and theatres. Gustavus III. delighted to mingle, unrec- ognized, Avith the crowd of Parisian idlers. Later, towards the end of his life, when harassed by per- petual conspiracies and by a war in Finland against the Russians, he was to be homesick for Paris ; and he was heard to say that he wanted to abdicate, in order to return thither to live on the boulevards.

" We live in an age of wonders," exclaimed Bach- aumont, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "We were proud to be Frenchmen," said the Count of S^gur, " and prouder still to be Frenchmen of the eighteenth century, which we regarded as the Golden Age restored to earth by the new philosophy." The fashionable dogma was the unlimited perfectibility of man. No more war ! was the general cry. No more tyranny ! No more injustice ! No more cus- tom-houses ! No more prejudices, or obstacles, or errors ! Civilized man, reformed and purified ! So- ciety freed ! Humanity triumphant ! The glorious and peaceful reign of virtue, justice, and liberty! What might not be expected from a country that had produced men like Buffon, Lavoisier, and Mont-

GU8TAVUS III. 'AT VEBSAILLES. 47

golfier ! What was to be the future of those occult sciences which already were filling the public with entliusiasm, — such as mesmerism, somnambulism, and magnetism? Even Gustavus III., who all his life was curious about the supernatural, tried Mes- mer's magnetic tub, Avhich so fired the imagination of the Parisians, and, as they believed, was destined to cure every ill. No longer could it be said that there is nothing new under the sun. The novelties of science became most startling. The year before, the first balloons had risen to the clouds ; and no one doubted that navies would ride the air as they rode the ocean. Fouquet's motto, "Where shall I not ascend?" (^Quo non ascendamf^ no longer seemed fantastic. Man, who had conquered creation, was destined to control the elements.

June 23, 1784, a fire-balloon was sent up at Ver- sailles, in the Minister's courtyard, before the palace, in the presence of the King of Sweden. It was decorated with the initials of Louis XVI. and Gus- tavus III., and with a white brassart, in memory of the coup d'etat of 1772.

The Swedish King made a pilgrimage to Ermenon- ville, and in that little temple of philosophy paid a somewhat interested homage to the memory of the author of the " Social Contract " and the La Nouvelle HSloise. The admirers of Jean Jacques Rousseau announced themselves the admirers of Gustavus III.

Marie Antoinette entertained the King of Sweden at the Little Trianon, and there, surrounded by the

48 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

young Swedish officers whom tlie court of Versailles received most kindly, he might have thought himself in his own country. Never had Marie Antoinette been more amiable and more charming. Marmontel and Gretry's "Awakened Sleeper" was acted with fine scenery and brilliant ballets. After the play in the delightful little theatre, supper was served in the English garden, under the trees, which were illu- minated by colored lanterns and fireworks. The Queen would not take a seat at the table, being anxious to do all the honors to her guests. All the ladies were dressed in white. It was, as Gustavus himself said, a real scene from fairyland, a sight worthy of the Elysian Fields.

At the same time the King wrote the following letter to Louis XVI.: "Two friends ought to talk over their common interests with perfect frankness, and when two kings, like ourselves, are personally ac- quainted, it behooves our dignity that we treat with each other directly. . . . Having been educated since my tenderest infancy in a firm friendship for France, and having been strengthened in this feeling by that of the late King, Louis XV., which he manifested in the most perilous moments of my life, my most con- stant aim has been to testify to him, as also to Your Majesty, my sincere gratitude and my desire to per- petuate the union which has so long existed between our two countries."

The journey of Gustavus III. proves the high posi- tion then held by France in the eyes of foreign na-

GUSTAVUS III. 'AT VERSAILLES. 49

tions. If the Revolution had not broken out in France, its diplomacy would have brought forth important results, and its system of alliances Avould have become most firmly fixed. Louis XVI., who was the object of universal esteem and respect, inter- ested himself most carefully and intelligently in for- eign affairs. He played a very important part in the European concert, and his ambassadors were superior men, who represented him most worthily in foreign countries. With their enlightenment, their courage, their general aptitude, their historical tradi- tions, and the examples of their great men, the won- derful climate, its zone of waves and mountains, what power might not the French have attained, if they had not been divided against themselves ?

July 19, 1784, Gustavus III. signed with Louis XVI. a favorable treaty of alliance. The next day lie left for Sweden, well content with the results of his journey, delighted with the French court, with no suspicion of the tragic lot in reserve for his host and for himself.

It seems that all the figures who appeared, even for a moment, on the scene at Versailles, were con- demned by an inexorable fatality. We might say that every one who crossed the threshold of this palace was thereby doomed in advance to exile, captivity, or death. The conspirators' pistols, the strangler's bow- string, the headsman's axe, were hidden in the dark mystery of the future. The smell of blood was al- ready mingling with the perfumes of the court. The

50 MAMIE ANTOINETTE.

hour was approacliing when the Grand Duke Paul of Kussia and Gustavus III. of Sweden, the two princes who had been so graciously received in France, were to be surrounded by assassins.

Gustavus, the king so admired by philosophers, became, in his later years, the victim of absui'd superstitions and credulity which is the punishment at all times of the lack of faith. Long before he fell beneath the blows of traitors, he felt that he was in the toils of a hidden conspiracy. He tried to dis- tract himself in the tumult of noisy pleasures, which he crowded one upon another, but everywhere and always the dark presentiment pursued him. At last, in the fine theatre of Stockliolm, where his love of the stage had produced many marvels, he was struck down at a court ball, at which he appeared in a domino, by regicide courtiers.

Paul I., a crowned Hamlet, desired to avenge his father. A martyr to his greatness, he suffered on his throne, at the height of his power, inexpressible anguish and grief. This generous man, this great Russian patriot, full of the national genius, a human, intelligent, lovable prince, whom Paris and Ver- sailles had so justly and warmly greeted, was to be treated as a madman, and, like Gustavus III., to be assassinated by his own courtiers.

"THE BARBER OF SEVILLE" AT THE TRLAJ^ON.

IT was the month of August, 1785 ; Marie Antoi- nette, who had been installed since the 3d in her favorite summer residence, the Little Trianon, was to stay there till the 24th, the day before the festival of Saint Louis. "This outing," says Metra, "is an almost continual ball. The lords and ladies of the court dance beneath a large tent. The different per- sons of Yersailles are admitted, and the parties are many and gay." There was nothing prettier or more rural than the Sunday balls on the lawns of the Little Trianon. The Queen, in her white linen dress, set aside the sceptre for the shepherd's crook ; royalty became a pastoral like those of Florian. Lan- cret and Watteau no longer were the models ; it was Greuze who set the fashion. At these Sunday balls every one who was properly dressed was admitted, especially nurses with young children. " Marie An- toinette," we read in the Memoirs of the Count of Vaublanc, "used to dance a square dance, to show that she took a part in the pleasures to which she had invited others. She used to summon the nurses,

51

52 MABIE ANTOINETTK

have the children presented to her, speak to them of their parents, and load them with attentions."

The charming entertainments were truly demo- cratic. " I noticed, with one of my friends," con- tinues the Count of Vaublanc, an eye-witness, "that very few who belonged to the highest society took part in these entertainments. They did not hold themselves aloof from haughtiness, for they every day were wearing plainer clothes, and it was more and more becoming the fashion not to wear one's orders ; but rather from a delicacy about taking places which others passionately desired."

Marie Antoinette did not content herself with country balls ; she was going to act plays. The theatre of the Little Trianon was made ready, — a real jewel, a work of art. At the present time it is closed to the public ; a great pity, for it is so dainty, so charming, so replete with pleasant memories ! Why hide such a gem in its case ?

At the end of the flower-garden, on one of the sides of the French garden, near the summer-house which used to be the summer dining-room of Louis XV., are two Ionic columns, supporting a pediment, on which- is a cupid holding a lyre and laurel wreath ; that is the door of the theatre. The hall is in white and gold ; the ceiling represents an Olympus, painted by Lagren^e. Above the curtain two nymphs sup- port the coat-of-arms of the deity of the place, Marie Antoinette. The accommodations for the audience are small, but the stage is large enough for the most

" THE BARBER OF SEVILLE:' 53

complicated plays. August 1, 1780, began the per- formances of the royal company. Grimm wrote at that time, in his Correspondeyice : " No one has ever seen, and no one will ever see, 'Le Roi et le Fermier,' or 'La Gageure imprevue,' played by more illus- trious actors, or before a more imposing and more select audience. The Queen, who is endowed with every grace, and knows how to assume all without losing her own, played Jenny in the first piece, and took the soubrette's part in the second. All the other parts were taken by the intimate friends of Their Majesties and the royal family. The Count of Artois appeared as a game-keeper in the first play, and as a valet in the second. The Count of Vau- dreuil, perhaps the best amateur actor in Paris, took the part of Richard; the Duchess of Guiche (the daughter of the Duchess of Polignac), of whom Horace might Avell have said, Matre pulchrd filia pulchrior^ that of the little Betzi ; the Countess Diana of Polignac, that of the mother; and the Count of Adhemar, that of the king."

Marie Antoinette was fond of the emotions of the stage. And is there not a resemblance between real queens and theatre queens? They are equally in sight, and alike exposed to praise and blame.

September 19, 1780, the illustrious actress, in her theatre at the Little Trianon, took, with great suc- cess, the part of Colette, in the " Devin du Village " of Jean Jacques Rousseau. She was very charming in this play. Her mother, the Empress Maria Theresa,

54 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

did not approve of private theatricals, "knowing many instances," she wrote to the Count of Mercy- Argenteau, "in which these performances ended in some love affair, or scandal of some sort." The am- bassador, who, in his letters to his sovereign, was a harsh judge of Marie Antoinette's amusements, was not bold enough to condemn severely the perform- ance of the " Devin du Village," because he had re- ceived the distinguished favor of a special invitation to see it, incognito, from a closed box. Among the audience the sole members of the court were Mon- sieur, the King's brother, the Countess of Artois, and Madame Elisabeth. The boxes and balconies were filled by subordinate attendants. Not a single great lord, not a single fine lady, was admitted ; there were no ministers, no diplomatists. The exception made in favor of the Austrian Ambassador was a very flattering one. Consequently, in his " very humble re- port^' of October 24, 1780, he was more lenient than usual. "The Queen," he wrote, "has a very agree- able and harmonious voice ; her way of acting is dignified and full of grace ; in a word, the play was given as well as was possible for private theatricals. I noticed that the King watched it with manifest attention and pleasure. During the entr'actes he went on the stage and into the Queen's dressing-room."

It has been said that Louis XVI. hissed Marie Antoinette ; also that the Queen, having summoned the guards, said to them at the end of the evening, advancing to the footlights: "Gentlemen, I have

" THE BAREEB OF SEVILLE." 55

done my best to amuse you ; I should have liked to act better, to give you more pleasure." The anec- dotes are inexact ; nothing of the sort happened.

These performances, which were interrupted by the death of Maria Theresa and the delicate condition of Marie Antoinette, were resumed in the summer of 1782 and 1783. The Queen supervised the minutest details of her little theatre, — scenery, machinery, cos- tumes, setting, — she regulated everything. Her great- est success was as Babet in the " Matinee et la veill^e villageoise," an operetta by Dezide. Babet, a village Cinderella lost her wooden shoe, like the fairy's slip- per. Alas ! what Marie Antoinette was to lose, was not a wooden shoe, or a slipper, but her crown.

In 1785 there was but one performance, and that was the last of all. Beaumarchais was then all the rage. The "Marriage of Figaro" had been given again most successfully, at the Theatre Fran^ais, and the Queen, who had protected the author, conceived the idea of paying him the most unexpected honor, of giving in the Little Trianon the " Barber of Seville." "Imagine the pretty little pet, gentle, ten- der, easy, fresh, tempting, with her pretty foot, her slim waist, her trim figure, her plump arms, her pink lips, and her hands ! her cheeks ! her teeth ! her eyes!" (The "Barber of Seville." Act IL, Scene 2). Yes, this part of Rosin a, this charming girl, this fas- cinating creature whom Figaro thus describes, was to be played by the most imposing and majestic of women, the Queen of France and of Navarre.

56 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

The rehearsals began under the direction of one of the best actors of the Comddie Fran9aise, Dazin- court, who had just made a great hit in the " Marriage of Figaro." It was during these preparations that the first rumors of the affair of the necklace reached the Queen. Marie Antoinette had summoned Madame Campan to the Little Trianon, and was rehearsing the part of Rosina with her when she heard from her of the horrible drama and the inconceivable enigma which was soon to fire all France with curiosity and wrath.

It was like a thunderbolt. The Queen perceived at a glance into what an abyss of calumny and dis- grace her cowardly enemies were trying to hurl her. But she did not lose heart. She saw that to abandon the play, which had been announced, would be to confess her guilt and show her alarm. Far from countermanding the play, she continued to direct the preparations without a pause. August 15, 1785, the festival of the Assumption, the Cardinal de Rohan, Grand Almoner of France, was arrested, in his pon- tifical robes, just as he was about to ascend to the altar in the chapel of the palace of Versailles. Four days later, Marie Antoinette played Rosina in the "Barber of Seville."

Beaumarchais was present. The part of Figaro was taken by the Count of Artois ; that of Alma viva, by the Count of Vaudreuil ; Bartholo, by the Duke of Guiche ; Bazile, by M. de Crussol. " The few spectators admitted to this performance," writes

" THE BARBER OF SEVILLE:' 57

Grimm in his Correspondence^ "found in it a unity and harmony which are very rare in plays acted by amateurs. It was especially noticed that the Queen threw into the scene in the fourth act a grace and truth which would have won the most enthusiastic applause for even a less illustrious actress."

