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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 u p in the Bastille with the res t. 
 
 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 
 
 104 
 
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 cit y like Pa ris — 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 
 advanced to her the allowance she would have received 
 for five years, thirty thousand francs a year, from the 
 King. With this sum of one hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand francs Mademoiselle de Causans, Avho mari-ied 
 
142 MAHIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the Marquis of Raigecourt, was able to remain near 
 her benefactress. Louis XVI. signed the marriage 
 contract June 27, 1784, and when every year any- 
 thing was said about her allowance, Madame Elisa- 
 beth would say, "There is none for me; but then 
 I have my Raigecourt." 
 
 Mademoiselle de Mackau, Marchioness of Bom- 
 belles, was two years older than the Princess, whose 
 playmate she had been in childhood. On her mar- 
 riage, in 1778, the King gave her a dowry of one 
 hundred thousand francs, a pension of six thousand 
 francs, and the position of companion to Madame 
 Elisabeth. The Princess said : *' At last my wishes are 
 gratified ; you are mine. How pleasant it is to think 
 that there is a new tie between us, and to hope that 
 nothing will loosen it ! " M. de Bombelles was an 
 officer ; in 1785 he entered the diplomatic career, and 
 in 1786 was the French minister at Lisbon. After 
 losing his wife in 1800, he took orders, and became 
 Bishop of Amiens in 1819. His third son, who 
 entered the Austrian service, in 1834, married Marie 
 Louise, the widow of Napoleon I. 
 
 M. Feuillet de Conches has published some of the 
 letters written by Madame Elisabeth to her friends. 
 Undoubtedly the sister of Louis XVI. would have 
 been astonished if she had been told that some day 
 her letters would be printed ; for never was there a 
 correspondence more void of literary pretensions. 
 " Madame Elisabeth's style," sa3^s her editor, " is a 
 real rough diamond, at once diffuse, familiar, and 
 
MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTREUIL. 148 
 
 incorrect, simple and strong, natural and easy, a 
 curious mixture of frankness, good sense, and 
 strength, of original simplicity and the merriment of 
 a school-girl, yet preserving all the flavor and tone 
 of an old language, in its ease, while showing an 
 intimate and tender playfulness which endears the 
 Avriter to us." 
 
 The correspondence is full of pious and exalted 
 thoughts. One might say that the sister of Louis 
 XVI. already foresaw the approaching tempests, and 
 was asking Heaven for strength to face them, with 
 alarm. In many of the letters there is a sort of 
 anticipation of her heroic endurance. It is easy to 
 see that this young girl was no ordinary person ; that 
 deep in her heart lay hidden treasures of resignation, 
 piety, and courage. Touching reflections, wise coun- 
 sels. Christian meditations, abound especially in her 
 letters to Madame Marie de Causans. She wrote to 
 her, December 17, 1785 : " How pleasant the idea of 
 eternity becomes when we can say, ' I have spent all 
 my life for God ! ' " 
 
 In 1786 Madame de Causans had just lost her 
 mother ; Madame Elisabeth tries to console her thus : 
 " We must lay our fears and hopes at the foot of the 
 cross; that alone can teach us to endure the trials 
 that Heaven sends us. That is the book of books; 
 it alone lifts up and consoles the afflicted soul. God 
 was innocent, and suffered more than we can suffer, 
 either in our heart or body. Ought we not to be 
 happy to feel ourselves so closely bound to him who 
 
144 MARIE Antoinette:. 
 
 did so miicli for us ? Life has cruel moments, but 
 through them we attain a precious treasure. . . . 
 Who knows how soon we may reach that moment, 
 dreaded by many, and so longed for by your mother? 
 Let us try to deserve that it be as calm and as 
 exemplary." This wish of Madame Elisabeth's was 
 granted ; for no death can be more admirable, more 
 sublime, than hers. 
 
 February 9, 1786, she wrote to Madame Marie de 
 Causans : " Let us turn simply to God. May faith 
 be given us to see that he never abandons his chil- 
 dren ! If we feel too weak for his service, if we are 
 discouraged, let us not rely on ourselves alone ; let 
 us say to him: Thou, O God, seest all my heart; 
 it is wholly thine. I do not know whether thou ac- 
 ceptest all the sacrifices which I make and intend ; 
 but thy Son died in atonement for my faults. Look 
 upon him, O God, and even on the cross, where our 
 cruelty and sins fastened him ; hear him who inter- 
 cedes for us, who consoled the penitent thief. I 
 would imitate him, • O God, and recognize thy sov- 
 ereign power, and believe that, whatever may befall 
 me, thou wilt not desert me." Madame Elisabeth 
 ascended the scaffold ; but as she climbed the steps, 
 the God of mercy did not desert her, and death was 
 rather an entrance into glory than a punishment. 
 
 She wrote to Madame de Causans, March 29, 1786: 
 " Do not listen to the emptiness that surrounds you ; 
 and when it torments you too much, cast your eyes 
 on Christ, and you will see that he has more sym- 
 
MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTBEUIL. 145 
 
 pathy and more care for you than you can expect 
 from human beings. He is ever at your heart's door, 
 asking only to enter." She wrote to Madame de 
 Bombelles, July 2, 1787 : '' The more one sees of the 
 world, the more dangerous it appears, or the more 
 worthy of contempt rather than of regret when the 
 time comes to leave it. Let us make ready for that 
 moment." These preparations, so often neglected, 
 were made most fully by this Princess. 
 
 In 1785 she witnessed the sudden death of one of 
 the gardeners at Montreuil, and was with him when 
 he received extreme unction. "Madame sets a noble 
 example," said the attendant priest. " Sir," she re- 
 plied, " I am receiving a greater one, and one that I 
 shall never forget." 
 
 The continual thought of death, an unceasing con- 
 templation of the crucifix, firm hope in a better world, 
 formed the secret of Madame Elisabeth's strength. 
 We feel that angels upheld her, and that the virtues 
 made a sanctuary of her pure soul. The edifying 
 death of her aunt, Madame Louise, the Carmelite, at 
 Saint Denis, November 25, 1787, was for her a severe 
 lesson; one that made her even more pious, more 
 truly Christian. A moment before breathing her last 
 the nun said, " It is time. . . . Come, rise, let us 
 hasten to heaven." Madame Campan tells us that 
 in her delirium the dying woman remembered that 
 she had been a princess, and called out, as if ad- 
 dressing an equerry, " To paradise ! Quick, quick. 
 Gallop ! " Madame Elisabeth, her worthy niece, was 
 
146 MAUIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 prepared for misfortune, for the prison, for mar- 
 tyrdom. 
 
 But the last hour had not come ; nothing disturbed 
 the shades of Montreuil. French society, on the eve 
 of its great upheaval, was still the plaything of its 
 illusions. As M. Taine has well said, " Everywhere, 
 as this society was approaching its end, there comes 
 a common gentleness, an affectionate softness, like a 
 mild breath of autumn, to soften whatever is hard 
 or dry, and to envelop in a perf ame of dying roses 
 the refinement of its moments." 
 
 At the Trianon, the Queen, wearing a straw hat, 
 a dress of white muslin, and a gauze neckerchief, 
 watches the milking of the cows, like a farmer's wife. 
 Madame Adelaide takes a violin at a village festival, 
 and, in the absence of the fiddler, plays while the 
 peasant-women dance. The Duchess of Bourbon 
 goes forth in the morning, incognito, to give alms to 
 the poor in their garrets. The King and the Count 
 of Artois help a wagoner to move his mired wagon. 
 Before witnessing the terrible spectacles which the 
 Revolution was preparing, this society, in which the 
 great were becoming intimate with their inferiors, 
 in which it was becoming the fashion to love the 
 country, to return to nature, to delight in the sim- 
 plicity of rustic manners, to be humane, generous, 
 useful ; this society, in which wives followed their 
 husbands to their garrisons, and mothers nurse their 
 children, in which fathers for the first time took an 
 interest in their children's education, — this society. 
 
MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTREUIL. 147 
 
 which before the horrible torments of winter, was en- 
 joying the warm autumn sun, was about to see at 
 Montreuil a delightful idyl, an eclogue, with Madame 
 Elisabeth as heroine, which admirably mirrors the 
 tastes of the epoch. 
 
 It is a rural story, recalling the country of William 
 Tell, the ranz des vaches, the poetic glaciers of Switz- 
 erland. Paris and Versailles mingled their tears 
 over this rustic scene, which was like one of Greurze's 
 pictures in its touching simplicity that calls forth 
 both smiles and tears. 
 
 At Montreuil Madame Elisabeth led a quiet farm 
 life. The farmyard was full of water-fowl ; and her 
 barn was crowded with cows to supply milk to the 
 motherless children of the neighborhood. She was 
 astounded at the number of the children who came 
 after it. Then she enlarged her barn, sent to Switzer- 
 land for more cows, and desired to have them put 
 under the charge of a man of that country, an honest 
 peasant on whom she could depend. Madame de Dies- 
 bach the wife of a Swiss officer, recommended to her 
 for this position a certain Jacques Bosson, of Bulle, 
 near Freiburg. As he had a father and mother 
 who were very fond of him, Madame Elisabeth sent 
 for them all then. They arrived at Montreuil, and 
 Jacques was put in charge of the barn, which he 
 tended with great zeal. " You must remember," said 
 the Princess, " that the milk of these cows belongs to 
 the children. I shall not take any of it myself until 
 they have all been supplied." Jacques and his par- 
 
14B MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ents, when they beheld their benefactress's kindness, 
 exclaimed every moment : " What a kind Princess ! 
 In all Switzerland there is nothing more perfect." 
 
 Yet Jacques was not happy. There was some- 
 thing lacking; the girl to whom he was engaged 
 was far away, among the mountains ; hence his 
 melancholy. One day Madame Elisabeth, who had 
 noticed his sadness, asked the reason. " I thought 
 I had made one person happy," she said to herself, 
 " and I have made two miserable. But the evil can be 
 repaired." Was not the Princess the good angel of 
 her servants as she was of the poor ? She sent for 
 Marie, the young girl ; she had Jacques marry her. 
 May 26, 1789, and she appointed her milkmaid of 
 Montreuil. Poor Jacques was full of joy. 
 
 His melancholy, when separated from his betrothed, 
 inspired a friend of Madame Elisabeth, the Marchion- 
 ess of Travanet, sister of the Marchioness of Bom- 
 belles, with the words and music of a song which 
 court and town used to repeat with effusion : — 
 
 " Poor Jacques, when I was near thee, 
 
 I did not feel my misery. 
 But now, when thou art far away, 
 
 I know no pleasure m the world ; 
 When thou camest to share my toil, 
 
 I found my task light : 
 Dost thou remember ? Every day was happy. 
 
 Who will restore to me that time ? 
 When the sun shines upon our fields, 
 
 I cannot endure its light ; 
 When I am in the shadows of the forest, 
 
 I accuse all nature." 
 
MADAME ELISABETH AT MONTREUIL. 149 
 
 Our grandmothers used to sing us to sleep with 
 this song, the gentle, plaintive charm of which blends 
 with the memory of the kind woman who was 
 Jacques's benefactress. 
 
XV. 
 
 cazotte's prophecy. 
 
 ALAS ! the season for pastorals is nearly at an 
 end. The second part of Madame Elisabeth's 
 life is to present a striking contrast with the first. 
 A sort of religious idyl, of holy eclogue, will conclude 
 this most pathetic drama. The sister of Louis XVI. 
 had a presentiment that too much confidence could 
 not be placed in the virtuous language of the time. 
 She wrote to Madame Marie de Causans, March 24, 
 1786, this sentence, which was only too accurate: 
 " Although our age is very proud of its tenderness, 
 this is much more a matter of words than of feelings." 
 They imagined themselves living in the Golden Age ; 
 it was soon to be the Age of Iron. Suddenly the 
 prospect became dark ; the tide rose, the sky clouded, 
 and the air became full of evil omens. The Baroness 
 d'Oberkirch said, in speaking of the year 1788: 
 " There were current at that time in France and in 
 foreign parts many prophecies of different persons. 
 These prophecies found a wide belief; those, espe- 
 cially, of M. Cazotte. A great many people had 
 heard him utter them. But they announced such 
 
 150 
 
CAZOTTE'S PROPHECY. 151 
 
 extraordinary things that reason was compelled to 
 class them with dreams and exaggerations." La 
 Harpe has reported one which was made, he says, by 
 this singular prophet, in the presence of the Duchess 
 of Gramont, early in 1788. Doubtless La Harpe has 
 added to what he remembered, but in the Gramont 
 family as well as in that of the Cazottes, the exist- 
 ence of the prediction is regarded as an authentic 
 tradition. 
 
 The Duchess of Gramont had said : " We women 
 are very lucky in having nothing to do with revolu- 
 tions. It is acknowledged that we, that our sex, 
 shall be spared." "Your sex, Madame," answered 
 Cazotte, " will not protect you this time. ... You 
 will be treated exactly like men, without the slightest 
 difference. . . . You, Duchess, will be taken to the 
 scaffold — you and a great many other ladies — in 
 the cart, and with your hands behind your backs." 
 " Ah ! in that case, I hope I shall have at least a cart 
 draped with black." " No, Madame ; greater ladies 
 than you will ride in the cart, and with bound hands, 
 like you." " Greater ladies ! What ? Princesses of 
 the blood ? " " Still greater ladies." 
 
 Then, La Harpe adds, the joke seemed to be going 
 too far. Madame de Gramont, to soften matters, 
 passed over this last answer, and merely said in the 
 lightest manner, " You will see that he won't even 
 let me have a confessor." " No, Madame ; you will 
 not have one, nor will any one. The last who will 
 be allowed one, will be — " 
 
152 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Then he stopped for a moment. 
 
 " Well, who is the happy mortal who shall enjoy 
 this privilege?" 
 
 " It's the only one that will be left him, and it will 
 be the King of France." 
 
 This strange prophecy was indeed a gloomy one ; 
 but however his imagination may have been haunted 
 by gloomy phantoms, can it have foreseen anything 
 to be compared with what actually happened a few 
 years later. May 10, 1794? Let us transport oar- 
 selves to that period, and enter the Temple in the 
 evening of May 9. 
 
 Ever since she had been separated from the Queen, 
 
 — that is to say, since August 2, 1793, — Madame 
 Elisabeth had been imprisoned there with her niece, 
 the future Duchess of Angouleme. Their captivity 
 had lasted twenty-one months. Having been kept in 
 close confinement and in absolute ignorance of every- 
 thing that was going on, — for their sole means of 
 information was the crying of the newsboys outside, 
 
 — the two prisoners did not know whether Marie 
 Antoinette was living or dead. They confided their 
 sufferings to God; and in their angelic calm and 
 resignation they realized Shakespeare's image of Pa- 
 tience smiling at grief. Every day, Madame Elisa- 
 beth used to utter this prayer in company with her 
 niece, to whom she had become a second mother ; it 
 was a prayer she had herself composed in prison : — 
 
 "What will befall me to-day, O God? I do not 
 know. I only know that nothing will happen which 
 
CAZOTTE'S PROPHECY. 153 
 
 thou hast not foreseen, determined, desired, and 
 ordered from all eternity. That is enough for me. 
 I worship thy eternal and impenetrable designs; I 
 submit to them with all my heart through love for 
 thee. I will everything, I accept everything, I make 
 a sacrifice to you of everything, and I add this 
 sacrifice to that of my blessed Saviour. I beg of 
 thee in his name, and through his infinite merits, 
 patience in my sufferings, and that perfect submission 
 which is due to thee for all that thou desirest or 
 permittest." 
 
 The 9th of May, 1794, is drawing to its end; it is 
 seven o'clock in the evening. The two prisoners, 
 who are accustomed to rise very early, are making 
 ready to go to bed, when suddenly they hear their 
 bolts drawn. They hasten to put on the dresses they 
 have just taken off. A man goes up to Madame 
 Elisabeth, and says : " Citoyenne, come down at once ; 
 you are wanted." "Does my niece stay here?" 
 " That's none of your business. We shall see about 
 her later." The Princess then embraces her young 
 companion, and says to her, " Be calm ; I shall be 
 back soon." A brutal voice calls out, " No ; you 
 won't come back ! Put on your bonnet, and come 
 down." Madame Elisabeth pressed her niece to her 
 heart: "Well, be courageous and firm, trust always 
 to God ; remember the religious principles which your 
 parents gave you, and be faithful to the last coun- 
 sels of your father and mother." The two captives 
 remained in each other's arms a moment; then the 
 
154 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 aunt, who is leaving her niece forever, walks away 
 firmly and quickly, with these last words : " Think 
 of God, my child." 
 
 She was carried first to the Conciergerie, and then 
 to the Revolutionary tribunal, and after going through 
 the mockery of a trial, she was condemned to death, 
 along with twenty-three other victims. As she was 
 leaving the court-room, Fouquier-Tinville could not 
 keep from exclaiming, "It must be confessed that 
 she has not uttered a word of complaint ! " " What 
 should Elisabeth of France complain of?" answered 
 one of the so-called judges. "Haven't we to-day 
 made a suitable aristocratic court for her ? There is 
 no reason she should not imagine herself in the Ver- 
 sailles drawing-rooms when she finds herself at the 
 guillotine, in company with all these faithful nobles." 
 
 That man did not know w^hat true words he spoke. 
 The execution was to be only an entrance to glory. 
 Madame Elisabeth was to edify, console, and cheer 
 her companions, — Madame de Sdnozan, the oldest of 
 the twenty-four victims ; the Marchioness of Crussol 
 d'Amboise, formerly the most timid woman in the 
 world, but now most fearless ; M. de Lomdnie, for- 
 mer Minister of War, and Madame de Montmorin, 
 widow of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who did 
 not lament on her own account, but could not restrain 
 her tears for her son, a young man of twenty, who 
 was also to die. " You love your son," said Madame 
 Elisabeth, " and yet you don't want him to accompany 
 you ! You are about to attain all the bliss of heaven, 
 
CAZOTTE'S PBOPHECY. 155 
 
 and you want him to linger on this earth where now 
 there is nothing but pain and sorrow." Madame de 
 Montmorin dried her tears, and embracing her son, 
 said, " Come ! We will ascend the scaffold together." 
 
 The signal is given; the tumbrels start for the 
 Place Louis XV. On the way, Madame Elisabeth 
 continues her exhortations. They reach the place of 
 execution. If it is true, as has been asserted, that 
 Fouquier-Tinville proposed "to bleed those who had 
 been sentenced, in order to weaken the courage they 
 showed in the face of death," he certainly must have 
 had good reason to regret that this measure, which is 
 quite in . the spirit of the Revolution, had not been 
 adopted for the batch of May 10, 1794. All the 
 victims, inspired by the presence of the noble sister 
 of the martyred King, showed admirable courage. 
 
 The first name called by the executioner was that 
 of Madame de Crussol. She bowed to Madame 
 Elisabeth. "Ah, Madame I ,if Your Royal Highness 
 would deign to kiss me, I should be perfectly happy." 
 " Very gladly," answered the Princess, " and with all 
 my heart." All the other women enjoyed the same 
 privilege. The men bowed and kissed respectfully 
 the hand of the daughter of kings. One man in the 
 crowd about the guillotine shouted out, " There's no 
 need for all this salaaming ; there she is now, like the 
 Austrian ! " Madame Elisabeth heard him, and then 
 learned for the first time that she was to meet Marie 
 Antoinette in heaven. One after another the vic- 
 tims ascended the scaffold, and went to the bloody cer- 
 
156 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 emony as tlie faithful went to the Holy Table. Orders 
 had been given that Madame Elisabeth should be exe- 
 cuted the last, in the cruel hope that the twenty-three 
 heads falling before her eyes might perhaps break 
 her courage. It was an unfounded hope. While 
 the sacrifice was going on, she recited the " De Pro- 
 fundis " without a change of color. When the turn 
 of the twenty-third victim, the last but one, came, the 
 saintly Princess said, '' Courage ! courage and faith 
 in God's mercy." Then it was her time to die, or, 
 rather, to enter into eternal life. 
 
 The noble virgin ascended the steps of the scaffold 
 with unfaltering step. She betrayed no emotion, 
 save at the moment when the executioner wanted to 
 take off the neckerchief that covered her breast. " In 
 the name of your mother," said Madame Elisabeth, 
 " do not uncover me." Those were her last words. 
 The soul of Madame Elisabeth was in heaven. All 
 the spectators were moved. Even the knitting 
 women, the Furies of the guillotine, ceased their up- 
 roar, and the crowd dispersed in sadness. That day 
 there were around the scaffold none of the usual cries 
 of " Long live the Republic." 
 
 Madame Royale, later the Duchess of Angoul^me, 
 was left alone in prison, with no more news of her 
 aunt than she had had of her mother. She did not 
 learn their fate till seven months later, when she left 
 the Temple, after an imprisonment of twenty-eight 
 months. Then, when with tears and distress, she was 
 speaking of her relations, a woman, touched by her 
 
CAZOTTE'S PBOPHECY. 157 
 
 grief, said, " Alas ! Madame has no relatives." 
 " What ! " exclaimed the orphan, " Aunt Elisabeth, 
 too! What fault can they have found in her?" 
 
 Was it possible that France was destined to behold 
 a repetition of such scenes ? Was a time to come 
 when the government, forgetful of the lessons of the 
 past, should lay down its arms, to the terror of good 
 citizens and to the delight of evil ones ? The history 
 of the Revolution, which every one thinks he knows, 
 and no one knows sufficiently, cannot be too carefully 
 studied and pondered. It is full of instruction of 
 service to high and low, to rich and poor. What we 
 should seek is not food for wrath, or an inspiration 
 of vengeance, but wise, warning lessons of wisdom 
 and firmness. 
 
 When M. Feuillet de Conches published his col- 
 lection of Madame Elisabeth's letters, he asked a 
 priest to write the preface. We have just read this 
 preface, and we confess that it made a deep impres- 
 sion. The following passage especially struck us : — 
 
 " If the whole life of Madame Elisabeth inspires us 
 with a feeling of affectionate reverence and a desire 
 to imitate her virtues, her death, which was a crime 
 as detestable as it was odious, inspires a feeling of 
 horror and indignation for the vile and cowardly 
 assassins who then, under the name of lawmakers, 
 cumbered France with blood and ruin, and crushed it 
 beneath the burden of their vices and their cruelty. 
 I should like to add that it inspires all honorable peo- 
 ple with the desire and resolution, not only to declare 
 
158 MARIE ANTOINETTE, 
 
 themselves clearly, but also, if they have any part m 
 public affairs, to act with promptness and energy, so 
 that the vicious shall know what to expect and what 
 caution they must observe. For it is a moving spec- 
 tacle and one capable of arousing good citizens from 
 their apathy and irresolution, if they w^ould consent 
 to take account of their own force, their rights, and 
 their duties, and not to lose the benefits of their 
 principles by halting counsels and impotent action." 
 
 The priest who wrote these lines had no illusions. 
 Something told him that great disgrace, sore trials, 
 immense catastrophes, were impending, and to the 
 page just quoted he added this page which is full of 
 prophecy : — 
 
 " Alas ! no. . . . Everything begins again on earth, 
 although nothing makes itself over. This is partic- 
 ularly true of revolutions, in which there always is 
 present an imitation of the past which will again be 
 repeated in the future. Although the facts, after the 
 event, show how they might have been prevented or 
 modified, this revelation is denied to the majority; 
 it adopts again the same methods to bring up at 
 the same catastrophes. In the same way, every one 
 knows that there is a certain secret force which 
 carries events beyond the limit fixed by human 
 thoughts and desires ; nevertheless, this often-attested 
 truth does not prevent those who collected the clouds 
 from foolishly hoping to control the tempest which 
 they have let loose ; it does not render the multitude 
 less confident in the promises of peace and happiness 
 
CAZOTTE'S PROPHECY. 159 
 
 with which hypocritical flatterers delude it. The 
 faults continue, and calamities follow close upon their 
 heels." 
 
 Who was it that, November 19, 1867, put his name 
 to this preface ? It was he who, less than four years 
 afterwards, was to suffer a death as tragic and saintly 
 as that of Madame Elisabeth. It was one of the 
 future victims of the Commune, the Archbishop of 
 Paris, Monsignor Darboy. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 " I \0 you know what happened to me the other- 
 1 J day ? " Marie Antoinette asked Madame 
 Campan some time before the Revolution. " I was 
 going to a special committee in the King's study, and 
 as I was passing through the QEil de Boeuf, one of 
 the musicians said loud enough for me to hear every 
 word, ' A queen who does her duty stays in her own 
 room to look after the roast.' I said to myself, ' Poor 
 man, you are right; but you don't understand my 
 position. I must obey necessity and my evil des- 
 tiny.'" 
 
 And Marie Antoinette sighed, and added, with an 
 accent of profound sadness, " Ah ! there is no happi- 
 ness for me since they have made me out to be dis- 
 posed to intrigue." 
 
 The Queen had a vague instinct of the misfortunes 
 that were threatening her; but she was disturbed 
 and confident in turns, yielding at times to the illu- 
 sions which the blindest optimism of the epoch evoked 
 in every heart. There was expected some sort of 
 gentle and amusing revolution, a political entertain- 
 
 160 
 
BEGINNING OF THE REVOLUTION. 161 
 
 ment, an intellectual tournament, a sort of Fronde 
 perfected by the philosophy and urbanity of the eigh- 
 teenth century. It was thought that the assemblies 
 would be like meetings of the Academy, the clubs 
 like drawing-rooms, the newspapers like Grimm's Cor- 
 respondence. " The women," to quote from the Duke 
 of L^vis, — for this authority still existed, — ""ex- 
 pected to take once more the parts of the Duchesses 
 of Chevreuse and Longueville. The young members 
 of the parliaments counted on their eloquence ; the 
 older men, on their reputation ; and of the young 
 nobles, some began, in the insignificant meetings of 
 the Freemasons, to practise speaking in public — an 
 art wholly unfamiliar to the nobility in an absolute 
 monarchy. All means .were adopted in the hope of 
 winning success." 
 
 All were fired by ambition. "Every man who 
 could read," we are told by the Count of Vaublanc, 
 "became a profound politician." From the greatest 
 noblemen down to the idlers in the cafds, every 
 one imagined himself the possessor of an excellent 
 receipt for making good the deficit and saving 
 the country. As M. Aubertin has said, " By all, 
 even by the court party, the Revolution was invoked 
 out of wrath with conflicting ambitions, as well as 
 resentment against the King and his ministers, and 
 the desire of revenge for some vexation or disappoint- 
 ment. The inevitable catastrophe became the last 
 resource even for those on whom it was to fall like 
 a punishment, and in this absurd infatuation of offi- 
 
162 MARIE ANTOINETTK 
 
 cial selfishness, even the courtiers expected from the 
 States-General the destruction of the central power 
 and the restoration of the feudal system." 
 
 It was in vain that some solemn souls recalled the 
 tragedies of our history, and the bloody memories of 
 the Ligue. The mournful words of these prophets 
 of evil called forth smiles from this young genera- 
 tion, who, in reply, boasted of the advance of intel- 
 ligence, the refinement of manners, the progress of 
 science and civilization. These young people laughed 
 at religious fanaticisms, and soon it was to see civil 
 society turned fanatical. But meanwhile any one 
 who pointed out a black cloud on the horizon was 
 regarded as a feeble-minded coward. In this mis- 
 taken period, which is called the Golden Age of the 
 Revolution, politics became the fashion, a refinement, 
 a new means of delight for a drawing-room or a 
 boudoir. Titled revolutionaries, in silk or velvet 
 coat, used to discuss the Social Contract at some 
 dainty supper. The athletes, before the contest, used 
 to anoint themselves with some prepared essence. 
 There was no discussion, only conversation, and this 
 was full of courtesy and grace. Never had there 
 been more brilliant talk, or more wit and variety; 
 never readier transition from gravity to severity, 
 from wit to seriousness. " What a charm," says the 
 Viscountess of Noailles, " there was in the parties at 
 the beginning of our terrible Revolution, when intel- 
 ligent and enthusiastic people met in the desire to do 
 good ! The old tastes became the refined interpreters 
 
BEGINNING OF THE BEVOLUTION. l6B 
 
 of the new ideas. Those of lively initagiiiatioii hoped 
 soon to see the realization of their wildest dreams; 
 every abuse was gladly denounced, in the hope of 
 rising to a height that should be understood and 
 respected by the masses. In a word, they fell into 
 a well, like the astronomer of the fable, while gazing 
 at the stars." It is in reference to this period of 
 dreams and illusions, of charm and glory, that Tal- 
 leyrand said when he was old, "No one who did 
 not live before 1789 has any idea of the charm of 
 life." 
 
