[Illustration: Marie Antoinette]

THE LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE, QUEEN OF FRANCE. 

BY CHARLES DUKE YONGE

1876

PREFACE. 

The principal authorities for the following work are the four volumes ofCorrespondence published by M. Arneth, and the six volumes published by M. Feuillet de Conches. M. Arneth's two collections[1] contain not only anumber of letters which passed between the queen, her mother the Empress-queen (Maria Teresa), and her brothers Joseph and Leopold, whosuccessively became emperors after the death of their father; but also aregular series of letters from the imperial embassador at Paris, the CountMercy d'Argenteau, which may almost be said to form a complete history ofthe court of France, especially in all the transactions in which MarieAntoinette, whether as dauphiness or queen, was concerned, till the deathof Maria Teresa, at Christmas, 1780. The correspondence with her twobrothers, the emperors Joseph and Leopold, only ceases with the death ofthe latter in March, 1792. 

The collection published by M. Feuillet de Conches[2] has been vehementlyattacked, as containing a series of clever forgeries rather than ofgenuine letters. And there does seem reason to believe that in a fewinstances, chiefly in the earlier portion of the correspondence, thecritical acuteness of the editor was imposed upon, and that some of theletters inserted were not written by the persons alleged to be theauthors. But of the majority of the letters there seems no solid groundfor questioning the authenticity. Indeed, in the later and more importantportion of the correspondence, that which belongs to the period after thedeath of the Empress-queen, the genuineness of the Queen's letters iscontinually supported by the collection of M. Arneth, who has himselfpublished many of them, having found them in the archives at Vienna, whereM. F. De Conches had previously copied them, [3] and who refers to others, the publication of which did not come within his own plan. M. Feuillet deConches' work also contains narratives of some of the most importanttransactions after the commencement of the Revolution, which are of greatvalue, as having been compiled from authentic sources. 

Besides these collections, the author has consulted the lives of MarieAntoinette by Montjoye, Lafont d'Aussonne, Chambrier, and the MM. Goncourt; "La Vraie Marie Antoinette" of M. Lescure; the Memoirs of Mme. Campan, Cléry, Hue, the Duchesse d'Angoulême, Bertrand de Moleville("Mémoires Particuliers"), the Comte de Tilly, the Baron de Besenval, theMarquis de la Fayette, the Marquise de Créquy, the Princess Lamballe; the"Souvenirs de Quarante Ans, " by Mlle. De Tourzel; the "Diary" of M. DeViel Castel; the correspondence of Mme. Du Deffand; the account of theaffair of the necklace by M. De Campardon; the very valuablecorrespondence between the Count de la Marck and Mirabeau, which alsocontains a narrative by the Count de la Marck of many very importantincidents; Dumont's "Souvenirs sur Mirabeau;" "Beaumarchais et son Temps, "by M. De Loménie; "Gustavus III. Et la Cour de Paris, " by M. Geoffroy;the first seven volumes of the Histoire de la Terreur, by M. MortimerTernaux; Dr. Moore's journal of his visit to France, and view of theFrench Revolution; and a great number of other works in which there iscursory mention of different incidents, especially in the earlier part ofthe Revolution; such as the journals of Arthur Young, Madame de Staël'selaborate treatise on the Revolution; several articles in the last seriesof the "Causeries de Lundi, " by Sainte-Beuve, and others in the _Revue desDeux Mondes_, etc. , etc. , and to those may of course be added the regularhistories of Lacretelle, Sismondi, Martin, and Lamartine's "History of theGirondins. "

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

Importance of Marie Antoinette in the Revolution. --Value of herCorrespondence as a Means of estimating her Character. --Her Birth, November 2d, 1755. --Epigram of Metastasio. --Habits of the ImperialFamily. --Schönbrunn. --Death of the Emperor. --Projects for the Marriage ofthe Archduchess. --Her Education. --The Abbé de Vermond. --Metastasio. --Gluck. 

CHAPTER II. 

Proposal for the Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dauphin. --EarlyEducation of the Dauphin. --The Archduchess leaves Vienna in April, 1770. --Her Reception at Strasburg. --She meets the King at Compiègne. --TheMarriage takes place May 16th, 1770. 

CHAPTER III. 