It was indeed a singular evening ! At the very moment when so many catastrophes were preparing and so many storms gathering, it was odd to hear the brother of Louis XVI., the Count of Artois, exclaim- ing, in Figaro's Andalusian dress : " Upon my word, sir, since men have no other choice than between stu- pidity and madness, if I can't get any profit, I want at least pleasure ; so, hurrah for happiness ! Who knows if the world is going to last three weeks ? " It was the sturdy upholder of the old regime, the future emigr^, the prince who was to be known later as Charles X., who uttered democratic phrases like these : " I find myself very happy to be forgotten, being sure that a great man does us enough good when he does us no harm. As to the virtues which one requires in a servant, does Your Excellency know many masters who are worthy of being valets ? " In this gaiety was there not more show than sincerity, something forced, something factitious, and was there not a forewarning in this speech of Figaro's in the mouth of the brother of Louis XVI. : " I hasten to laugh at everything, lest I should have to weep at everything " ?

Ah ! let Marie Antoinette pay attention and lend

58 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

her ear. At the moment when the trial of the neck- lace is beginning, and everywhere are circulating the malicious inventions of hate and falsehood, would one not say that almost all these calumnious lies are foretold by Basil : " Calumny ! you don't know what it is you despise. I have seen the honestest people nearly crushed by it. Do you think that there is any stupid scandal, any horror, any absurd tale, which cannot be spread among the idlers of a great town with proper care? and we have to do here with crafty people." Beautiful and unfortunate Queen ! So when she listened to this definition of the crescendo of calumny, must she not have grown pale? "First a faint rumor, skimming the ground like a swallow before the storm, murmurs pianissimo^ and flits and drops the poisonous dart. A mouth picks it up, and piano, piano, drops it adroitly in some one's ear. The harm is done ; it grows, spreads, makes its way rinforzando, from mouth to mouth, on its devilish path ; then suddenly, no one knows how, you see calumny rise, hissing, and growing before your eyes. It spreads, takes flight, whirls about, covers everything, rends, tears, thunders, and be- comes, with the aid of Heaven, a general cry, a public crescendo, a universal chorus of hate and denuncia- tion. Who the devil could withstand it ? "

With this performance of the " Barber of Seville," ended the theatricals at the Little Trianon. The day of comedies was over. What was preparing was a drama ; not a stage drama, but a real one, a terri-

" THE BARBER OF SEVILLE:' 59

ble one, in which Providence had prepared for the Queen the most tragic and touching part. The pro- logue was already beginning in this strange and fatal affair of the necklace, the plot of which recalls the most complicated plays. We shall try to set some of the characters on the stage

THE CARDINAL DE ROHAN.

THERE is no more curious trial than that about the necklace. It is a sort of romance, which seems the invention of calumny and hate ; a strange mixture of seriousness and frivolity, as inexplicable as an enigma, as full of incident as a play ; a tragi- comedy designed to pique and amuse the malevolence of the public ; a plot more strange and improbable than even Beaumarchais could have invented ; a pro- logue to the Revolution, one in which everything is a matter of surprise : the persons accused, the judges, the public, the investigation, the trial, the verdict.

Such a character as the Cardinal de Rohan can appear only in a society that is on the point of perishing. This priest, who is a man of the world, and cannot live on less than twelve hundred thou- sand francs a year ; this bishop, prince, and ambassa- dor, who changes his cassock for a hunting-coat, and prefers drawing-rooms and boudoirs to churches and sacristies ; this ecclesiastical Don Juan, glittering in golden chasubles, whose pastoral ring is a jewel of inestimable value, whose lace rochets fill the most 60

THE CARDINAL DE BOUAN. 61

fashionable beauties with envy ; this cardinal, who makes his appearance between a charlatan and a de- praved woman, between a Cagliostro and a Madame de La Motte ; this intelligent and foolish man, simple and corrupt, generous and most crafty, sceptical and incredulous, is surely a most characteristic figure. What dreams, what follies, haunt the imagination of this prince of the Church, who aspires to the glory of the great Richelieu and the good fortunes of the skilful Mazarin ! What ambitions fire the brain of this dreamer who fancies himself on the point of discov- ering the philosopher's stone, and boasts that soon, thanks to the magical power of his friend Cagliostro, he is to become the mightiest and richest prince in the world ! Beneath his aristocratic calm, under the reserve of good society, what excitement, what tem- pests, what delirium prevails I This man who makes his grand vicar write his charges, and writes his love- letters himself ; who is more interested in a sorcerer's conjuring-book than in the holy words of the Church ; this bishop, this cardinal, who, as if in scorn, is the Grand Almoner of France at the moment when the clergy, attacked by the philosophers, ought to be adding to its wisdom, its austerity, its virtue — this man is the incarnation of all the elegance and all the vices of the crumbling society.

Louis Rend Edouard de Rohan was born in 1734. His high rank raised him speedily to ecclesiastical dignity. When Marie Antoinette arrived in France, in 1770, to marry the Dauphin, he was the suifragan

62 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

bishop of his uncle, the Cardinal Consbantin de Ro- han, Prince Bishop of Strasburg. In the absence of his uncle, who was ill, he received the Dauphiness at the cathedral door, and congratulated her.

The 21st of June, in the next year, Marie Antoi- nette wrote to her mother: ''It is said that the suffragan bishop of Strasburg is to go to Vienna. He belongs to a very great family, but his life hitherto has been much more that of a soldier than of a bishop."

For her part, Maria Theresa wrote to the Count of Mercy, July 8 : '' I have every reason to be dis- satisfied with the choice of such a worthless person for French Ambassador at this court. I should, per- haps, have refused to receive him, if I had not been withheld by the consideration of the annoyance to my daughter this action might call forth; but you must not neglect to let the French court know that it would do well to recommend to the Ambassador discreet behavior, such as becomes his position and the office he is to fill ; and that, moreover, I should not be over-ready to wink at any extravagances or scandals in which he may be inclined to indulge."

Once in Vienna, Prince Louis, — for so the future cardinal was then styled, — displayed extraordinary pomp and luxury. His maimer of life was regal : he kept a stable of fifty horses, had two state carriages which cost twenty thousand francs apiece, a first equerry, a sub-equerry, two grooms, seven pages of noble birth, with their tutor and guardian, two gen-

TBE CABBINAL BE BOHAN. 63

tie men to do the honors of the bedchamber, a head butler, a chief cook, two footmen, four running- footmen in gold livery, six valets de chambre, twelve footmen for the house, tw^o porters, ten musicians clad in scarlet, a steward, a treasurer ; finally, for the diplomatic work, four secretaries and four gentlemen. His gallantry was notorious. He was always at the theatre. He used to wear the different hunting-uni- forms of the noblemen whom he visited.

One Corpus Christi Day, he and all the Embassy, in their green uniforms slashed with gold, broke through a procession which blocked their path, in order to join a hunting-party given by the Prince of Paar. His prodigality was excessive, and the conduct of his suite was most scandalous. Maria Theresa hated him as if she had a presentiment of the harm he was to do Marie Antoinette. The Empress wrote to the Count of Mercy-Argenteau, January 19, 1772 : " I cannot express approval of the Ambassador Rohan. He is a huge volume of evil language which is ill suited to his position as ecclesiastic and as minister ; he lets it flow in the most impudent way on every occasion, with no knowledge of affairs and without the necessary gifts, but full of levity, presumption, and indifference. . . . His suite is also a collection of people destitute of merit and of morals."

Every day Maria Theresa complained more bit- terly. She wrote again to the Count of Mercy, March 18, 1772: "The Prince de Rohan displeases me more and more ; he is a worthless fellow. . . .

64 MARIE ANTOINETTE,

To be sure, the Emperor likes to talk with him, but it is only to draw out his stupid, bragging chatter." September 1 of the same year : " Rohan is always the same ; yet nearly all our women, 3^oung and old, pretty or plain, are none the less fascinated by this extravagant and ridiculous villain." May 15, 1773: " The sooner Rohan is recalled, the better pleased I shall be. He is unendurable." And in July: "There is no need of hoping for any change in the conduct of the Prince de Rohan. He is incorrigible, and his servants, the rascals, are just like their worthless master. They corrupt my people, exactly as their master corrupts the nobility. Their inso- lence goes to the wildest excesses and fills my sub- jects with indignation."

It was during his embassy in Vienna that Rohan lost the friendship of Marie Antoinette. One evening, Madame Du Barry read aloud, at the King's supper- table, in the Dauphin's presence, a letter in which the Ambassador described the Empress Maria Theresa as holding in one hand a handkerchief with which to wipe away the tears she was shedding over the woes of Poland, while in the other she was holding a sword wherewith to divide that unfortunate country. The letter, which was a confidential one, had been written, not to Madame Du Barry, but to the Duke of Aiguillon. Marie Antoinette, however, thought that it was written to the Countess, and could not forgive the Ambassador for choosing such a corre- spondent or for presuming to criticise Maria Theresa.

THE CARDINAL BE BOHAN. 65

The Prince de Rohan held the post of ambassador for only two years. When Louis XVI. ascended the throne, Rohan appeared to be in disgrace, which, how- ever, did not prevent his being loaded with honors. A relative of his, the Countess of Marsan, who had brought up the King, succeeded by her insistence in having him appointed Grand Almoner of France, on the death of the Cardinal de La Roche-Aymon, in 1777. Then he became Prince Bishop of Strasburg, in 1779, on the death of his uncle, whose suffragan he had been. He obtained his cardinal's hat through the favor of Stanislas Poniatowski, King of Poland, and the abbey of Saint Waast, with its enormous revenues. He was admitted to the French Academy, and chosen Principal of the Sorbonne. This last position, which was much sought after by the high dignitaries of the Church, was filled by the votes of the graduate ecclesiastics and the doctors of the Sor- bonne. The cardinals did their best to secure this post at the head of this famous institution, the sanc- tuary of theology, the stronghold of religion ; but the Grand Almoner succeeded over all his rivals.

Part of the time he lived in Paris, in a splendid mansion in the rue Vieille du Temple, which is now the National Printing-house, and part of the time at Saverne, in a magnificent palace. The Baroness Oberkirch, who visited him there in 1780, was much struck by the pomp he displayed. She describes him as handsome, polite, majestic, coming out of his chapel in a cassock of scarlet watered silk and an Eng-

66 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

lish rochet of inestimable value. When he officiated at Versailles he wore an alb, for great ceremonies, of such valuable lace that one hardly dared touch it; his arms and motto were arranged in medallions above large flowers, and it was estimated to be worth a hundred thousand francs. In his hand he carried an illuminated missal, a family heirloom, of royal mag- nificence. " He came to meet us," Madame d'Ober- kirch goes on, " with an air of a great lord's gallantry and politeness such as I have seldom seen. The Car- dinal was highly educated and very amiable."

This handsome prelate, so rich and flattered, fan- cied himself a victim of fate. As Grand Almoner of France, he was at the head of the episcopate and the clergy ; no bishop could see the King except with his permission ; he held the patronage of all the positions as King's almoners, eight in number, and those as chaplains, with their large livings. He was not satisfied with being a Prince of the House of Rohan, Cardinal, Grand Almoner of France, a Knight of the Holy Ghost, Bishop of Strasburg, Sovereign Prince of Hildesheim, Abbot of Noirmoutiers and of Saint Waast, Principal of the Sorbonne, Superior of the Asylum for the Blind, the possessor of an income of from seven to eight hundred thousand francs from the revenues of the Church, a member of the French Academy, a man of the highest fashion, the favorite of all the fine ladies of the courts of Vienna and Versailles : this ambitious man wanted something more. What he asked of fate,

THE CARDINAL BE ROHAN. 67

what he was surprised that he did not yet possess, was the unlimited power and rank of prime minister, the joy of seeing all his rivals at his feet.

What prevented the realization of this vision of pride and glory ? Only one person, he thought, — the Queen. How could he, so glorious and fascinating, he, the Cardinal Prince of Rohan, not succeed in making the conquest of a woman ? In that, he said to himself in his fatuity, there was something really inexplicable. He, the Prince of Rohan, not please the Queen ! There must be some mistake. Yet Marie Antoinette continued to maintain her icy atti- tude. She never addressed a word to the Grand Almoner of France. The Grand Almoner lamented it. He would gladly have given all his revenues from the Church for a word, for a smile. This dis- dain of Marie Antoinette's was the torture, the de- spair of the Cardinal. His most ardent desire was to become her favorite ; that was the aim to wliich all the resources of his mind were turned. When he was seeking with a feverish anxiety every means to obtain the good graces of his sovereign and to reach the summit of fortune, of greatness, he met two per- sons who, he thought, could be of the greatest service to him in carrying out his design — a charlatan and an intriguing woman, Cagliostro and Madame de La Motte.

VII.

CAGLIOSTKO.

WHEN we cease to study history superficially and go down into its depths, we are surprised at the supply of absurdities which every period adds to the mass of human follies, and we acquire the con- viction that what we call common sense ought to be called the uncommon sense. The illogicality, the 'contradictions, the absurdities, of the human heart are eternal causes of surprise. The more corrupt the society, the more easily is it led to every extravagance in its tastes and fashions.

Superstition and incredulity walk hand in hand; men refuse to believe in the Gospel, only to give their faith to the wildest chimeras, the most eccentric visions ; they call themselves hard-headed, and suffer from every weakness; they boast that they are fol- lowers of reason, and they are in fact only apostles of madness ; they cease to believe in God, but they still believe in the devil. Extremes meet, and old races have all the credulity of children. The mania for the supernatural, the rage for the marvellous, prevailed in the last years of the eighteenth century, which had

68

CAGLIOSTRO. 69

wantonly derided every sacred thing. Never were the Rosicrucians, the adepts, sorcerers, and prophets so numerous and so respected. Serious and educated men, magistrates, courtiers, declared themselves eye- witnesses of alleged miracles. " I have a theory," said the Prince of Ligne, " that the most reasonable persons have, unknown to themselves, a romantic corner in their life. No one of us escapes it; it is the tribute we pay to the imagination."

When Cagliostro came to France, he found the ground prepared for his magical operations. A so- ciety eager for distractions and emotions, indulgent to every form of extravagance, necessarily welcomed such a man and hailed him as its guide. Whence did he come ? What was his country, his age, his origin? Where did he get those extraordinary dia- monds which adorned his dress, the gold which he squandered so freely ? It Avas all a myster}^ Like his predecessor, the Count of Saint Germain, he pretended to be more than three hundred years old, while he seemed to be about thirty. It was, he said, because he possessed the secret of eternal youth and the power of reawakening love. With him was his young wife, a beautiful Neapolitan, the Flower of Vesuvius, as she was called, Serafina Feliciani.