 The great mistake of Louis XVI. was that he let 
 himself be deceived by this mirage ; but is it strange 
 that a king was no wiser than his whole generation ? 
 His mistakes were those of his time. It would 
 have required a mighty genius to contend with the 
 insubordination which was spreading everywhere. 
 Bachaumont tells us that in 1780 the King congratu- 
 lated the Marshal of Richelieu on recovering his 
 health. " For, in fact, you are not young ; you have 
 seen three centuries." "Not quite. Sire, but three 
 reigns." " Well, and what do you think of them ? " 
 " Sire, under Louis XIV. no one dared say anything ; 
 under Louis XV. people spoke very low ; under Your 
 Majesty they say everything." 
 
 The Prince de Ligne has made a very similar 
 remark : *' It was as much the fashion, under Louis 
 XVI., to disobey as it had been under Louis XIV., to 
 obey." Disobedience prevailed everjrwhere, — in the 
 government, in society, in the family, in ideas, and in 
 
164 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 customs. The nation possibly still loved those who 
 governed it, but it had ceased to fear them. The 
 work of destruction advanced methodically. The 
 leaders of the Revolution had begun by undermining 
 the altar, and that task once accomplished, the throne 
 could prove no firmer. 
 
 Doubtless Louis XVI. did not understand the part 
 he should have played. In the place of decision there 
 was uncertainty ; in the place of strength, weakness ; 
 in the place of single-mindedness, divided counsels, 
 contradictions, vagueness, and the wilful abandon- 
 ment of all the means of governing. Yet we need 
 not be surprised at the bad advice given to Louis 
 XVI., since, after his bitter experience, we have seen 
 the reappearance of the same corroding theories, — 
 of the same mad theories of political disorganization, 
 and power once more abandoning its proper means 
 of defence. 
 
 This is not saying that great reforms were not 
 necessary, urgent, and imperative. Such a thought is 
 far from us ; but these reforms should properly have 
 proceeded from a single person, — from the sovereign. 
 There was a social question demanding solution, and 
 this social question should have outweighed the po- 
 litical question. The King might have put himself 
 at the head of this movement, but on the condition 
 of directing it with boldness, and of preserving, at 
 any cost, his regal authority. He should have ap- 
 peared as the protector, not as the servant, of his 
 people. The details of the edifice — the porches, the 
 
BEGINNING OF THE REVOLUTION. 165 
 
 pediment, the arcades — miglit have been modified, but 
 on one condition : that the base — that is to say, the 
 monarchical power — should be preserved. The more 
 important the reforms demanded, the more necessary 
 to strengthen the political and military policy. In- 
 stead of remaining at the helm, Louis XVI., when 
 the storm began to growl, called the rashest passen- 
 gers to take his place. 
 
 Why is it that in our own days, Alexander II. 
 succeeded in bringing about peacefully one of the 
 most important of modern reforms ; namely, the eman- 
 cipation of the serf ? Because he was able to dispense 
 with calling an assembly. Suppose the Czar had 
 convoked the States-General in order to carry out 
 his programme ; in a few months Russia would have 
 been overthrown. Why is the great nation now so 
 powerful ? Because its ruler has never listened to 
 this foolish phrase : " A sovereign reigns and does 
 not govern." Reform, instead of rising from below, 
 came down from on high, and hence was accom- 
 plished so speedily and so gloriously. All monarchs 
 who wish to bring about reforms ought to be firm 
 in maintaining their own authority. When innova- 
 tions are not counterbalanced by rigid discipline, 
 they weaken and undermine the power that proposed 
 them. 
 
 If Louis XVI. had been a great man, he would, of 
 his royal authority, have proclaimed equality before 
 the law, and, supported by a faithful army, he would 
 have overcome the resistance of the privileged classes 
 
 \ 
 
166 MARIE ANTOINETTE: 
 
 with the energy of a Richelieu or of a Peter the 
 Great. The whole people would have followed him 
 in this path, and the strength and glory of the mon- 
 archy would only have increased. If Louis XVI. 
 lacked the vigor and determination necessary to push 
 through the reform with an armed hand, if he pre- 
 ferred a silk coat and knee breeches to a uniform, 
 if he abandoned the right of punishing, he ought to 
 have kept close to the old routine, governing in the 
 old-fashioned method of M. de Maurepas, following 
 the advice of his aunts, and above all, making no 
 concessions. The governmental machine, though it 
 seemed worn out, still preserved traces of its former 
 velocity. The States-General would not have con- 
 voked themselves. The Count de Vaublanc said with 
 a great deal of justice, "It is not the people who 
 make revolutions; it is the kings and their min- 
 isters." 
 
 The architect of his own ruin, Louis XVI. pro- 
 ceeded to forge his own chains. The fault lay with 
 the theorists who deluded him, with those men who 
 were forever talking about necessary liberties and 
 forgot indispensable authority; who, when once in 
 power, were compelled to abandon the theories they 
 had held when in opposition. We may truly say, 
 "It is the fate of monarchy in France not to be 
 conquered, but to be betrayed." 
 
 The Louis XV. of Madame Du Barry, Louis XV. 
 himself, decried as he was, would never have been 
 guilty of the faults of his unhappy successor. Maria 
 
BEGIN If IN G OF THE REVOLUTION. 167 
 
 Theresa, who was thoroughly versed in statescraft 
 at once saw that the okl King's death was a catas- 
 trophe. Loviis XVI. had a sort of presentiment of 
 his own weakness, when on the day of his coronation 
 he said that the crown tired him. Alas ! he shattered 
 his crown and his sceptre with his own hands, and 
 the time came when he was obliged to exchange his 
 diadem for the hideous red cap. A monarch who 
 renounces his prerogatives descends voluntarily from 
 his pedestal. It is like what is called in Roman Law 
 an abdication of civil rights. He who has been mas- 
 ter cannot become servant. 
 
XVII. 
 
 THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 
 
 THE more history is studied, the more striking 
 are the illusions which blind rulers. It seems 
 as if Providence put a bandage over their eyes. Louis 
 XVI. had been simple-minded enough to think of 
 crowning the edifice. The Comptroller-General, Ca- 
 lonne, wrote in the paper wherein he proposed con- 
 voking the Notables, "The course of time and the 
 changes of events seem to have brought us to the 
 moment in which the monarchy, after long agitation, 
 is at length sufficiently calm and ripe for improving 
 the constitution." The old Marshal of Richelieu 
 asked what punishment Louis XIV. would have in- 
 flicted on the minister who should have proposed 
 assembling the Notables. The young Viscount of 
 S^gur said, " The King is handing in his resignation." 
 Marie Antoinette was angry with Calonne, under- 
 standing the danger of a parliamentary assembly; 
 but Louis XVI. was so fascinated by his minister's 
 fine phrases that on the day after the council-meeting 
 at which the report had been read, he wrote, " I did 
 not sleep all night, but it was from joy." 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 169 
 
 Calonne was witty, light, brilliant, fertile in re- 
 sources, void of malice, ill-will, and rancor, a man 
 devoted to work and pleasure ; in short, one of those 
 attractive people who fancy that everything is safe 
 because the victim is adorned with flowers. When 
 he accepted the ministry in 1783, he had promised 
 whatever was asked of him. His entry into favor 
 was a perfect ovation ; but soon he had to contend 
 with the incessant demands of the Treasury, and 
 the continual loans produced an unfavorable impres- 
 sion on the public. Calonne failed to see that the 
 deficit was, not the cause, but a pretext of the revo- 
 lutionary movement which was beginning to assert 
 itself. He lent his aid to a parliament at the very 
 time when a parliament was the most alarming of all 
 the dangers. At first it seemed as if the Notables 
 were going to form a thoroughly conservative assem- 
 bly. It consisted of one hundred and forty-four 
 members, among whom were seven princes of the 
 blood, fourteen archbishops and bishops, thirty-six 
 dukes and peers. With six or seven exceptions, all 
 the Notables were nobles or enjoyed the privilege of 
 nobility. But it was a political assembly out of the 
 usual order, in a country which had not seen one for 
 a century and a half, and it was, in fact, the germ of 
 the States-General. The Notables assembled at Ver- 
 sailles, February 22, 1787. They held their sessions 
 at the House of the Menus Plaisirs, in the Ave.nue de 
 Paris, at the corner of the rue Saint Martin, at a place 
 which is now a cavaliy-barracks. The main entrani (; 
 
170 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 was on the avenue. At the end of the courtyard 
 was a grand staircase leading to a vestibule beyond 
 which was the assembly room; there was another 
 entrance from the rue des Chantiers. 
 
 On the day the Assembly of Notables was opened, 
 there was not a single cry of " Long live the King " 
 from the vast crowd watching the procession. As 
 for the cry, " Long live the Queen," it had not been 
 heard for many years. To a sagacious observer it 
 was plain that a great crisis was impending. 
 
 Calonne's plan was in itself very good. He wished 
 to establish a proportional equality of burdens, to 
 impose a tax on those who enjoyed privileges, to 
 alienate some of the crown domains, and to extend 
 the stamp-tax. But he lacked the vigor and persist- 
 ence and the moral weight required for carrying 
 through so bold a programme. Surprise was general 
 when he was heard to pose as a reformer, indeed, 
 almost as a democrat, in his speech ; he, the favorite 
 of the Count of Artois, the friend of the Polignacs, 
 the lessor of the courtiers' funds. 
 
 " We cannot borrow forever," he said, " nor can 
 we lay taxes forever; we cannot draw upon the 
 future any more ; economy will no longer suffice. 
 What, then, is left to us to supply what we need and 
 to procure what is required for the restoration of our 
 financial condition? The abuses. Yes, gentlemen, 
 it is in the abuses that lies a fund of wealth which 
 the state has the right to demand, and which will 
 serve to restore order." 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 171 
 
 In the same speech Calonne flattered the passions 
 of his time by speaking of the reign of Louis XIV. 
 as " a brilliant reign in which the victories impov- 
 erished the state, and intolerance depopulated it." 
 This official utterance of a minister, who thus at- 
 tacked the memory of a great reign, was a distinct 
 sign of the times. Calonne satisfied neither liberals 
 nor conservatives. Being abandoned by all, he left 
 the ministry six weeks after the meeting of this 
 Assembly of Notables, from which he expected to 
 acquire security; but his plans did not disappear 
 mth him, and the Notables adopted the reforms he 
 had proposed. The closing session was held May 25, 
 1787. The optimists still deceived themselves, and 
 the chancellor, Lamoignon, said in his speech that 
 " everything would be repaired without a shock, with- 
 out any disturbance of fortune, without modifying the 
 principles of government." 
 
 The Archbishop of Toulouse, Lomdnie de Brienne, 
 succeeded Calonne. The Abb(^ de Vermont, the 
 Queen's secretary and confidant, had been in for- 
 mer days chosen by the Archbishop to be sent to 
 Vienna by the Duke of Choiseul as tutor of the 
 young Archduchess, who was to become the Queen 
 of France. The Abb^ was delighted to see his for- 
 mer protector in the ministry, and regarded the ap- 
 pointment as his own Avork. " I have more than 
 once heard him say," Madame Campan writes, " that 
 seventeen patient years Avere not too many for success 
 at court; that it had taken him all that time to 
 
172 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 accomplish the aim he had set himself; but that at 
 last the Archbishop was where he ought to be for the 
 good of the state." The Abb^ became an important 
 person. He had his apartments enlarged in order to 
 have a more appropriate place for the reception of 
 bishops, cardinals, and ministers. 
 
 The Queen, who had been a patron of the Arch- 
 bishop of Toulouse, took more and more interest in 
 political matters. Unfortunately, neither her char- 
 acter nor her education fitted her for this grave occu- 
 pation. She was ignorant of history, and had read 
 scarcely anything except novels. As the Baron of 
 Besenval said, the moment any one began to talk 
 seriously, her face expressed weariness, and the con- 
 versation flagged. Her talk was always desultory, 
 turning from one subject to another. The gossip of 
 the day, stories of the court and the town, gratified 
 her more than discussions about finance. She was 
 ill at ease in the political circles in which she was 
 destined to live, and she herself regretted that she 
 was called upon to rule. She had insensibly acquired 
 complete ascendancy over her husband. '' Whether 
 through superiority, or fear, or charm," the Baron of 
 Besenval says elsewhere, "not only did he never 
 oppose her, but I have seen more than a thousand 
 times that when she was speaking, his eyes and mien 
 expressed a feeling, an eagerness, which the most 
 dearly loved mistress seldom evokes." 
 
 Marie Antoinette had the best intentions in the 
 world, but she lacked the persistence and decision 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 173 
 
 necessary for one who is to rule. She made a mis- 
 take in calling Brienne to the charge of affairs. This 
 philosophic prelate, whose wit was more admirable 
 than his morality, and whose learning was superior 
 to his judgment, had been recommended by the gen- 
 eral opinion — a fact which somewhat excuses the 
 Queen. As Madame de Stael said : " His ecclesias- 
 tical dignity, combined with his constant desire to 
 attain the ministry, had given him the external 
 appearance of a statesman, and his reputation en- 
 couraged this impression, until he was given an 
 opportunity to belie it. ... He admired in turn 
 the conduct of Cardinal Richelieu and the principles 
 of the Encyclopsedists ; he tried acts of force, but he 
 drew back at the first obstacle. . . . Arbitrary and 
 constitutional in turn, he was awkward in both sys- 
 tems, which he tried alternatively. . . . Defeated as 
 a despot, he allied himself with his old friends, the 
 philosophers, and, out of humor with the privileged 
 classes, he tried to please the nation." In a word, 
 he personified the principle of the pendulum, which, 
 everywhere and at all times, is the method of weak 
 governments. 
 
 He made one blunder after another. Everybody 
 expected a royal session, in which the King should 
 have the Parliament record in one mass all the edicts 
 adopted by the Notables. Instead of that, Brienne 
 was ill-advised enough to send in the edicts one after 
 another. Parliament defended the privileges, and 
 yet remained popular by being in opposition. The 
 
174 MARIE ANTOINETTE, 
 
 Palais de Justice became a seat of revolution; the 
 stairways and courtyards were crowded with a hired 
 multitude, with no opinions of their own, belonging 
 to no party, but united by the attraction of a salary, 
 and turbulent or calm, according to the orders it had 
 received. If a resolution seemed violent, the warmer 
 were hand-clappings- and bravos and cheers with 
 which these gentlemen were rewarded as they left 
 the meeting. 
 
 The Parliament played a sad comedy, and was 
 rapidly approaching the hour of its suicide when it 
 sustained abuses while putting on a mask of liberal- 
 ism. When the imposition of a stamp-duty came up 
 for discussion, July 6, 1787, it demanded, as the Nota- 
 bles had done, information on the financial status. 
 When the ministry refused to accede to their request, 
 one of the councillors, the Abb^ Sabatier, called out, 
 *' We demand the status ; it's the States-General we 
 want." This play on words was very successful, and 
 soon turned into a formal proposition. The Parlia- 
 ment expressed a desire to see " the nation assembled 
 before any new impost was laid." The members of 
 the legal corporation composed songs about the 
 Queen, calling her Madame Deficit, and the • anger 
 against her grew so violent that, by advice of the 
 lieutenant of police, Louis XVI. forbade her to show 
 herself in Paris. 
 
 The Baron of Besenval gives the following account 
 of a conversation he had at this time with Marie 
 Antoinette in the garden of the Trianon : " I told the 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES, 176 
 
 Queen that it was in vain that she flattered herself 
 on winning over the Parliament ; that the more she 
 temporized, the more its boldness would increase ; that 
 it was time for the King to show that he meant to be 
 master, and to have his own way by acts of authority ; 
 otherwise he would have to lay aside the crown, and 
 possibly forever. ' Ah ! ' the Queen exclaimed, ' M. 
 de Calonne has done a great deal of harm to the 
 country with the Notables I ' " 
 
 Still everything might have been saved. With the 
 exception of the cities with parliaments, the whole 
 kingdom was perfectly quiet. The populace still 
 kept its religious and monarchical sentiments. Dis- 
 cipline prevailed in the army. With a little vigor 
 Louis XVI. might have preserved his rights. In- 
 stead of that, he had recourse to half-way measures. 
 After having exiled the Parliament to Troyes, August 
 15, 1787, he had the weakness to call it back. He 
 let the Duke of Orleans organize the Revolution. 
 With inconceivable blindness, he permitted the pub- 
 lication of a mass of anarchic pamphlets and libels. 
 Nothing else was read. Booksellers exposed these 
 incendiary writings before the eyes of the public. 
 They were read aloud in public places, under the 
 very eyes of the police. Soldiers were forbidden to 
 use their weapons in case of disorder in the street. 
 This blundering order encouraged evil-doers, and 
 soon they attacked the watch and burned the guard- 
 houses. 
 
 When the Parliament returned from Troyes, in 
 
176 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 September, 1787, the younger lawyers and their hire- 
 lings illuminated the neighborhood of the Palais de 
 Justice, and broke the windows of those houses whose 
 owners were courageous enough to withstand the 
 demand of a troop of rioters. Calonne was burned 
 in effigy in the Place Dauphin. Manikins repre- 
 senting Breteuil, the Minister, and the Duchess of 
 Polignac, the friend of the Queen, were carried 
 through the crowd, amid imprecations and abuse. A 
 little more, and the image of Marie Antoinette would 
 have been treated in the same way. " From a chaos 
 of tranquillity," wrote Mirabeau, ''France has passed 
 to one of excitement." The Parliament, protesting 
 against the King's bed of justice, November 19, 1787, 
 said in its list of grievances : " Such measures are 
 not in accordance with your heart; such examples 
 are not Your Majesty's principles ; they spring from 
 another source." These mutinous words were an 
 allusion to the Queen. Brienne, though he gov- 
 erned so badly, clung eagerly to power. He ex- 
 changed his bishopric of Toulouse for that of Sens, 
 which was much more lucrative, thus acquiring a 
 revenue of six hundred and seventy-eight thousand 
 francs; and moreover had himself presented with 
 a timber privilege, to the value of nine hundred 
 thousand francs, to pay his debts. 
 
 Everything became disorganized. The exile of the 
 Duke of Orleans to Villers-Cotterets, the arrest of 
 the Councillor d'Espremesnil, the limitation of the 
 powers of the parliaments, the formation of a full 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 177 
 
 court for the registration of edicts, failed to check 
 the ever-growing spirit of revolt. Serious trouble 
 broke out in many parts of the kingdom. The King, 
 gliding rapidly down the fatal path of concession, 
 decided to convoke the States-General, which the 
 insurgents so noisily demanded. A resolution of the 
 Council, August 8, 1787, appointed May 1, 1789, for 
 the holding of the States-General, which were so fatal 
 to the monarchy. It was the date set in the preced- 
 ing year by the prophetic spirit of Mirabeau, the 
 future tribune. The old regime itself determined 
 the hour of its own death. 
 
 A few days later (August 25, 1788), Brienne, suc- 
 cumbing beneath the weight of his unpopularity, left 
 the ministry ; and Louis XYL, conquered by new ideas, 
 called to power the friend of the liberals, the great 
 banker, the celebrated theorist, the author of the 
 famous Report^ the idol of the philosophers and of 
 the admirers of the English constitution, the father 
 of Madame de Stael, — Necker, the Genevese. There 
 was a moment of enthusiasm ; for a few hours the 
 Queen enjoyed a breath of popularity ; but the oppo- 
 sition to her only redoubled in. intensity when it be- 
 came known that Brienne, who had been supposed to 
 be in disgrace, was going to receive a cardinal's hat. 
 Events brought out the character of this prelate, one 
 of the four who gave their adhesion to the civil consti- 
 tution of the clergy. Put into disgrace by a brief of 
 Pius VL, declaring him deprived of all ecclesiastical 
 dignities, he boasted of having been one of tlie pro- 
 
178 MABIJE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 moters of the Revolution, and presented himself as a 
 candidate at the election to the legislative assembly, as 
 constitutional bishop of Sens, and in spite of all his 
 concessions, nothing but his sudden death saved him 
 from the guillotine. Marie Antoinette cruelly re- 
 pented the protection she had given him. "I have seen 
 the Queen," Madame Campan wrote, " shedding bitter 
 tears over her wrongs at this period, when Brienne, 
 shortly before his death, dared to say in a speech 
 which was printed, that a part of what he did during 
 his,, ministry had no other object than the healthy 
 crisis which the Revolution had brought about." 
 
 Necker was an honest man and a skilful financier. 
 He was a slave of public opinion and very desirous 
 of popularity ; and thus, like all such people, was 
 carried further than he had intended. Although a 
 fervent Royalist, he prepared the Republic without 
 knowing it. The Revolution began in the early days 
 of his second ministry. The Parliament was exceeded, 
 like Necker himself. He declared that the States- 
 General should be convoked regularly, according to 
 the form observed in 1614 ; that is to say, according 
 to conservative rules. Nothing more was needed to 
 deprive the old assembly of the popular favor in a 
 single day. Its army of advocates, attorneys, nota- 
 ries, practitioners, students, deserted it. The Par- 
 liament was already punished for its opposition to 
 royalty, and its attacks against the crown turned 
 against itself. Its end was not a natural one ; it 
 died by its own hands. 
 
THE ASSEMBLY OF NOTABLES. 179 
 
 Necker called the Notables together agam, to lay 
 before them questions relative to the composition 
 and form of the States-General. They met for the 
 second time at Versailles, November 6, 1788. Was 
 the Third Estate to have a representation equal to 
 that of the nobility and clergy? Were the votes 
 to be taken by classes or individually ? The whole 
 Revolution lay in the way in which these two ques- 
 tions were settled. An enormous majority of the 
 Notables pronounced against the double representa- 
 tion of the Third Estate, and yet Louis XVI. was 
 imprudent enough to place himself on the side of the 
 minority. This was the opinion of Marie Antoinette, 
 who, despite her fears, still had illusions. In vain 
 did the Count of Artois, the three Cond^s, and the 
 Prince of Conti address a memorial to the King, in 
 which they denounced "the Revolution which was 
 preparing in the principles of government." The 
 unhappy monarch, misled by his exaggerated kind- 
 ness, was fascinated by 
 
 " that spirit of independence and error, 
 The forerunner of the fatal fall of kings." 
 
 The Queen was persuaded that the bourgeoisie, 
 represented by the Third Estate, was devoted to the 
 throne, that the lower clergy would be held by the 
 hope of preferment ; that Necker would have author- 
 ity over the lawyers and others of that class who 
 composed the Third Estate. The Count of Artois, 
 who held the contrary opinion, almost quarrelled with 
 
180 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Marie Antoinette. The Duchess of Polignac and all 
 her society sided with the Prince against the Queen. 
 Distraught by so many intrigues and such contra- 
 dictory counsels, the unhappy Queen could find no 
 peace in her friend's drawing-room. She still went 
 there, in order not to betray any change in her habits, 
 but she was greeted with such cold respect that she 
 always went away in sore distress. 
 
 December 27, 1788, Louis XVI., " in accordance 
 with the wishes of a minority of the Notables, the 
 demand of the provincial assemblies, the opinion of 
 publicists, and the many addresses presented on this 
 subject," ordered that "the number of the deputies 
 to the States-General should be at least one thousand, 
 and that the number of the deputies of the Third 
 Estate should be equal to that of the clergy and 
 nobility together." When the news of this royal 
 declaration became known, Paris illuminated. The 
 monarchy was lost. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 THE PROCESSION OF MAY 4, 1789. 
 
 FORTY years before 1789, one of the Ministers 
 of Foreign Affairs of Louis XV., the Marquis 
 d' Argenson, wrote these prophetic words : " There pre- 
 vails a philosophic wind of free and anti-monarchical 
 government. Possibly the revolution will meet with 
 less opposition than is expected ; it may take place 
 by acclamation. . . . All classes are discontented at 
 the same time ; a riot may easily grow into a revolt, 
 and a revolt into a revolution, in which there would 
 be elected tribunes of the people, comitia, communes. 
 . . . The whole nation would take fire ; and if it 
 became necessary to assemble the States-General, 
 these states would not assemble in vain. It will be 
 well to take care." 
 
 It must be said in justice to Marie Antoinette that 
 she understood that the summoning of the States- 
 General would be fatal to royalty. On the day when 
 she learned that Louis XVI. had decided to convoke 
 them, she happened to be coming from the public 
 dinner ; she detested all the splendor, which was at 
 once painful to her eyes, and sought refuge in her 
 
 181 
 
182 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 bedroom, where she stood in the embrasure of the first 
 window, gazing into the park. She sent for Madame 
 Campan, and said to her : " Heavens, what is this news 
 we hear to-day ? The King has permitted the States- 
 General to be summoned." Then, raising her eyes to 
 heaven, she added, " I am very much afraid that this 
 important event is a gloomy token for France." And 
 her eyes, filled with tears, were turned to the ground. 
 
 Marie Antoinette perceived that she was betrayed 
 on every side. The clergy, far from trying to appear 
 as a mediator, sought only to encourage the opposi- 
 tion, and blindly followed a few restless, stubborn, 
 and vain bishops. The nobles, a feeble, inharmo- 
 nious body, made annoying murmur, as the Baron of 
 Besenval expressed it. The Anglomania of which 
 the young men and the women were the victims 
 turned them from an interest in horse-races to a pas- 
 sion for politics. Even in the King's ante-chamber 
 the most seditious utterances were heard. 
 
 The men who should have been the Queen's most 
 chivalrous defenders, such as the Duke of Orleans, 
 the Duke of Lauzun, the Marquis of La Fayette, had 
 become her foes. She, with her loyalty, kindness, 
 and generosity, was amazed at human ingratitude, 
 and nothing could explain to her the violent and 
 unjust hatred which pursued her. Even the minis- 
 ters, instead of supporting the throne, only weakened 
 it. Augeard tells us in his interesting Memoirs, 
 that the Queen said to him in May, 1789, "Do you 
 think that M. Necker wishes to deceive us?" "I 
 
I 
 
 THE PROCESSION OF MAY 4, 1789. 183 
 
 don't know, Madame, that M. Necker wishes to de- 
 ceive us, but I am sure that he deceives himself. 
 For the state, it is exactly the same thing." "What ! 
 M. Necker would make us stake our kingdom double 
 or quits ? " " Madame, I should deem you lucky in 
 that case ; Your Majesties would have one chance in 
 your favor ; now I don't know a single one." " Heav- 
 ens, what do you say ? " and the Queen burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Marie Antoinette was of the opinion that the States- 
 General should meet at some town distant sixty 
 leagues from Paris, instead of being convoked at 
 Versailles. Necker successfully opposed this wise 
 opinion. The councillors of Louis XVI. had reached 
 the highest pitch of blindness and imprudence. As 
 the Count of Vaublanc said : " The ministers were 
 ignorant of the history of France, or they would have 
 known that before Louis XVI. no king had conceded 
 any part of his own authority. . . . They would 
 have remembered that when Anne of Austria, in her 
 regency, desired to convoke the States-General, the 
 great Cond^, whom she consulted, told her that 
 a prince of the blood ought to lose his life before 
 enduring the convocation of these states which had 
 wrought so much harm to France." 
 
 The summoning of the States-General was, alone, 
 a great fault ; but what rendered this fault irremedi- 
 able was the choice of Versailles as the place of 
 meeting. " How," to quote from the Duke of L^vis, 
 " how could boldness have been carried so far as to 
 
184 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 establish an assembly to control the destinies of 
 France, and one in which so much preponderance 
 had been given to the popular party, at a distance 
 of four leagues from the capital, which was a centre 
 of intrigue and corruption, and crowded with a pop- 
 ulace excitable and open to bribery." 
 
 The lot was thrown. These States-General which 
 had been so long awaited, which were regarded as an 
 instrument of salvation, as a universal panacea, were 
 about to meet. The first session was appointed for 
 May 5, 1789. 
 
 A great religious ceremony opened in peace the 
 era of tempests. There Avas a solemn procession 
 which took place the evening before the day the 
 Assembly was to be opened, to pray for the blessings 
 of God upon their work. The throne and the altar, 
 before being overthrown, arrayed themselves in ma- 
 jestic pomp, and the ancient monarchy, which was 
 doomed to perish by one concession after another, 
 appeared once more with the prestige and ceremony 
 of its venerable glory. 
 
 This flame, which was so near extinction, was scat- 
 tering its final rays, lighting the horizon like a set- 
 ting sun, and the same people who were about to 
 utter cries of fury and vile blasphemies against their 
 God and their King, still sang canticles, and walked 
 piously in a procession. On that day Robespierre 
 himself carried a candle. 
 
 There is now in the palace of Versailles a hall 
 called the Hall of the States-General, and is so called 
 
THE PROCESSION OF 3fAY 4, 1789. 185 
 
 from the pictures it contains, representing these as- 
 semblies. Especially noteworthy is a long and fine 
 frieze painted by M. Louis Boulanger : the subject is 
 the procession of May 4. 
 
 At ten in the morning, Louis XVL, clad in the 
 royal robes, and accompanied by the princes of his 
 family, all wearing the robes of the different orders, 
 issued from his apartment. He entered a state car- 
 riage with the Count of Provence and the Count of 
 Artois. At the coach doors were the young Dukes 
 of Berry and Angouleme and the Duke of Bourbon. 
 The Queen was in another carriage. The princesses 
 and the princes of the blood came next. This mag- 
 nificent procession was to go to the church of Notre 
 Dame. After a short prayer, the procession began 
 to form, headed by the banners of the two parishes : 
 that of Notre Dame in front, next that of Saint Louis. 
 Then came the Recollects, followed by the parish 
 clergy. After them marched the deputies of the 
 Third Estate, in two parallel lines, each one, like all 
 in the procession, carrying a candle. They were 
 dressed in black, with a little silk cloak, a cravat of 
 white muslin, a three-cornered hat without edging or 
 buttons. After the Third Estate came the nobility. 
 The deputies wore a very rich dress, — a black cloak 
 with a gold facing, a lace cravat, white silk stock- 
 ings, and a hat with white feathers, turned up like 
 that in which Henri IV. is always represented. 
 Then followed the deputies of the clergy, in two 
 files, separated by the royal musicians, the body- 
 
186 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 guard and the Swiss soldiers. In front were the 
 deputies of the town clergy ; behind them, near the 
 canopy under which was the Holy Sacrament, marched 
 cardinals, archbishops, and bishops. The canopy was 
 carried by the high officers and gentlemen of honor 
 of the King's two brothers. The front strings were 
 held by the Dukes of Angoul^me and of Berry ; the 
 hind ones, by the Counts of Provence and of Artois. 
 Under the canopy, the Archbishop of Paris carried 
 the Holy Sacrament. The King was among the high 
 officers of the crown, in the middle of the two files 
 following the canopy. The Queen was at the head 
 of the left-hand file, in which w^ere the princesses and 
 their ladies. The right-hand file was composed of 
 princes of the blood, dukes, and peers. At the head 
 marched the Duke of Chartres (later Louis Philippe). 
 He was followed by the Prince of Cond^, the Duke 
 of Bourbon, the Duke of Enghien, the Prince of 
 Conti. Then came the dukes and peers. The French 
 and Swiss guards were drawn up in line from the 
 church of Notre Dame, where the procession started, 
 to the church of Saint Louis, whither it proceeded. 
 The way was strewn with flowers, rich stuffs, and the 
 crown tapestries decorated the streets. The crowd 
 was enormous. A magnificent spring sun lit up this 
 festival of church and crown. Those of the princes 
 who were too young to take part in the procession 
 were allowed to look at it. The Dauphin was in the 
 great stables ; the Duke of Normandy (Louis XYII.) 
 and Madame Royale (the Duchess of Angouleme) 
 
THE PROCESSION OF MAT 4, 1789. 187 
 
 were at the windows of a house in the rue de la Pa- 
 roisse Saint Louis, opposite the pavilion Beauregard. 
 Starting from the church of Notre Dame, through 
 the rue Dauphine, the Place d'Armes, the rue Sa- 
 tory, the rue de I'Orangerie, the rue de la Paroisse 
 Saint Louis, — that is the route of the procession. 
 
 The sight of the Holy Sacrament, the religious 
 pomp, the pious songs, the odor of the flowers and of 
 the incense, the cheering sunlight, gave hope for a 
 brief moment to the heart of Marie Antoinette, who 
 warmly prayed God for a good result to France. 
 Suddenly, ominous clamors aroused the gloomiest 
 presentiments. The Queen, as she passed, heard 
 some women of the people, those who later, doubt- 
 less, used to knit at the foot of the guillotine, crying 
 out, " Long live the Duke of Orleans ! " with such 
 evident ill-feeling that she turned pale and nearly 
 fainted. She was supported by some of her suite, 
 who feared for a moment that it would be necessary 
 to stop the procession. But the courageous sovereign, 
 for whom the future had so many trials in reserve, 
 soon recovered herself. The procession reached the 
 church of Saint Louis, where mass was said. Like 
 the Divine Master, whose sacrifice was commemo- 
 rated, the pious Louis XVI. was to have his Calvary. 
 On his return to the palace he was greeted by an 
 enthusiastic crowd. Hosannahs still sounded; but 
 soon the " Let him be crucified " was to be heard. 
 
XIX. 
 
 THE OPENING SESSION OF THE STATES-GENERAL. 
 
 MAY 5th opened the most famous assembly of 
 modern times, — one which put an end to the 
 old regime and began a new world. From early- 
 morning Versailles was in a turmoil ; everywhere it 
 was felt that a solemn event was about to begin. 
 
 Let us take a look at the assembly-room before the 
 arrival of the deputies. The place is that in which 
 the Notables used to sit, — the H6tel des Menus Plai- 
 sirs, near the palace, in the Avenue de Paris, at the 
 corner of the rue Saint Martin. The room is twenty 
 feet broad and fifty-seven long, and is surrounded 
 with fluted Ionic columns without pedestals. In the 
 ceiling there is an oval opening, and the light which 
 comes through this passes through a screen of white 
 silk. In the aisles benches have been arranged for 
 the spectators, and at a certain height there are bays 
 with balustrades. At the end of the hall rises a plat- 
 form for the King and the court ; it is semicircular, 
 and is elevated a few feet, and covered with a carpet 
 of violet velvet with gold fleurs de lis ; above it is a 
 grand canopy, with its rim fastened to the columns. 
 
 188 
 
OPENING OF THE STATES-GENERAL. 189 
 
 The throne stands under a magnificent baldaquin 
 decorated with long golden fringes. To the left are 
 a large armchair for the Queen, and stools for the 
 princesses; to the right were camp-stools for the 
 princes ; at the foot of the throne, to the left, was an 
 armchair for the Keeper of the Seals ; to the right, 
 a camp-stool for the High Chamberlain ; at the foot of 
 the platform, a bench and a large table for the Secre- 
 taries of State ; on each side of this table are benches 
 reserved for the fifteen Councillors of State and the 
 twenty Masters of Requests invited to the meeting, 
 as well as for the Governors and Lieutenants-General 
 of the provinces. Running lengthwise in the hall 
 are other benches — those on the right, for the depu- 
 ties of the clergy ; those on the left, for the deputies 
 of the nobility ; at the end, opposite the throne, for 
 the deputies of the Third Estate. The floor is cov- 
 ered with handsome carpets from the Savonnerie 
 factory. 
 
 The meeting was to open at one o'clock in the after- 
 noon. At nine in the morning every gallery, every 
 bench, was occupied. Two thousand persons were in 
 their places. With the exception of the tribune set 
 apart for the diplomatic body, all the front benches 
 were reserved for ladies, who all wore their finest 
 dresses. 
 
 Between nine and ten the Marquis of Dreux-Brdz^ 
 and two masters of ceremonies began to arrange the 
 deputies in their places according to their bailiwicks. 
 This took two hours. Necker's appearance was 
 
190 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 greeted with a round of applause. Two other rounds 
 broke forth when the Duke of Orleans was seen 
 entering with the deputies of Cr^py-en-Valois, and 
 insisting that the cure of the deputation should enter 
 before him. The nobles wore a black cloak with 
 gold stuff, and a cocked hat d la Henri IV. Their 
 splendor presented a marked contrast with the modest 
 and colorless dress which etiquette demanded to be 
 worn by the deputies of the Third Estate, who ap- 
 peared, with a sort of defiant humility, in black coats, 
 short cloaks, and hats without bands or buttons. The 
 cardinals wore their red caps ; the archbishops and 
 bishops, in the front row of the benches destined for 
 the clergy, appeared in rochets, camails, square caps, 
 and violet cassocks. The deputies numbered in all 
 1183 : of these 291 were clergy ; 270, nobles ; and 622, 
 of the Third Estate. The King-at-Arms and the four 
 heralds, dressed in armor, were stationed at the en- 
 trance of the hall. Sentinels, under arms, stood in 
 each tribune, and in every place between the columns. 
 When all had found their place, the King and 
 Queen were notified, and they at once made their en- 
 trance, accompanied by their suite. The moment the 
 King appeared, the whole assembly arose and broke 
 into enthusiastic applause ; cries of " Long live the 
 King!" burst forth on all sides. This tumultuous 
 uproar was followed by a long and respectful silence 
 so long as Louis XVI. remained standing while the 
 court took their places. General admiration was felt 
 for the calmness of this good and generous monarch's 
 
OPENING OF THE STATES-GENERAL. 191 
 
 expression, for the confidence it wore, and for his 
 majestic and paternal air. The Queen seemed less 
 easy; but her somewhat pensive and anxious face 
 was lit up by a few smiles before the warm greeting 
 of the three orders. 
 
 Louis XVI. wore his royal robes, and a hat with 
 feathers and ribbons, adorned with diamonds. He 
 raised his hat for a moment, put it on again, and then 
 read with much dignity a speech which reflected all 
 the noble feelings that animated his heart. Every- 
 thing which could be hoped for from the tenderest 
 interest for the public happiness, everything which 
 could be demanded of a sovereign, the first friend of 
 his people, could be expected of their King by the 
 deputies of the three orders. This speech, which was 
 read with perfect ease and a lofty air, was frequently 
 interrupted by applause. At that moment Louis 
 XVI., in the consciousness of his honesty and of his 
 loyal and pure intentions, doubtless imagined that 
 France was capable of understanding him. 
 
 After the King, the Keeper of the Seals spoke, 
 recalling all the sacrifices His Majesty had made, and 
 was still ready to make, to establish the general hap- 
 piness on the basis of public liberty. Then it was 
 Necker's turn. The reading of his report took three 
 hours ; it was listened to with the deepest attention. 
 
 There is now to be seen at Versailles a fine picture, 
 painted by M. Auguste Conder, which represents 
 the session we have just described. The moment 
 selected by the artist is that in which Necker is 
 
192 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 standing before the ministerial bench, delivering his 
 speech. In front, to the left, are to be seen, among 
 the deputies of the clergy, Saint-Aulaire, Bishoj) 
 of Poictiers ; Lefranc de Pompignan, Archbishop of 
 Vienne; Boisgelin, Archbishop of Aix; and Talley- 
 rand, Bishop of Aiitun. To the right, in front of 
 the Third Estate, sits Boissenot, deputy from Bor- 
 deaux ; in the next row, Bailly ; in the third, the 
 Breton workingman Gerard, deputy from Rennes ; in 
 the fourth, Barnave and Robespierre ; in the fifth, 
 Chappelier; further still, Mirabeau, and near him, 
 the Abbd Siey^s ; and finally, on the last bench, to 
 the extreme right, Rabaud de Saint-Etienne, Kauff- 
 mann, and Duport. At the end is the place for the 
 deputies of the nobility, where are to be distinguished 
 the Duke of Rochechouart, the Marquis of La Fay- 
 ette, Casalds, the Duke of Richelieu, the Duke of 
 Liancourt. In front of the three orders is Louis 
 XVL, seated on his throne; on his left are Marie 
 Antoinette, Madame Elisabeth, Madame Adelaide, 
 Madame Victoire ; on his. right, the Count of Prov- 
 ence (Louis XVIIL), the Count of Artois (Charles 
 X.), the Duke of Berry, the Duke of Angouleme, the 
 Duke of Chartres (Louis Philippe). 
 
 When the ceremony was over, the King rose and 
 remained standing for a few minutes. Then His 
 Majesty departed amid the applause of the whole 
 assembly, and cries of " Long live the Queen ! " 
 mingled with cries of " Long live the King ! " 
 
 Optimists imagined that everything was saved; 
 
OPENING OF THE STATES-GENERAL. 193 
 
 wiser heads thought all was lost. Madame de Stael, 
 who was m the gallery with Madame de Montmorin, 
 the wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, expressed 
 her delight and her hopes for the country. "You 
 have no reason to feel happy," answered the Minister's 
 wife ; " from all this there will issue great disasters 
 to France and to ourselves." Madame de Montmorin 
 was right: her husband was slain at I'Abbaye in 
 1792 ; she herself and her son were guillotined. 
 
 At last the States-General, who opposed to the 
 King what they called the Nation, were invested with 
 terrible powers. The real nation was with the King, 
 whom it loved and honored, whose loyalty, kindness, 
 and virtue it esteemed and admired. But there were 
 a few ambitious spirits who, in the hope of imposing 
 upon public opinion, were determined to try to have 
 it believed that a handful of revolutionaries was the 
 French people. The unhappy monarch fell blindly 
 into the snare which his enemies had laid for him. 
 Marie Antoinette, charming, affable, and amiable, 
 flattered herself perhaps that she would be able, by 
 the charm of persuasion, to bring back to kindlier feel- 
 ings those who had strayed away ; but this, alas ! was 
 an error. Nothing can correct or improve men of 
 bad faith. The Queen soon perceived the singular 
 malevolence to the royal family and the court which 
 the deputies had brought from their provinces. 
 She heard, with amazement, their strange questions 
 about the King's alleged intemperance and the Asiatic 
 luxury of the Trianon. Since the simplicity of this 
 
194 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 country-seat, which was far less sumptuous than many 
 bankers' houses, did not correspond with the idea 
 which certain deputies had formed of it, they main- 
 tained, when visiting the Little Trianon, which was 
 the subject of a number of stupid fables, that the 
 most extravagantly furnished rooms were closed to 
 them. They insisted on being shown an imaginary 
 drawing-room, which they said was decorated with 
 diamonds, and with twisted columns covered with 
 rubies and sapphires. The Queen of France was 
 compelled to be civil to these uneducated and mali- 
 cious men. She did the honors of Versailles with 
 exquisite grace, and with untiring kindness, talked 
 with them about their families and their local inter- 
 ests. There were some deputies who puritanically 
 refused to go to court. They were soon to be Repub- 
 licans, if they were not already. They lodged at 
 Versailles, in the houses of revolutionary citizens, 
 who, from stupidity or jealousy, retailed the most 
 ridiculous stories, the vilest calumnies about the 
 Queen. Other deputies, to be sure, expressed to her 
 devotion and respect, but a secret instinct told her 
 that whatever she might do, she was a marked vic- 
 tim of fate. At times she would have a gleam of 
 hope, and her natural energy would inspire her with 
 confidence in her power to brave every peril and 
 avert every stroke of fate. Soon, however, she fell 
 back into her customary anxiety, and she felt crushed, 
 overwhelmed, by a hand of iron. She saw in the 
 future a bottomless pit, a gulf of fire and blood, to 
 
OPENING OF THE STATES-GENERAL. 195 
 
 which all concessions were swiftly bearing her. 
 Something told her that while to-day resistance was 
 possible, to-morrow it would be too late. But every- 
 thing stood in her way, — her husband's weakness, the 
 ministers' sophistries, the blindness and selfishness of 
 all who surrounded her, the revolutionary passions 
 which were breaking out in even the highest ranks 
 of French society. What could she hope for in that 
 situation? What can a woman, however generous 
 and brave she may be, do against a combined world ? 
 
XX. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. 
 
 EVER since the opening of the States-General, 
 Marie Antoinette had been anxious and restless. 
 Since she could scarcely sleep, she used to go to bed 
 very late and meditate on the ever-serious incidents 
 of the day. One evening, towards the end of May, 
 the unhappy Queen was sitting in her bedroom, talk- 
 ing with Madame Campan about the morning session. 
 There were four candles burning on the dressing- 
 table. One went out of itself ; Madame Campan lit 
 it again. Then the second, and soon the third also, 
 went out. Then Marie Antoinette, clasping in alarm 
 the hand of her faithful companion, exclaimed : " Mis- 
 fortune makes me superstitious. If the fourth candle 
 goes out like the other three, nothing can prevent 
 my regarding it as an evil omen ! " — the fourth can- 
 dle went out. 
 
 At that very moment a terrible blow was hanging 
 over the Queen's head : she was about to lose her old- 
 est son, the young Dauphin, whose birth, seven years 
 before, had filled all France with joy and congratu- 
 lations. For many months he had been ailing. While 
 
 196 
 
THE DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. 197 
 
 apparently in flourisliing health he was suddenly 
 attacked by the rickets which curved his spine, hol- 
 lowed his face, and made his legs so weak that he 
 had to be helped in walking, like an infirm old man. 
 His suffering and exhaustion were omens of another 
 death-struggle, — that of the monarchy. 
 
 Already in the previous year, Marie Antoinette 
 knew the catastrophe which threatened her as queen 
 and as a mother. When, at the formal reception of 
 the ambassadors of Tippoo Sahib in 1788, she ap- 
 peared on her grand throne, in the Hall of Hercules, 
 majestic, resplendent, covered with the richest of the 
 court jewels, and the representatives of the Asiatic 
 monarch, dazzled by the more than Oriental luxury, 
 ecstatically admired, more than the statues and pic- 
 tures, more than the silver and gold, than the em- 
 broideries and diamonds sparkling everywhere, the 
 beauty of the unrivalled Queen, — this proud woman 
 before whom every one was prostrating himself as 
 before an idol, hid beneath her diadem the crudest 
 anxieties. 
 
 From this reception of the Asiatic ambassadors, 
 one child was absent, — the Dauphin. The young 
 Prince had been very anxious to be present, but he 
 was already so reduced that his appearance would 
 have made a painful impression on the company, and 
 Marie Antoinette was unwilling to have him appear. 
 And so at the very moment when it was probably 
 thought, amid all this pomp and show, that the Queen 
 of France and Navarre was enjoying to the full the 
 
198 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 happiness of power and pride, her heart was torn by 
 keen anguish. She knew that the heir of this mighty 
 throne was condemned, and beneath her crown this 
 poor mother and hapless queen felt iron nails that 
 pierced her brow. Does it not seem as if every one 
 who entered the palace of Versailles was cursed by 
 fate ? The Indian ambassadors were put to death 
 by their master, and in a year this imposing French 
 court was broken up. These great lords and ladies 
 were forced to emigrate, or if they stayed they paid 
 the penalty with their lives. Grass was to grow on 
 the pavement of the palace, and the former sanctuary 
 of the absolute monarchy was to become a vast sepul- 
 chre. What sadder story can be found than that of 
 the Dauphin's fate, whose baptism was celebrated 
 January 21, and who died at the very moment when 
 there opened an assembly, fatal to the monarchy, and 
 whose sufferings were a sort of prelude to those of 
 his brother, the martyred child, who was to bear the 
 title of Louis XVII. ? 
 
 Since April 16, 1789, the young invalid had been 
 quartered at Meudon, but neither the wholesome air 
 of this place nor the tender care which encompassed 
 him could prolong his life. A few hours before his 
 death, he asked M. de Bousset, his valet de chambre, 
 for a pair of scissors ; he then cut off a lock of his 
 hair, and wrapped it up carefully in a piece of paper. 
 " See here. Monsieur," he said to his valet de chambre, 
 whom he dearly loved, " this is -the only present I can 
 make to you, for I own nothing else : but when I am 
 
THE DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. 199 
 
 dead, you will give that to papa and mamma; when 
 they remember me, I hope they will remember you." 
 The child died at the age of seven years and seven 
 months, in the night of June 4, 1789, one month to 
 a day after the opening of the States-General. He 
 
 [ drew his last breath in the arms of his mother, to 
 whom he was heard to say that he only suffered at 
 seeing her cry. This cruel loss broke the Queen's 
 heart, and her sufferings turned her hair white, 
 though she was but thirty-four years old. She had 
 her portrait painted about this time ; and when she 
 gave it to Madame de Lamballe, she wrote under- 
 neath, " Unhappiness has turned her hair white." 
 
 ^h June 5, the* body of the Dauphin was exposed in 
 the castle of Meudon, on a state-bed. The 8th, the 
 princes of the blood and deputations of the three 
 orders went to sprinkle holy water in the coffin. 
 The 13th, the heir to the French crown was buried in 
 the Abbey of Saint Denis very quietly, in the pres- 
 ence of but a few persons. 
 
 Poor boy ! He was lowered, as Bossuet says, to 
 that subterraneous dwelling, "to sleep in the dust 
 with the great of the earth, with the vanished kings 
 and princes among whom there is hardly room for 
 him, so close are the ranks, so quick is death to fill 
 the gaps." Alas ! the quiet of his grave was not to 
 be defended by the guard of kings, his ancestors, who 
 had preceded him to the grave. To desecrate a 
 child's tomb -and to scatter his ashes is an exploit 
 befitting the heroism of Jacobins. And what day do 
 
200 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 they choose for this odious task ? October 16, 1793, 
 the day when his unhappy mother, who had so 
 mourned her boy, was led to her execution. Yes, at 
 the very hour when Marie Antoinette bowed her 
 head on the scaffold, the exhumers of kings hastened 
 to Saint Denis to tear the great of the earth from 
 their tombs, to melt the lead of their coffins, and to 
 throw into a common ditch their despoiled bodies. 
 In this sacrilegious work they grew jealous of death, 
 and like vultures disputed their prey ; and that day 
 they profaned among other graves those of Henrietta 
 of England, of the Princess Palatine, of the Regent, 
 of Louis XV. Compare the two scenes, — the scaf- 
 fold of Marie Antoinette and this desecration of the 
 tombs at Saint Denis, — with the transport of joy 
 that, twelve years before, had hailed this child's birth 
 and greeted his mother's happiness ; then ask in what 
 romance, however gloomy and terrible, you can find 
 anything more moving and more terrible than the 
 contrast between such realities. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE ADVANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 THE end of governments is seldom a natural 
 one ; it is generally a suicide. They generally 
 perish because, while they possess the force of right, 
 they hesitate to use the right of force. A sort of 
 madness leads them to lay down their arms, to spike 
 their guns, to dismantle their fortresses, and to sur- 
 render, bound hand and foot, to their irreconcilable 
 enemies. Those sovereigns who sacrifice their indis- 
 pensable authority to necessary liberties are like the 
 lion in love : they let their talons be clipped and their 
 teeth be drawn. Then they blame others for faults 
 which in fact are but the result of their indecision 
 and weakness. They weaken themselves, forgetting 
 that the first duty of a government is self-defence ; 
 that an unpunished riot is a dishonor, a slap in the 
 face of the prince who endures it ; that the control 
 of order should outweigh all other considerations, 
 and that it is a cruel thing to let many thousand 
 innocent victims perish to spare a few criminals. 
 There are circumstances in which a ruler has no right 
 to withhold punishment : when pity is only weakness 
 
 201 
 
202 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 and humanity simply abdication. No monarch who 
 hesitates in face of a revolt deserves to rule. What 
 would one think of a soldier who should fear to use 
 his weapon on the battle-field? Politics is a battle. 
 
 An honest man, whose Memoirs, Guizot has said, 
 will be much read, though less than they deserve, — 
 Malouet, the last politician, according to Burke's 
 expression, to watch at the bedside of the expiring 
 monarchy, — says, with justice, that there is no ex- 
 cuse for the ministers of Louis XVI. " That King," 
 he says, " had a just mind, which would have made 
 him adopt the wise combinations proposed to him, if, 
 instead of showing him the difficulties and dangers 
 of firmness, they had convinced him of their neces- 
 sity." 
 
 And how could the ministers reduce him, at the 
 end of 1788, to a real suspension of his royal func- 
 tions through the indecision with which they let him 
 approach the question of the States-General ? It was 
 no longer the King who spoke, but the consulting 
 attorney of the crown, asking counsel of everybody, 
 with an air of saying to every man he met : " What 
 must I do ? What can I do ? What part of my au- 
 thority is it desired to retrench ? What will be left 
 to me?" 
 
 M. Charles Aubertin justly says in his excellent 
 book, L^ Esprit public au dix-huitiime siecle^ that it 
 took Louis XVL, with all his faults, three years to 
 bring about a dethronement which was mainly his 
 own work, and that he took all this time to descend 
 
THE ADVANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 203 
 
 from a throne from which now one falls in a few 
 hours. At the beginning of the Revolution all 
 Frenchmen, even Marat and Robespierre, were Royal- 
 ists, and, as Michelet has remarked with truth, the 
 one of the three orders most favorable to royalty was 
 the Third Estate. Mirabeau announced his intention 
 to attack the bureaucratic despotism in order to exalt 
 the royal authority. The situation was in no way 
 desperate. 
 
 It is the fashion nowadays, in a certain historical 
 school, to represent accomplished facts as the conse- 
 quence of an inevitable fatality, which prudence, wis- 
 dom, and genius would have been powerless to resist. 
 To us nothing seems more opposed, not merely to 
 the freedom of the will and to human dignity, but 
 also to the philosophy and majesty of history, than 
 this Mohammedan fatalism which deprives the affairs 
 of this world of their interest and moral value. In 
 our opinion M. Aubertin is right in saying, " How 
 frivolous to believe that events which have never 
 been resisted, that unrestrained and unscrupulous 
 passions, would have followed the same course if a 
 firm will had undertaken to direct and control them ! " 
 We agree with M. de Montlosier in thinking that, 
 with such aid as was afforded by the conduct of 
 Louis XVI., the upheaval might have taken place in 
 even the richest and most prosperous kingdom in the 
 world. The Count of Vaublanc completes the accu- 
 racy of this remark by an axiom which is thoroughly 
 confirmed by the history of the nineteenth century: 
 
204 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 " In France it is always the ruler and his ministers 
 who overthrow the government." 
 
 Malouet accurately judged the faults of the mar- 
 tyred King when he said : " Between the King and 
 his council there was an alternation of mistakes about 
 everything which might be regarded as a prudent 
 or a vigorous measure. Thus the King, who had a 
 passive courage, felt a certain shame about leaving 
 Versailles ; he was perfectly conscious of the danger, 
 but he hoped to avoid it by a display of strength. 
 When it was necessary to use it, he could not decide 
 to draw his sword on his subjects. I linger with 
 regret on this unhappy monarch's faults ; for, with 
 his kind heart, he deserved a different fate : there 
 was a certain captain of the grenadiers who would 
 have saved him if he would have let him." 
 