So far as was known, Cagliostro had no resources, no letter of credit, and yet he lived in luxury. He treated and cured the poor without pay, and not satisfied with restoring them to health, he made them large presents of money. His generosity to the

70 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

poor, his scorn for the great, aroused universal en- thusiasm. The Germans, who lived on legends, imagined that he was the Wandering Jew. When he first set foot on French soil, in 1780, he chose Strasburg for his residence, being attracted thither by the Cathedral spire. The Cardinal de Rohan, who was then living in his splendid castle at Saverne, in more than princely luxury, was extremely anxious to become acquainted with the famous worker of won- ders. Cagliostro did not make the first steps : " If the Cardinal is sick," he said, " he may come to me, and I will cure him ; if he is well, he has no need for me, nor I for him." This charlatan, who gave out that he had discovered the philosopher's stone, un- derstood how to extract inexhaustible supplies from the devotion of his adherents. He asked for nothing, and received everything in abundance. They gave everything to him, under the impression that they were enriching themselves. The Egyptian lodges which he founded eveiywhere he went, brought him in large revenues. He exercised a real fascination on his adepts.

The Baroness of Oberkirch, who saw him at Sa- verne in 1780, at the Cardinal's palace, has described the adoration which was paid him : " No one can ever form the faintest idea of the fervor with which everybody pursued Cagliostro. He was surrounded, besieged; every one trying to win a glance or a word. ... A dozen ladies of rank and two actresses had followed him, in order to continue their treatment.

CAGLIOSTBO. 71

• • • If I had not seen it, I should never have im- agined that a prince of the Roman Church, a Rohan, a man in other respects intelligent and honorable, could so far let himself be imposed upon as to renounce his dignity, his free will, at the bidding of a sharper."

One day Cagliostro said to the Cardinal, "Your soul is worthy of mine, and you deserve to be the con- fidant of all my secrets." For his part, the Cardinal was never weary of expatiating on the merits of his new friend. He showed to the Baroness of Ober- kirch a large stone which he wore on his little finger, on which was cut the coat-of-arms of the house of Rohan ; it was worth twenty thousand francs at the lowest calculation. "It's a beautiful stone. Your Grace," said the Baroness ; " I have often admired it." " Well, he made it," the Cardinal went on ; " he made it, and out of nothing ; I saw him with my own eyes ; I was there watching the crucible ; I was present at the operation. Is that science ? What do you think ? You mustn't say that he is deceiving me, for the jeweller and the engraver set the value of the stone at twenty-five thousand francs. You must ac- knowledge that it is a singular swindler who makes presents like that." Then, growing more excited, the Cardinal added with great warmth : " That's not all ; he makes gold ; he has made five or six thousand francs' worth before me, up there in the top of the palace. I am to have more ; I am to have a great deal ; he will make me the richest prince in Europe.

72 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

These are not dreams, Madame ; they are proofs. And his prophecies that have come true ! and the miracu- lous cures he has wrought ! I tell you he is the most extraordinary, the sublimest man in the world, and his knowledge is equalled only by his kindness. How much he gives in alms ! How much good he does I It passes all imagination ! "

Cagliostro did not content himself with promising the Cardinal glory and power ; he also cured him of an asthma : consequently nothing equalled the grati- tude of this prince of the Church. He spoke with affection and admiration of this wonderful man, whom he regarded as his guide and saviour. From that moment Cagliostro was free to help himself from the purse of this showy and generous prelate. Jan- uary 30, 1785, he took up his quarters in Paris, at the Marais, in the rue Saint Claude, very near the Cardinal's residence. Paris was no less enthusiastic than Strasburg. With his half-philosophical, half- mystical jargon, his knowledge of physics, chemistry, alchemy, and medicine ; his pretence of making gold, of having lived in past centuries, of foretelling the future, and of having guessed the great secrets of creation, Cagliostro upset and fired feeble minds. His glance, at one moment all flame, the next ice, fascinated them. To the sick he used to say, " I will give you health " ; to the poor, " I mil give you wealth " ; to the impotent, " I will give you love."

Flattering the sensuality of the age, he exalted the natural instincts as beneficent emanations granted to

CAGLIOSTEO. 73

mortals by the Supreme Being, as a recompense for the evils inseparable from humanity. He taught that the religion most worthy of God and of man was that of the patriarchs, and that Adam, Seth, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, had lived in close intimacy with their Creator, who continually manifested him- self to them. He added that he was the possessor of this secret of the patriarchs, and that, like them, he was in direct and continual communication with Him. Speaking a strange gibberish, which was neither French nor Italian, with which he mingled a jargon which he did not translate, but called Arabic, he used to recite with solemn emphasis the most absurd fables. When he repeated his conversation with the angel of light and the angel of darkness, when he spoke of the great secret of Memphis, of the Hiero- phant, of the giants, the enormous animals, of a city in the interior of Africa ten times as large as Paris, where his correspondents lived, he found a number of people ready to listen and to believe him.

In his medical treatment, his three great panaceas were baths in which there was a great quantity of the extract of Saturn ; a potion, of which the receipt was in the hands only of an apothecary he had chosen ; and some drops of his own composition, the miraculous effects of which, he said, would cure all the diseases which physicians had pronounced hopeless.

As a sorcerer he had a cabalistic apparatus. On a table with a black cloth, on which were embroidered

74 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

in red the mysterious signs of the highest degree of the Rosicrucians, there stood the emblems : little Egyptian figures, old vials filled with lustral waters, and a crucifix, very like, though not the same as the Christian's cross ; and there too Cagliostro placed a glass globe full of clarified water. Before the globe he used to place a kneeling seer; that is to say, a young woman who, by supernatural powers, should behold the scenes which were believed to take place in water within the magic globe.

Count Beugnot, who gives all the details in his Memoirs, adds that for the proper performance of the miracle, the seer had to be of angelic purity, to have been born under a certain constellation, to have delicate nerves, great sensitiveness, and, in addition, blue eyes. When she had knelt down, the geniuses were bidden to enter the globe. The water became active and turbid. The seer was convulsed, she ground her teeth, and exhibited every sign of ner- vous excitement. At last she saw and began to speak. What was taking place that very moment at hundreds of miles from Paris, in Vienna or Saint Petersburg, in America or Pekin, as well as things which were going to occur onl}^ some weeks, months, or years later, she declared that she saw distinctly in the globe. The operation had succeeded; the adepts were transported with delight.

" It would be hard," says Count Beugnot, " to be- lieve that such scenes could have place in France at the end of the eighteenth century ; yet they aroused

CAGLIOSTRO. 75

great interest among people of importance in the court and the town. The Count of Estaing allowed himself to be led away by these follies, and became their upholder. The Cardinal de Rohan was amazed at the power these prophecies gave him over his enemies, and he let it be known that the Duke of Chartres, whose court had decided not to believe in God, was ready to believe in Cagliostro ; so true it is, that in human weakness there is always an open- ing for faith, which is always likely, when it lacks proper material, to tolerate ridiculous or dangerous subjects."

Cagliostro was certainl}^ one of the main causes of the misfortunes of the Cardinal de Rohan. Such an oracle was sure to ruin the ambitious prelate, by driv- ing him to delirium through fantastic promises of power, wealth, and love. When the fatal business*; of the purchase of the necklace came up, Cagliostro, who had recently come to Paris, was mysteriously consulted in the very drawing-room of the Cardinal. The Egyptian invocations took place in the light of countless candles. The prophet ascended the tripod and spoke. The matter, he declared, was worthy of the Prince ; it would be completely successful ; it would put the last touch to the kindness of the Queen, and finally hasten the day when, for the hap- piness of France, of Europe, of humanity, the rare gifts of the Cardinal should become known. Rohan hesitated no longer, and the affair of the necklace began.

VIII.

THE COUNTESS DE LA MOTTE.

THE Countess de La Motte was, even more than Cagliostro, the evil genius of the Cardinal de Rohan. She was a perfect type of a woman of no defined position, at war, from her birth, with the social order, all the laws of which she defied ; she was an adventuress, who united with vicious instincts wild extravagance, and insatiable vanity with the haughti- ness of a princess, the cynicism and depravity of a courtesan. Madame de La Motte was one of those unhappy natures which show what intelligence is when not controlled by morality and common sense. This woman, whose ardent imagination had a de- moniac quality, found that at certain limits lying is a proof of ability ; imposture, of courage ; swindling, of talent. She appeared on the scene as if by a mockery of fate, and she it was who, for the last time, evoked before the multitude a name famous throughout the world. The blood of Henri XL, the lover of Diane de Poitiers, flowed in her veins. Strange are the vicissitudes of destiny ! This race of the Valois, once so powerful, was represented by 76

THE COUNTESS BE LA MOTTE. 77

this woman. What a delight for the secret enemies of the throne ! What scandals they concocted ! The Valois slandering the Bonrbons ; the two families engaged in the same trial ; the adulteries of Henri II. punished in his illegitimate progeny ; what an irony of fate ! what a prologue of the Revolution !

Jeanne de Saint-Remy de Valois, Countess de La Motte, was born at Fontette (Aube), July 22, 1756. She was the second child of Jacques de Saint-Remy de Valois, and descended in the seventh generation from Henri de Saint-Remy, son of Henri II., King of France, and of Nicole de Savigny, Lady de Saint- Remy, de Fontette, du Ch^telier, and de Noez. In spite of its illustrious origin, this family had long been extremely poor. One of its members made answer to Louis XIII., who asked him what he was doing at his estate, " Sire, I am only doing what I should do." Later the true meaning of this seem- ingly haughty reply came out, when it was discov ered that this descendant of the Valois was making, on his estate, counterfeit money wherewith to pay his numerous creditors.

The father of Madame de La Motte was sunk in the deepest misery. He had married the daughter of the concierge of his Fontette house, by whom he had four children, one son and three daughters. He died in a hospital in 1762. A charitable lady, the Marchioness of Boulainvilliers, took charge of the children, sent the boy to a naval school, and the girls to a boarding-school at Passy. Their genealogy was

78 MARIE ANTOINETTE,

verified by d'Hozier in 1776, and the King allowed to eacli one of the children a pension of eight hundred francs. But a young, ambitious girl, fond of luxury and dress, could not live on any such sum as that. Jeanne desired to make her fortune, and any way w^as good for her. She spent a year at Bar-sur-Aube, with a lady named Surmont, and then married a gentleman as poor as herself, the Count de La Motte, a gendarme (at that time the gendarmes were the first regiment of cavalry ; the privates who belonged to it had the rank of officers and could obtain the cross of Saint Louis).

In 1782, the pair came to Paris, took up their abode in furnished lodgings in the rue de la Verrerie, where they lived in great poverty; in 1783, they were compelled to deposit their furniture with a Avig- maker, through fear of the bailiff. Early in 1784, Madame de La Motte pledged her dresses and be- longings at the pawnbroker's. She was reduced to extreme poverty when suddenly a change came. All at once this woman who lived on charity had abundance of money. This is what had happened. Madame de La Motte had had an audience with the Cardinal de Rohan, and had besought him to trans- mit a petition to the King. The Cardinal thought his suppliant very pretty, and became interested in her fate. He was still more surprised when he learned in what want the court left the descendants of Kenri 11. The petitioner's strongest arguments were her trim figure, her expressive blue eyes beneath

THE COUNTESS BE LA MOTTE. 79

arching black eyebrows, her fine teeth, her little foot, her aristocratic hand, her marvellously fair complexion.

The prelate was fascinated; the bold adventuress saw that she had at last found her prey. Living in the days of society where smooth rascals regarded the most detestable villanies as excellent plans, she had chosen for her secretary, or rather for her accomplice, an old fellow-soldier of her husband in the gen- darmerie, a certain R^taux de Villette, who then Avas prowling between Paris and Versailles with no definite means of subsistence. This supple and insinuating man, who at any rate knew enough to turn off a letter, was required by Madame de La Motte for the correspondences she was soon to undertake.

Her plan was soon made. The Cardinal was a libertine, she would addi'ess his passions ; he was thoroughly ambitious, she would direct that feeling. The prelate had confided to her that his grief, his torture, what poisoned all his happiness, was being in disgrace with Marie Antoinette. What would he not be willing to pay any one who would bring about a reconciliation with the Queen? He said to him- self that if he should become the favorite of Marie Antoinette, he would thereby be the absolute master of France, the Mazarin of a new Anne of Austria. This thought drove him almost wild, as Madame de La Motte saw, and she at once devised the means of ruining him. She suddenly pretended that her lot

80 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

had changed, that fortune was smiling on her, that she had had many audiences with the Queen, and that Her Majesty had conferred many benefits on her, had made her a confidante, and wrote to her letters full of the most amiable feeling.

This bold adventuress showed these pretended let- ters, which were written by a forger, to every comer, and offered her protection to her credulous victims. She convinced the Cardinal that she often spoke of him to the Queen, that she pleaded his cause with great skill, and that gradually she was bringing him to a high place in Her Majesty's favor. "The Queen," she said to him, " has commissioned me to ask you to give me your justification in writing." The prelate, full of hope at once, composed with eagerness the required apology, and Madame de La Motte told him that this memorial, which she liad herself presented to Marie Antoinette, had done wonders. The Queen, she went on, asked of her future favorite only a little patience and a little discretion; but the day was drawing nigh when she should be able to throw aside the mask and to make a j)ublic announcement of the high positions to which he was to be called. Madame de La Motte urged the prelate to notice the Queen on such or such a day, at such or such an hour, when she should be entering the hall of the CEil de Boeuf ; Her Majesty would make him a sign with her head, which would confirm his hopes.