 Louis would have been puzzled if he had been 
 asked exactly what it was he wanted. He wavered 
 between the nobility and the Third Estate, between 
 the old regime and the new. All his actions and 
 all his words were full of humanity, kindness, and 
 justice. He was a philanthropist, an honest and a 
 virtuous man, but he was not a king. The prey of 
 the illusions of a period given up to vain dreams, he 
 could not believe in evil, and he judged others by 
 himself. 
 
 As for Marie Antoinette, who was justly alarmed 
 by her husband's indecision, her position was most 
 painful. It was not easy for her to urge vigorous 
 measures, and an appeal to force when her husband 
 
THE ADVANCE OF THE BEVOLUTION. 205 
 
 was all weakness. As a worthy daughter of Maria 
 Theresa, she naturally inclined to energetic decis- 
 ions. She would have liked to ride before her troops ; 
 but this was impossible when Louis XVI. opposed 
 every demonstration of force, and was absolutely 
 unwilling to abandon the paternal attitude which 
 suited the wishes of his heart and his instinctive 
 tendencies. 
 
 Meanwhile the peril was increasing from day to 
 day. June 17, 1789, the Third Estate, with some 
 members of the clergy, announced itself to be the 
 National Assembly. June 20, the deputies found 
 the hall in which they met closed by superior order, 
 and they went to the Tennis Court, and took the 
 famous oath. 
 
 June 23, Louis XVI. published an order establish- 
 ing the maintenance of the three orders, and com- 
 manding the deputies to separate. At the same time 
 he decreed motu propria the greatest reforms, — the 
 abolition of the pecuniary privileges of the nobility 
 and the clergy, commercial liberty, the establish- 
 ment of provincial states, and a number of innova- 
 tions, each more liberal than the others. In his 
 speech he uttered this sentence which is full of 
 noble optimism : " I can frankly say that never has 
 a king done so much for any nation ; but what other 
 has so well deserved it by its loyalty as the French 
 nation?" And he closed his harangue with these 
 words : " If you desert me in this noble undertaking, 
 I shall alone establish the welfare of my people. It 
 
206 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 is possibly a rare occurrence for the monarch's sole 
 ambition to be that his subjects shall agree to accept 
 his benefits." 
 
 Six months earlier this declaration would have met 
 the idea and the desire of the States-General ; but it 
 came too late, especially when the government had 
 not decided to put an end to the Assembly. This 
 indecision of those in power encouraged the Revolu- 
 tion, and Mirabeau was able to utter to the Grand 
 Master of Ceremonies the famous phrase, which would 
 have been impossible a few weeks before : " Go tell 
 your master that we are here by the power of the 
 people, and that we shall be driven away only by the 
 force of bayonets." 
 
 To save the crown and France Louis XVI. had 
 four things to do, — to acknowledge of his own will, 
 by virtue of his sovereign power, what are called the 
 principles of 1789 ; to dissolve the States-General ; to 
 exile the Duke of Orleans ; to have the rioters shot. 
 If he had done these things, Louis XVI. would have 
 been a great man ; but he preferred to be a victim. 
 There is no need of speaking about fatality; the 
 only fatality was the King's weakness. He was 
 the author of his own fall. 
 
 June 23, the unhappy monarch must have seen the 
 gulf toward which all his concessions were driving 
 him. Necker, who was always desirous of popularity, 
 had refused to accompany Louis XVI. to the royal 
 meeting, which, in the eyes of Marie Antoinette, was 
 an act of treachery or of cowardice. Well, at the 
 
THE ADVANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 207 
 
 very moment when the nobles imagined that every- 
 thing was righted by the sort of bed of justice which 
 the King had just held, and when the Queen, holding 
 her son in her arms and displaying him to her faith- 
 ful servants, indulged in a blind confidence, outcries 
 were heard in the palace courtyard. It was the 
 crowd calling Necker, and noisily congratulating him 
 on not having taken part in the royal meeting ; then 
 they carried him home in triumph, and made him 
 appear at his window amid frantic applause. The 
 Queen herself entreated Necker not to resign his 
 portfolio. The true King of France was no longer 
 Louis XVI. : it was the Genevese banker. 
 
 In Paris, disorder grew steadily. The populace, 
 allured by bribery, prepared for the approaching in- 
 surrection. At the Palais Royal, which had become 
 a hotbed of anarchy, the most incendiary motions fol- 
 lowed one another without interruption. 
 
 June 30, rioters broke open the prison of the 
 Abbaye, and set free several of the French guard who 
 were confined for insubordination. At last Louis 
 XVI. seemed to awake from his torpor. In accord- 
 ance with the advice of the Queen, and of the ma- 
 jority of the ministers, six thousand men were can- 
 toned in the Champ de Mars. Twelve thousand 
 men were encamped at Versailles and in the suburbs 
 of Paris. The Marshal of Broglie was put in com- 
 mand of the troops. He established his headquarters 
 in the palace of Versailles, and turned the garden 
 into a camp. His ante-chamber was crowded with 
 
208 . MARIE ANTOINETTE, 
 
 orderlies and officers ready for service. He had put 
 a regiment in the Orange House. The royal party 
 was divided into a group of optimists and a group of 
 alarmists ; while these last thought everything lost, 
 the others spoke with scorn of the masses of the 
 populace, saying that "one need only pull down 
 his hat over his eyes to disperse them, and that 
 when the time had come, one did not know how to 
 pull down his hat." Louis XVI. did not know to 
 which side to listen. His brothers counselled vig- 
 orous action ; Necker dissuaded him from it. Every 
 regiment that arrived gave the Genevese minister 
 more annoyance. As the Baron of Besenval reports, 
 " Every argument which was brought up to him fell 
 to the ground before the possible anger of the National 
 Assembly." 
 
 There was a lack of harmony between the Marshal 
 of Broglie, in command at Versailles, and his subor- 
 dinate, the Baron of Besenval, in command of Paris. 
 A fatal blunder had been made in leaving in gar- 
 rison in the capital the regiment of French guards 
 who had been corrupted by the revolutionary prop- 
 aganda. Confusion was wide-spread. The troops, 
 perceiving that they were insufficiently led, and the 
 police, perceiving *that they were not properly sup- 
 ported, became demoralized. It was not a camp of 
 six thousand men that should have been established 
 in Paris, but one of sixty thousand. No preparations 
 were made to defend the Bastille, and there was not 
 a single regiment to protect the arsenal of the H6tel 
 
THE ADVANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 209 
 
 des Invalides. The ministers of Louis XVI., as 
 weak in strategy as in politics, were incompetent to 
 take the most rudimentary precautionary measures. 
 
 July 11, the King perceived, a little late, the errors 
 into which Necker had led him. He urged that 
 minister to leave without telling any one of his 
 departure. Necker obeyed, and at once betook him- 
 self to Switzerland, not even informing his daugh- 
 ter. The Marshal of Broglie entered the new minis- 
 try. But the military measures were so incomplete 
 and clumsy, the number of the troops was so small, 
 the dread of shedding the blood of the rioters had so 
 paralyzed the government, such scandalous impunity 
 had been accorded to the revolutionary doings of the 
 Palais Royal, every arm of power had been so weak- 
 ened, that the catastrophe broke forth. 
 
 Malouet says very truly : " The Reign of Terror, 
 which was not proclaimed by the pui-e Republicans 
 till 1793, will be acknowledged by every impartial 
 man to have begun in 1789. The first club of the 
 Palais Royal (the club of Valois, of which Siey^s, then 
 a partisan of the Duke of Orleans, was one of the 
 founders), and then the Breton Club, which became 
 the Jacobin Club, were the inventors of this infernal 
 machine, which might easily have been destroyed 
 before it exploded." But what could be expected 
 of a government that let the troops be attacked with 
 insulting language, stones, and pistol-shots, " while 
 the soldiers made no threatening gestures in reply, 
 so great was their respect for the order not to shed a 
 
210 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 single drop of citizens' blood " ? The capture of the 
 Bastille, so vaunted by the Revolution, was no diffi- 
 cult feat. That famous fortress was garrisoned by 
 only a hundred soldiers, almost all disabled, and there 
 was not a single regiment to defend its approaches. 
 
 The insurrection had begun July 12. The troops 
 who had assembled that day in the Place Louis XV. 
 were thoroughly discouraged when they saw that 
 their commanders would not let them use their weap- 
 ons. Neither the police nor the army could save a 
 government against its will. The 13th, the gun-sel- 
 lers' shops were pillaged, and the Paris militia was 
 organized, which was to -become the National Guard. 
 The morning of the 14th, the rioters had taken all 
 the arms from the H6tel des Invalides, which was 
 entirely without means of defence. " The disorder 
 grew from hour to hour," says the Baron of Besenval, 
 " and my embarrassment also increased. What plan 
 was to be followed ? If I should let my troops get 
 engaged in Paris, I should start civil war. . . . Ver- 
 sailles neglected me in this cruel situation. ... I de- 
 cided that the wisest course was to withdraw the 
 troops and leave Paris to itself." The 14th, there 
 were three Swiss regiments still encamped in the 
 Champ de Mars, with eight hundred mounted men, 
 hussars, and dragoons. The prevailing opinion of the 
 general officers who were assembled at the Military 
 School was that nothing of importance could be accom- 
 plished by so small a force. While at the other end 
 of Paris the rioters were taking possession of the 
 
THE ADVANCE OF THE REVOLUTION. 211 
 
 Bastille, the troops did not stir. That evening they 
 withdrew to Sevres, in accordance with the orders of 
 the Marshal of Broglie. 
 
 What was going on at Versailles while the army 
 was thus retreating before the Revolution ? The 
 previous evening the Assembly had begun a session 
 which was to last sixty consecutive hours amid con- 
 fusion and alarm. It was rumored that the King was 
 preparing to flee ; that the Queen, the Duchess of 
 Polignac, and the princes had been seen in the 
 Orange House, distributing food to the officers and 
 men; that in the night of the 14th, Paris was to 
 be attacked at seven points, the Palais Royal sur- 
 rounded, and the National Assembly dissolved. 
 News came of the attack upon the Bastille, and 
 every one listened to hear the distant roar of the 
 cannon. The Assembly, in terror, sent to the King- 
 one deputation after another. To the first Louis 
 XVI. made reply that he had just ordered the with- 
 drawal of the troops from the Champ de Mars, and 
 that having been informed of the formation of the 
 Civic Guard, he had appointed officers to command it. 
 To the second he said : " Gentlemen, you wring my 
 heart more and more by what you tell me concerning 
 the unhappy events in Paris. It is impossible that 
 the orders given to my troops should be the cause." 
 The Bastille had been captured, July 14, at half-past 
 five in the evening, and Louis XVI. had gone to bed 
 before any one had consented to break the fatal news 
 to him. It was his faithful officer, the Duke of Lian- 
 
212 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 court, Grand-Master of the Wardrobe, who, in spite of 
 the ministers, woke him up and told him what had 
 happened. " What a revolt ! " exclaimed the King. 
 " Sire," replied the Duke, '' say rather, what a 
 revolution ! " 
 
XXII. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS OF POLIGNAC. 
 
 THE Bastille had just been taken. The insur- 
 gents who had conquered without a struggle, 
 imagined that the next day they would be confronted 
 by an imposing force, and did not dare to shoAV them- 
 selves. Versailles intimidated Paris, and Paris intim- 
 idated Versailles. There were still many regiments 
 on whose fidelity Louis XVI. could absolutely count. 
 Nothing would have been easier for him than to 
 withdraw to a fortified city at some distance from 
 the capital, and there to speak like a king. But it 
 was in vain that Marie Antoinette counselled ener- 
 getic measures ; he preferred dismissing the troops 
 and playing a sentimental part before the Assembly. 
 He appeared there on the morning of the 15th, with 
 no escort or guards, accompanied only by his two 
 brothers. 
 
 Standing bareheaded, with no sign of pomp, with- 
 out even using the armchair placed on the platform, 
 the heir of Louis XV. seemed to be begging forgive- 
 ness of the subjects who had defied his authority. 
 " You were afraid," he said ; " well, it is I who have 
 
 213 
 
214 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 confidence in you." His speech was simple and 
 touching. The deputies applauded the amiable mon- 
 arch, and accompanied him on foot to the palace. 
 The courtyards were filled with a vast throng. They 
 asked the King, Queen, and their children to appear 
 on the balcony. Marie Antoinette asked Madame 
 Campan to fetch the Dauphin. The Duchess of 
 Polignac, the governess of the royal children, under- 
 stood that she was not to accompany the young 
 Prince, and she exclaimed, " Oh, Madame Campan, 
 what a blow I have received ! " Then she kissed the 
 Dauphin and withdrew to her own room, in tears. 
 
 After taking the child to the Queen, Madame 
 Campan went down into the courtyard. Threatening 
 words were spoken there with sullen wrath. "I 
 know you very well," muttered one veiled woman. 
 " Tell our Queen not to meddle with the government. 
 Let her leave her husband and the good States-Gen- 
 eral to make the happiness of the people." " Yes, 
 yes!" exclaimed a man dressed like a produce por- 
 ter, " tell her that these States are not like the others, 
 which were of no use ; that the country is too intelli- 
 gent not to get some good from them ; and that there 
 will not be a single deputy of the Third Estate to 
 speak with one knee on the ground. Tell her that 
 — do you understand ? " 
 
 At that moment the Queen appeared on the bal- 
 cony above the marble courtyard. " Ah ! " said the 
 veiled woman, " the Duchess of Polignac isn't with 
 her." " No," added the man, " but she's still at Ver- 
 
THE BEPABTUBE OF THE DUCHESS. 215 
 
 sailles. She's like a mole, and works under ground ; 
 but we shall know how to get a spade to dig her 
 out." 
 
 In the afternoon, as Madame Campan was passing 
 along the terrace on her way to Madame Victoire, 
 she saw three men arrested under the windows of the 
 throne-room. One of them shouted loudly, " That's 
 where the throne is, and soon people will be hunting 
 for pieces of it." Then all broke out into abuse of 
 the King and Queen. One of these was Saint- 
 Huruge, one of the men of the Duke of Orleans. 
 
 Meanwhile, deputations of fishwomen kept coming 
 to ask Louis XVI. to return to Paris, and the agi- 
 tation continued in the rebellious city. What was 
 he to do? Obey the demands of the populace and 
 plunge into that seething abyss, or withdraw from 
 Versailles with the faithful troops whom he had just 
 ordered to retreat ? Marie Antoinette, whose instinct 
 did not deceive her, urged the second course. She 
 had already burned a number of her papers and put 
 her most valuable jewels in a strong box which she 
 meant to take with her. But in the morning of the 
 16th, it was decided that the troops should depart 
 without the King, and that the unhappy monarch, 
 trusting to the loyalty of his good city of Paris, 
 would go alone, the next day, to his rebellious sub- 
 jects. 
 
 From the moment that Louis XVI. adopted this 
 resolution, it became impossible for the Count of 
 Artois, the Princes of Cond^, and the Polignac fam- 
 
216 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ily to stay longer in France. The King ordered 
 them to leave. In vain the Count of Artois, who 
 was courage personified, offered to enter the insur- 
 gent city alone, or at any rate to accompany him 
 on his visit appointed for the morrow ; Louis XVI. 
 declined the generous offer, and bade the Prince to 
 leave the kingdom at once, together with his two 
 sons, the Dukes of Angouleme and of Berry. The 
 same order was given to the Prince of Condd, to his 
 son, the Duke of Bourbon, to his grandson, the Duke 
 of Enghien, and to the Prince of Conti. The three 
 sons of France and the four princes of the blood 
 obeyed, with despair in their heart, and in the even- 
 ing of July 16 took leave of the King, whom they 
 were never to see again. 
 
 At almost the same moment, at eight o'clock in 
 the evening, the Queen sent for the Duke and Duch- 
 ess of Polignac. With a voice broken with emotion, 
 Marie Antoinette stammered out : " The King is 
 going to Paris to-morrow; if he is asked — I fear the 
 worst. In the name of our friendship, leave. . . . 
 There is yet time to save you from the fury of my 
 enemies ; by attacking you they mean to attack me. 
 Do not be victims of your devotion and of my friend- 
 ship." 
 
 It was necessary to leave at once, without delay — ^ 
 in a few hours, at midnight. This departure seemed 
 to them desertion, and dishonorable. Their devotion 
 and courage could not consent to such a sacrifice. 
 At this moment the King entered : '' Come," the 
 
THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS. 217 
 
 Queen said to him, ''help me persuade these honest 
 people, these faithful officials, that they must leave 
 us." Louis XVI. approached sorrowfully the Duke 
 and Duchess. "My cruel fate," he said to them, 
 "compels me to send away all whom I esteem and 
 love. I have just bidden the Count of Artois to leave ; 
 I give you the same order. Pity me, but do not lose 
 a moment ; take your family with you ; count upon 
 me at any time. I shall keep your offices for you." 
 And as he spoke the King burst into tears. Marie 
 Antoinette kissed the Duchess, and the two friends 
 parted forever. 
 
 In less than three hours the preparations for depart- 
 ure were finished. This Duchess, who was thought 
 very rich, and whom the libellous writers of the time 
 represented as one of the principal causes of the 
 deficit, went away poor from Versailles, where she 
 had been so calumniated, and at the last moment the 
 Queen was obliged to give her a purse of ^Ye hun- 
 dred louis to pay her travelling expenses. M. Cam- 
 pan put her in her carriage at midnight. She was 
 dressed like a chambermaid, and took her seat in 
 front. With her were her husband, her daughter, 
 the Duchess of Guise, her sister-in-law, the Countess 
 Diane, and the Abb^ de Balivi^re. Just as she was 
 starting she received this note from Marie Antoi- 
 nette : " Good by, dearest of friends ! What a pain- 
 ful word it is, but it is necessary ! Good by ! I have 
 only strength enough to kiss you." 
 
 Sad fate and destiny ! This beautiful and charm- 
 
218 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ing Duchess, whose success had aroused much jeal- 
 ousy, friend of the Queen, governess of the royal 
 children, was now treated like a condemned criminal. 
 A moment before she had been told that the hour of 
 exile had come, and that she could not see the sun 
 rise at Versailles. She could not be allowed to give 
 one last glance at the beautiful park, at its familiar 
 shades ; but she must depart at once, at midnight, in 
 disguise : it is all like a hideous nightmare. And 
 then imagine the distress and anxiety that pursued 
 the fugitives in their journey ! Was the Queen they 
 had left to be saved or lost ? and the King, who was 
 to start for Paris in the morning, would he be alive 
 in the evening? That throne, with no army to de- 
 fend it, would it be overthrown ? When would end 
 this exile, begun so gloomily ? 
 
 On their way they heard threats and imprecations. 
 If the fanatics who were declaiming against the 
 authorities had known that the passing carriage con- 
 tained the detested Polignacs, they might fear the 
 Worst. When they got to Sens they found that the 
 populace had risen. An inquisitive crowd came up 
 and asked them : " Do you come from Paris ? Are 
 the Polignacs still with the Queen ? " The Abb^ de 
 Balivi^re remained perfectly calm, and answered 
 quietly: "The Polignacs? They are now a good 
 Way from Versailles. Those evil persons have been 
 got rid of." 
 
 At the next stopping-place a postilion got up on 
 the step, and said to the Duchess: "Madame, there 
 
THE DEPAETURE OF THE DUCHESS. 219 
 
 are some faithful people in the world ; I recognized 
 you all at Sens." And the Duchess slipped some 
 louis into his hand. 
 
 While the Polignacs were hurrying towards Switz- 
 erland, Louis XVI., with a courage that equalled his 
 honesty, was facing the populace of Paris alone, carry- 
 ing words of peace and union. It was with the live- 
 liest apprehensions that Marie Antoinette saw him 
 depart. She feared that he might be detained as a 
 hostage, or, possibly, be put to death. Nevertheless, 
 he set forth in the morning of July 17. Twelve men 
 of the body-guard and of the civic guard of Versailles 
 accompanied him as far as the Point du Jour, near 
 Sevres, when they left him, and their place was taken 
 by the new National Guard of Paris. In their ranks 
 were some of the French guards, who had taken part 
 in the insurrection at the capture of the Bastille on 
 the 14th. For artillery they had the cannons taken 
 from the Bastille and the Invalides, and these tro- 
 phies of rebellion seemed to threaten the King's car- 
 riage. One musket went off, and mortally wounded 
 a woman. People asked one another with alarm 
 what would become of Louis XVI. 
 
 It was after four in the afternoon that the King, who 
 had left Versailles at ten in the morning, reached the 
 H6tel de Ville in Paris. Encompassed by a throng 
 full of sullen hostility, the amiable monarch, to 
 whom Bailly had just said, "Henri IV. had con- 
 quered his people, to-day it is the people who have 
 reconquered their King," mounted the steps of the 
 
220 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 staircase, beneath an archway of crossed swords, which 
 were as much a menace as an honor. The attitude 
 of the crowd continued cold. Not a cry of " Long 
 live the King ! " had been uttered. Louis XVI. 
 appeared on the balcony; Bailly gave him the tri- 
 colored cockade, and he fastened it on his hat. Then 
 the crowd applauded; the usual cheers rent the air. 
 The good father, who fancied that he had recovered 
 the love of his children, wept for joy. " Cubi^res," 
 he said to one of his equerries, " the French loved 
 Henri IV., and what King ever better deserved their 
 love ? " Ah ! it was not of Henri IV. that Louis 
 XVI. should have been thinking, but of Charles I. 
 
 Meanwhile Marie Antoinette, in a fever of anxiety, 
 was counting the minutes. At one moment she was 
 pacing up and down her room, at the next she was 
 on her knees, praying God to be merciful. Every hour 
 messengers brought her the news from Paris. She 
 had already heard how coldly Louis XVI. had been 
 greeted at his entrance. Convinced that her husband 
 would be held as a hostage, she exclaimed, " They 
 will not let him come back ! " She blamed herself 
 for not going with him. If he became a captive, she 
 determined to share his fate, and to surrender her- 
 self, with her children, to the National Assembly, 
 making them a speech which she already knew by 
 heart. It began thus : " Gentlemen, I come to place 
 in your hands the wife and the family of your King ; 
 do not suffer earth to separate those whom Heaven 
 has joined." She sent for several of her courtiers, 
 
THE BEPARTUBE OF THE DUCHESS. 221 
 
 but their doors were found locked ; they had fled in 
 terror. A death-like silence prevailed in the palace. 
 The little Dauphin stood with his face pressed against 
 the window-pane, looking anxiously up the Avenue de 
 Paris, eagerly awaiting his father's return. " Why," 
 he asked, "why should they hurt papa? he is so 
 good." 
 
 At last, at about ten o'clock, carriage wheels were 
 heard. It was the King, coming back safe and sound, 
 pleased with the day and contented with his people. 
 Marie Antoinette uttered a cry of joy, and ran to 
 meet her husband. On the steps of the marble stair- 
 case they fell into each other's arms. Versailles was 
 full of rejoicing; the crowd, carrying branches of 
 trees, in token of its delight, made its way into the 
 palace courtyard. The King appeared twice, with 
 his family, on the balcony, in answer to the cheers 
 and applause. He kept repeating, as he recounted 
 the events of the day: "Happily, not a drop of 
 blood was shed. I swear that not a drop of French 
 blood shall ever be shed by my orders." 
 
 In short, the courage, the generosity, the kindness 
 of the King had . been admirable ; but something 
 more was needed to direct the masses. If they were 
 not held in awe by force, their hearts softened but for 
 a moment, to resume speedily their violent passions. 
 Louis XVI. deceived himself when he thought that 
 he had tamed the savage monster by his gentle looks ; 
 the next day it was to roar again. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE QUEEN AND THE MARQUIS OF LA FAYETTE. 
 
 THE moment was approaching when Marie An- 
 toinette was to find herself in conflict with two 
 men who had been her courtiers, whom she had made 
 her debtors by her kindness, and whom the vicissitudes 
 of politics were going to make her enemies. One 
 was the Marquis of La Fayette ; the other, the Duke 
 of Orleans. No one, a few years earlier, when the 
 monarchy was at the height of its glory, would have 
 imagined that a marquis and a prince of the blood 
 would suddenly become the idols of the revolution- 
 ists, and would hold in check the heir to the "throne 
 of Louis XIV. Periods of disturbances, are, how- 
 ever, fertile in just such surprises, and the leading 
 actors must themselves often be surprised at the part 
 which fortune leads them to play in the drama of 
 history, which is full of unexpected turns and changes. 
 Early in the reign of Louis XVI. we saw the young 
 Marquis of La Fayette in the charming court of 
 Marie Antoinette. He was one of the young men 
 who tried to revive the dress of Henri IV., and who, 
 in the quadrilles at the Queen's balls, wore silk doub- 
 
 222 
 
THE QUEEN AND LA FAYETTE. 223 
 
 lets and caps with white feathers. He was born 
 in 1757, and his father and mother having soon 
 died, he came into possession of a vast fortune. In 
 1774, when sixteen years old, he married a girl of 
 fourteen and a half, Adrienne de Noailles, daughter 
 of the Duke of Ayen, who was himself the son of the 
 Marshal of Noailles, and of Anne Louise Henriette 
 d'Aguesseau. The Marquis of La Fayette lived 
 with his wife and her parents in the rue Saint 
 Honore, in the splendid Noailles mansion, which 
 stood where now runs the rue d' Alger. At that 
 time he had a cold and serious air, which seemed to 
 indicate shyness and timidity, and presented a marked 
 contrast to the sprightliness, frivolity, and witty 
 talkativeness of his friends. Beneath this cloak of 
 apparent coldness was hidden an ardent nature, the 
 mainspring of which was an unbounded love of fame. 
 He had been devoted to women before he became 
 ambitibus of glory. The Count of S^gur could not 
 keep from smiling when the Marshal of Noailles said 
 to him, " Do use your influence with La Fayette to 
 warm his coldness, to arouse him from his indolence, 
 to give him some of the fire of your character." 
 " Better than any one," explains the Count, " was I 
 able to understand him, for in the previous winter 
 (1776) he had been in love with a very beautiful 
 and charming woman, and had taken it into his head 
 that I was his rival ; hence, although we were friends, 
 in an access of jealousy, he had spent nearly a whole 
 night with me, trying to persuade me to contend. 
 
224 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 sword in hand, for the heart of a beauty in whom I 
 took not the slightest interest." 
 
 -Great was the surprise in Paris and at Versailles 
 when it was learned that this nineteen-year-old sage, 
 who seemed so cold and indifferent, had, against the 
 King's orders, chartered a ship at his own expense, 
 and crossed the ocean to fight for American liberty. 
 Without a regret he left the delightful court life, his 
 magnificent home, the meeting-place of elegance and 
 intelligence, to plunge into the wildest adventures. 
 His wife, who was devoted to him, showed Christian 
 stoicism, and did not try to detain him. In 1807, 
 shortly before her death, her husband recalled this 
 distant memory. " Do you remember the first time I 
 went to America ? At M. de S^gur's wedding you 
 concealed your tears. You didn't wish to seem dis- 
 tressed, lest it should make people think ill of me." 
 "True," she said, "it was very thoughtful for a 
 young girl. But how kind it is of you to remember 
 it all this while ! " ^ 
 
 Although La Fayette had committed an act of dis- 
 obedience by going to fight under the American flag, 
 Marie Antoinette never forbore to treat him with 
 great kindness. She often received him when he 
 returned to France in February, 1779, and with her 
 own hand copied these lines from the tragedy of 
 " Gaston and Bayard," in which the Marquis's friends 
 thought they saw a resemblance to him : — 
 
 1 Life of Madame de La Fayette, by Madame de Lasteyrie, her 
 daughter. 
 
THE QUEEN AND LA FAYETTE. 225 
 
 " Profound in his plans, which he forms with coldness, 
 It is for their accomplishment that he preserves his ardor. 
 He knows how to defend a camp and to storm walls ; 
 
 He loves battle like a young soldier ; 
 Like an old general he knows how to avoid it. 
 I like to follow him, and even to imitate him. 
 I admire his prudence and love his courage ; 
 With these two virtues a warrior is never old." 
 