The Grand Almoner, full of delight, noticed in fact that the Queen had moved her head, which was not

THE COUNTESS BE LA MOTTE. 81

at all surprising; and lie was fatuous enough to imagine that this movement was the appointed signal mentioned by Madame de La Motte. What this adventuress now needed for the further carrying out of her devilish plot was a few sheets of gilt-edged letter paper. With these, aided by her customary accomplice, she forged a series of letters from the Queen to the Cardinal, who received with joy these alleged royal letters, and wrote answers which he thought that Madame de La Motte gave to the Queen. All this was in the months of May, June, and July, 1784. ^Madame de La Motte had a banker in the Cardinal, but all his revenues and treasures were scarcely sufficient to pay the debt of his grati- tude. Was there anything too fine for a Valois, for a woman who reconciled a man of his genius with his sovereign. It Avould be a mistake to suppose that Madame de La Motte's luxury began only after the theft of the necklace. Nine months earlier, she was living extravagantly, thanks to two gifts of sixty thousand francs each, from the fund of the Grand Almoner and to a sum of thirty thousand francs assigned to her from the Cardinal's private purse.

The fraud was everywhere triumphant, and yet Madame de La Motte was uneasy. Blind as he was, might not the Cardinal sooner or later discover the truth? Would he not notice the irregular and almost inexplicable contrast between the more than affectionate tone of the alleged letters of the Queen, and the cold, reserved, almost icy attitude which she

82 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

maintained in public before the man who already imagined himself her favorite? In the correspon- dence which passed through the hands of Madame de La Motte, the Cardinal was continually begging for an audience, which was always promised but never granted ; and in spite of his blindness might he not form some vague suspicion? This danger had to be met ; it was necessary to find something that should absolutely corroborate his mistaken views, and make him sure that he had heard with his own ears, seen with his own eyes. Hence the scene in the grove, one of the most curious incidents of this strange and eventful drama.

It was July, 1784. The first performance of the " Marriage of Figaro " had taken place on the 27th of the previous April. The final scene, the nocturnal confusion under the shadows of the avenue of the chestnut-trees, had made a great impression, and it was possibly the sight of this that suggested to Madame de La Motte the first idea of the scene in the grove at Versailles. Her husband, strolling in the garden of the Palais Royal, had met a woman who in face and figure somewhat resembled the Queen. The likeness struck him, and he mentioned it to his wife, who bade him make the woman's ac- quaintance. She was a Miss d'Oliva, a woman of doubtful repute, who occupied a small apartment in the rue du Jour, near Saint Eustache. M. de La Motte followed her, made her several visits, and one evening told her that a woman of quality, a countess,

p

THE COUNTESS BE LA MOTTE. 83

who had often heard of her, would be brought to see her the next day.

This was done, and Madame de La Motte had no dif- ficulty in cajoling the poor girl. She showed her the pretended letters of the Queen ; '' You see," she said, *'I am in Her Majesty's confidence. She has just given me a new proof of it, by asking me to find some one who can do something for her which will be ex- plained at the proper time. I come to propose it to you. If you consent, I will make you a present of fifteen thousand francs, and the Queen will make you an even larger present. I can't tell you now who I am, but you shall soon know." The d'Oliva was naturally delighted with such a windfall, and accepted without hesitation. The next day M. de La Motte went to her rooms for her, in the afternoon, and carried her with him to Versailles, to the H6tel de la Belle Image, Place Dauphin. The next day Madame de La Motte instructed her ignorant accom- plice in the part she was to play. She began by making her put on a white dress trimmed Avith red, and to throw over her head a thing called a thSrese. Then she gave her the necessary directions : " This evening I shall take you to the park ; a great noble- man will come up to you, and you will give him this letter, and this rose, saying nothing but this, ' You know what this means ' ; that is all you will have to do." The d'Oliva, who was convinced that this little scene was desired by the Queen, for her own amusement, had no other thought than to play her part to the best of her ability.

84 MABIE ANTOINETTE

This was July 28, 1784. The Cardinal had re- ceived word from Madame de La Motte, to be that evening, at about ten o'clock, in the Versailles park, near the grove of Venus, where the Queen would at last grant him the interview he had so long desired.

It was a very dark night ; no sound disturbed the mysterious silence of the park ; the Cardinal, full of hope, his imagination aglow with Heaven knows what visions of pride and pleasure, was eagerly await- ing the pretended rendezvous, the hour of triumph, the blissful moment, when the royal apparition should appear beneath the dark trees. Never had more ro- mantic dreams fired a man's ardent brain. Suddenly the Cardinal's more than amorous impatience was inter- rupted by the rustle of a dress. It was, he thought, the Queen of France and of Navarre, the majestic, poetic, enchanting Marie Antoinette, the first woman of the world. As soon as he saw the d'Oliva, whom he took for the Queen, he bowed low, murmuring some few words. The d'Oliva replied by offering him a rose, and saying in a voice broken by emotion, " You know what this means." Then Madame de La Motte appeared. " Come quick, quick ! " she ex- claimed. Retaux de Villette said, as if in alarm, '' Here is the Countess of Artois ! " The d'Oliva dis- appeared like a shadow, and all was silent again.

The Cardinal thought himself the happiest man in the world. Not only, he imagined, had the Queen pardoned him, but, as if by miracle, she had passed

THE COUNTESS BE LA MOTTE. 85

from hate to sympathy, and from sympathy to love. In proof of this tender feeling, she had given him a rose : a mystic gift I a cherished token ! This rose he covered with ardent kisses ; he placed it with de- votion on his heart. He fancied himself transported to a delightful spot, some happy Eden, to a Avorld of ineffable bliss. What he felt w^as no longer joy, in- toxication, delirium ; it was ecstas}^ The mystifica- tion had succeeded even beyond Madame de La Motte's hopes.

The next day the d'Oliva was shown an alleged letter from the Queen, which ran thus : '' My dear Countess, I am delighted with the woman you se- lected; ^he played her part to perfection, and her future is assured."

Some time later Madame de La Motte gave the Cardinal forged letters of the Queen, and asked him for one hundred and fifty thousand francs in behalf of persons in whom she was interested. He has- tened to give her the amount. The bold adventuress betook herself to Bar-sur-Aube with all this money, to dazzle the eyes of her old friends. Her house was filled with silverware, fine furniture, china, and jewels. She drove with four horses. In playing the princess, she was always accompanied by four lackeys carrying lighted torches, and by a negro all covered with silver. There could be no better preparation for some immense fraud, and Madame de La Motte thought that the time Avas ripe for carrying through the swindle of the necklace.

IX.

THE NECKLACE.

THE famous affair of the necklace, which has been the subject of many commentaries and many hot discussions, is no longer obscure. A very careful student, M. Emile Compardon, has made it perfectly clear in a work which is corroborated in everything it says by the proceedings which took place before the Parliament of Paris.

"To show that the diamond necklace, purchased in the name of Marie Antoinette, but without her knowledge, by the Cardinal de Rohan, was stolen, taken apart, and sold by the Count and Countess de La Motte-Valois ;

" To prove this by the critical examination of the proceedings before the Parliament of Paris in this unhappy matter ;

" To purge the Queen of the calumnies of her con- temporaries, which have been echoed by some later historians," — such is the aim which M. Compardon set himself in writing his book, Marie Antoinette and the Case of the Necklace. He has fully suc- ceeded in his intention ; and the more closely the

THE NECKLACE. 87

affair is studied, the juster and more fitting are the historian's conclusions.

The Abb^ Georgel, Grand Vicar of the Cardinal de Rohan, and the author of the curious Memoirs already mentioned, mentions at the end of his ac- count the four points below, as proved at the trial : —

1. The Cardinal had been convinced that he was buying the necklace for the Queen.

2. The authorization, signed "Marie Antoinette, of France," was really written by Villette, who com- mitted this forgery at the instigation of Madame de La Motte.

3. The necklace was delivered to this lady.

4. Her husband carried it, taken apart, to London, and sold the most valuable of the jewels for his own profit.

Thanks to the Memoirs of the Abb^ Georgel, of Madame Campan, of the Count Beugnot ; thanks to the examination of the Cardinal de Rohan, of Madame de La Motte, of Cagliostro, of the d'Oliva, of Retaux de Villette, and to M. Compardon's clear and thorough book, all doubts are scattered and the truth is brought to light.

Let us begin with saying where it was that the necklace, which was destined to make so great a scandal, came from. The crown-jewellers, Boehmer and Bassenge, had made it by stringing together the most valuable diamonds on sale. Unfortunately for these men, diamonds had rather gone out of fashion in the French court. Li that period of eclogues and

88 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

idyls which was the prelude to such horrible tragedies, simplicity was all the rage. Marie Antoinette used to wear a dress of white linen, and a shepherdess's, preferring natural flowers to the most magnificent jewels. Nevertheless, the jewellers persuaded the first gentleman -in-waiting to show the necklace to Louis XVI., who was delighted with it, and had it shown to Marie Antoinette.

The Queen thought the necklace very handsome, as, in fact, it was ; but she was averse to having any such sum spent upon her. Michelet says : " Royalty, as a religion, as a permanent miracle, requii-es glit- tering, dazzling splendors. The strange sparkles of a diamond serve as a fairy-like mystery, an aureole." Such was not Marie Antoinette's opinion. She said that diamonds were worn at court only about three or four times a year, that she already had enough, and that the money which the necklace would cost had better be spent in building a vessel of the state, which would be much more useful. Boehmer, one of the jewellers, was in despair at this refusal. He obtained an audience with the Queen, and told her, in great distress, that he should be ruined, and would drown himself, if the necklace were not bought. The Queen said to him : " The King wanted to give me the necklace ; I declined it ; so don't speak to me about it. Try to take it apart, and to sell it piece- meal ; and don't drown yourself."

This was in December, 1778. The Queen had just given birth to her first child, Madame Royale (later

THE NECKLACE. 89

the Duchess of Angouleme), and Boehmer had hoped that the Queen would be glad to receive the necklace as a present on her recovery. The unhappy man's deception was cruel. He had staked all his fortune on this unrivalled ornament, and the idea of taking it apart shocked equally his tastes as an artist and his interests as a tradesman. He visited all the prin- cipal cities of Europe, in the hope of finding a pur- chaser for this marvel, but everywhere its high price — one million six hundred thousand francs — pre- vented his selling it.

In the spring of 1785 preparations were made at Versailles to celebrate the baptism of the Duke of Angouleme, the son of the Count of Artois. On this occasion Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette presented the little prince with a shoulder-knot, buckles, and a sword set with diamonds. Boehmer, as crown-jeweller, was to supply the different objects. When he deliv- ered them to the Queen, he handed her a letter which ran thus : " Madame, we are perfectly happy at being allowed to think that the last arrangements which have been proposed to us, and to which we have con- sented with all zeal and respect, are a new proof of our submission and our devotion to Your Majesty's orders, and we take the profoundest satisfaction in thinking that the most sumptuous array of diamonds in the world will belong to the best and most beauti- ful of queens."

Marie Antoinette, who could not understand this letter in the least, sent some one to recall the jeweller.

90 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

that lie might explain it; but he had disappeared. The Queen then said that the letter was another proof of Boehmer's addled wits, and, wanting to seal some letters, she burned it at the flame of a candle at her side. "There is'no need to keep it," she said to Madame Campan ; then she went on ; " This man always has a bee in his bonnet. Be sure and tell him, the first time you see him, that I don't care for diamonds any more, and that I shall never buy any more ; that, if I had to spend any money, I should much prefer enlarging the place at Saint Cloud by buying some of the land adjoining it. Go into all these details with him to convince him and impress it upon him." Madame Campan asked, " Does Your Majesty wish me to have him come to see me?" "No," answered the Queen; "it will do very well the first time you see him."

A few days later, August 3, 1785, Madame Campan was at Crespy, at her father-in-law's, who gave a din- ner-party every Sunday. Boehmer used to come once or twice every Sunday, and he happened to come on that day. Madame Campan took advantage of the opportunity to give him the Queen's message. The jeweller was amazed. " There is some mystery here," he cried ; " I beg that you will let me have a talk with you, to explain the matter to you." They had their talk that evening, in the garden, when the other guests had left for Paris. The strange revela- tion filled Madame Campan with horror. She saw the horrible snare set for the Queen's reputation, and

THE NECKLACE. 91

she was so surprised and so affected that it began to rain and to thunder without her noticing it.

Boehmer was not mad : like the Cardinal de Rohan, he had been the dupe of the boldest and most in- famous intrigue.

What had happened ? At the end of the previous year, Madame de La Motte, who was always on the lookout for new frauds, had seen that the necklace might be the occasion of an unprecedented swindle, and her fertile imagination had been turned towards carrying it out.

January 21, 1785, she had told Boehmer's partner that the Queen desired to purchase the necklace, which she had long wanted ; but that, being averse to treating directly with the jewellers, she had en- trusted the matter to a certain great nobleman. Madame de La Motte added that she advised them to take every precaution with regard to this eminent personage.

This eminent personage was the Cardinal de Rohan. What had the bold adventuress done ? By means of a steady fire of forged letters, she had succeeded in persuading the prelate that the Queen ardently de- sired the necklace, and that since she wished to get possession of it without her husband's knowledge and pay for it in instalments out of the money she might save from her own expenses, she gave the Grand Al- moner a special proof of friendliness by entrusting the purchase to him. He was to receive, Madame de La Motte added, an authorization written and signed

92 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

by the Queen, and he would have to arrange with the jewellers for the terms of payment. In the trans- action, which was to be concluded by the Cardinal alone, the Queen was not to be mentioned. Was not the secret authorization, signed by the Queen, a suf- ficient guarantee, Madame de La Motte asked, and did not the Queen thereby give the Cardinal a token of exceptional confidence ?

The prelate, still under the impression of the scene in the garden, did not hesitate for a moment. Be- sides, Cagliostro had declared that the matter was quite worthy of the Cardinal, and that it would be the prelude to a whole series of triumphs in different directions.

January 29, Boehmer and Bassenge went to the Cardinal's palace, rue Vieille du Temple, and signed a paper containing the conditions of the sale. The price of the necklace was one million six hundred thousand francs, payable in four instalments, at inter- vals of four months.

January 31, Boehmer and Bassenge returned to the Cardinal's palace. The prelate showed them the contract, bearing the word " Approved," and the sig- nature " Marie Antoinette de France," both the handi- work of Madame de La Motte's usual forger. The affair was concluded, and the jewellers departed bliss- fully happy.

The next day, February 1, the Cardinal, to whom the necklace had been delivered, went to Versailles, to the little lodging which Madame de La Motte oc-

THE NECKLACE. 93

cupied in the Place Dauphin ; he was accompanied by a servant, who carried the necklace in its case. The Cardinal had just handed it to Madame de La Motte, when she told him that the alleged confidential agent of the Queen was coming; the Cardinal concealed himself in a closet with a glass door, and saw Madame de La Motte hand the case to Marie Antoinette's alleged messenger. The fraud was accomplished.

From that day forth the de La Mottes lived in luxury, satisfying every desire, every whim. The golden stream was never dry. The source of their wealth was the necklace. This marvellous work of art, which the jewellers were surprised to observe that the Queen never wore, had been taken apart. Madame de La Motte kept for herself the small gems, those that could not be recognized, and the large ones she had sold in London. Monsieur Com- pardon has proved these sales from the original docu- ments ; the statements of the English jewellers who bought them remove every doubt. Besides, can it be maintained for a moment that if the Queen had had this necklace in her possession, she would not have worn it?

Madame de La Motte was enraptured with the suc- cess of her fraud, and plunged into ever wilder ex- travagance ; but the hour of justice was approaching. Boehmer had learned all the truth from Madame Campan. He went straightway to Breteuil, the Min- ister, and revealed part of the story, mentioning the Cardinal, but saying nothing about Madame de La

94 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

Motte. August 17, when the Queen was rehearsing the part of Rosina for the early performance of the " Barber of Seville," in the theatre of the Little Tri- anon, Madame Campan told her all she had learned from her talk with Boehmer. Marie Antoinette was filled with righteous indignation. "These hideous vices," she exclaimed, "must be unmasked. When the Roman purple and the title of prince conceal only a needy man, a swindler, who dares to compromise his sovereign's wife, all France and Europe must know it." August 9, Boehmer gave the Queen a written statement of the affair. August 15, at Versailles, in the Gallery of Mirrors, at the moment when the Cardinal, in his pontifical robes, was about to go to the chapel, he was arrested.

THE ARREST.

AT first the affair of the necklace seemed to be a wholly inexplicable enigma. The imagina- tion of a dramatist or of a novelist accustomed to the wildest inventions could have conceived nothing stranger. The first suggestion was that the Cardinal de Rohan, who, in spite of his colossal fortune and enormous revenues, owed many millions, had appro- priated the necklace to fill his purse, and to make good the deficit in the administration of the Blind Asylum. As to the idea that a prince of the house of Rohan, a former ambassador, a cardinal, a grand almoner of France, a principal of the Sorbonne, a member of the French Academy, an educated and intelligent man, could for more than a year have imagined himself the confidential agent, the favorite, of a queen who never spoke a word to him, it never crossed any one's mind. It was inconceivable that a man of such importance could have been the victim of such a stupid, such a clumsy fraud.

More than one historian has blamed Marie Antoi- nette for not having suppressed the affair. But was

95

96 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

that an easy thing to do? The Cardmal was still convinced that he had not been deceived, that the Queen's letters were genuine ; that he had seen the Queen with his own eyes that evening in the garden, otherwise would he have consented to pay the one million six hundred thousand francs, demanded by Boehmer? What ]Dart, in that case, would Marie Antoinette have played in the eyes of her jewellers and their numerous confidants? To hush up the matter would have been equivalent to a confession of guilt and a corroboration of the supposition that there existed a shameful intrigue between the Queen of France and a licentious prelate. Marie Antoi- nette's proud and loyal nature rejected such a course with dignity. And could a sense of religious decorum allow the entrusting of such a cardinal with the functions of Grand Almoner ? Could he continue to officiate at great ceremonies in this Versailles chapel, where his presence would be an insult to altar and throne ? Should such a priest baptize the royal chil- dren I give the holy communion to the Very Christian King and Queen, and have charge of the religious instruction of the royal family and the court ? And how could he be disgraced without making his fault public, without throwing a full light on the blackness of such a plot ?

The Baron de Breteuil and the Abbe de Vermond, who were enemies of the Cardinal, had no difficulty in convincing the Queen that it was her duty once for all to put an end to this combination of secret

THE ARREST. 97

calumny and hidden intrigue, an invisible but deadly- network, in which wretches were endeavoring to envelop her reputation. The blood of Maria Theresa^ flowed in the veins of this daughter of the Csesars. She had a feeling of indignation and wrath which carried away the most good-natured of kings. Made more beautiful by her tears and her emotion, Marie Antoinette, calumniated and insulted, as Queen and as a woman, asked justice from her husband. Were swindling, infamous forgers to be allowed with ini- 13unity to trifle with the Royal Majesty, and to pol- lute the most august names with their scandals and crimes ? It was in vain that cautious politicians, like the Count of Vergennes, for example, tried to urge gentle measures ; the Queen, impatient and angered, with the exaltation that gives to innocence the feel- ing of justice, of right, of honor, wished instantly to have truth given to the world.

It was August 15, 1785, Assumption Day ; already the candles had been lit in the chapel of the Ver- sailles palace ; the courtiers were waiting in the Gallery of the Mirrors for the King and Queen to issue from their apartments, to go to mass. In the midst of this brilliant throng was the Cardinal de Rohan, who was about to officiate in his capacity of Grand Almoner, and was already wearing his pon- tifical robes. It was about midday. Suddenly the Cardinal was summoned to the King's room. Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, the Baron de Breteuil, Keeper of the Seals and Minister of Foreign Affairs, were all there.

98 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

The King, when he saw the Cardinal approach him, asked him : —

"Have you bought any diamonds of Boehmer?"

"Yes, Sire."

" What have you done with them ? "

"I thought that they had been delivered to the Queen."

" Who entrusted this business to you ? "

"A lady named the Countess de La Motte-Valois, who gave me a letter from the Queen, and I thought to pay my court to the Queen by taking charge of this business."

Then Marie Antoinette broke out : —

" What, sir, could you think that I, who have not spoken to you for eight years, could have chosen you for this business, and through a woman like her ? "

The Cardinal answered : —

"I see that I have been cruelly deceived; I will pay for the necklace. My desire to please Your Majesty blinded me ; I did not detect any trickery, and I am sorry for it."

Then he drew from his pocket a notebook whence he took out the alleged letter from the Queen to Madame de La Motte. He looked at Marie Antoi- nette, fancying that he was about to crush her. But what was not his amazement when Louis XVI., hav- ing glanced at the letter, said : —

" That is not the Queen's writing or the Queen's signature. How could a prince of the house of Rohan, a Grand Almoner, have imagined that the

THE ARREST. 99

Queen signed ' Marie Antoinette of France ' ? Every body knows that queens sign only with their baptis- mal names."

This remark was a revelation to the guilty and unhappy Cardinal. He was already turning pale when the King shoAved him a copy of a letter he had written to the jeweller.

''Sir," then said Louis XVI., "have you written a letter like this?"

" I do not remember writing it."

" And if you should be shown the original signed by you?"

" If the letter has my signature, it is genuine."

" Explain this whole mystery ; I do not want to find you guilt}^, I desire your justification. Tell me what is the meaning of all this affair with Boehmer, — these promises and notes."

The Cardinal, in his emotion, could scarcely stand. Leaning, to support himself, against a table, he stam- mered, "Sire, I am too much agitated to answer Your Majesty in a proper — "

" Control yourself. Cardinal, and go into my study ; there you will find paper, pens, and ink ; put down what you have to say in writing."

The Cardinal went into the King's study and dashed off a few lines.

The Queen afterwards stated that she then was seized by a great panic, imagining that possibly the Cardinal, in order to ruin lier, had set a horrible snare. Perhaps he was going to maintain that she

100 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

had received the necklace and was about to mention some secret spot in the palace where some accomplice had concealed it. This fear was groundless. In a few minutes the Cardinal came back; his written defence no clearer, no more satisfactory than had been his oral explanations. Then Louis XVI. said to him, " Withdraw, sir."

The Cardinal at once left the King's room, and re-entered the Gallery of the Mirrors. The courtiers did not know what had happened, and imagined that he was going to the chapel. He had acquired con- trol over his face which betrayed no agitation. It is easy to conceive the general emotion when suddenly the Baron de Breteuil was seen to turn to an ensign of the body-guard and heard to say, "Arrest the Cardinal de Rohan." It was like a thunderbolt.

The prelate could not look forward without terror to the fate that awaited him if the letters which he had received from Madame de La Motte should fall into the hands of justice. These letters were in Paris, at his palace, rue Vieille du Temple, iq, a little red letter-case. At the very moment of the catas- trophe he showed great presence of mind. The young ensign who had been ordered to arrest him, preserved a respectful attitude. The Cardinal, who had just left the Gallery of the Mirrors, saw his ser- vant at the door of the drawing-room of Hercules, and he said to him a few words in German. Then he asked the ensign for a lead-pencil. The officer at once gave him one which he had in his pocket. The

THE ABREST. 101

Cardinal wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper, which he gave to his man. A moment later the man mounted his horse and dashed away at full speed, reaching the palace in a very short time ; there he burned all t*he letters in the red portfolio. Soon the lieutenant of police arrived, but it was too late.

Nevertheless, the Cardinal was locked up in the Bastille, where he was received by the governor, one of his friends. Louis XVI., who was always good- nature itself, had said, speaking of the new prisoner, "I do not wish his ruin, but in his own interest I must make sure of his person." At the Bastille, the Cardinal was lodged in the apartment of the King's lieutenant. He was at liberty to see his counsel and his relatives, and whenever he desired, to walk in the governor's garden. He had two valets de chambre at his orders. According to the Abbe Georgel, his table was served as became his birth and position. All the officials were eager to diminish for him the discomforts of captivity ; 'but his heart, tortured more by spite than by remorse, was the prey of the liveliest fear and anguish.

What had become of Madame de La Motte mean- while? August 17 she was supping two leagues from Bar-sur-Aube, in the famous Abbey of Clairvaux, where great preparations were making for the festival of Saint Bernard, August 20. This year it was the Abb^ Maury, later well known for his success in the tribune, who was to pronounce the panegyric on the saint. At that time the superior of the Abbey was a

102 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

man of great elegance, Dom Rocourt, who had an income of three or four hundred thousand francs and never travelled except in a carriage with four horses, and an outrider in front. Dom Rocourt knew about the relations of the Cardinal de Rohan with Madame de La Motte ; hence, says the Count Beugnot, he treated her " like a princess of the Church."

They were awaiting the arrival of the Abbe Maury before sitting down to table. Nine o'clock had just struck, but he had not come, and they had decided to sup without him ; but hardly had they taken their places when the sound of carriage wheels Avas heaid. It was the Abbe Maury. Dom Rocourt went to greet him and made him sit down at table at once. Then he was asked what was the news in Paris.

" The news," he answered, " you ask ? There's a piece of news which no one understands, which puzzles all Paris. The Cardinal de Rohan was ar- rested last Tuesday, Assumption Day, in his pontifi- cal robes, on leaving the King's study. Does any one know why? No, not exactly. Something has been said about a diamond necklace which he was to have bought for the Queen and did not buy. It is inconceivable that for such a trifle the Grand Al- moner of France should have been arrested in his pontifical robes, — you understand, in his pontifical robes, — on leaving the King's study."

When Madame de La Motte heard the Abb^ Maury, she dropped her napkin and turned pale. She loft, the table, ordered a carriage, and set out at once for

THE ARREST. 103

her house at Bar-sur-Aube. That night she burned all the letters she had received from the Cardinal. The next day, the 18th, she was arrested at five in the morning, at once carried to Paris and imprisoned in the Bastille. As 3^et there was no order for her husband's arrest. Five days later he was sought, l:>ut he had left Bar-sur-Aube, fleeing to England, where he could not be arrested.

R^taux de Villette also fled to foreign parts, going to Geneva ; but he was rash enough to walk in the neighborhood, on French territory, and there he was arrested and locked up in the Bastille with the rest.

As to the d'Oliva, whose presence was necessary for the examination, she sought refuge in Brussels, but the Versailles cabinet soon secured her extradi- tion. She, too, was j)ut in the Bastille, which held all the guilty persons except M. de La Motte. The trial could begin.

XI.

THE TRIAL.

AN incident like that of the necklace could only happen in a society where the monarchical prin- ciple had lost its strength and glory. It has been said with perfect truth that the very fact that there was a trial was a sign of the times. In the letters-patent of September 5, 1785, wherein Louis XVI. informed the Parliament of Paris of the affair, we find the Avords : " We have not been able to see without just indignation that an august name, dear to us in many ways, has been boldly taken, and that the respect due to the Royal Majesty has been violated with un- heard-of insolence." Was it not strange that the Parliament should be called on to investigate whether the statements made by the King in public letters were true or false? How could the magis- trates be asked to pass upon the King's assertions ? Either there should have been no letters-patent of this sort, or there should have been no trial.

Before reaching this decision, Louis XVI. had proposed to the Cardinal to choose between casting himself on his clemency and being brought before

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THE TRIAL. 105

the Parliament. The prelate discussed the plan he should adopt with his advocates, Target, Tronchet, Collet, and de Bonni^res. Tronchet urged appealing to the royal clemency ; Target, on the other hand, dissuaded his client from this course. This difference reminds us that one day Tronchet was boldly to defend Louis XVI., while Target declined this noble duty. . Possibly the advocates who urged a trial fan- cied that the Cardinal's acquittal would be a blow to the Queen. It will be well to notice the conduct during the debates before the Parliament of these men who formed, as it were, the advance line of the Revolution : d'Espr^menil, Fretteau, Robert de Saint Vincent, H^rault de S^chelles.