 La Fayette was the fashion. The famous battle of 
 Beaug^, in which an ancestor of his had defeated 
 and killed the brother of Henry V. of England, and 
 saved the crown of Charles YII. of France, was not 
 made more of than was the battle of the Brandywine, 
 in which the descendant of the illustrious w^arrior 
 was wounded in heading a charge of the American 
 troops. When he returned to America for the second 
 time, the government could not praise him too much 
 or find benefits enough wherewith to reward tho 
 young champion of the new republic. 
 
 January 21, 1782, a great festival was taking place 
 at the H6tel de Ville in Paris, in honor of the birth 
 of the Dauphin, when suddenly word came that La 
 Fayette had just reached the capital. Madame de La 
 Fayette, who was at the H6tel de Ville, then received 
 an unusual mark of the Queen's favor and bounty ; 
 for Marie Antoinette herself carried her in the royal 
 carriage, to the H6tel de Versailles that she might 
 as soon as possible welcome her husband. Every one 
 became enthusiastic over the conqueror of Cornwal- 
 lis ; the infatuation was universal. At his sugges- 
 
 ^9^^ Of THi *^ 
 
226 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 i ~~~~~~ 
 
 tion the Queen had her full-length portrait painted, 
 and she sent it to Washington. The King promoted 
 him over all his fellow-officers, to raise him to the 
 rank he had held in America. His bust was placed 
 in the H6tel de Ville in Paris. His wife happened 
 to be at an audience of the upper house of Parlia- 
 ment the same day as the Grand Duke Paul, and the 
 Attorney-General of the Court of Peers complimented 
 her, as well as the son of the Empress Catherine. 
 
 This reforming Marquis, who on his return to his 
 native land, could show the scars of the wounds he 
 had received in fighting for freedom, a republican 
 decoration (that of the Cincinnati), to whom the 
 United States had given the rights of citizenship, and 
 Washington had treated like a son, came back more 
 American than French, full of zeal for an exotic lib- 
 erty which, when transplanted in France, was to bear 
 fruits very unlike those he expected. In Paris he 
 had a board set up in a handsome frame ; there were 
 two columns: on one was inscribed the American 
 Declaration of Independence ; the other was left 
 blank as if to await a similar Declaration on the part 
 of the French. Intoxicated with popularity, he de- 
 lighted in what he called " the delicious sensation of 
 the smile of the multitude." He said himself that 
 his reputation was a portion of his happiness without 
 which he could not live ; his perfect confidence in his 
 own ideas, his unfailing hopefulness, his canine love 
 of fame, as Jefferson called it, his resolution to dis- 
 regard all the lessons of experience, his firm faith in 
 
THE QUEEN AND LA FAYETTE. 227 
 
 a golden age, even in one of iron, composed a charac- 
 ter which was a curious mixture of heroism and sim- 
 plicity. The Duke of Choisenl has named him Gilles 
 Caesar ; Mirabeau used to call him Gilles the Great. 
 
 " To judge him," M. Thureau Dangin has said, " it 
 is only necessary to remember that he was always the 
 man of the National Guard. He was in some way the 
 incarnation of this grand illusion of civic liberalism. 
 Having been called to the head of the National Guard, 
 in 1789, after the fourteenth of July, he was given 
 the same place in 1830. He called it his eldest 
 daughter, and under the Restoration used to sign his 
 manifests, " A National Guard of 1789." 
 
 With all his obstinacy and fixity of purpose, he 
 had a momentary hesitation before entering the path 
 he so boldly followed. This was on the 22d of 
 July, 1789. He had just been appointed commander- 
 in-chief of the new militia, the National Guard, which 
 flaunted the tricolor cockade, and had enlisted in the 
 French Guards, who were devoted to the Revolution, 
 a certain number of Swiss, and many soldiers who 
 had deserted their regiments in the hope of better 
 pay. With this revolutionary militia he expected to 
 be able to maintain order — an illusion which he soon 
 lost. July 22d he saw an old man, one Foulon, 
 seventy-six years of age, murdered before his eyes, 
 in spite of every effort on his part to save the poor 
 victim, who had been dragged to the H6tel de Ville 
 with nettles around his neck, a bunch of thistles in 
 his hand, a truss of hay behind his back, and was 
 
228 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 then hanged on a lamp-post by veritable cannibals. 
 The Reign of Terror was beginning. On that day 
 the Marquis of La Fayette was indignant ; he handed 
 in his resignation, but, allured by the flattery of the 
 populace, he hastened to withdraw it. Mirabeau said 
 at the time, " Nations require victims," and Barnave, 
 " Was the blood that was shed so pure ? " 
 
 After this brief flash of clear-sightedness. La Fay- 
 ette fell back into his customary illusions. Although 
 Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette had honored him 
 with such great kindness, and his birth should have 
 attached him to the monarchy, he who in less troubled 
 times would have been one of the noblest and most 
 faithful of the King's servants, was about to be led 
 by a fatal chain of events to weaken the throne 
 which it was his first duty te defend. The spirit of 
 opposition was most prominent in this great demo- 
 cratic nobleman, a revolutionist and a conservative by 
 turns, who one day fomented a riot, and the next 
 day repressed it ; who seemed to Louis XVI. and the 
 Queen now like an enemy, and in a moment like a 
 friend. 
 
 Moreover, in 1789, he was no longer able to con- 
 trol events. In the morning of October 5, the 
 Parisian rabble, which had gathered in front of the 
 H6tel de Ville, was shouting, " To Versailles ! to 
 Versailles I " La Fayette opposed this proposition. 
 He rode up and down in front of a battalion of the 
 National Guard which was drawn up on the quai de 
 Grive, trying to gain time, in the hope that the crowd 
 
THE QUEEN AND LA FAYETTE. 229 
 
 would abandon its plan. A young man who belonged 
 to the battalion stepped out of the ranks, seized the 
 bridle of his horse, and said, " General, hitherto you 
 have commanded us ; now we are going to lead you." 
 La Fayette looked at this young man, and in com- 
 pliance uttered but one word, "March! " 
 
XXIV. 
 
 MAEIE ANTOINETTE AND THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 
 
 ri'^HE Duke of Orleans, who was to be one of the 
 _1_ most dangerous of the enemies of Marie Antoi- 
 nette, was for a long time on good terms with her. 
 The correspondence of the Count of Mercy-Argenteau 
 shows no sign of any serious dissension between the 
 Queen and the Prince. During the visit to the court 
 of the Archduke Maximilian, in 1785, there were 
 some few trifling matters of etiquette about which 
 the Prince complained ; but that w^as all. The Prince, 
 who was then styled the Duke of Chartres, becoming 
 Duke of Orleans only in 1785, at the death of his 
 father, was born at Saint Cloud, in 1747. At the 
 beginning of the reign of Louis XVI. he was a 
 young man of twenty-seven, devoted to pleasure and 
 utterly indifferent to politics. The Queen treated 
 him very kindly, and he took part in all the enter- 
 tainments which she gave. In 1769 he had married 
 the daughter of the Duke of Penthi^vre, and by this 
 alliance he had come into possession of an enormous 
 fortune, which the untimely death of his brother, the 
 Prince of Lamballe, had made still greater, permit- 
 ting him to live most extravagantly. 
 
 230 
 
THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 231 
 
 In 1776, the Princess of Lamballe was able, by her 
 influence with the Queen, to secure for the Duke 
 the post of governor of Poitou. The same year, with 
 the Count of Artois, the companion of his pleasures, 
 he established horse-races, which was a favorite amuse- 
 ment of Marie Antoinette. January 30, 1777, he 
 gave the Queen a grand ball at the Palais Royal. 
 The next day this paragraph appeared in the Journal 
 de Paris : " To-day, at midnight. His Highness the 
 Duke of Chartres gave a ball at the Palais Eoyal, 
 to which the Queen and the royal family were in- 
 vited." This statement was not perfectly correct : a 
 queen is never invited to an entertainment ; she honors 
 it with her presence. But in spite of what was said 
 about it, the Queen willingly overlooked the blunder. 
 
 In 1777, the Duke of Chartres served with distinc- 
 tion on the ocean and in the Mediterranean. Having 
 been appointed admiral, he was present in 1778, at 
 the battle of Ouessant, in the Saint Esprit, It was 
 by misunderstanding the signals, and not through 
 lack of courage, that he sailed out of action, at the 
 decisive moment, with the ships under his command. 
 For a time the public reproached him with this blun- 
 der, and it has been asserted that Marie Antoinette 
 blamed him in the most cutting way ; but the Count 
 of Mercy's correspondence does not corroborate this 
 statement. On the contrary, the ambassador repre- 
 sents the Queen as treating the Duke at this time 
 with the warmest interest. November 17, 1778, he 
 wrote to the Empress Maria Theresa as follows : — 
 
232 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 " The Duke of Chartres, who has been blamed for 
 the loss of the victory at Ouessant, and has been, in 
 consequence, in hot water with the high naval offi- 
 cers, appealed to the Count of Artois, who persuaded 
 the Queen to give to the Duke of Chartres the bene- 
 fit of her protection. It had been suggested that he 
 should honorably resign from the navy, and receive 
 in return some special mark of distinction. For this 
 purpose it had been proposed to revive the post of 
 colonel-general of hussars and light cavalry ; but the 
 King opposed those plans, and it required all the 
 Queen's influence to carry them through. She gave 
 them all possible aid." 
 
 No one at that time could have suspected the future 
 that awaited the Prince. The traditions of his fam- 
 ily were rich in examples of fidelity to the monarchy. 
 Without mentioning the brother of Louis XIY., who 
 was all obedience and submission, his great-grand- 
 father, the Regent, had exhibited the utmost devotion 
 to the young Louis XV. ; his grandfather, whose last 
 years were spent at the Abbey of Saint Genevieve, 
 lived and died like a saint ; his father, whose second 
 marriage was a morganatic one with Madame de Mon- 
 tesson, was an amiable and kindly man, who took no 
 interest in politics, and never in any way embarrassed 
 Louis XY. or Louis XVI. With such models, the 
 Prince, who later was to be called Philippe Egalit^, 
 did not seem destined to play a revolutionary part. 
 
 Led by circumstances, he had no idea whither he 
 was going, and when he started he had no thought 
 
THE DUKE OF OBLEANS. 233 
 
 of the abyss to which he was marching. The bare 
 thought that he might become a regicide would have 
 brought a smile to his lips. He was a witty, pleasant- 
 tempered man, more eager for pleasure than for glory ; 
 always in love, and especially with Madame de Buffon, 
 like a youth of eighteen ; averse to work, careless, 
 extravagant, with no settled plan of life; devoted 
 to the pleasures of the table, to hunting, luxury, the 
 theatre, races, gambling, and English fashions ; capa- 
 ble of shining in boudoirs more than in public life ; 
 distrustful of the demagogues, whom, however, he 
 was always following ; more truly a courtier than a 
 friend of liberty ; rather weak than wicked ; more to 
 be pitied than blamed ; a sad and noteworthy exam- 
 ple of what the revolutionary spirit can make out of 
 a sympathetic nature. 
 
 One of his most faithful friends, the beautiful 
 Madame Elliott, an Englishwoman, thus speaks of 
 him : " The Duke of Orleans was a very amiable 
 man, with great charm of manner, of a yielding dis- 
 position : never did there exist a man less fit to be 
 the head of a great party. His mind, his talents, his 
 education, in no way adapted him to this position; 
 and for a long time I hoped that his heart would 
 revolt at the thought of bringing his country to such 
 a cruel condition of anarchy. His revolutionary 
 friends at last understood him, for they could not 
 induce him to take any interest in their plans. 
 Some of them were lucky enough to patch up a 
 peace with the court, leaving the poor Duke in the 
 
234 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 hands of the wretches who surrounded him, and 
 introduced to him others of the same kind, until at 
 last they had brought him to ruin and disgrace." 
 
 Madame Elliott, who was as kind as she was intel- 
 ligent, continues with an emotion which was easily 
 understood : "All this is painful for me to say ; for I 
 had known the Duke of Orleans many years, and he 
 had always been very kind and attentive to me, as he 
 was, for that matter, to all who had anything to do 
 with him. No one can form any idea of the way I 
 suffered when I saw him gradually sinking into every 
 sort of infamy, for I am thoroughly convinced that 
 he^ never meant to go so far." 
 
 At first the Duke's opposition was very gentle. 
 He made frequent visits to England, and brought 
 back the English fashions, ways, and amusements, 
 as well as their political ideas. He was very enthu- 
 siastic about parliamentary institutions, and persuaded 
 himself that France ought to become a mixed mon- 
 archy, in which the first prince of the blood should 
 be the leader of the opposition. But opposition is 
 a complicated bit of machinery into which one can- 
 not thrust his finger, without getting his arm, and 
 finally his whole body, caught. The downward path 
 is easy and fatal ; it begins in the drawing-room, and 
 ends in the street. At first one excuses one's self by 
 calling patriotism and love of the public welfare what 
 is really rancor or ambition. A man deems himself 
 a good citizen, when he is, in fact, an insurgent. 
 
 It is easy to set limits which are never to be passedt 
 
THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 235 
 
 but soon they are found too narrow. Things get 
 more confused; calmness and moderation are lost. 
 A man hates his enemies less for the harm they have 
 done him than for the harm he has done them. A 
 sincere reconciliation soon becomes impossible ; an 
 attempt is made to patch one up, but on both sides 
 there survive defiance and hatred, and the kiss of 
 peace is a Judas kiss. Unhappy are those families in 
 which the head has to treat and argue with those 
 who owe obedience ! Officers should command 
 respect from their soldiers; professors, from their 
 pupils; masters, from their servants; fathers, from 
 their children ; sovereigns, from their subjects, and 
 especially from the princes of their household. The 
 higher a man's place in the monarchy, the more 
 incumbent it is upon him to set an example of sub- 
 mission to the sovereign ; and kings have no excuse 
 for not enforcing this rule upon princes of the blood 
 who are disposed to neglect it. Both the Duke of 
 Orleans and Louis XVI. were guilty: one, of rebel- 
 lion; the other, of weakness. Instead of commanding 
 and acting like a master, the good-natured monarch 
 remained, in spite of his cousin, in one of those 
 equivocal situations which give a king the advantage 
 neither of severity nor of kindness. 
 
 Rendered bold by the impunity he enjoyed, the 
 Duke himself was surprised at the freedom that was 
 given him; at the incompetence and indifference of 
 the police ; at the ease with which the Palais Royal, 
 
236 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 which a few good patrols could have speedily mas- 
 tered, became the headquarters of revolt. The Prince 
 soon learned to despise a government which was so 
 weak, so feeble, so undecided. A king who put him- 
 self under guardianship, who resigned one by one 
 all the prerogatives of authority, inspired him with 
 nothing but contempt. The Duke imagined himself 
 justified in anything. The needy intriguers, who 
 desired to get what they could out of him, inspired 
 him with ambitious ideas which he had not known at 
 first, and these led him to his ruin. Possibly he was 
 vain enough to imagine that he alone could govern 
 France, and tried to justify his conduct to himself on 
 this pretext. 
 
 Marie Antoinette did not deceive herself about 
 him. She knew that the Duke of Orleans was hence- 
 forth an enemy with whom reconciliation was impos- 
 sible. But, we repeat, the fault lay with Louis XVI., 
 whose duty it was to crush the opposition at the 
 beginning. Instead of that, the King tried half-way 
 measures. If he did exile the Prince, the exile was 
 only a short excursion. He let the Duke organize 
 resistance while the Notables were sitting. At the 
 opening of the States-General, he allowed him to 
 sit among the deputies, for the sake of popularity, 
 instead of on the platform, which was a proper place 
 for a prince of the blood. He permitted the Palais 
 Royal to become the seat of a second monarchy, a 
 Parisian monarchy, full of revolutionary feeling, with 
 
THE DUKE OF OBLEANS. 237 
 
 its budget, its officials, its army; he suffered Paris to 
 be flooded with papers and pamphlets preaching an- 
 archy — that the revolt should have its troops enrolled 
 and paid. Never has a government so surrendered 
 its powers. 
 
 Had the Duke of Orleans been protected against V 
 himself, he would never have been a rebel ; but the 
 King's incomprehensible indulgence transformed into 
 an insurgent a prince who, under any other king, 
 would never have had a guilty thought. " The 
 Duke," Madame Elliott says elsewhere, "was fond 
 of pleasure and detested work and business of any 
 kind; he never read, and devoted himself solely to 
 amusement. At that time he was madly in love with 
 Madame de Buffon, whom he used to take out to 
 drive every day and to the theatre in the evening. 
 It was his misfortune to be surrounded with a troop 
 of ambitious men who gradually used him for their 
 own purposes, and made him see everything in a 
 favorable light, urging him on till he saw himself so 
 far in their power that he could not draw back. . . . 
 I am sure that the Duke had no idea of seizing the 
 throne, whatever may have been the plans of his 
 friends. They expected, I fancy, if they succeeded, 
 to govern him as well as France, and they were 
 capable of any excess in pursuit of their ends." 
 
 July 12, 1789, just before the capture of the Bas- 
 tille, the Duke of Orleans went with Madame Elliott, 
 Prince Louis of Aremberg, and a few other friends, to 
 
238 MABIJE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 dine at his castle of Raincy. It was a Sunday. In 
 the morning he had left Paris j)erfectly calm; on 
 returning in the evening, he heard of all the disorder 
 which had broken out during the day, of the insur- 
 rection, with the cries of "Long live the Duke of 
 Orleans ! " " Long live Necker ! " of the Prince of 
 Lambesc's charge, and of the great agitation of the 
 city and the suburbs. " When I heard of all these 
 things," says Madame Elliott, " I entreated the Duke 
 not to enter Paris in his own carriage. I thought it 
 would be very imprudent for him to appear in the 
 streets at such a moment, and I offered him my car- 
 riage. He seemed surprised and much impressed 
 by what had happened in Paris. He hoped, he said, 
 that it would not turn out to be anything serious, 
 and that fear had made my servant exaggerate the 
 truth. ... I besought the Duke to go at once to 
 Versailles, and not to leave the King so long as Paris 
 was in such disorder. ' If you do this,' I said, ' you 
 will show that the populace made use of your name 
 without your knowledge and consent. You will do 
 well,' I added, ' to tell the King how much you are 
 distressed by all that has happened ! ' " The Duke 
 gave his word that he would go to Versailles at seven 
 o'clock the next morning ; and he did go, but he was 
 not well received. On his arrival he went straight 
 to the King, who had just got out of bed. The King 
 took no notice of him; but since it was the custom 
 that when a prince of the blood was present, that he 
 
THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. 239 
 
 should give the King his shirt, the gentlemen of the 
 bedchamber handed the shirt to the Duke of Orleans, 
 for him to put it over the King's head. The Duke 
 went up to the King, who asked him what he wanted. 
 The Duke, putting the shirt on the King, answered, 
 " I have come to receive Your Majesty's commands." 
 The King answered very severely, " I have no need 
 of you ; go back where you came from." 
 
 From that time there was an open feud between 
 the Prince and the court. " From that moment," 
 says Madame Elliott, " I found the Duke much more 
 violent in his political views ; and though I never 
 heard him speak otherwise than with respect about 
 the King, I have often heard him speak with great 
 bitterness against the Queen. I was very sorry for 
 it. The court would have done better to remember 
 the Duke's influence, and to hesitate about offend- 
 ing him; for I am very sure that if he had been 
 treated with consideration at that time, and any 
 confidence had been shown him, it would have been 
 possible to get him loose from the dangerous influ- 
 ence of the men who surrounded him." 
 
 The lot was thrown. The descendant of Saint 
 Louis and of Henri IV. was about to become a regi- 
 cide. Verifying by his fate the words of Scripture, 
 that if a house be divided against itself, that house 
 cannot stand, he, like Samson, was to be crushed 
 under the columns he pulled down with his own 
 hands. In less than ten months the scaffold of 
 
240 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Louis XVI. and his ov/n were raised, and he could 
 say, like Macbeth soliloquizing over Duncan's mur- 
 der: — 
 
 " But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, 
 
 We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor : this even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips." 
 
XXV. 
 
 THE BANQUET OF OCTOBER 1. 
 
 THURSDAY, October 1, 1789, the theatre of the 
 palace of Versailles was in great commotion ; 
 towards four in the afternoon a great banquet was to 
 be given there. At the request of a delegation of 
 the municipality of Versailles, which was alarmed by 
 threats of disorder, the garrison of the town had been 
 strengthened by a regiment from Flanders, which had 
 arrived September 23. An immemorial custom of the 
 French army required that every regiment arriving 
 in a town should be given a dinner of welcome by 
 the other corps. This rule was observed with regard 
 to the regiment from Flanders, and the King's body- 
 guard, who gave the dinner, were authorized to use 
 the palace theatre for this purpose. The officers of 
 the regiment of the Three Bishoprics and those of the 
 National Guard were also invited. 
 
 On the stage, which was adorned with scenery rep- 
 resenting a forest, was set a table, in the form of a 
 horseshoe, with two hundred plates. In the orches- 
 tra were the trumpeters of the body-guard and band 
 of the Flemish regiment. The pit was filled with the 
 
 241 
 
242 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 men of this regiment and of that of the Three Bish- 
 opries. In the boxes were many spectators, admitted 
 without tickets. The various uniforms, the brilliant 
 lighting, the arrangement of the stage and its decora- 
 tions, the gorgeous dresses of the ladies, combined to 
 form a most impressive spectacle. At the beginning 
 of the banquet, the feelings that inspired the troops 
 made themselves manifest: the officers swore that 
 they would defend the throne and, if need be, would 
 die for the King; the soldiers expressed the same 
 devotion. It was a festival of honor and fidelity. 
 
 A lady of the palace, thinking that such a sight 
 would please and console the royal family, went to the 
 Queen and told her what was going on, advising her 
 to visit the spot with Louis XVI. and the children. 
 The King, who had been hunting in the park of 
 Meudon, entered the palace at that moment. He 
 approved of the plan, and suddenly made his appear- 
 ance in the royal box with the Queen, his son, and his 
 daughter. The band played the air from " Richard 
 CcBur de Lion " : — 
 
 " Oh, Richard ! oh, my King ! the world abandons you " ; 
 
 then the air from the " Deserter " : — 
 
 " Can one pain what one loves ? " 
 
 The assembled throng began to cheer; the men 
 waved their hats, the women their handkerchiefs, 
 with the wildest enthusiasm. The royal family left 
 their box and walked through the hall. The Queen, 
 who led her son by his hand, was glad to show him 
 
THE BANQUET OF OCTOBER 1. 243 
 
 to her faithful servants, whose applause brought tears 
 to her eyes. She remembered the Hungarians who 
 said to her mother, Maria Theresa, Moriamur pro rege 
 nostro. Her face, which was generally so sad, was lit 
 up with a ray of happiness. Like Homer's Androm- 
 ache, she smiled amid her tears. 
 
 It was a grand festival, a great manifestation of 
 chivaliic honor. It is easy to imagine Marie Antoi- 
 nette's feelings at finding friends when she thought 
 herself abandoned. Misfortune makes the soul ten- 
 der and open to impression ; the slightest marks of 
 sympathy call forth lively gratitude. How often, 
 when she was living in the fiery furnace of the Revo- 
 lution, the unhappy Queen must have recalled this 
 last hour of happiness, this last ray of the sun of 
 royalty, gilding the swords that were drawn to 
 express devotion towards her! It is easy to under- 
 stand the admiration, the ardor, with which the sight 
 of this woman, so noble and so calunmiated, must 
 have filled those generous souls ! Even now one 
 feels the quiver of enthusiasm, the magnetic current 
 which swept through the hall, and the impression pro- 
 duced on these ardent souls by the sweet and touch- 
 ing melodies which were wonderfully applicable to 
 the circumstances ! Gr^try, one might almost say, 
 was inspired by prophecy when he gave to Blondel's 
 words an accompaniment so moving and tender. The 
 music admirably expressed the fervor which filled 
 every heart with devotion and loyalty. As for me, 
 when present at the turbulent meetings of the Na- 
 
244 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 tional Assembly, in this same hall which has seen so 
 many vicissitudes, it has happened to me more than 
 once to think, not about the deliberations of the dep- 
 uties, but of the banquet of October 1, 1789. What 
 I listened to was not the speeches of the orator ; no, 
 it was to the distant echo of the band of the Flemish 
 regiment playing that air from " Richard." ^ 
 
 The repast, which had been interrupted by the visit 
 of the royal family, was resumed after their depart- 
 ure. When it was over, the guests, the musicians, 
 and the spectators all went into the marble courtyard 
 and began to cheer once more. A soldier of the regi- 
 ment from Flanders climbed up to the windows of 
 Louis's chamber, to cry, " Long live the King ! " close 
 to His Majesty. The festivity continued with sere- 
 nades and processions until late in the night. These 
 joyous sounds reached the King in his room, and the 
 Queen, tasting a moment of consolation, felt happy 
 in a day of wliich she did not see the morrow. 
 
 The next day the vilest and most shameless calum- 
 nies were industriously circulated. The revolution- 
 ary pamphleteers resolved to turn the pathetic scene 
 to ridicule, to represent this peaceful entertainment 
 as an orgy, as a terrible debauch. Gorsas, the future 
 Girondist, asserted in the Courrier de Versailles, that 
 the health of the nation had been proposed and 
 rejected, and that the drunken guests had trampled 
 
 1 A reference to the sessions of the French Chambers held at 
 Versailles for several years after the Franco- Prussian war of 1870- 
 71. — Tr. 
 
THE BANQUET OF OCTOBEB 1. 245 
 
 on the national cockade. Some years later the 
 Queen, before the Revolutionary Tribunal, took pains 
 to refute this absurd calumny. " It is incredible," 
 she said, " that such loyal beings should have been 
 willing to change and trample on a token which the 
 King himself wore." 
 
 Buc hatred found any weapon good to use against 
 Marie Antoinette. The Revolution desired at any 
 price to sully her, because it well knew, as Mirabeau 
 once said, that " the only man the King had about 
 him was the Queen ! " 
 
XXVI. 
 
 THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE'S joy over the evi- 
 dences of devotion and loyalty which found 
 expression at the banquet of October 1 was destined 
 to be of but brief duration. The next day the wild- 
 est calumnies began to circulate once more, and this 
 most generous sovereign was represented as a second 
 Catherine de' Medici, preparing another massacre of 
 Saint Bartholomew. Such ingratitude and malevo- 
 lence, such a depth of infamy, crushed the unhappy 
 Queen. She, whose character was kind and tender, 
 could not comprehend the malice, cruelty, and degra- 
 dation of human nature. But her grief was not 
 bitter or noisy; she reflected calmly and seriously, 
 and pardoned everything. 
 
 In the morning of October 5, she was in the Little 
 Trianon, long the seat of the rustic pleasures of the 
 royal family. We all know what a melancholy thing 
 it is to revisit in unhappiness places we have known 
 when happy. As Bossuet says : " Already there is a 
 change ; the gardens are less rich mth flowers, the 
 flowers are less brilliant, their colors less vivid, the 
 
 246 
 
THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER. 247 
 
 meadows less smiling, the water is less clear. . . . 
 The shadow of death is drawing nigh ; one perceives 
 the proximity of the fatal gulf. One has to march 
 to the edge. . . . One tries to turn back, but it is 
 impossible ; everything has vanished, everything has 
 disappeared." 
 