At first, the Cardinal had been wholly prostrated ; but when he learned that his correspondence with Madame de La Motte — those absurd letters which would have overwhelmed him with ridicule and infamy — had been burned ; when he saw the incon- ceivable movement of public opinion in his favor, which was due to hatred of the Queen ; when he perceived the energetic measures of his intelligent grand vicar, the Abbe Georgel, — he became more confident, and decided not to appeal to the royal clemency, but to stand trial. Consequently, he wrote to the King : " Sire, I very respectfully thank Your Majesty for the alternative offered to me ; I have no hesitation in preferring the Parliament as the surest means of unmasking the intrigue of which I am the victim, and of proving my good faith and innocence."

106 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

According to the old rules, the competent tribunal would have been an ecclesiastical court. But can one imagine a council of bishops passing judgment on a necklace,- deciding a gross swindle, and pro- nouncing between a cardinal and a woman of doubt- ful reputation ? Nevertheless, when the Pope learned that a prince of the Church was submitting himself to lay jurisdiction, he was deeply moved by this renunciation of ancient privilege, and summoned a consistory, which declared unanimously that the Cardinal de Rohan had sinned against his dignity as a member of the Holy College, by recognizing the authority of the Parliament, that he was suspended for six months, and that, if he persisted, his name should be stricken from the list of cardinals.

But the prelate had taken the precaution to insert a protest against lay jurisdiction in a petition to the Parliament. A doctor of the Sorbonne was sent to Rome, to carry to the Pope a copy of this document ; and he persuaded his Holiness that if the Cardinal had, to his great regret, and despite his formal pro- test, accepted the jurisdiction of a lay tribunal, it was because he had been compelled to bow before the royal authority. The Vatican accepted this ex- planation, and the Prince of Rohan was restored to his rights and honors as Cardinal.

The Parliament, then, had jurisdiction in this matter. What imprudence, what a false move on the part of the government, to submit a case like this to an assembly already agitated by revolutionary

THE TRIAL. 107

feelings, to an ambitious body, full of rancor against the authority of the crown ! What a revenge for this Parliament — persecuted, curbed, exiled by Louis XV. — to decide on the fame of his successor's wife 1 What a gratification for these limbs of the law to have to judge between a queen and a prince of the Church ! With what rapture these gallant magis- trates — more interested in Venus than in Themis, to use the language of that time — would enjoy the importunities and solicitations of the prettiest women in Paris, of the great ladies related or connected by interest with the great house of Rohan !

The revolutionary feeling was not mistaken; the affair was a huge scandal, and a possibly irreparable onslaught against the principle of authority. Conser quently, public opinion was aroused about this drama which suited so well the tastes and instincts of the time. All classes of society were interested. The nobility could not comprehend that a Rohan, inno- cent or guilty, should be accused. All the ecclesias- tics, from the humblest abbd to the archbishops and cardinals, refused to admit that a prince of the Church could be submitted to secular jurisdiction. The philosophers delighted to see a queen contest- ing with a cardinal. The magistrates were puffed up with their own importance ; the advocates were de- lighted to publish papers which were printed in vast numbers and made the reputation of their authors. The idlers and the gossips — and Heaven knows if there is any lack of them in a city like Paris — were

SITY

108 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

amused beyond measure at this legal entertainment which fed the public curiosity and love of scandal. For nine months this strange affair of the necklace was the subject of perpetual discussion in the court and the city. The suburbs, too, took part, and dema- gogues yet unknown gave lessons in hatred and con- tempt.

Curiously enough, the scandals in the life of the Cardinal de Rohan seemed perfectly natural to his contemporaries. He was looked upon as a gentle- man of distinguished gallantry. His appointment to the post of Grand Almoner of France seemed most natural and appropriate. This society, with all its democratic tendencies, was still infatuated with titles and coat-of-arms. The Cardinal was admired for his extravagance, his noble bearing, his grand air. It never occurred to any one to blame him for having contributed to Madame de La Motto's support out of his revenues as Grand Almoner. No one blamed him for consorting with charlatans, swindlers, and demi- reps. These things did not prevent his being looked on as a virtuous and sensible man, to use the lan- guage of that time. Every one sympathized with him ; it was the fashion in high society to wear red and yellow ribbons, the color of " the Cardinal on the straw."

There were people ready to condemn Marie Antoi- nette, who believed, or pretended to believe, that after obstinately refusing the necklace when her hus- band offered it to her, she had had it given to her by

TBE TBIAL. 109

Madame de La Motte and the Cardinal de Rohan ; that she had arranged the whole matter as a snare for the Cardinal, whose lack of favor was notorious. There were people credulous or malicious enough to maintain that the Queen of France could be seduced by a gift of jewelry, and that she gave assignations at night in the park of Versailles. To whom? To the Grand Almoner, a priest fifty years old. But calumny halts at nothing ; hate never reasons ; when men's fancies are so foul and such gross fables find cur- rency, we may be sure that the Revolution was not far off.

The affair of the necklace, serious and fatal as it was, was yet treated almost derisively. One might have said that the only desire of the advocates was to distract and amuse the public ; they indulged in the most grotesque extravagances. Maitre Doitot, Madame de La Motte's advocate, led off with a pam- phlet, "the wildest that ever fell from a lawyer's pen ; it was no less successful because it was the preface of the thousand and one nights and it was the work of an old fellow of seventy," (Memoirs of the Count of Beugnot). The memorial drawn up for Cagliostro by Maitre Thilorier was even more suc- cessful. The house of this famous worker of won- ders was besieged by a multitude eager to buy this singular production, and it was necessary to post guards at the door. Maitre Thilorier spoke about the subterraneous galleries of Memphis, whence his hero had issued ; of the labyrinth of the Pyramids, where he

110 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

had been brought up; of his career of mysteries and miracles. The advocate, who was an intelligent man, was the first to laugh at this ridiculous story ; but the public deemed it just and proper.

Maitre Polverit had charge of the defence of Cag- liostro's wife, Serafina Feliciani. In his memorial, a masterpiece of bombast, he said of his client: "En- dowed with a beauty such as no other woman possesses, she is not a model of tenderness, gentleness, and res- ignation ; no, for she does not even suspect the ex- istence of the opposite faults : her character offers to us poor human beings the ideal of a perfection which we may adore, but which we cannot comprehend." As to the memorial drawn up in the name of the d'Oliva, " it touched every tender heart," says the Abb^ Georgel, "by the frankness of her confessions. Its style had the fresh coloring which poets attribute to the Queen of Cnidius and Paphos." What made the young woman still more interesting was, that she gave birth to a child in the Bastille, which she nursed herself.

Meanwhile, the Abbd Georgel was preparing his patron's defence with equal zeal and intelligence. He gave directions to the lawyers, brought influence to bear on the judges, set every secret spring in motion. Every day he wore out six horses in hurry- ing from one place to another. He slept every night only three or four hours. With the aid of two secre- taries, he managed everything, took charge of the Cardinal's affairs, bringing them into order, reducing

THE TRIAL. Ill

his extravagant expenditures in his palace at Saverne and in his mansion at Paris, satisfying Boehmer and Bassenge, and securing their payment by means of instalments from the revenues of the Abbey of Saint Waast.

The Abb^ Georgel as Grand Yicar especially ex- ulted in his power of giving spiritual comfort. In one of his epistles, Saint Paul, who was in captivity, exhorts his disciple, Saint Timothy, not to be ashamed of his prison and to give in his name the bread of the word to the faithful. The Abb^ Georgel, in the absence of the Cardinal de Rohan, having to prepare the charge for Lent in 1786, judged it necessary to begin with quoting from this epistle. ''The charge which was very successful," said the Grand Vicar, " was nothing but a happy combination of texts from Holy Writ, arranged to suit the circumstances." It was posted on the doors and sacristies of the chapel in the palace at Versailles, of the Blind Asylum, and of the Convent of the Nuns of the Assumption in Paris ; but this was regarded as an improper proceed- ing. Louis XVI. was assured that by comparing the prisoner of the Bastille to Saint Paul, the Abbd Georgel implied a comparison between his King and Nero, and the over-zealous Grand Vicar was sent to exile in the provinces.

The examination advanced slowly, and the public awaited the results with eager curiosity. The Prince of Cond^, who had married a princess of the house of Rohan, the Marshal of Soubise and the Countess of

112 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

Marsan, who botli belonged to this family, spared no pains to save the Cardinal.

M. Pierre de Laurencel, the substitute of the Attorney-General, sent to the Queen a list of names of members of the High Court of Justice, Avith a statement of the means employed by the Cardinal's friends to secure their votes in the trial. "I had charge of this list," says Madame Campan, "among the papers which the Queen entrusted to my father- in-law. I have burned it, but I remember that many women figured in it in a way that cast no credit on their morals. It was by them, and by the large sums of money which they had received, that the oldest and most venerable persons were bribed."

Still light gradually broke, and the perfect inno- cence of the Queen began to appear indisputable. Could the most prejudiced imagine for a moment that Marie Antoinette would have wished to buy secretly a necklace which could only have been agreeable to her if she wore it? And even supposing, against every probability, that she desired this jewel merely to lock it up among her jewels, was it possible to believe that she would have chosen to make the pur- chase, a bishop, the Grand Almoner, a man extremely distasteful to her, to whom she had not spoken for eight years ? On the other hand, it was proved that she had never had^the slightest relations with Madame de La Motte, and R^taux de Villette confessed that he had written with his own hand on the contract

THE TRIAL, 113

i

between the Cardinal and the jewellers, the words : "Approved. Marie Antoinette de France."

With equal frankness, the d'Oliva disclosed the part she had played in the scene in the park. Finally, the Cardinal himself declared that he had been deceived, and reproached Madame de La Motte with all impostures of which she had been guilty. Her line of defence was inadmissible. " It is the Cardinal who stole the necklace," she said ; " it was in accord- ance with his orders that my husband and I had the diamonds separated and sold. The luxury with which I am reproached and which is alleged to have come from the sale of the necklace is really the result of the benefits bestowed on me by my friends, and especially by the Cardinal."

No, the Prince de Rohan, the Grand Almoner of France, was not a rogue or a thief ; he was a man of wild ambitions, a coxcomb deluded by an adventuress of rare audacity, skill, and charm. The enigma was made clear; the Cardinal had been the dupe of a huge deception. But one very serious fact remained equally clear : that the prelate had entered into rela- tions with a worthless woman to buy a necklace for the Queen, against the King's wishes, and that his intrigues, his hopes, the part he played in the scene in the garden, were so many insults to the Queen's honor, to the royal dignity. " That was the crime," said Count Beugnot, '*tlie crime for which respect for religion, for the Royal Majesty, and for morality, all of which had been outraged, demanded punish-

114 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

ment." The trial lasted nine months, amid an excite- ment which grew from day to day; never had the public curiosity been so thoroughly aroused as on the day when the Parliament was to render the long- expected verdict.

XII.

THE VERDICT.

ALL Paris was in expectation, May 29, 1786, when the assembled Parliament was at last about to render its judgment. In the night between the 29th and the 30th, the prisoners were transferred from the Bastille to the Concierge rie. Who would have said that the moment when the illegitimate de- scendant of the Valois was entering this fatal place, that seven years later, the legitimate daughter of the German Csesars, the Queen of France and Navarre, would also cross the threshold of this prison ?

May 30, the Parliament opened its morning sitting, and the persons accused were introduced in turn. The first to appear was Madame de La Motte, who could not restrain a movement of horror on seeing the final preparations. Then she cast a bold glance upon the judges, and persisting in her plan of de- fence, she denied everything.

Then came the Cardinal's turn. The President, d'Aligre, had the stool of repentance removed. The Grand Almoner wore a long violet robe, the mourn- ing dress of cardinals. His stockings and his cap

115

116 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

were red. He wore his orders crosswise around his neck. Pale and serious, he entered with an air of dignity and sadness which impressed the judges, who were already well disposed towards him. Thrice the First President invited him most politely to be seated, and those of the judges who questioned him expressed marked sympathy and deference. When he said, "I was completely blinded by my intense desire to regain the Queen's good graces," every face showed thorough approval. When he had finished speaking, he arose and saluted the court as he with- drew. They all arose and returned his salute.

The deliberation was long and stormy. The judges were divided into two hostile camps : the defenders of the Queen, and her enemies. Her defenders wished some stigma to be placed upon the man who had dared to insult the Royal Majesty: the others had a very different aim ; they demanded an acquittal, pure and simple, for the Cardinal, and thus, implicitly, a condemnation of Marie Antoinette.

The Attorney-General, Joly de Fleury, demanded the following verdict, so far as the Cardinal was concerned : —

"Louis Ren^ Edouard de Rohan is compelled to declare in court, in the presence of the Attorney- General, the High Court of Justice assembled, that it is without reason that he permitted himself to believe in a false and imaginary nocturnal interview on the terrace of Versailles ;

" That it is rashly, ignorantly, and without assur-

THE VERDICT. 117

ance of the wishes of the King and the Queen, that he undertook and carried on negotiations with Boeh- mer and Bassenge concerning the purchase of the diamond necklace ;

" That, after the necklace was given to him, he, by false and fabricated assertions, continued to encour- age the aforesaid Boehmer and Bassenge in the belief of the genuineness of the purchase, and that, by his own confession, even after being convinced by exam- ination that the ' approved ' and the signature were false, he has, by continued misuse of the Queen's name, made to the aforesaid Boehmer and Bassenge, a payment of thirty thousand francs, of which he has taken a receipt in the Queen's name ;

** That he repent and ask pardon of the King and Queen for having had the temerity to lack the respect due to their sacred persons ;

" It is required that it be forbidden to the afore- said de Rohan to approach the Royal palaces and all other places where the King and Queen may reside, until it shall please the King to order otherwise ;

" It is ordered that in the term to be fixed by the court, the aforesaid de Rohan shall be compelled to resign the post and honor of Grand Almoner of France, with which the King has honored him ;

" The aforesaid de Rohan is condemned to the pay- ment of such sums to be bestowed in charity as shall please the court ;

"It is ordered that the aforesaid de Rohan shall remain in prison until he shall have obeyed and

118 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

satisfied the judgment which shall have been ren- dered."

This verdict would have been an act of respect for the Queen ; but they were very far from being satis- factory to the princes and princesses of the house of Cond^, with which the Cardinal was connected, or to the families of Rohan, Soubise, and Guemen^e, the members of which had put on mourning, and in this gloomy attire lined the passages through which the members of the High Coui't had to pass. On the other hand, the revolutionary spirit desired simply to wound and distress the Queen. Fifteen judges adopted purely and simply the verdict of the Attor- ney-General ; eight others favored the gentler opinion of the President d'Ormesson, who desired that the Cardinal should make full amends, but should keep his functions and honors. It may be truly said that this last opinion was moderation itself, yet to the enemies of Marie Antoinette it appeared too severe. Robert de Saint Vincent made a speech in which he condemned the publicity given to the trial, and denounced the King and Queen for not having a min- ister wise enough to save them from thus compro- mising the majesty of the throne. Finally, after deliberating eighteen hours, the Cardinal's friends carried the day by a majority of three.

May 31, 1786, at nine in the evening, the Parlia- ment pronounced its judgment. The Cardinal and Cagliostro were acquitted purely and simply ; M. de La Motte was condemned in default to the galleys

THE VERDICT. 119

for life, and Rdtaux de Villette to banishment. In the same judgment the Parliament condemned Madame de La Motte "to be beaten, naked, with a rope round her neck ; and to be branded with the letter V (yoleuse) on the two shoulders by the public execu- tioner ; this done, to be carried to the House of Cor- rection of the Salpetriere, where she is to be detained and imprisoned for life." As for the d'Oliva, she was simply acquitted. The judgment furthermore de- clared that the word, " Approved," and the signature, "Marie Antoinette de France," falsely ascribed to the Queen, had been fraudulently placed on the mar- gin of the writing entitled : " Propositions and Condi- tions concerninig the Price and Mode of Payment of the Necklace."

There was not in the whole judgment a single word condemning the Cardinal ; and no mention was made of his relations with Madame de La Motte or of the scene in the park. Count Beugnot says very justly in his Memoirs : " Even now, when the Revo- lution has only too far weakened the feeling of re- spect for the Royal Family, even now, who can imagine that the Parliament looked upon the scene in the garden of Versailles merely as a swindle and the participants as merely swindlers and their victim? The Revolution was already complete in the minds of those who could consider such an insult to the King, in the person of the Queen, with this culpable indifference and insolent composure."

At the moment when the verdict was rendered a

120 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

vast crowd was assembled in the neighborhood of the Palais de Justice, and uproarious applause broke forth at the news of his acquittal. When the judges were leaving the palace, the multitude kissed their hands and flung themselves on their knees, amid the most enthusiastic applause.

Applaud, je calumniators of Marie Antoinette ! You are only at the beginning of your career of hatred and savage joy. Other pleasures await you in the trib- unes of the Jacobins and in those of the Convention, before the Conciergerie and at the foot of the scaffold !

The Cardinal received most enthusiastic ovations on his return to his house in the rue Vieille du Temple ; but a few hours later he received from Louis XVI. the command to send back the ribbon of the Holy Ghost and to hand in his resignation of the post of Grand Almoner. Moreover, a lettre de cachet exiled him to his abbey of the Chaise-Dieu, in Au- vergne. Yet, strange as it may seem, the Abb^ Georgel was surprised, or feigned surprise, at this per- fectly natural event. " Who could have imagined," he said in his Memoirs, " that so glorious a day could be followed by a day of disgrace and exile ? Were we not justified in expecting that the King, in his delight at finding innocence where he had suspected guilt, would manifest his love of justice by bestowing on the Grand Almoner the highest marks of favor?" Could the Abb^ Georgel have supposed that the Cardinal was to be appointed Prime Minister on the day after the verdict was given ?

THE VERDICT. 121

According to the Baron de Besenval, on the other hand, "every sensible person understood that the King was showing his aversion to the Cardinal who had dared so boldly and indecently to compromise the Queen ; it was impossible that he should keep his place any longer, and as for his exile, he had well deserved it." Such was doubtless the opinion of reasonable people, but reasonable people were rare in Paris in 1786. The day of his departure, the Car- dinal saw a vast multitude thronging the courtyards of his house and calling him to the windows ; he appeared there and gave the crowd his episcopal blessing.

The Abbe Georgel, whose capacity for surprise is really extraordinary, could not understand that Marie Antoinette should not have been pleased with the verdict. "Is it credible," he exclaims, "that the news of the Cardinal's triumph had to be broken to the Queen very gently ? No one wislied to announce the result to her. Her dearest friend, the Duchess of Polignac, was induced to tell her." Yes, Marie Antoinette had measured with a glance the abyss which calumny and hate were opening before her; she perceived how far the treachery and malice of her enemies would go. " Come," she said to Madame Campan, " come, pity your insulted Queen, the vic^ tim of intrigues and injustice. But I, for my part, will pity you as a Frenchwoman. If I, in a matter which concerned my character, failed to find upright judges, what can you expect if you should have a

122 MAEIE ANTOINETTE.

law case in which your fortune and your fame were at stake?"

Weber records that it was on this occasion, in speaking of the infamous calumnies of which she began to be the object, that Marie Antoinette uttered these admirable words, so worthy of her noble heart : "It seems as if malice had coolly devised every pos- sible way of wounding me ; but I shall triumph over my enemies by trebling the good I have tried to do ; it is easier for certain people to distress me, than to compel me to revenge myself."

What was the fate of the different persons who figured in this affair of the necklace ? Louis XVI. treated the Cardinal with no excess of severity ; the prelate, finding that the Abbey of the Chaise-Dieu, among the mountains of Auvergne, was an unfavora- ble place for his health, received permission from the King to reside at his Abbey of Marmoutier, near Tours. Soon afterwards, he was allowed to return to Strasburg, where he resumed the direction of his diocese. When the Revolution broke out, he with- drew to that part of his bishopric which lay on the other side of the Rhine. His noble conduct, his gen- erous aid to the emigres, a marked improvement in his morals, compensated for his past misdeeds, and his long scandalous life came to a Christian end : he died peacefully at Ettenheim, February 16, 1803.

Cagliostro, on the day after he left the Bastille, received orders to leave France without delay. He went to England, and afterwards to Switzerland and

THE VERDICT. 123

Italy. This singular character, who, after all, was no ordinary man, — this philanthropic magician, who, with all his frauds, had yet a fascinating side, and humored the omnipresent taste for the supernatural, — ended his singular and eventful life in sad circum- stances. He was arrested in Rome, in 1789, as a Freemason, and condemned to death by the Inquisi- tion ; this sentence having been commuted to impris- onment for life, he was confined in the Castle of Saint Leon, and there he died in 1795.

The d'Oliva, whose fame was magnified by the affair of the necklace, received many proposals of marriage. She chose for her husband one of her former lovers, a certain Beausire, who, a few years later, had the honor of being guillotined, along with many noble victims, in the Revolution.

As for Madame de La Motte, everything in this wretched woman's career was horrible and violent ; she was more deeply marked by fatality than by the branding-iron of the executioner. She was sentenced to be shaved, stripped, and beaten, and to be branded on her shoulders with a red-hot iron — an indelible sign of infamy. The details of the infliction of these penalties are most horrible. They took place June 21, 1786, in the courtyard of the Palais de Justice. The wretched woman struggled with all her might and main, so that she had to be carried to the scaf- fold. Even when she was loaded with chains she continued her struggles. Her piercing cries, her efforts to escape, only redoubled, and, in her writh-

124 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

ing, the hot iron slipped from her shoulder to her breast. A last shriek, more terrible than the others, was heard, and the unhappy woman was driven to the Salpetriere, her prison. She was unrecognizable — her face all bruises, her eyes swollen with tears — when, quivering with anger and despair, she crossed the threshold of this accursed spot. There she was the object of public curiosity : people came from all quarters of Paris to see her. It was forbidden to speak to her, but she could be seen in the prison courtyard, and was easily distinguished from among her fallen companions by her air of misery and her continual lamentations. One night in September, 1787, she found a means of escaping, and found refuge in England, where she lived on hate and cal- umny. Her vile pamphlets anticipated the shame- less denunciations of the bloodthirsty women who sat knitting at the foot of the guillotine, and, like a venomous serpent, she sought to poison the Queen with her venom.

Hired libellers carried on the campaign of lies. Even Michelet, the open enemy of thrones, has thus condemned them : " Hired by the Queen's enemies, they composed about Marie Antoinette, in a few pages, a horrible legend, which was absurd, foolish, and disgusting, according to which she was both a Messalina and a la Brinvilliers, poisoning every one who stood in her way, giving arsenic to every new- comer." The end of Madame de La Motte was no less tragic than her whole career. One evening, in

THE VERDICT. 125

1791, she imagined that she was pursued by men who wanted to arrest her and carry her back to the Salpetri^re. Wild with terror, she jumped out of the window. She was not instantly killed; but one thigh was broken in two places, her left arm was fractured, one eye was lost; and she lingered for three Aveeks. Thus disappeared the last of the Valois.

The more we study the beginning and the results of the affair of the necklace, the more odious and tragic it appears. One man was particularly struck by it, and the moment it began, he had a prophetic insight of the terrible consequences Avhich were to ensue. This man, who was in Strasburg in 1770, when Marie Antoinette arrived in France, had been shocked hy seeing in the pavilion by which the Prin- cess entered the island of the Rhine, tapestry repre- senting the story of Jason, Medea, and Creiisa ; that is to say, the picture of the most unhappy of marriages. He Avas not mistaken when he shuddered at this evil omen, nor was he mistaken when the first news of the affair of the necklace reached him. " In 1785," he wrote in his Annalen, oder Tag- und Jalweshefte^ 1749-1822, "the affair of the necklace produced an indefinable impression upon me. From this abyss of immorality, which, in the town, the court, and throughout the whole state, opened before me, I saw rising the most terrible consequences, and for a long time I could not free my imagination from the ghosts that haunted it. Once in particular I spoke about

126 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

this incident with so much emotion that my friends with whom I was staying in the country when the first news came, confided to me later, long after the outbreak of the Revolution, that I seemed to them out of my head." This man, whose presentiments were so accurate, was both a great prophet and a great poet ; it was Goethe.

October 14, 1793, Marie Antoinette appeared before the Revolutionary tribunal. The public prosecutor, who called her Fr^ddgonde, Medicis, Messalina, Brune- haut, did not linger over the affair of the necklace ; there was but a brief exchange of questions and answers : " Did you know the woman La Motte ? '' " I never saw her." " Was she not your victim in the affair of the necklace ? " '' She could not have been, for I never saw her." That was all; not another word. Why did not Fouquier-Tinville press the point? Because he confessed by his silence that the only guilty person was Madame de La Motte.

Now there is no longer any obscurity ; eminent historians, who certainly cannot be accused of reac- tionary tendencies or of any partiality for monarchies, M. Henri Martin and M. Lavall^e, for example, have rendered full justice to the Queen who was so in- famously attacked. The first named has said, " The conviction which results from this long and con- fused affair is the impossibility of the Queen's guilt." " There is no doubt that Marie Antoinette was inno- cent," says the other ; yet, in spite of the testimony

THE VERDICT. 127

of the facts, still there are possibly people, who, more unjust to the royal martyr than even Fouquier-Tin- ville, will try to collect in pamphlets as absurd as base, gall and mire wherewith to sully a pure and venerable name.

XIII.

A PICTURE OF MADAME LEBRUN*S.

VISITORS of the portrait-gallery in the palace of Versailles, always stop before one picture, which has a charm and beauty that are sure to attract attention. It is that in which Madame Vig^e-Lebrun, in 1787, painted Marie Antoinette, surrounded by her three children. The Queen is sitting in the drawing- room of Peace, close to the Gallery of the Mirrors ; on her head she wears a velvet cap surmounted by a tuft of white feathers. Her red velvet dress, bordered with sable, shows her foot resting on a cushion. The Queen's complexion is marvellously brilliant, but her expression, while both gentle and full of majesty, has a dreamy, melancholy air. On her right stands a little girl, eight or nine years old, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder, and holding her arm. This child is Marie Th^r^se Charlotte, the future Duchess of Angoul^me. On her knees Marie Antoinette is holding a two-year-old child, — Louis Charles of France, the Duke of Normandy, who later was to call himself Louis XVII. On the left is an empty cradle, the covering of which is upheld by a child of

128

A PICTURE OF MADAME LEB RUN'S. 129

six. This child wears the blue ribbon and the in- signia of the Holy Ghost ; it is the Dauphin.

The Queen's sad expression is easily explained: Marie Antoinette had just lost her second daughter, Sophie Beatrix, who died when a year old, and this sad death, coinciding with the outbreak of calumny and the first threatening of the Revolutionary storm, was for the unhappy mother's tender heart a great sorrow and an unhappy omen. June 25, 1787, Madame Elisabeth wrote to her friend, the Mar- chioness of Bombelles : '' Your relatives will have told you that Sophie died the day after I wrote to you. . . . My niece [later the Duchess of Angouleme] has been most admirable ; she showed a tenderness uncom- mon at her age. Her poor little sister is very fortu- nate. She has escaped all dangers. I, in my idleness, regret that I did not share her lot in my childhood. To console myself, I tended her carefully, hoping that she would pray for me. I count much on that. If you only knew how pretty she was when she lay dying I It is inconceivable. The night before, she was pink and white, not at all emaciated ; indeed, most lovely."

The little Princess had been conceived at the mo- ment when the trial of the necklace began. She was the last comer, the pledge of a conjugal harmony which calumniators and evil tongues had not been able to disturb, in spite of every invention of malice. Her death was the prelude of the afflictions of every sort that were about to fall upon the unhappy Marie Antoinette.