 For some time the Trianon had been deserted. 
 The Queen's last stay there had been from July 15 
 until August 14, 1788, and since then she had spent 
 only a few hours there, wandering in silent revery 
 beneath the shades which were full of pleasant mem- 
 ories. She was soon to be deprived of the pleasure 
 of looking at the rustic scenery — that last consola- 
 tion of afflicted hearts. The moment was approach- 
 ing when she was about to be cast into the Tuileries, 
 her first prison, and when she should be forbidden to 
 revisit the gardens of the Trianon. 
 
 It was a dark, rainy day ; the whole landscape and 
 the pretty hamlet were gloomy and melancholy. The 
 lawn where charming entertainments used to be 
 given, the trees which in old days had been lit up 
 by fireworks, the Swiss huts where Gessner's idyls 
 and Florian's pastoral had been represented, were 
 now much changed I The willows bending sadly 
 over the lake were real weeping willows. Swans 
 were floating on the water ; might one not say that, 
 like the swans of legend, they were about to sing the 
 last song over the death of royalty? The wind 
 roared hoarsely. Poor Queen ! The autumn gloom 
 was in full harmony with her spirit; it seemed to 
 
248 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 weep in sympathy with her. Seated alone, in a 
 grotto, like a statue of Grief, she thought of the 
 sombre present and of the still more sombre future. 
 She watched the leaves fall like the illusions of youth, 
 like glory, like happiness, like power. Everything 
 was full of quiet and melancholy ; silence reigned in 
 the deserted garden. She was not to enjoy for long 
 this period of tranquillity. She is interrupted by 
 some one bringing a letter from the Count of Saint 
 Priest, summoning her to return at once to the pal- 
 ace of Versailles. 
 
 What had happened ? Uneasiness was marked on 
 every face. One of the equerries, M. de Cubieres, had 
 hurried off after the King, who was hunting peace- 
 fully, and found him at three o'clock near Meudon. 
 Louis XVI. called for his horse, and just when he 
 was placing his foot in the stirrup, a knight of Saint 
 Louis, falling on his knees, said aloud: "Sire, you 
 are deceived ; I have just come from the Military 
 School ; I have seen nothing but a crowd of women 
 who say they are coming to Versailles to ask for 
 bread. I beg Your Majesty not to be afraid.'' 
 " Afraid, sir ! " the King answered with warmth ; 
 " I have never in my life been afraid." Then gallop- 
 ing down one of the steepest slopes in the Meudon 
 forest, he hastened to Versailles, where he found the 
 Queen. 
 
 In Paris all day the excitement had been excessive. 
 Women had been running up and down the streets, 
 crying out that there was no more bread at the 
 
THE FIFTH OF OCTOBEB. 249 
 
 bakers' shops. They had hastened to the H6tel de 
 Ville to complain of the authorities. The rioters 
 sounded the tocsin, and Maillard, who had been con- 
 spicuous at the capture of the Bastille, had taken a 
 drum ard headed the women in their march. Fol- 
 lowed by this singular array, he had gone down the 
 quay, passed through the Louvre, the Tuileries, the 
 Champs Elys^es, the Cours la Reine, and set out for 
 Versailles. A crowd of idlers, beggars, and thieves 
 followed the band, singing, and shouting jests and 
 appeals for vengeance. They stopped at every wine- 
 shop, and called out to the passers-by and to people 
 at the windows ; they were brandishing old muskets 
 and broken swords, dull hatchets, pikes, and rusty 
 daggers. 
 
 The weather was very bad; the half-drunken 
 women could hardly walk through the wind. " Aus- 
 trian," said one of the furies, speaking about Marie 
 Antoinette, " you have danced for your own pleasure ; 
 you shall dance for ours. I want your skin to make 
 ribbons of, your blood in my inkstand, my apron for 
 your entrails ! " and ferocious jests and insults fell 
 in a perfect shower. Madame Elisabeth, who was at 
 her house in Montreuil, saw from the terrace in her 
 garden, the band marching up the Avenue de Paris. 
 She went at once to the palace of Versailles, and ad- 
 vised her brother to repress the disorder at once. At 
 about half-past three the regiment from Flanders was 
 drawn up in line on the Place d'Armes, to the left of 
 the palace. The body-guard, to the number of about 
 
250 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 three hundred, was placed before the entrance to the 
 Minister's apartments. A detachment of dragoons 
 was posted in the Avenue de Paris. These were all 
 the forces which the King could dispose of for his 
 defence. Indecision prevailed among the ministers 
 who were in session ; M. de Saint Priest wanted the 
 bridge of Sevres defended, and urged that Louis 
 XVI. go, at the head of his loyal troops, to drive back, 
 at the crossing of the Seine, the body of Parisians of 
 whom, doubtless, the horde of women was the van- 
 guard. But Necker opposed all resistance ; he said 
 that if the sword were drawn against the insurrec- 
 tion, it would be the signal for civil war; he pre- 
 ferred treating with the revolt, as from one power to 
 another. 
 
 Meanwhile the women had got into the Avenue 
 de Paris, singing, " Long live Henri IV. ! " and shout- 
 ing as if in derision, " Long live the King ! " When 
 they reached the Menus Plaisirs, where the National 
 Assembly was sitting, they stopped. At first fifteen 
 of them entered the meeting and were conducted to 
 the bar. Maillard spoke in their name, saying that 
 Paris was Avithout bread, and that some means must 
 be devised for finding a supply. Then the rest of 
 the women crowded into the hall. The galleries, the 
 bar, the deputies' seats, were filled with a noisy, loud- 
 talking multitude, who interrupted the members, 
 insulting those of the right, and fraternizing with 
 those of the left. 
 
 The Prince of Luxembourg, a captain of the body- 
 
THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER. 251 
 
 guard, asked Louis XVI. if lie had any orders to 
 give about repelling the onslaught. " What, sir," 
 answered the good-natured monarch, "orders to fight 
 women ! You are jesting ! " The body-guard, which 
 was drawn up ready for action, was forbidden to lay 
 a hand on sabre or pistol. Commands were given 
 to avoid anything that might provoke the populace. 
 The rioters, who kept coming in large numbers, felt 
 confidence in their security. They went up to the 
 gates of the palace, in a rage at finding them closed, 
 and threw stones at the body-guard, who had no 
 cartridges and had been ordered not to defend them- 
 selves. At the same time women surrounded the 
 regiment from Flanders and tried to corrupt the 
 men. One of them, Thdroigne de M^ricourt, who 
 wore a red cloak, went through the ranks, flattering 
 the soldiers and distributing money. 
 
 Soon afterwards, Mounier left the National Assem- 
 bly, followed by a deputation of the women of Paris, 
 whom he led to the palace. The rain was falling in 
 torrents. The Avenue de Paris was filled with a 
 threatening crowd. The rioters in vain tried to force 
 the gates. Only Mounier and the deputation of 
 women were admitted. 
 
 The King, who was at the council with his Minis- 
 ters, went, to his bedroom to receive these strange 
 visitors. Only five women were admitted. A young 
 girl of seventeen, named Louise Chabry, spoke for 
 them. "You ought to know my heart," answered 
 the King ; " I shall give orders to collect all the bread 
 
252 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 that can be found." Louise Chabry was so much 
 moved by the King's kindness that she fainted. 
 Louis XVI. made her drink some wine and held salts 
 to her nose. She recovered consciousness, and the 
 King kissed her. The delegates were delighted with 
 the reception accorded them, and went down the 
 marble staircase, shouting, " Long live the King ! " 
 and when they saw the other women outside the grat- 
 ing, they said, " We have got what we wanted ; we 
 are going back to Paris." These wise words did not 
 please the crowd. Cries arose : " They have sold out 
 to the court ! They have received twenty-five louis 
 apiece ! To the lantern with them ! " They sprang 
 upon the unhappy women, struck them, and tried to 
 hang them. They escaped with difficulty. The dis- 
 order increased with every moment. The general 
 alarm, which was beaten in every street, called 
 together the National Guard of Versailles in the 
 Place d'Armes; but many of its members, intimi- 
 dated by the hostility manifested by certain compa- 
 nies against the body-guard, withdrew. 
 
 In the palace, every one was overwhelmed with 
 anxiety. There could be heard the vile abuse poured 
 forth on Marie Antoinette by the frantic crowd. Or- 
 ders were given to prepare for the departure of the 
 Queen and the Daupliin. The King's carriages left 
 the stables and drove to the door of the Orange house, 
 while the Queen's, starting from the rue de la Pompe 
 at the same time, reached the Dragon's gate. Here 
 a hostile band of the National Guard compelled the 
 
THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER. 253 
 
 coaclimeii to go back to the stables. Moreover, Marie 
 Antoinette had not been informed of her proposed 
 departure ; and on no consideration would she have 
 left the King. Her energetic and haughty nature 
 would have repelled every plan that savored of 
 timidity. 
 
 Night was coming on, and the rain continued to 
 fall, exciting hope in the palace that the bad weather 
 would allay the excitement and disperse the rioters. 
 At about eight o'clock in the evening all the troops 
 drawn up in the Place d'Armes received orders to 
 withdraw. The regiment from Flanders left the 
 place, and marched to the courtyard of the Great 
 Stables. The body-guard then proceeded to their 
 quarters, followed by the jeers of the multitude. In 
 the night they left for Trianon, then for Rambouillet. 
 There remained at Versailles only the sentinels on 
 duty, who were to play so tragic a part in the events 
 of the following day. 
 
 The town presented a most gloomy and alarming 
 appearance. All the shops, except those of the bakers 
 and a few wine-sellers, were closed. The night was 
 very dark. The inhabitants scarcely dared to set 
 foot out of doors. Ragged men, armed with staves 
 and pikes, knocked at every door, demanding food 
 and drink. The women from Paris continued to fill 
 the National Assembly, which looked like a theatre 
 on a day of free admission. They sent out for bread, 
 wine, and meat, and ate and slept on the benches of 
 the deputies. A certain number of the representa- 
 
254 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 tives remained in the Hall; and in Mounier's ab- 
 sence, the President's chair was taken by the Bishop 
 of Langres, who, in spite of his ecclesiastical dignity, 
 had to submit to being kissed by a number of women 
 more or less drunk. Suddenly, towards midnight, a 
 great piece of news spread: the National Guard of 
 Paris and its commander, La Fayette, had just arrived 
 in Versailles. 
 
 Ever since morning La Fayette had been the prey 
 of the keenest anguish. At daybreak a number of 
 battalions had surrounded the H6tel de Ville, and 
 instead of trying to quell the outbreak, had been 
 themselves shouting all day long, " To Versailles, to 
 Versailles ! " La Fayette hesitated. Should he obey 
 the demands of his mutinous soldiers, or should he, 
 as it were, sanctify the rebellion by his presence? 
 Should he, by resistance, compromise the popularity 
 which he had acquired by so many sacrifices ? " It is 
 singular," exclaimed one of the National Guard, "that 
 M. de La Fayette should think of commanding the 
 people, when in fact it is the people who command 
 him." Cries for blood and accusations of treachery 
 began to be heard. 
 
 The Commune at last gave the National Guard 
 orders to start. It was six in the morning. La Fay- 
 ette was on horseback, his head bowed, his heart full 
 of gloomy forebodings, and after a few moments' hesi- 
 tation he made up his mind, and as if urged by a power 
 he could not resist, he shouted, " Forward, march ! " 
 
 The lot was thrown. Twenty thousand men 
 
THE FIFTH OF OCTOBEB. 255 
 
 marched forth. The vanguard consisted of three 
 companies of grenadiers, a battalion of fusiliers, and 
 three cannon. Seven or eight hundred men, bare- 
 armed, and hoarse with drink, followed, carrying 
 staves or pikes. Then came La Fayette, the servant 
 rather than the commander of his troops. An aide 
 galloped ahead to announce to the King the advance 
 of the National Guard; he reached Versailles at 
 about ten in the evening, and found the whole court 
 in alarm. The Queen alone was undaunted ; during 
 the evening she had been receiving a number of peo- 
 ple and had talked with energy and dignity, giving 
 strength to others by her calm and courage. 
 
 Towards midnight the National Guard of Paris 
 reached the gates of Versailles. Before entering the 
 town, La Fayette stopped a moment and administered 
 to his troops the oath of loyalty to the nation, the 
 laws, and the King. Then he entered the Avenue 
 de Paris, in which was the hall where the National 
 Assembly met, and assured the President of the 
 pacific intentions of his. troops. Then leaving the 
 Assembly, he betook himself to the palace, which 
 he entered with only two members of the municipal 
 government of Paris. The rooms were crowded ; a 
 voice shouted, " There's Cromwell I " 
 
 '' Sir," answered La Fayette, " Cromwell would not 
 have come alone." . 
 
 The court was in doubt whether the man who 
 came in this way was a liberator or a tyrant, whether 
 he came to save or to overthrow the King. La Fay- 
 
256 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ette advanced in an attitude of grief and respect. 
 He bowed low before Louis XVI., and said, " Sire, I 
 have come to bring you my head to save Your Majes- 
 ty's." And he added that he felt confident of the 
 sentiments of the National Guard. Louis XVI., who 
 was hopeful by nature, believed La Fayette, who, 
 for his part, meant what he said. It was agreed that 
 the interior of the palace should be left in charge of 
 the sentinels on duty, and that the National Guard 
 should take charge of the outside. La Fayette went 
 out to see about carrying out this order. Then he 
 returned to the Assembly which, in a night session, 
 was discussing a proposed penal law. He said that 
 he would be responsible for everything, and that 
 order would be maintained. 
 
 President Mounier, satisfied with this optimistic 
 utterance, adjourned the session at three in the 
 morning, and La Fayette went back to the palace, 
 where he heard that the King had gone to bed, and 
 that all was quiet. Then he mounted his horse and 
 rode through the town, which was perfectly calm. 
 He then went back to the palace and stayed there, in 
 the rooms of M. Montmorin, until six the next morn- 
 ing, when, utterly exhausted, after being on horse- 
 back for seventeen hours, repose was necessary. 
 After a last look at the town he went to the house 
 belonging to his wife's family, in the rue de la 
 Pompe, and lay down on a bed. His sleep, w^hich 
 lasted only a few moments, has been the subject of 
 severe condemnation from historians. 
 
XXVII. 
 
 THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 
 
 YERSAILLES was at last finding rest: the 
 ^ royal family in the palace ; La Fayette in the 
 
 Noailles mansion ; the National Guard of Paris, wet 
 through with the rain, and worn out by a march to 
 which it was not accustomed, in the churches, the 
 quarters of the body-guard, and in private houses ; 
 the women and the men, with pikes, on the benches 
 of the National Assembly, in the barracks of the 
 French Guards, and the wine-shops. Those of the 
 populace who had no refuge had lit a large fire in 
 the Place d'Armes, and after cutting up and roasting 
 a wounded horse, had quietly fallen asleep in this 
 improvised bivouac. * 
 
 Marie Antoinette, worn out by the emotions of 
 this painful day, had gone to bed at two in the morn- 
 ing. Before she went to sleep, she had told the two 
 ladies of her bedchamber, Madame Augui^ and 
 Madame Thibaut, to go to their beds, thinking that 
 for this night, at least, there was nothing to fear. She 
 owed her life the next day to the devotion which pre- 
 vented these two ladies from obeying this command. 
 All the lights were out, and Marie Antoinette was 
 
 267 
 
258 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 sound asleep. The sleep which precedes a battle or 
 a riot is an imposing thing, in the contrast that exists 
 between its calm and the excitement and danger of 
 the next day ; for many it is the last sleep of their 
 lives, a prelude to the sleep of death, and there is 
 something most impressive in its mysteriousness. It 
 is like a heaven-sent truce. 
 
 Not every one in Versailles enjoyed this truce in 
 the night between the 5th and 6th of October. Every- 
 thing was at rest, except crime. The revolt had not 
 yet completed its task ; and these demons, these dis- 
 guised brigands, who were shouting for bread when 
 their pockets were full of gold, had not yet earned 
 their pay. No, there was no sleep — for hate knows 
 no fatigue — for the furies who had sworn to cut off 
 Marie Antoinette's neck on a milestone, and to dip 
 their hands in her blood. At the Assembly, one wild- 
 eyed woman had asked, with threatening gestures, 
 brandishing a dagger, if the Austrian woman's apart- 
 ments were well guarded. 
 
 That evening the men with pikes had made a great 
 tumult in the Place d'Armes, shouting to the respect- 
 able people who tried to quiet them, "Go to bed ; as 
 for us, we haven't finished our work." They were 
 waiting for daylight. 
 
 Let us, in company with M. Le Roi, a learned 
 guide, a real student, examine the scene of the events 
 which were about to take place. ^ Let us first look at 
 
 1 History of Versailles : its Streets, Squares and Avenues from 
 the Origin of the City to the Present Time. 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 259 
 
 the palace, as well as at all the gratings of the en- 
 trances which had been closed on the 5th of October, 
 and had kept out the populace, but, the next day, 
 was to give free passage to the rioters. 
 
 At the present day we can pass through the wide 
 gateway opening on the Place d'Armes, and enter at 
 once the huge courtyard which extends to the palace. 
 
 In the reign of Louis XVI. there was, in addition, 
 a second grating between the two wings of the palace, 
 just about where now stands the equestrian statue of 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 The space between the two gratings was called the 
 Ministers' Courtyard, from the buildings on each side 
 in which the ministers lodged. 
 
 Then, as now, there was an iron gate opening on 
 the rue des Reservoirs, and another opening on the 
 rue de la Surintendance (now the rue de la Bib- 
 lioth^que). 
 
 Beyond the courtyard of the Ministers was the 
 Royal Courtyard, extending to the narrow space be- 
 tween the old buildings of the palace of Louis XIIL, 
 then, as now, called the Marble Courtyard, from the 
 pavement. 
 
 Let us first notice the insufficiency of La Fayette's 
 defensive measures, and the absence of any excuse 
 for his fatal confidence. During the whole of the 
 5th, the gateway of the Ministers' Courtyard was the 
 point attacked by the populace, furious at finding 
 this barrier. Well I Who guarded this gate which 
 was of such importance for the defence of the pal- 
 
260 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ace ? Two soldiers of the National Guard ! Who 
 protected the entrance of the marble staircase lead- 
 ing to the royal apartments ? Two Swiss soldiers ! 
 Why was it that the royal battalions of the National 
 Guard, which certainly contained trusty men, were 
 not ordered to defend the approaches to the palace ? 
 
 Why was it that their commander, instead of going 
 to rest in the rue de la Pompe, did not stay in the 
 palace, near his King, at the post of duty and of 
 honor ? Without doubt. La Fayette was no traitor ; 
 but, like men of his political complexion, he was 
 absurdly optimistic, and he did not dread the danger 
 which lay before his eyes. He lay down in good 
 faith, and when he awoke from his short sleep, he 
 was overcome with surprise at events which any one 
 else would have foreseen. 
 
 At half-past five in the morning, a great number of 
 women suddenly made their appearance in the Place 
 d'Armes. Many of them went up to the first gate- 
 way, that leading to the Ministers' Courtyard, and 
 the two National Guards who were stationed there 
 opened the gate. The men, armed with pikes, at 
 once followed, and the courtyard was filled. The 
 crowd saw that the gate of the Princes' Courtyard 
 (the one leading to the middle of the palace, where 
 dwelt the princes of the blood) was open, and the 
 populace hastened thither, and entered the park by a 
 door at the foot of the princes' staircase. At that 
 moment, Marie Antoinette was awakened by the 
 noise beneath her windows. She rang for Madame 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 261 
 
 Thibaut, and asked the meaning of this tumult. Mad- 
 ame Thibaut replied that it was the women from Paris, 
 who, probably, not being able to find any quarters, 
 were walking on the terrace. Then she withdrew; 
 and the Queen, satisfied, remained in bed. 
 
 The Royal Court was still secure. The mayor of the 
 body-guard, M. d'Aguesseau, had just placed many 
 guards in the passage of the colonnade leading from 
 the Princes' Courtyard to the Royal Courtyard ; but 
 those soldiers were too few to make any resistance, 
 and the wave of rioters drove them back ; the Royal 
 Courtyard was invaded; one of the body-guard, a 
 man named Deshuttes, was disarmed in front of the 
 gateway, struck down, and dragged, dying, to the end 
 of the Ministers' Courtyard. A ragpicker named Jour- 
 dan placed his foot on his chest, and cut off his head 
 with an axe. This head Avas stuck on the point of a 
 pike, and paraded through the streets as a trophy of the 
 insurrection, and the victim's body was carried to the 
 barracks of the French Guard, and thrown on the straw. 
 
 At the same time, the crowd made a violent at- 
 tack on the marble staircase, which is near the Mar- 
 ble Courtyard, and led to the apartments of the King 
 and Queen. At the top, facing the staircase, was the 
 great hall of the Guards. To the left, a landing led 
 to the hall of the King's Guards ; then came the 
 King's ante-chamber, then the hall of the CEil de 
 Boeuf, then the bedroom of Louis XIV., the Minis- 
 ters' Council Hall ; and finally, at the right of this 
 hall, the bedroom of Louis XVL 
 
262 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 On the right of the marble staircase was a door 
 leading to Marie Antoinette's apartments : first, is 
 the hall of the Guards ; the first ante-chamber, called 
 also the drawing-room of the Grand Convert ; the sec- 
 ond ante-chamber, called the Queen's drawing-room ; 
 then her bedroom. 
 
 The marble staircase was defended by only two 
 men of the Hundred Swiss Guards. The crowd 
 mounted the staircase, and one of the body-guard, 
 M. Miomandre de Sainte-Marie, went down three or 
 four steps, saying, " My friends, you love your King, 
 and you come to disturb him in his palace." The 
 rioters sprang on this loyal servant, and nearly killed 
 him. Then the body-guards, seeing that they could 
 not withstand the onslaught, took refuge, some in the 
 great hall of the Guards, the others in the hall of 
 the King's Guards. At the same moment the door 
 between the marble staircase and the hall of the 
 Queen's Guards was burst open, and the rioters 
 rushed in, calling for the death of Marie Antoinette. 
 One of the guards on duty as sentinel before the 
 door of the first ante-chamber, M. de Varicourt, was 
 struck from behind, and fell bleeding; the crowd 
 seized him, hustled him down the staircase, and 
 dragged him through the Princes' Gate into the 
 Ministers' Courtyard. He was still living, and strug- 
 gling with his assassins, when Jourdan, the ragpicker, 
 ran up, and with his axe, still dripping with the blood 
 of M. Deshuttes, cut off his head. 
 
 Another one of the guard, M. du Repaire, took M. 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBEB. 263 
 
 de Varicourt's place at the entrance of the first ante- 
 chamber. They rushed upon him; but after a long 
 struggle, he managed to reach the hall of the King's 
 Guards, covered with wounds; just as the door 
 closed behind him, a pistol-shot laid low one of the 
 assailants. M. Miomandre de Sainte-Marie, who had 
 sought refuge in the embrasure of one of the windows 
 of the great hall of the Guards, hastened to take M. 
 de Varicourt's place in the hall of the Queen's Guards, 
 at the door of the first ante-chamber. He opened the 
 door quickly and saw Madame Thibaut; to her he 
 said, "Save the Queen; they want to kill her." 
 'Then he closed the door, and the two ladies of the 
 bedchamber, Madame Thibaut and Madame Augui^, 
 who were in the Queen's drawing-room, bolted it. 
 Then the wretches attacked M. Miomandre de Sainte- 
 Marie. One of them felled him, bleeding, to the 
 ground with the butt-end of a musket. They 
 thought he was killed, and stole his watch ; then 
 they hastened to the great hall to seize the weapons 
 of the body-guard. M. de Sainte-Marie came to him- 
 self and saw that he was alone ; he dragged himself 
 to the landing and made his way to his companions 
 in the hall of the King's Guards. 
 
 Meanwhile Madame Thibaut had made the Queen 
 get up and hurried her into her stockings and petti- 
 coat, and thrown a cloak over her shoulders. At the 
 end of the bedroom, near the bed, was a secret door, 
 opening on a dark passage-way, which led to the hall 
 of the (Eil de Boeuf. At the entrance of this passage- 
 
264 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 way was a little staircase leading to a passage known 
 as the King's passage-way, which communicated with 
 the King's bedroom, enabling him thus to go to the 
 Queen's room unobserved. Marie Antoinette, accom- 
 panied by the two ladies of her bedchamber, passed 
 out through the door at the foot of her bed, made her 
 way to the passage leading to the CEil de Boeuf, and 
 knocked at the door there, which was opened by the 
 footmen of Louis XVI., and entered the King's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 At the same time Louis XVI., full of anxiety for 
 his wife and children, had wanted to go to the Queen. 
 He had taken the other passage-way, and reached, her 
 room just as she had left it. The guards told him, 
 and he returned the same way to his own chamber, 
 where he found the Queen and the Dauphin, who had 
 just been brought by Madame de Tourzel, the govern- 
 ess of the royal children. 
 
 Meanwhile the National Guard began to enter the 
 palace ; the first to arrive was a detachment that had 
 passed the night in the Church of the Franciscans ; it 
 ascended the staircase and rescued the members of 
 the body-guard who had sought refuge in the hall 
 of the (Eil de Boeuf. 
 
 After a few moments' sleep, of which it will be 
 said that "he slept just long enough to ruin the 
 King," La Fayette woke up in the Noailles mansion. 
 He did not wait for a horse to be brought, but started 
 at once for the palace on foot, and proceeded to en- 
 courage his men to quell the disorder. Louis XVI. 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 265 
 
 himself thanked the members of the National Guard 
 who had saved the lives of his body-guard; then, 
 always calm and self-controlled, he called the minis- 
 ters together in the Council Hall. The Queen, the 
 Dauphin, Madame Royale, Madame Elisabeth, the 
 Count of Provence, the aunts, were all collected in 
 the King's bedroom. The Dauphin said to his mother, 
 " Mamma, I'm hungry." " Be patient," answered 
 Marie Antoinette ; " this will soon be over." 
 
 The palace courtyards were filled with battalions 
 of the National Guard and with the populace. Marie 
 Antoinette stood, perfectly calm, at a window, looking 
 out on the vast throng. While every one about her 
 was giving way to tears or despair, she did not lose 
 her head for a moment, but consoled and encouraged 
 every one. 
 
 Louis XVI. went out on the balcony, with the 
 same air of confidence and kindness that he always 
 wore. Cries of "The Queen, the Queen!" were 
 heard. La Fayette advised Marie Antoinette to show 
 herself ; he said it was the only way to allay the ex- 
 citement. " Very well," answered the Queen, " if I 
 have to go to my execution, I shall not hesitate ; I 
 will go." What was to take place ? What was to be 
 expected of these men, drunk, and wild with wrath, 
 uttering angry cries and carrying loaded muskets ? 
 Would the assassins of the body-guard hesitate at 
 the murder of a woman, a queen ? It was a solemn 
 moment. Marie Antoinette, pale, with dishevelled 
 hair, appeared at the balcony of the King's room. 
 
266 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 accompanied by La Fayette, and holding the Dauphin 
 with one hand, her daughter with the other. Tlie 
 cries redoubled ; shouts of " No children ! No chil- 
 dren ! The Queen alone ! " arose from all sides. 
 What did this uproar mean ? Did the demons who 
 filled the place fear that the sight of the children 
 would touch their hearts? Did the murderers who 
 would gladly have slain the mother hesitate about 
 killing a boy and a girl ? Without thinking about 
 the probable evil significance of these shouts, Marie 
 Antoinette gave the Dauphin and his sister to their 
 father ; then she came out alone, fearless, heroic, and 
 calmly letting her eyes run over the multitude, folded 
 her arms. 
 
 It was the daughter of the Caesars who appeared. 
 The noble haughtiness of her brow, the dignity of her 
 bearing, wrung from the crowd a shout of admiration 
 and surprise. Even those who, a moment before, 
 wanted to kill her, joined in the cry. A loud roar of 
 " Long live the Queen ! " burst forth. Marie Antoi- 
 nette was not the dupe of this greeting ; she heard 
 the crowd shouting another alarming cry : " To Paris 
 with the King ! " and, leaving the balcony, she went 
 up to Madame Necker, and said sadly, "They are 
 going to make the King and me go to Paris, with the 
 heads of our guards carried before us on the ends of 
 their pikes." 
 