130 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

One who looks at Madame Lebrun's picture will be struck by the general melancholy expressed upon the canvas, in spite of the splendor of the dresses and the rich coloring. The sadness of the oldest girl, with her eyes raised to heaven, the precocious seri- ousness of the Dauphin, the gesture with which he points towards his brother, afterwards Louis XVII., the pensive, thoughtful attitude of Marie Antoinette, who seems to be dreaming about the lamentable fu- ture fate of her children, seem to be a presentiment of the artist. There is a smile on the lips of the Duke of Normandy, because he is at an age when mental suffering is yet unknown. This pathetic picture, in spite of all its splendor, recalls the chil- dren of Charles I., painted by Van Dyke.

Madame Lebrun finished her picture in 1787, mean- ing to send it to the exhibition at the Louvre in 1788. " The frame was first taken there alone," she writes in her Memoirs, "and this fact was enough to call forth abundant abuse. ' There is the Deficit,' people said, as well as a great many other things which were repeated to me, and enabled me to foresee the severest criticism. At last I sent the picture, but I was afraid to follow it and see its fate, so much did I dread the adverse judgment of the public. Indeed, I was so uneasy that I actually became feverish. I went to my room and locked the door, and was pray- ing that my picture of the royal family might suc- ceed, when my brother and a number of friends came to tell me that I had made a public success."

A PICTURE OF MADAME LEBRUN'S. 131

It has been asserted tliat in 1788 the feeling of the public about Marie Antoinette was so abominably un- just that the government had hesitated, in the first days of the exhibition of the Louvre, about exposing Madame Lebrun's picture. But it is certain that the sympathetic artist's eloquent brush silenced malice and disarmed criticism.

"After the Salon," continues Madame Lebrun, " the King having had my picture carried to Ver- sailles, it was M. d'Angevilliers, then Minister of Fine Arts and Director of the Royal Buildings, who presented me to His Majesty. Louis XVI. was kind enough to talk with me for some time, and to tell me that he was satisfied ; then he added, looking at my picture, ' I am not familiar with painting, but you make me love it.' "

The picture was placed in a hall of the grand apartments, through which the Queen passed every day on her way to and from mass. A day came when she no longer could endure to look at it. June 4, 1789, just at the opening of the States-General, so fatal to the monarchy, the Dauphin, a charming boy, amiable and intelligent, died at Meudon, in his eighth year. His poor mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to look at the canvas on which were the features of the dear boy for whose death she was weeping. She could never pass through the hall where this picture hung, without shedding tears, and a queen has no right to weep. "She told M. d'Angevilliers at that time," adds Madame Lebrun,

132 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

" to have the picture taken away ; but with her usual consideration she took care to have me informed at once, at the same time telling me the reason. It is to this thoughtfulness of the Queen that I owe the preservation of my picture ; for the fishwomen and ruffians who soon after went to Versailles to secure Their Majesties, would certainly have destroyed it, as they did the Queen's bed, which they cut through and through."

By his brother's death, the future Louis XVII. be- came Dauphin. At the moment of his birth, this child, who was destined to so gloomy an end, was thought to have been born under a lucky star. His birthday was Easter Sunday, 1785, March 27. In opposition to the old custom, which postponed the baptism of the royal children for some years, the young Prince had been baptized that same evening, at eight o'clock, in the chapel of the palace at Versailles, by the Cardinal de Rohan, Grand Almoner of France. His godfather was his uncle, the future Louis XVIII. ; his godmother, his aunt, the Queen of Naples, represented by Madame Elisabeth. The King, accompanied by all the court, had gone to the chapel, to be present at the baptism and the "Te Deum." When the ceremony was over, M. de Calonne, the Comptroller- General of Finance and Grand Treasurer of the Royal Orders, had carried to the infant the ribbon and star of the Order of the Holy Ghost. At nine o'clock there were fireworks before an interested crowd in the Place d'Armes. On the 24th of the following

A PICTURE OF MADAME LEBRUN'S. 133

May, Marie Antoinette came to Paris in great pomp to give thanks for her recovery. Fifty men of the body-guard and a brilliant suite accompanied her state carriage, which was drawn by eight horses. The cannon of the Invalides fired a salute, for the future martyr was still applauded. She went to Notre Dame ; then to Saint Genevieve ; and after- wards to the Tuileries, Avhere she dined. The same evening she supped at the Temple, which she was to see again a few years later. The festivities ended with fireworks, which the Count of Aranda had set off from the roof of his house in the Place Louis XV. The Temple and the Place Louis XV. ! Those words call up many memories.

On his birth, the prince received the title of Duke of Normandy, which had not been borne by any one since the fourth son of Charles IV. June, 1786, Louis XVI., on his way back from Cherbourg, where he had been visiting the great works he had commanded at this port, was warmly greeted by all Normandy. He congratulated himself on having given the name of his beautiful province to his second son. '' Come, my little Norman," he said to him, as he took him in his arms, "your name will bring you good luck." At that time, everything seemed to smile on the son of the King of France.

When his brother died, Louis XVII. was but four years old. He was a remarkably handsome child. His blue eyes, his clear complexion, his curling light hair, made him look like an angel. He was also

134 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

amiable, attractive, and more sensitive than most children of his age. One evening, at Saint Cloud, his mother sang and played to him a little song of Berquin's, and the young Prince, who was listening, did not move. " Hush ! he's asleep," said Madame Elisabeth. But the child raised his head, and said eagerly, " Oh ! dear aunt, can one sleep when Mamma Queen is singing?" He was taught to read in a book of the Marquis of Pompignan, which was a eulogy of the older brother of Louis XVI., the Duke of Bur- gundy, who died at nine, having endured intense suffering with surprising courage.

Louis XVI. had learned English by translating a Life of Charles I. ; Louis XVII. learned to read in a book devoted to the memory of a child who endured much suffering. "How did my uncle learn," he asked, "to be so brave?" — a question which moved all who heard it. What would they have felt if they could have foreseen the cruel blows of fate, and if, in the dim future, they had suddenly descried the cobbler, Simon, like a spectre?

XIV.

MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTREUIL.

JUST when a thunder-storm is about to begin, the reader may have noticed a bird seeking refuge under the branches of a tree which the lightning threatens ; this dove is like the young royal maiden, who, when the Revolution broke out, was living calmly and happily at Montreuil, an angel of inno- cence and virtue, whose mere name is a symbol of holiness, — Madame Elisabeth. Before the thunder begins to mutter and the lightning to flash, let us rest our eyes for a moment on this noble and worthy girl, soon to be a martyr ; on this spotless lamb, one of the most touching victims of the Revolution. The time is approaching when Marie Antoinette will find herself abandoned by nearly all her defenders, her relatives, her servants. Even the women whom she had most honored with her friendship will leave her, either of their own choice, or in obedience to the de- mands of the multitude. But there is one woman who will not abandon her, one woman whose heroism will grow with the danger, who will remain full of devotion, even to death ; this woman is the worthy

135

136 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

sister of Louis XYI., the worthy descendant of Saint Louis.

In all history there are few figures so sympathetic, so gentle ; few heads that wear so pure and bright a crown of glory. Are not such beings a sort of com- pensation for the evil, an expiation of crime in times of horror? One thinks with emotion of the holy women who wept at the Redeemer's sufferings on Golgotha, when the executioners, full of rage, were insulting Christ upon the cross ; when the men of the Terror were filling France with tears and blood, we regard Madame Elisabeth, and the sight of this holy victim reconciles us with humanity.

The future martyr had known sorrow from the cradle. She was born May 3, 1764, and before she was three, had lost both father and mother. She trans- ferred her affection to her brothers, and especially to the eldest, the Duke of Berry, later Louis XVI. The young Princess's education was confided to two women of superior worth, — the Countess of Marsan and the Baroness of Mackau. She was naturally enthusiastic, quick-tempered, and inclined to haugh- tiness ; she became kind, gentle, humble. Religion so softened and modified her character that she became a saint. Her genuine piety was not at all severe ; her devoutness was the expression of a noble soul in full light. Her conscience was as calm and clear as her face. She liked to pray with the young girls of Saint Cyr, or with the Carmelite Sisters of Saint Denis, among whom was her aunt, Madame

MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTBEUIL. 137

Louise de France, in religion, Mother Th^rese of Saint Augustine.

" Not satisfied with coming often to be edified with her aunt's virtues," writes one of the Carmelites, " she devoted herself to the humblest functions of a convent life. One day when she had arrived at an early hour at the nunnery, she expressed a desire to serve the dinner to the whole sisterhood ; our revered Mother suggested to her this exercise, which suited her perfectly. She went into the refectory, put on an apron, and after kissing the earth, went to the kitchen door; she was given a tray on which was set the sisters' food. She distributed it to them care- fully, when suddenly the tray tipped, and some of the food fell on the floor. Her embarrassment was in- tense; to relieve her, the Prioress said, 'My niece, after a blunder like that you should kiss the earth.' At once Madame Elisabeth prostrated herself, and then continued her task without further incident. It was a real pleasure to our venerable Mother to see the virtues of her family reappearing in this young princess." The sister of Louis XVI., serving the meal of the Carmelites along with the daughter of Louis XV., is a subject to be recommended to artists fond of painting religious pictures.

Many princes thought of asking for the hand of Madame Elisabeth. It is only necessary to glance at Sicardi's miniature, which belongs to the Marquis of Raigecourt, or at the lovely bust in the palace of Versailles, to understand the charm of this young

138 MABIE ANTOINETTE.

and attractive princess. Then came up the question of her marriage with a prince of Portugal, and again, with Joseph II., who paid her much attention when he visited France in 177T. Political reasons pre- vented these proposed alliances, much to Madame Elisabeth's content.

Like Isabelle of France, the sister of Saint Louis, Madame Elisabeth preferred the happiness of remain- ing with a brother whom she loved, to an exile how- ever brilliant. She was extremely fond of the palace of Versailles, where she was born ; of its park full of reminiscences of her childhood, of the chapel where she had so often prayed. She had a sincere affection for her brothers, her aunts, her governesses, her maids of honor, and for her friends. Her tender soul would have been tortured by the thought of leaving them ; hence she soon gave up all idea of marrying.

At an entertainment given at the Trianon, June 6, 1782, in honor of the Grand Duke Paul of Russia, the Baroness d'Oberkirch was given a place by the side of Madame Elisabeth. The Baroness in her Memoirs thus speaks of the Princess : " She was in all the glow of youth and beauty, and refused every offer, in order to remain with her family. 'I can marry only the son of a king, and the son of a king will have to reign over his father's realm ; I should cease to be a Frenchwoipan, and that I should not like. I prefer staying here at the foot of my brother's, to ascending any other throne.' "

When she came of age in 1778, Madame Elisabeth

MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTBEUIL. 139

wanted to keep all her masters. The Abbe of Mon- taigu, who has been compared with Fdnelon for elo- quence and gentleness, had directed her early studies. She was almost as devoted to work as to prayer.

In 1781, Louis XVI., who dearly loved his sister, made her a fitting present. At No. 41 of the Avenue de Paris, at Versailles, there is a little street running north and south, called the rue du Bon Conseil. At No. 2 in this street is the entrance into a building which extends for some distance along the Avenue de Paris. This house was built about 1776, for the governess of the royal children, the Princess of Rohan-Guemen^e. A lovely garden was laid out there ; from the top of a hillock, eight or ten metres high, which was ascended by a spiral staircase con- cealed in the shrubbery, there was a distant view of Paris, lying like a giant on the horizon. This pretty place was situated in what was then a suburb of Ver- sailles, and was called Montreuil. In 1781, the Prince of Gu^m^nde became bankrupt, and the Prin- cess, in order to satisfy as far as possible, her hus- band's creditors, sold her diamonds, her furniture and estates, including the house and park of Mon- treuil. Madame Elisabeth had often walked there, and she greatly admired its shade and its flowers.

In spite of her love of solitude, she was the only princess of the royal family who had no country- house. One day in 1781, Marie Antoinette and Madame Elisabeth were driving along the Avenue de Paris. " If you like," said the Queen to her young

140 MARIE ANTOINETTE.

sister-in-law, we will stop at that house in Montreuil, where you used to like to go when you were a little girl." " I shall be delighted," answered Madame Elisabeth; "for I have spent many happy hours there." The Queen and the Princess got out of their carriage, and just as they were crossing the threshold, Marie Antoinette said, " Sister, you are now in your own house. This is to be your Trianon. The King has the pleasure of offering this present to you, and has given me the happiness of informing you."

Madame Elisabeth was then but seventeen years old. The King decided that she should not sleep at Montreuil until she was twenty-five.

" But as soon as she came into the possession of her dear little estate, she spent only the evenings and the nights at Versailles. In the morning she would go to mass in the chapel of the palace, and then she Av,ould at once get into a carriage with one of her ladies to drive to Montreuil. Sometimes she would even walk there. The life she led there was monotonous and like that of the happiest family in a castle a hundred leagues from Paris. The hours for work, for exercise, for reading, in solitude or in company, were carefully appointed. The dinner hour brought the Princess and her ladies together at the same table," M. de Beauchesne tells us in his life of Madame Elisabeth.

In the same book he adds : " Later, before return- ing to court, they would all kneel down in the drawing-room, and in conformity to the habit surviv- ing in some families, would have evening prayers to-

MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTREUIL. 141

gether. Then they would return to the busy palace, at once so near and so remote, and enter their official home with the memory of a happy day filled with work, lightened by friendship, and consecrated by prayer."

The first thing that Madame Elisabeth did with her new property was to give to Madame de Mackau a little house adjacent, upon the estate. She thought that the best way of inaugurating her taking posses- sion was by sharing it with her former instructress. The Baroness of Mackau, who was not rich, accepted gratefully the gift of the Princess, and established herself at Montreuil with her daughter, Madame de Bombelles, whom Madame Elisabeth treated like an old friend.

No one understood better than the sister of Louis XVI. the holy pleasures and exquisite charm of friendship. She was the benefactress of her two dearest companions. Mademoiselle de Causans and Mademoiselle de Mackau, who had become respectively the Marchioness of Raige court and the Marchioness of Bombelles ; and Madame Elisabeth was grateful to both for the benefits she had conferred upon them ; for truly high-minded people feel gratitude to those to whom they are able to be of service. To make a dowry for Mademoiselle de Causans, the Princess had