 Louis XVI., always weakly good-natured, decided 
 to obey this insolent demand of the populace. All 
 that he asked was that he should not be separated 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBER. 267 
 
 from his wife and children. La Fayette went out on 
 the balcony with one of the body-guard, and made 
 him take an oath of fidelity to the nation and show 
 the side of his hat on which was fastened the tricolor 
 cockade. The other guards followed this example. 
 The grenadiers of the National Guard put their hats 
 on the end of their bayonets, and every one shouted, 
 "Long live the body-guard! " 
 
 At the same time letters were thrown from the 
 palace windows, announcing that the King was going 
 to leave for Paris, and the National Guard gave 
 expression to its delight by firing many rounds of 
 musketry. When the Assembly heard the news, it 
 passed a vote, on the motion of Mirabeau, that it 
 could not be separated from the King. Louis XVI., 
 when the vote was communicated to him, said : " It 
 is with sincere emotion that I receive this new proof 
 of the attachment of the Assembly. The wish of my 
 heart, as you know, is never to be separated from 
 you. I am going to Paris with the Queen and m}^ 
 children. I shall give all necessary orders for the 
 continuation of the Assembly's work." 
 
 The preparations for the departure of the royal 
 family were speedily completed. The King, the 
 Queen, Madame Elisabeth, the Dauphin, the King's 
 brother, Madame Royale, and Madame Tourzel, all 
 got into the same carriage. It was one o'clock in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Such are vicissitudes of fate ! It was there on the 
 balcony of the great King's chamber, that absolute 
 
268 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 monarchy expired, that divine right of which he 
 was the proudest representative I Such the muta- 
 bility of life I It is this Place d'Armes, where used 
 to be deployed the military splendor and the royal 
 pomp, that had become the scene of the last humil- 
 iations of royalty! The proud river was ending in 
 sand. 
 
 It was all over ; Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
 were departing, never to return. Farewell, Versailles ! 
 Farewell to the magnificent palace with its bright gal- 
 leries and solemn chapel ! Farewell to the park, to 
 its statues, to its mighty trees ! The King and the 
 Queen were vanquished, and never was the Revolu- 
 tion to let them see again their former palace. All 
 that was to be allowed them was to see its towers in 
 the distance, as if it were an Eden from which they 
 had been driven, not by angels, but by devils. 
 
 The procession started. The van consisted of the 
 men and women who had left Paris the evening be- 
 fore. The women wore the tricolor cockades in their 
 caps; the men waved in triumph the arms they had 
 captured from the body-guard. A great many of 
 the rioters were in cabs ; others in carts, or riding on 
 the cannon. Then followed sixty wagons filled with 
 flour taken from the market in Versailles. Women, 
 carrying branches, shouted out, "We are bringing the 
 baker, the baker's wife, and the baker's little boy." 
 
 After the wagons came the battalions of the 
 National Guard, surrounded by the populace ; then 
 the body-guard, disarmed, humiliated, with torn uni- 
 
THE SIXTH OF OCTOBEB. 269 
 
 forms, like captives in ancient triumphs, tokens of 
 the victory of the insurrection ; then the large 
 carriage containing the royal family: La Fayette and 
 M. d'Estaing, the commander of the National Guard 
 of Versailles, rode, one on each side of the carriage. 
 A noisy crowd clung close to the carriage. There 
 were but few cries of " Long live the King ! " 
 Everywhere rose shouts of " Long live the Nation ! 
 Down with the black caps ! To the lantern with the 
 bishops ! " As if in mockery, a magnificent sun shone 
 on this funeral procession of royalty. The weather, 
 which had been abominable the day before, was 
 delightful on that day. While authority, discipline, 
 honor, everything that makes a nation's power and 
 glory, had been insulted in the person of the son of 
 Saint Louis, of Henri IV., of Louis XIV., the autumn 
 was glowing with its last splendor, the birds were 
 singing in the woods of Viroflay. The majesty of 
 nature seemed to protest by its calm against human 
 agitation and folly. 
 
 After a journey of seven hours, the royal family 
 was to sleep that night in Paris, in its palace, or 
 rather in its prison. The drama of Versailles was 
 over ; the drama of the Tuileries was beginning. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 
 
 AT Versailles, the morning of October 6, 1789, 
 everything was noise, tumult, and excitement ; 
 that evening all was peace and silence. The town, 
 wearied by what it had gone through, was sadly rest- 
 ing. The palace was deserted. A few enthusiastic 
 demagogues only seemed happy. The vast majority 
 of the inhabitants foresaw the future, and understood 
 that the departure of the King meant the ruin of 
 Versailles. This town, once so brilliant, sank into 
 gloom, and its population diminished ; widowed of 
 the court, it wore a sombre aspect. A Russian 
 traveller who visited it in 1790 was struck by its 
 desolation. He says that he had to wait two hours 
 for a wretched meal, and that then his hostess said 
 to him, " These are hard times, sir ; everybody is suf- 
 fering, and you must have your share." He adds 
 that in the trees of Trianon, " the birds still sing 
 their love-songs ; they sing, but, alas, no longer in the 
 presence of kings ! No one listens to them except a 
 few foreigners who come to the park to meditate." 
 The Revolution bore an especial grudge against 
 
 270 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 2T1 
 
 the former sanctuary of the monarchy. Vandalism 
 was more common there than anywhere else. Octo- 
 ber 20, 1792, Roland sent to the Convention a letter 
 requesting permission to sell the furniture of the 
 palace. The deputy Manual proposed, in addition, 
 placing a sign on the palace, bearing these words : 
 "This house for sale or to let." The Convention 
 authorized the sale of the furniture, and referred 
 the other proposition to a committee. In 1794, the 
 administration of the district of Versailles " informs 
 its fellow-citizens that the Little Trianon, which has 
 too long been withheld from agriculture, and devoted 
 to the luxury of tyrants and their lackeys, a constant 
 insult to the misery of the people, is about to be re- 
 stored to cultivation." The eighteen acres of the 
 little park had been already divided into ten lots, 
 and it was only by the merest chance that the work 
 of destruction was not completed. The park still 
 exists; but what has become of the Little Trianon 
 palace, that pretty temple of which Marie Antoinette 
 was the deity ? The drawing-room furniture, in blue 
 silk, stuffed with eiderdown, the bed covered with 
 white silk lace, the curtains fastened with pearls and 
 Grenada silk, — all that was for sale for four hundred 
 thousand francs at a second-hand shop in rue Neuve 
 de I'Egalit^. The rooms smelt like a cellar; the 
 little lake was a swamp ; the village a ruin. 
 
 And the famous palace of Versailles, so long the 
 symbol of power and glory, alas ! how it changed ! 
 Versailles without courtiers was like a church with- 
 
272 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 out priests, or barracks without soldiers. Everything 
 began to go to ruin, — the rooms, the marble statues, 
 the bronze groups. A few beggars, former servants 
 of the best of masters, pursued the visitors in hope of 
 alms. As Volney said in his Ruins : " A busy orowd 
 once thronged these now deserted paths ; within these 
 walls, where all is silence, sounded the hum of work, 
 and sounds of joy and merrymaking. A mysterious 
 Providence administers incomprehensible judgment. 
 Doubtless he afflicts the earth with a secret curse, 
 and in vengeance of races that are passed, he has 
 smitten those of the present. Oh! who will under- 
 take to fathom the wonders of the Divine Being ? " 
 
 It was a singular irony of fate : in 1797, the keeper 
 of a coffee-house at Versailles rented the Little Tri- 
 anon, and opened there a restaurant and public ball- 
 room ; there the crowd played, smoked, and danced, 
 indulging in ribald talk, and drinking more or less 
 adulterated wine in this once most aristocratic spot, 
 the former home of every luxury. In 1800, a branch 
 of the H6tel des Invalides was installed in the palace 
 of Versailles. Two thousand veterans were estab- 
 lished in the central wing and in the apartments of 
 Louis XV. and Louis XVI. Not even the chambers 
 of the kings inspired respect. 
 
 During the First Empire the palaces of Versailles 
 and those of Trianon had a few hours of glory. 
 January 3, 1805, the town was visited by Pius VII., 
 who came for the coronation of the man who was 
 then called a second Constantine, and he desired to 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 178Q. 278 
 
 see the palace of the old monarchy. He left Paris 
 ill a carriage drawn by eight horses and escorted 
 by men of the Imperial Guard, to make his formal 
 entrance into Versailles. Amid the roar of artillery 
 and the ringing of all the church bells, he went first 
 to the cathedral and then to the palace. After letting 
 more than five hundred people kiss his ring, in the 
 grand apartments and the Gallery of the Mirrors, he 
 went out on the balcony, in the middle of the gallery, 
 looking out on the park. An immense multitude 
 was on the terrace, impatiently waiting for the Vicar 
 of Christ to appear. 
 
 As soon as the Holy Father came out on the 
 balcony, the whole crowd fell on their knees, bare- 
 headed. And this same people who, less than ten 
 years before, was guillotining the priests, breaking 
 the sacred vessels, and had installed a prostitute on 
 the high altar of Notre Dame of Paris, now knelt in 
 repentance to receive the blessing of this venerable 
 man who brought to France the word of peace and 
 the pardon of the God of pity. With more truth 
 than the Doge of Venice, the Pope might have 
 answered the question, what most surprised him at 
 Versailles, " It is to see myself here." It was a 
 happy moment for the Church, for France, and for 
 Napoleon. The Holy Father, surprised and touched, 
 exclaimed with deep emotion, "Is this the French 
 people who are called so irreligious ? " 
 
 In 1805, the Emperor gave orders for the restora- 
 tion of the palaces of Versailles and Trianon, which 
 
274 MAMIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 had reverted to the crown. February 5, a ball was 
 given in the Hercules drawing-room. The haughty 
 upstart moved as a conqueror in the palace of kings ; 
 and in spite of his wonderful fortune, he, the son of 
 a poor and obscure Corsican gentleman, must have 
 felt surprise at being master of the Sun King's palace. 
 The conqueror's court was then most brilliant, and 
 the glow of victory lit up all the residences of this 
 man of destin}^ He sought at the Grand Trianon a 
 few moments' peace in the mournful moments of his 
 varied career. This was December 16, 1809, the day 
 when he divorced the Empress Josephine, the loved 
 companion of his happy days. He, man of action, of 
 iron, as he was, this giant of battles, was not so void 
 of feeling as some have supposed. He suffered all 
 the sufferings of the woman he had once loved so 
 dearly; and, thinking in turn of her and of Marie 
 Antoinette, during the week he spent at Trianon 
 after the divorce, he doubtless said more than once 
 that the royal or imperial crown often turns into a 
 crown of thorns, in a country torn and troubled like 
 ours. 
 
 July 10, 1811, the Emperor came again to Trianon, 
 and this time in company with the Empress Marie 
 Louise. August 25, on her birthday, after a perform- 
 ance in the theatre of the Little Trianon, the gardens 
 were illuminated as in the time of Marie Antoinette. 
 The Emperor walked through them, hat in hand, with 
 the Empress on his arm, and the whole court follow- 
 ing them. He 'went first to the Temple of Love ; then 
 
VEUSAILLES SINCE 1789. 275 
 
 to the hamlet, where had been arranged a number of 
 scenes of rustic life, and where a Flemish picture 
 was represented in action ; and finally, to the octagon 
 pavilion, where musicians performed a cantata. The 
 entertainment closed with a grand ball in the gallery 
 of the Great Trianon. In 1813, the Emperor resided 
 there from the 7th to the 22d of March with the 
 Empress Marie Louise and Queen Hortense, and it 
 is there that he wrote a letter of advice and friendli- 
 ness to Josephine. It is there, too, that he collected 
 a library of more than two thousand volumes, con- 
 sisting of the masterpieces of human intelligence. 
 He remembered this library after his second abdi- 
 cation ; and he asked the Chamber of Deputies for 
 permission to carry these books with him into exile, 
 hoping to get from them some comfort for his cruel 
 griefs. The Chamber, by a unanimous vote, acceded 
 to the desire of the man who, a short time before, 
 had disposed of the sceptres and crowns of Europe. 
 But the wish of the fallen sovereign could not be 
 carried out : foreign troops had sacked and pillaged 
 Napoleon's library. 
 
 Louis XVIII. seldom visited Versailles ; the palace 
 in which he had dwelt in his youth was full of 
 sad memories. The arrangement of the halls and 
 room had not been changed ; and Louis XVIII. was 
 able to distinguish all the rooms in the central wing 
 in which he had lived when Count of Provence. 
 Charles X. also went very seldom to Versailles. In 
 1830, when he was dethroned, he stopped for a 
 
276 MARIE ANTOINETTR 
 
 moment at Trianon. It was the first station of his 
 exile. 
 
 Louis Philippe, who, in spite of the democratic 
 origin of the royalty of July, had aristocratic tastes, 
 and who would have liked nothing better than to 
 be, if the Revolution had permitted, a sovereign like 
 Louis XIV., took much more interest in Versailles 
 than Louis XVIII. or Charles X. He obtained from 
 the Chambers money enough for the restoration of 
 the palace, but only on the condition of establishing 
 there a historical museum. The Versailles of the 
 Sun King was put under the protection of the Re- 
 public, of the Empire, and of the Monarchy of 1830. 
 That was the only way to avoid wounding the pas- 
 sions and susceptibilities of the time. The glories of 
 the old regime were obliged to seek protection from 
 the toleration of the new. 
 
 The creation of the Versailles Museum had been 
 decreed September 1, 1833 ; it was inaugurated June 
 10, 1837. A grand state dinner, at which Louis 
 Philippe presided, was given in the Gallery of the 
 Mirrors. At the King's table were laid six hundred 
 plates. After the dinner, the royal family and all 
 the guests went into the theatre ; this hall, which 
 had been richly decorated, was all ablaze with light. 
 Mademoiselle Mars and the principal actors of the 
 Com^die Frangaise played "Le Misanthrope." Then 
 Duprez, Levasseur, and Mademoiselle Falcon sang 
 selections from the third and fifth acts of "Robert 
 le Diable." " The performance," we read in the 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 277 
 
 Moniteur of June 12, 1837, "terminated with an 
 interlude by M. Scribe, intended to celebrate the 
 inauguration of the Museum, and to compare an 
 entertainment given at Versailles by Louis XIV. 
 with the wholly national festival given this day by 
 the King of the French.' The company was filled 
 with the liveliest enthusiasm at the moment when 
 the art of the decorator made the view of the old 
 Versailles follow that of Versailles restored to its 
 former glory, and consecrated by Louis Philippe to 
 the arts that honor the country." 
 
 After the performance, the King and the guests 
 went through all the halls of the palace and the ncAV 
 gallery, the Gallery of the Battles, " where one sees 
 traced on canvas," says the Moniteur., " all the great 
 exploits of French valor, from the battle of Tolbiac 
 to that of Wagram." This promenade with torches 
 was very impressive. Footmen in red livery went 
 before the King, carrying torches. Louis Philippe 
 was very proud of his triumph. 
 
 October 17, 1837, in the chapel of Trianon, was 
 celebrated the marriage of Princess Marie of Orleans 
 — who made the statue of Joan of Arc — with Duke 
 Alexander of Wiirtemberg. The Little Trianon was 
 the summer residence of the Duke and Duchess of 
 Orleans. 
 
 Charles X., before leaving for foreign parts, rested 
 a moment at Trianon, July 31, 1830. February 24, 
 1848, another exile also stopped there : this exile was 
 Louis Philippe. The law of revenge was applied. 
 
278 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 The younger branch endured the same fate as the 
 elder one. In our century of revolutions, are not 
 palaces like inns, in which sovereigns, like travellers, 
 merely pass through; and cannot the exile of the 
 day repeat to the exile of the morrow this motto of 
 the cemetery : Hodie miJii^ eras tibi ? 
 
 April 22, 1849, the heir of Napoleon, who had be- 
 come the President of the French Republic, held a 
 review on the Place d'Armes, and before the statue 
 of Louis XIY. he presented banners to the battalions 
 of the National Guard of Seine-et-Oise. 
 
 February 1, 1853, a bridegroom with a woman of 
 rare beauty by his side entered the palace courtyard 
 at Versailles, in a tilbury which he drove himself. 
 As soon as the wagon stopped, the Curator of the 
 Museum was summoned by the couple, who asked 
 him to show them all the portraits of Marie Antoi- 
 nette there were in the palace. M. Souli^ hastened 
 to comply with their desire. Before him stood the 
 man who, on the previous evening, had worn the col- 
 lar of the Legion of Honor which Napoleon I. had 
 worn at his coronation, and the very golden fleece 
 of the Emperor Charles V. ; the woman, full of grace 
 and cTiarm, in her long dress of white silk, her diadem 
 and waistband of diamonds, her white veil adorned 
 with orange-flowers, had drawn from the numberless 
 crowd exclamations of surprise, joy, and admiration. 
 Now, she was in simple walking-dress, without maid- 
 of-honor, or escort of any kind. But in her mind, in 
 her eyes, still lingered that vision of the previous even- 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 279 
 
 ing, — the Elysde, the Tuileries, the Place du Louvre, 
 the rue de Rivoli, the quays, all decorated with poles, 
 pennants, awnings, and inscriptions ; the women wav- 
 ing their handkerchiefs and throwing bouquets ; the 
 soldiers and the National Guard saluting ; the dash- 
 ing regiment of the Guards ; the light cavalry in their 
 golden cuirasses ;. the deputations of workingmen, 
 with their banners in front; the old soldiers of the 
 First Empire, the veterans of Austerlitz, Jena, and 
 Wagram ; the young girls in white ; then the towers 
 of Notre Dame upholding four eagles and two huge 
 tricolored flags ; the entrance of this old cathedral, 
 with its tapestries representing equestrian statues of 
 Charlemagne and Napoleon, and, beneath the vaulted 
 roof of the church, the banners of the eighty-six de- 
 partments of France; the fifteen thousand candles 
 lighting the nave ; the high altar, resplendent with 
 lights and flowers. All this the Empress still had in 
 her eyes, and in her ears still resounded the cannon 
 of the Invalides, the roll of the drums, the sound of 
 trumpets and church bells, the enthusiastic applause 
 of the people, the songs of the Church, the majestic 
 roar of the organ. She still breathed the heavy 
 perfume of the incense ; she heard the echo of the 
 litanies, and of the hosannas, and yet she was sad. 
 In spite of this apotheosis, the glory of which still 
 dazzled her, at this moment when she thought her- 
 self the dupe of a dream, her mind was anxious and 
 troubled ; her soul was filled, not with pride, but with 
 melancholy. 
 
280 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Doubtless, too, she remembered that another wo- 
 man, another sovereign, had, too, been exalted, flat- 
 tered, half deified ; and as she thought of that woman, 
 she recalled no longer the triumphal march of the 
 previous evening, but those three stopping-places of 
 the other, — the Temple, the Conciergerie, the Place 
 Louis XV. The Emperor seemed full of confidence 
 in the future : never had his faith in his star seemed 
 firmer ; it manifested itself in every sentence, in 
 every word of the speech he uttered before the great 
 bodies of the State, in the Tuileries, January 23, 
 1853, announcing that great bit of news, his marriage. 
 He then said : " I have preferred a woman whom I 
 love and whom I respect, to any unknown woman, 
 alliance with whom would have brought advantages 
 mingled with sacrifices. Without expressing con- 
 tempt for any one, I follow my inclinations, but after 
 consulting my reason and my convictions. By plac- 
 ing independence, the qualities of the heart, and fam- 
 ily happiness above dynastic prejudices and ambitious 
 calculations, I shall not be less strong, since I shall 
 enjo}^ more freedom." He had also said: "The exam- 
 ples of the past have left behind them in the popular 
 mind a host of superstitious beliefs. It has not for- 
 gotten that for sixty years no foreign princess has 
 ascended the steps of the throne without seeing her 
 family scattered and proscribed by war and revo- 
 lution." 
 
 War and revolution ! The Emperor was then very 
 sure that he and his wife would never be their vie- 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 281 
 
 tims. The evening before, just when she was finish- 
 ing her dressing at the Elys^e, before going to the 
 Tuileries and to Notre Dame, the Empress had put 
 about her neck a magnificent necklace of pearls. 
 Then an old Spanish servant who was there could 
 not keep from crying out : " Oh, Madame ! I beg of 
 you, don't pi.t on that necklace; I am afraid of it. 
 You know what they say at home : ' The more pearls 
 you wear on your wedding-day, the more tears you 
 will shed the rest of your life ! ' " Nevertheless, the 
 Empress kept on the necklace ; but the servant's 
 words had struck her. She heard their distant echo 
 like the sound of an alarm-bell, and, thinking of the 
 tears shed by Marie Antoinette, she said to herself 
 that possibly her eyes, too, would be swollen and 
 scalded with tears. She gazed for a long time, with 
 curiosity mingled with respect and emotion, at the 
 five portraits of the martyred Queen, two of which 
 were painted by the Swedish artist, Roslin, and three 
 by Madame Vig^e-Lebrun. One of these portraits 
 hangs in the Queen's chamber, just where her alcove 
 was, to the left, above the little door through which 
 she fled from the assassins in the morning of October 
 6, 1789. 
 
 Another canvas, painted by the same artist, which 
 hangs in the story above, represents Marie Antoi- 
 nette, in 1787, surrounded by her children, the first 
 Dauphin ; the Duke of Normandy, the future Louis 
 XVII.; Madame Royale, the future orphan of the 
 Temple. The Empress stood long in silent revery 
 
282 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 before this pathetic picture, so crowded with presenti- 
 ments. 
 
 Very near that is another, before which the Em- 
 peror doubtless did not stop ; but it contains a still 
 gloomier omen. It represents King Jerome, seated 
 by the side of his wife, the Princess Catherine of 
 Wiirtemberg. The King and Queen of Westphalia 
 are on the terrace of a castle which overlooks a beau- 
 tiful park, and one sees in the distance a cascade like 
 that of Saint Cloud. This castle Napoleon III. was 
 one day to inhabit. It is his future prison, — Wil- 
 helmshohe ! How fortunate it is for us all, sovereigns 
 or citizens, that we do not know beforehand the fate 
 that awaits us ! 
 
 But the day of sorrow and mourning was still dis- 
 tant. The Empire which was doomed to such a ter- 
 rible end had still many years of strength and glory 
 before it. 
 
 August 21, 1855, Versailles was in festal array. 
 At the entrance of the Avenue Saint Cloud stood a 
 triumphal arch decorated with the united flags of 
 France and England. On the pediment were in- 
 scribed, towards the Avenue of Picardy, the names 
 Victoria and Prince Albert; towards the city the 
 names Napoleon and Eugenie. The Emperor and 
 the Empress went to do the honors of the palace of 
 Louis XIV. to the Queen of England and the Prince 
 Consort. 
 
 Towards eleven in the morning, the imperial and 
 royal procession, consisting of a number of carriages 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 283 
 
 drawn by six horses, preceded and followed by an 
 escort of light cavalry, entered the city, stopped for 
 a few moments beneath the triumphal arch to hear 
 the address of welcome of the mayor of Versailles, 
 and then continued its march to the palace, amid the 
 cheers of an enthusiastic crowd. 
 
 Four days later, August 25, the Emperor gave a 
 ball in the palace to Queen Victoria. The court- 
 yards and the park were illuminated. Never had the 
 residence of the Sun King been more brilliant. Its 
 majestic architecture shone forth in lines of fire. 
 The sovereigns entered by the marble staircase ; the 
 guests, by the princes' stairway. Waiting and rest- 
 ing rooms, boudoirs lined with blue damask and filled 
 with baskets of flowers, had been arranged for the 
 Queen in the apartments of Marie Antoinette. The 
 Gallery of Mirrors was most radiant. 
 
 Thousands of lamps and chandeliers cast their 
 light on the jewels and rich dresses. Every window 
 showed a fairy-like sight, the park' being no less bril- 
 liant than the palace ; the great sheet of water, 
 surrounded on all sides by a series of Renaissance 
 porticos, was lit by many-colored lanterns, fastened 
 on trellis work as green as an emerald, and the whole 
 stood out vividly against the trees of the background. 
 In the middle rose a triumphal arch on the top of 
 which appeared the arms of France and of England. 
 On the porticos to the right and the left glittered the 
 initials of the sovereigns ; the water arose in slender 
 jets to fall down the cascades beneath bright arches ; 
 
284 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the two basins formed a glowing sheet, on which 
 swam golden dolphins, carrying cupids that bore 
 Venetian garlands. At ten o'clock the doors of the 
 grand apartments opened, and Their Majesties entered 
 the Gallery of Mirrors — Queen Victoria on the Em- 
 peror's arm ; the Empress on that of Prince Albert. 
 
 A few moments after began the fireworks, which 
 were set off at the end of the Swiss basin : the princi- 
 pal piece represented Windsor Castle. Then Napo- 
 leon III. opened the ball with the Queen. At eleven 
 the sovereigns made their way through the grand 
 apartments of Louis XIV. to the theatre, where sup- 
 per was served. The table of Their Majesties had 
 been placed in one of the principal boxes overlook- 
 ing the orchestra and the pit, which had been trans- 
 formed into a banquet hall. Never was there a more 
 sumptuous festival. The Emperor was then young, 
 triumphant, and full of confidence in himself and his 
 destiny, had no suspicion of the catastrophes hid in 
 the gloomy future, or of the very different festival 
 which waa to be celebrated fifteen years later in this 
 same Gallery of the Mirrors, when, at the end of the 
 Crimean War, Imperial France rivalled in splendor 
 the France of the Great King. 
 
 January 8, 1871, an altar covered with a red cloth 
 was raised in this gallery, opposite the windows look- 
 ing out upon the park. On this red cloth was the 
 figure of the Iron Cross of Prussia. Around the 
 altar stood officers holding flags. At one in the 
 afternoon. King William, surrounded by representa- 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 285 
 
 lives of all the reigning families of Germany, by the 
 members of his family, his generals, and his minis- 
 ters, entered and took his place before the altar. On 
 his left was noticed Bismarck, who had just been 
 appointed division-commander. A choir of soldiers 
 sang a psalm. The njw German Empire was about to 
 be established. After the psalm, the King placed upon 
 the flag the charter of the Empire and bade the Chan- 
 cellor to read the proclamation to the German peo- 
 ple. The new Csesar announced that, in accordance 
 with the demand of the Princes and the Free Cities, 
 he felt it his duty to restore the Imperial crown and 
 to assume it himself. As soon as the reading of the 
 proclamation was over, the Grand Duke of Baden 
 shouted, " Long live the Emperor of Germany ! " 
 The whole assembled company repeated this cry 
 three times ; then the bands played the Prussian 
 national hymn. The gray light of a winter day lit 
 up this military and feudal ceremony which brought 
 back memories of the old knights in armor. 
 
 Thus, by one of the contrasts with which history 
 is filled, — for history is richer in surprises than any 
 play, — it is here, in this famous Gallery of the 
 Mirrors, still full of the pomp and splendor of Louis 
 XIV., whose armies had so proudly crossed the 
 Rhine ; here, in this imposing hall, where Lebrun's 
 frescoes represent so many scenes of triumph, that 
 it was given to the Germans to restore the Empire 
 which the French had taken so many ages to over- 
 throw. If the dead retain any interest in human 
 
286 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 affairs, what must the Great King have thought of 
 the rites just celebrated in his palace ? 
 
 And the victor himself, what must have been his 
 reflections on the vicissitudes of fate? Even amid 
 all their glory and the intoxication of success, the 
 haughtiest conquerors cannot escape serious thoughts : 
 a secret voice, like that of the slave who kept close 
 to the triumphal chariot in antiquity, whispers into 
 their ears that earthly joys are brief, that the future 
 is uncertain. 
 
 Who knows? Despite his prodigious triumphs, 
 the conqueror of Sedan, the all-powerful Emperor 
 William himself had, possibly, his moments of sad- 
 ness. Possibly he thought more than once, amid all 
 the applause and the blare of trumpets, of that army 
 of which the Abbd Perreyve has spoken, " that army 
 unseen by the corporal eyes, but too clearly visible 
 to the mind's eye, which begins its bloody march 
 . . . the great army of the dead, the army of the 
 slain, the abandoned, the forgotten, the army of cruel 
 tortures and prolonged infirmities, which pursues its 
 fatal march behind what we call glory ! " Yes, pos- 
 sibly the conqueror recalled, not Avithout a pang, the 
 time when Germany and France, like two allies, like 
 two friends, took part together in the festivals of 
 peace, in the great ceremonies of modern civilization. 
 Possibly he remembered the time of the Universal 
 Exhibition, when he offered rich bouquets to the 
 Empress Eugenie, when the hospitality of the Tui- 
 leries was sumptuous and cordial, when the peoples 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 287 
 
 fraternized like their sovereigns, and Germans and 
 French, gathered about the same tables, drank Bava- 
 rian beer together in the galleries of the joyous 
 palace of the Champ de Mars, while the magic bow of 
 Strauss of Vienna directed the fascinating waltzes, — 
 "The Blue Danube," "Morning Flowers." How 
 many fine and fearless young men, then in the flower 
 and force of their youth, were now sleeping beneath 
 the sods of the battle-field ! And how many were 
 wounded and maimed ! How many families in 
 mourning, how many mothers in tears ! What a sad 
 conflict was this terrible war between two great 
 nations that stood at the head of contemporary civil- 
 ization, between two intelligent and brave peoples, 
 who were born to understand and to respect one 
 another I And what a price did the unhappy coun- 
 tries, which would have been so prosperous in peace 
 and friendly rivalry, pay for the wars of their em- 
 perors and kings ! 
 
 The day after the proclamation of the Empire 
 of Germany at Versailles, the cannon of Buzenval 
 announced the death agony of Paris. The bom- 
 bardment of the great capital went on without in- 
 terruption, and the palace of Saint Cloud began to 
 burn, like a sacrificial pile. The applause which had 
 greeted the new-made Emperor in the Gallery of the 
 Mirrors still continued, when its aspect had swiftly 
 changed. The hall of Triumph became a hospital; 
 thither were taken the Germans wounded at Buzenval. 
 The apartments of the Dauphin, of the Queen, the 
 
288 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 grand apartments of Louis XIV., were also filled with 
 dying men. The attendants slept in the hall of the 
 Queen's Guards. 
 
 The hall of the Grand Convert — the hall where, 
 in the time of the old monarchy, were given the most 
 magnificent royal banquets, was turned into an apoth- 
 ecary's shop. Cries of pain, long sighs, the death 
 rattle of the mortally hurt, were heard in this splen- 
 did gallery, which had so often echoed, in a blaze of 
 lights and flowers, to the joyous music of the ball- 
 room. The wounded, as they lay on their beds of 
 pain, could see above their heads Lebrun's heroic 
 paintings, and possibly to some of them there oc- 
 curred bitter thoughts about glory; for glory has 
 but a pallid glow to dying men. 
 
 Yet the German wounded could at least say that 
 elsewhere, at that moment, there were other wounded 
 and dying men, who were much more deserving of 
 pity. They had the consolation of victory ; but the 
 beaten who were wounded, whose pains and sacrifices 
 had been unavailing, who asked, " To what good 
 these heaped-up ruins, these burned huts, so much 
 bloodshed, such devotion, courage, suffering, so many 
 heroic deaths ? *' Those who died for a country humili- 
 ated, defeated, despoiled ; those who had lost the flags 
 which might have served for shrouds, what anguish 
 wrung their souls, tortured like their bodies ! Alas ! 
 how much they needed to press the crucifix to their 
 lips in order not to die in despair. 
 
 March 11, 1871, the Germans evacuated Versailles ; 
 
VEBSAILLES SINCE 1789. 289 
 
 they had entered it six months before, September 
 19, 1870, with drums beating and banners waving. 
 No one would guess what it was that their bands 
 played as they entered the town of Louis XIV. It 
 was the hymn of the Revolution, the " Marseillaise." 
 Yes, by a curious turn of fate, and by a sort of irony, 
 the '' Marseillaise," which the French, in the deceptive 
 ardor of their w\arlike hopes, expected to carry to the 
 other side of the Rhine, was played, not in Germany, 
 but at Versailles, by the bands of King William. 
 
 The National Assembly, which had suspended its 
 sittings at Bordeaux, March 11, 1871, had decided to 
 resume them at Versailles on the 20th of the same 
 month. They expected a period of peace. It was 
 fair to hope that after so many sorrows and humilia- 
 tions, France, mutilated and sorely stricken, would 
 at last enjoy some rest, that its power of suffering 
 was exhausted, that the Niobe of nations was to 
 recover its strength in sadness. But alas ! at the 
 very moment when it imagined that it had drunk 
 the cup of bitterness to the dregs, and that it had 
 but to set it down, it was filled anew to the brim, 
 and had to be emptied again. 
 
 After the period of fire and blood began the orgy 
 of brandy and petroleum; after the Invasion, the 
 Commune. Mount Valerien continued to thunder; 
 but it was no longer war with the foreigner, but one 
 more terrible and mournful, — civil war. The chil- 
 dren of one country plunged into unholy combat ; and 
 from the hills which engirdle the capital of capitals, 
 
290 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the Germans looked down upon the French murder- 
 ing one another, like gladiators in a huge amphi- 
 theatre. 
 
 During the Commune, Versailles presented the 
 strangest appearance. Sometimes the Deputies who 
 could find no quarters used to sleep in the Gallery 
 of the Mirrors, which was transformed by turns into 
 a hospital ward and a dormitory. Stains of blood 
 may still be seen on the floor of this gallery. M. 
 Thiers had installed himself in the house of the 
 Prefect, which had been occupied a few days before 
 by the Emperor William. 
 
 From time to time, he would descend the steps to 
 receive the red flags, melancholy trophies of the 
 civil war, which were brought back by the victori- 
 ous army. By his side was Marshal MacMahon in 
 full uniform. The sound of the trumpet and the 
 roll of the drums was continually heard. At certain 
 points, the town looked like a seat of war ; at others, 
 like a watering-place. The Place d'Armes was cov- 
 ered with cannon ; and the crowd, when it saw pris- 
 oners arrive, did not always display the compassion 
 due to men beaten and disarmed. A little further, 
 and an elegant throng filled the rue des Reservoirs. 
 These fugitives, surprised at meeting one another, 
 used to walk up and down, recounting their experi- 
 ences, or they would sit at hotel tables, which re- 
 minded one of the Conversation Hall at Baden Baden. 
 The spring weather, the lovely evenings, the starlit 
 nights, presented a strange contrast to the savage 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 291 
 
 passions raging in Paris. Nature, which is better 
 than man, seemed to be making a protest by its calm 
 and its unalterable serenity; and the roar of tlie 
 cannon continually firing was like peals of thunder, 
 startling every one by suddenly breaking forth under 
 a clear sky. 
 
 Everybody wondered what would become of the 
 hostages ; what would be the end of this lamentable 
 tragedy ; what would become of the burning city ; 
 would it not be consumed to the last house ? Cruel 
 uncertainty ! Horrible forebodings ! Was it conceiv- 
 able that such awful things should be going on close 
 to Versailles? As the Journal Officiel said, in its 
 number of May 25, " For centuries history has not 
 known such disasters or such crimes." The ancient 
 notion of the power of Fate was exceeded. And yet 
 at Versailles, beside the faces full of alarm, there 
 were faces almost indifferent. I have seen women 
 riding under the trees, and worthy citizens in the 
 park smelling the early perfumes of the flowering 
 lilacs. Tragic incidents make less impression at the 
 moment of their happening than they do when they 
 come back as memories in the imposing remoteness 
 of history. 
 
 At the present time,^ the town of Louis XIV., who 
 held everything that had to do with a parliament in 
 the greatest horror, has become the very heart of par- 
 
 ^ Written, the reader is reminded, before the return of the French 
 Chambers to Paris. — Tr. 
 
292 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 liamentary France \ and by another singularity of our 
 time, so fertile in surprises and contrasts, it is the 
 Republic which has chosen this royal town for its 
 capital. In a town which a few years ago was com- 
 pared to a city of the dead, prevail the warmest dis- 
 cussions, the most tumultuous passions. Thence are 
 sent telegrams all over the world, announcing the 
 agitations of meetings which arouse universal atten- 
 tion. 
 
 One moment the Legitimists hoped that in the very 
 theatre where took place the famous banquet of the 
 body-guards, October 1, 1789, — that festival of devo- 
 tion and loyalty, — they would proclaim the re-estab- 
 lishment of the old monarchy. Providence decided 
 otherwise ; and now, in this hall where a Republic 
 was voted by more than one monarchist, there sits a 
 Republican senate. In the other side of the castle, 
 in one of the rooms in the south wing, the Chamber 
 of Deputies holds its meetings. Above the Presi- 
 dent's chair hangs a picture representing the opening 
 of the States-General of 1789, by Conder. Another 
 odd thing in a Republican chamber is to be seen, — the 
 image of a monarch, and this monarch is Louis XVI. 
 
 Sometimes persons who have come to watch the 
 meetings of the Chamber from the galleries, leave 
 the hall and go to meditate in other parts of the 
 palace, in the apartments full of memories of the 
 old monarchy. Nothing so allays the passions of 
 the present as a glance at the past. History is not 
 merely didactic ; it is a source of tranquillization. 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 293 
 
 I never get tired of strolling through the royal 
 apartments, which, strangely enough, were trans- 
 formed, in 1871, into ministerial offices. For a year, 
 my work-table was placed near Marie Antoinette's 
 drawing-room, in what was called the hall of the 
 Grand Convert, opposite the picture representing the 
 Doge Imperiali apologizing to Louis XIV. It is 
 there that I conceived for the palace of Versailles a 
 real passion. Having ceased to regard the place as a 
 mere curiosity, I have become deeply attached to it 
 as a shrine where religion and history speak in uni- 
 son, and where events call forth funeral orations 
 which need no Massillon or Bossuet for their utter- 
 ance. I have often returned to this historical palace, 
 where the dead have voice and the stones a language 
 to express the hollowness of greatness, the disappoint- 
 ments of vanity, the torments of ambition, the bitter- 
 ness and emptiness of glory. Seen in its true light, 
 that is to say, in the light of the Gospel, this palace, 
 with its abundant lessons, seems as impressive as a 
 church, and I never enter its gates without a feeling 
 of reverence ! 
 
 I shall never forget the impression I received one 
 of the last times I visited it. I had just lost a sister 
 who had been the gentle companion of my childhood, 
 the friend of my youth, and I had loved her with all 
 my heart. She died when of the same age as Marie 
 Antoinette, after enduring long sufferings with won- 
 derful resignation. She died like a saint, as an angel 
 might die if angels were mortal. In my grief I 
 
294 MABIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 wanted to wander through this melancholy palace, 
 whence a plaintive hymn seemed to issue, to remind 
 me, by comparing my homely sorrow with more 
 famous afflictions, that rich or poor, sovereigns or 
 subjects, we are alike condemned to bear the same 
 burden, to empty the same cup of bitterness. On 
 entering the palace courtyard, I saw a multitude near 
 the statue of Louis XIV., on their knees. Priests, 
 sisters of Saint Vincent de Paul, children, were 
 praying and singing. It was the procession which 
 marched, its banner in front, to the three stations of the 
 jubilee, — the Church of Saint Louis, the chapel of the 
 palace, Notre Dame. Then I thought, " How petty 
 are the kings of earth, how great the King of Heaven ! 
 Where are the thrones, the crowns, the ashes of the 
 sovereigns who have reigned in this palace ? Every- 
 thing is destroyed, but the cross remains." The 
 singing continued ; never did religious music sound 
 to me more holy. 
 
 It was as if a mourning country was invoking 
 Divine clemency. It seemed to me that a super- 
 natural band was uniting the quick and the dead, 
 that near these sisters of charity there floated the 
 shades of the heroines of Versailles, of those women 
 who appeased the Divine wrath by innocence or 
 repentance. Yes, I called up all, — the pious Queen, 
 Maria Theresa ; and her who exchanged the proud 
 name of Duchess of La Valliere for the pathetic 
 and gentle name of Sister Louise of Mercy ; and 
 the haughty Montespan, who was made humble by 
 
VERSAILLES SINCE 1789. 295 
 
 repentance ; the kind Marie Leczinska ; and Madame 
 Louise of France, the austere Carmelite ; and the two 
 martyrs, Marie Antoinette and Madame Elisabeth. 
 I seemed to hear voices from beyond the grave join- 
 ing in the litanies. 
 
 The procession made its way into the royal chapel, 
 the dome of which, at the side of the palace, is like a 
 catafalque, and where there still lingered the echoes 
 of a sublime voice, the voice of Massillon. Then the 
 faithful entoned the Miserere., a song as deep as the 
 ocean, as great as grief ; the song of lamentation, of 
 humility to God. I said to myself : " This hymn of 
 penitence must rise to Heaven ! Have mercy upon 
 me, O God ! according to thy loving kindness. Mis- 
 erere mei., Deus^ secundum magnam misericordiam 
 tuam. . . . Make me to hear joy and gladness, 
 that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice : 
 Auditui meo dahis gaudium et Icetitiam^ et exultahunt 
 ossa Jiumiliata. . . ." And I raised my heart towards 
 Him of whom Bossuet says, " To Him alone belong 
 glory, majesty, and freedom ; the only one who glories 
 in making laws for kings, and in giving them when 
 he pleases great and terrible lessons." Ah ! I said 
 to myself, the true end of a study on Versailles is 
 this religious ceremony in the chapel where kings 
 used to kneel. After the crime, reparation; after 
 the pomp of pride, humble repentance ; after the 
 wanton favorites, the modest daughter of Saint Vin- 
 cent de Paul. All France appeared to me like a pen- 
 itent. No ! all these trials and sacrifices were not^ 
 
296 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ill vain ! The tears and blood were not shed to no 
 purpose ! No ; a people which has maintained its 
 faith under adversity is not condemned to hopeless 
 decay ! Material ruin, and that more terrible thing 
 yet, moral ruin, may be finally repaired. Like Laz- 
 arus, France will rise from her tomb ; she accepts the 
 lessons of the past, to prepare for the future, and 
 though He has punished her, the God of mercy does 
 not cease to protect her. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abbaye, the prison of, broken open, 
 207. 
 
 Angouleme, Duchess of, see Mad- 
 ame Royale, 156. 
 
 Aubertin, Charles, quoted, 202. 
 
 Balls, the last court, at Versailles, 
 2. 
 
 Banquet of October 1 at Versailles, 
 241. 
 
 " Barber of Seville," played at the 
 Little Trianon, 55 et seq. 
 
 Bastille, capture of, 211. 
 
 Beaumarchais, his elforts to have 
 the " Marriage of Figaro " played, 
 31; a forerunner of the Revolu- 
 tion, 33; his letter to the Abbe 
 de Calonne, 36 ; performance of 
 his "Barber of Seville" in the 
 theatre of the Little Trianon, 
 56. 
 
 Besenval, Baron, quoted, 172, 174. 
 
 Beugnot, Count, describes Caglios- 
 tro's sorceries, 74. 
 
 Boehmer, the jeweller from whom 
 the diamond necklace was pur- 
 chased, 88. 
 
 Bombelles, Marchioness of, the 
 friend of Madame Elisabeth, 142. 
 
 Bosson, Jacques, Madame Elisa- 
 beth's dairyman, 147. 
 
 Breteuil, Baron de, orders the ar- 
 rest of the Cardinal de Rohan, 
 100. 
 
 Brienne, his incapacity, 173; his 
 greed, 176; leaves the ministry, 
 177. 
 
 Broglie, Marshal of, put in com- 
 mand of the troops, 207. 
 
 Cagliostro, his appearance in 
 France, 60; attaches himself to 
 Cardinal de Rohan, 70 ; his char- 
 latanries, 72; banished, 122; his 
 end, 123. 
 
 Calonne, his paper proposing to 
 convoke the Notables, 168; his 
 sijeech in the Assembly, 170. 
 
 Campan, Madame, quoted, 24; her 
 interview with Boehmer, iK), 171. 
 
 Cazotte, M., prophecies of, loO et 
 seq. 
 
 Chantilly, reception to the Grand 
 Duke Paul at, 27 ; festivities at, 
 29. 
 
 Chateaubriand describes the pomp 
 of Versailles, 3. 
 
 Compardon, M., his book on the 
 diamond necklace, 86, 
 
 Conde, Prince of, his courtesy, 28. 
 
 Conde, Mademoiselle de, 29. 
 
 Court, the French, before the Revo- 
 lution, 21. 
 
 Darboy, Archbishop, his preface to 
 Madame Elisabeth's letters, 157. 
 
 Dauphin, the, " asks leave to enter," 
 14 ; baptism of, 12 ; enthusiasm of 
 all classes over, 15 et seq. ; illness 
 of, 197 ; his death, 199. 
 
 Diamond necklace, the affair of, 
 86 et seq. 
 
 Elisabeth, Madame, her devotion to 
 Marie Antoinette, 135 ; her char- 
 acter and life, 136 et seq. ; letters 
 of, 142; her religious reflections, 
 143 ; her dairy, 147 ; her impris- 
 onment and execution, 152 et seq. 
 
 297 
 
298 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Elliott, Madame, her account of 
 the Duke of Orleans, 233, 237; 
 tries to induce him to join him- 
 self to the King, 238. 
 
 Enghien, Duke of, 29. 
 
 *' Figaro, the Marriage of," its per- 
 formance prevented, 31 ; played 
 at Gennevilliers, 35 ; and at the 
 Comedie Fran9aise, 35. 
 
 Georgel, Abbe, his zeal in the de- 
 fence of the Cardinal de Rohan, 
 110, 120. 
 
 Goethe, foresees the Revolution, 
 125. 
 
 Grimm, Baron, quoted, 30, 36. 
 
 La Fayette, Marquis of, birth and 
 fortunes, 222 et seq.; serves in 
 America, 224 ; his love of fame, 
 226 ; commander of the National 
 Guard, 227; leads the National 
 Guard to Versailles, 229; reas- 
 sures the King, 256; his course 
 at Versailles, 256; his blind op- 
 timism, 260; his sleep, 264. 
 
 La Harpe, quoted, 37 ; his report 
 of Cazotte's prophecy, 151. 
 
 Lameth, M. de, ingratit'iffe of, 5. 
 
 La Motte, Count de,.78. 
 
 La Motte, Co(ijintes>. de, her birth 
 and clj^^rgK:' ;r, 76 et seq. ; has an 
 intf !-' , Jk the Cardinal de 
 
 Rohan, devises her plot 
 
 against t^ . Cardinal, 79; ar- 
 ranges the mock interview be- 
 tween the Queen and the Cardi- 
 nal, 84; her plot to obtain the 
 diamond necklace, 91; hears of 
 the arrest of the Cardinal, 102; 
 her defence, 113; her punish- 
 ment, 123 ; her death, 125. 
 
 Lescure, M. de, Secret Correspond- 
 ence of, quoted, 5. 
 
 Louis XVI., delight of, at the birth 
 of the Dauphin, 13; his feeble 
 rule, 163; his weakness and va- 
 cillation with the Parliament, 
 
 175; decides to' convoke the 
 States-General, 177; opens the 
 States-General, 191 ; a philan- 
 thropist and a good man, but not 
 a king, 204 ; his noble optimism, 
 205 ; perceives his errors too late, 
 209 ; urges Necker to leave, 209 ; 
 appears humbly before the Depu- 
 ties, 214; decides to return to 
 Paris, 215 ; orders the princes of 
 the blood to leave France, 216; 
 goes to Paris, 219; repels the 
 Duke of Orleans, 239 ; summoned 
 to Versailles to meet the mob, 
 248; shows himself to the mob, 
 265 ; consents to go to Paris, 
 267. 
 
 Louis XVII. as Dauphin, baptism 
 of, 132. 
 
 Louise, Madame, death of, 145. 
 
 Mackau, Baroness of, the friend of 
 Madame Elisabeth, 141. 
 
 Malouet, his observation on the 
 King's ministers, 202, 204 ; quoted, 
 209. 
 
 Maria Theresa, her disapproval of 
 private theatricals, 54; complains 
 of the conduct of the Cardinal de 
 Rohan, 62. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, at the last court 
 ball no one would dance with, 5 ; 
 hissed at the Opera, 5 ; gives birth 
 to the Dauphin, 13 et seq. ; invites 
 the Baroness d'Oberkirch to her 
 court, 23; her timidity, 24; en- 
 tertains Gustavus III. at the Lit- 
 tle Trianon, 47 ; her affability at 
 her Sunday balls, 51 ; her acting 
 at the theatre of Little Trianon, 
 53; refuses to purchase the dia- 
 mond necklace, 88; is informed 
 by Madame Campan of the plot, 
 94 ; acquitted of any part in the 
 affair, 112 ; wounded by the ver- 
 dict, 121; portrait of , by Madame 
 Vigee-Lebrun, 128 ; death of her 
 daughter Sophia, 129; death of 
 the Dauphin, 131 ; her rural life at 
 
INDEX. 
 
 299 
 
 the Trianon, 146; begins to ap- 
 prehend the impending troubles, 
 160; her ascendancy over her 
 husband, 172 ; forbidden to show 
 herself in Paris, 174; her error 
 in favoring the Third Estate, 179; 
 betrayed on every side, 182 ; her 
 self-possession, 194; evil omens, 
 196 ; her anguish at the death of 
 the Dauphin, 199; her partiality 
 for La Fayette, 222 ; and for the 
 Duke of Orleans, 230 et seq. ; re- 
 alizes the position he has taken, 
 236 ; her reception at the banquet 
 of October 1, 243 ; assailed by cal- 
 umny, 246; her last visit to th-: 
 Trianon, 246; rescued by Ma- 
 dame Thibaut, 263; is taken to 
 Paris by the mob, 268. 
 
 Marie Louise, visits Versailles with 
 Napoleon, 274. 
 
 Maury, Abbe, brings news of the 
 Cardinal de Rohan's arrest to 
 the Countess de La Motte, 102. 
 
 Mercy-Argenteau, Count of, wit- 
 nesses incognito the acting of 
 Marie Antoinette, 54. 
 
 Michelet, quotation from, 88. 
 
 Mirabeau, a royalist, 203; his fa- 
 mous phrase, 206. 
 
 Montreuil, the house of Madame 
 Elisabeth, 139; the dairy at, 147. 
 
 Napoleon, his remark about the 
 ''Marriage of Figaro," 40; re- 
 stores the Versailles palaces and 
 the Trianon, 273. 
 
 National Assembly, the Third Es- 
 tate announces itself the, 205. 
 
 Necker, has no fears about the 
 States-General, 9; called to the 
 Ministry, 177; assembles the No- 
 tables again, 179 ; deceives him- 
 self, 183 ; the true King of France, 
 207 ; gives up his portfolio, 209 ; 
 opposes resistance to the mob, 
 250. 
 
 Necklace, the diamond, affair of, 
 no longer obscure, 86. 
 
 Noailles, Viscountess of, quoted, 7. 
 
 Nobility, the French, worthiness of 
 at the period of the Revolution, 
 7 et seq. ; light-hearted and dig- 
 nified to the last, 11. 
 
 Notables, Assembly of, 169. 
 
 Oberkirch, Baroness d', on society 
 in France at the period of the 
 Revolution, 10; presented to the 
 Queen, 23; descriles Cardinal de 
 Rohan, 66 ; quoted, 70, 138, 150. 
 
 Oliva, d', the, a tool of Countess 
 de La Motte, 82 ; arrest of, 103 ; 
 public interest in her, 110 ; con- 
 fesses, 1x3 ; acquittal of, 119 ; re- 
 ceives many proposals of mar- 
 riage, 123. 
 
 Orleans, Duke of, organizes the 
 Revolution, 175 ; exiled to Villers- 
 Cotterets, 176; his relations to 
 the Queen, 230 et seq. ; his char- 
 acter, 233; led by circumstances 
 into revolt, 237 ; repulsed by the 
 King, 239. 
 
 Palais Royal, repute of the, 27, 46. 
 Paris, outbreak of the Revolution 
 
 in, 209. 
 Parliam the action of, 173. 
 Paul, the Grand Duke, visit of, to 
 
 Louis XVL, 22 ; his hon mot at 
 
 the ball, 26; at C Mr- 27. 
 Pius VII. at Ver 1805, 
 
 272. 
 Poitrine, Madame, ^arse of the 
 
 Dauphin, 15. 
 Polignac, Duchess of, 214; bidden 
 
 by the King to depart, 216 ; leaves 
 
 Versailles in disguise, 218. 
 
 Raigecourt, Marchioness of, dow- 
 ered by Madame Elisabeth, 141. 
 
 Revolution, the, a light affair in 
 the eyes of the nobility, 9; the 
 beginning of, 160 et seq. ; insur- 
 rection in Paris, 210. 
 
 Rohan, Cardinal de, character of, 
 60 ; French Ambassador at Vien- 
 
300 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 na, 62; incurs the dislike of Ma- 
 rie Antoinette, 64, 67 ; appointed 
 Grand Almoner of France, etc., 65 
 et seq. ; his infatuation for Cagli- 
 ostro, 71 ; fascinated by Madame 
 de La Motte, 79 ; in her toils, 81 ; 
 has a mock interview with the 
 Queen, 84 ; is duped by the Count- 
 ess de La Motte into buying the 
 diamond necklace, 92 ; summoned 
 before the King and examined, 
 98; arrested, 100 ; decides to stand 
 trial, 105; protests against lay 
 jurisdiction, 106; shown to have 
 been a dupe, 113 ; makes his de- 
 fence, 115; is disgraced by the 
 King, 120; his end, 122. 
 Royale, Madame, her imprison- 
 ment, 156. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, quoted, 37. 
 
 Segur, the Count of, quoted, 45. 
 
 States-General, convoked at Ver- 
 sailles, 183; the ceremonies of 
 the assembling, 185 ; the opening 
 session, 188 et seq. 
 
 Taine, quotation from, 3, 7. 
 
 Talleyrand, quoted, 9. 
 
 Tennis Court, the oath of the, 205. 
 
 Tippoo Sahib, embassy of, to 
 France, 197. 
 
 Trianon, the Little, the theatre of, 
 52; Marie Antoinette on the stage 
 of, 53 et seq.; the Queen's last 
 visit to, 246 ; the fate of, 271. 
 
 Versailles, the court theatre at, 2 ; 
 the pomp of, described by Cha- 
 teaubriand, 3; localities of the 
 scenes of October 6, 258 et seq. ; 
 palace of, entered by the mob, 
 261 ; decadence of, 270 ; Pius VII. 
 at, in 1805, 272; palaces of, re- 
 stored by Napoleon, 273; visit of, 
 with Marie Louise to, 274 ; visits 
 of Louis XVIII., Charles X., and 
 Louis Philippe to, 275 et seq.; 
 during the Commune, 289; Na- 
 poleon III. and Eugenie's visit to, 
 278 ; visit of Queen Victoria and 
 Prince Albert to, 283; Emperor 
 William crowned in the palace 
 of, 285; Museum, creation of, 
 276. 
 
 Vigee-Lebrun, Madame, her picture 
 of Marie Antoinette, 128. 
 
 Villette, Retaux de, arrest of, 103; 
 confesses his part in the affair of 
 the diamond necklace, 113. 
 
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