Feelings in Germany and France on the Subject of the Marriage. --Letter ofMaria Teresa to the Dauphin. --Characters of the Different Members of theRoyal Family. --Difficulties which beset Marie Antoinette. --Maria Teresa'sLetter of Advice. --The Comte de Mercy is sent as Embassador to Franceto act as the Adviser of the Dauphiness. --The Princesse de Lorraine atthe State Ball. --A Great Disaster takes place at the Fire-works in Paris. --The Peasant at Fontainebleau. --Marie Antoinette pleases the King. --Description of her Personal Appearance. --Mercy's Report of the Impressionshe made on her First Arrival. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Marie Antoinette gives her Mother her First Impressions of the Court andof her own Position and Prospects. --Court Life at Versailles. --MarieAntoinette shows her Dislike of Etiquette. --Character of the Ducd'Aiguillon. --Cabals against the Dauphiness. --Jealousy of Mme. Du Barri. --The Aunts, too, are Jealous of Her. --She becomes more and more Popular. --Parties for Donkey-riding. --Scantiness of the Dauphiness's Income. --HerInfluence over the King. --The Duc de Choiseul is dismissed. --She beginsto have Great Influence over the Dauphin. 

CHAPTER V. 

Mercy's Correspondence with the Empress. --Distress and Discontent pervadeFrance. --Goldsmith predicts a Revolution. --Apathy of the King. --TheAunts mislead Marie Antoinette. --Maria Teresa hears that the Dauphinessneglects her German Visitors. --Marriage of the Count de Provence. --GrowingPreference of Louis XV. For the Dauphiness. --The Dauphiness appliesherself to Study. --Marie Antoinette becomes a Horsewoman. --Her Kindnessto all beneath her. --Cabals of the Adherents of the Mistress. --TheRoyal Family become united. --Concerts in the Apartments of the Dauphiness. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Marie Antoinette wishes to see Paris. --Intrigues of Madame Adelaide. --Characters of the Dauphin and the Count de Provence. --Grand Review atFontainebleau. --Marie Antoinette in the Hunting Field. --Letter from her tothe Empress. Mischievous Influence of the Dauphin's Aunts on herCharacter. --Letter of Marie Antoinette to the Empress. --Her Affection forher Old Home. --The Princes are recalled from Exile. --Lord Stormont. --GreatFire at the Hôtel-Dieu. --Liberality of Charity of Marie Antoinette. --Shegoes to the Bal d'Opéra. --Her Feelings about the Partition of Poland. --TheKing discusses Politics with her, and thinks highly of her Ability. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Marie Antoinette is anxious for the Maintenance of the Alliance betweenFrance and Austria. --She, with the Dauphin, makes a State Entry intoParis. --The "Dames de la Halle. "--She praises the Courtesy of theDauphin. --Her Delight at the Enthusiasm of the Citizens. --She, with theDauphin, goes to the Theatre, and to the Fair of St. Ovide, and to St. Cloud. --Is enthusiastically received everywhere. --She learns to drive. --She makes some Relaxations in Etiquette. --Marriage of the Comted'Artois. --The King's Health grows Bad. --Visit of Marshal Lacy toVersailles. --The King catches the Small-pox. --Madame du Barri quitsVersailles. --The King dies. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette. --Feelings of the NewSovereigns. --Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent. --Marie Antoinettewrites to Maria Teresa. --The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns. --Madame Adelaide has the Small-pox. --Anxieties of Maria Teresa. --Mischievous Influence of the Aunts. --Position and Influence of the Countde Mercy. --Louis consults the Queen on Matters of Policy. --Her Prudence. --She begins to Purify the Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette. --HerCare of her Pages. --The King and she renounce the Gifts of Le JoyeuxAvénement, and La Ceinture de la Reine. --She procures the Pardon of theDuc de Choiseul. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Comte de Provence intrigues against the Queen. --The King gives her theLittle Trianon. --She lays out an English Garden. --Maria Teresa cautionsher against Expense. --The King and Queen abolish some of the Old Forms. --The Queen endeavors to establish Friendships with some of her YoungerLadies. --They abuse her Favor. --Her Eagerness for Amusement. --Louisenters into her Views. --Etiquette is abridged. --Private Parties atChoisy. --Supper Parties. --Opposition of the Princesses. --Some of theCourtiers are dissatisfied at the Relaxation of Etiquette. --MarieAntoinette is accused of Austrian Preferences. 

CHAPTER X. 

Settlement of the Queen's Allowance. --Character and Views of Turgot. --Sheinduces Gluck to visit Paris. --Performance of his Opera of "Iphigénieen Aulide. "--The First Encore. --Marie Antoinette advocates theRe-establishment of the Parliaments, and receives an Address from them. --English Visitors at the Court. --The King is compared to Louis XII. AndHenri IV. --The Archduke Maximilian visits his Sister. --Factious Conduct ofthe Princes of the Blood. --Anti-Austrian Feeling in Paris. --The War ofGrains. --The King is crowned at Rheims. --Feelings of Marie Antoinette. --Her Improvements at the Trianon. --Her Garden Parties there. --Descriptionof her Beauty by Burke, and by Horace Walpole. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Tea is introduced. --Horse-racing of Count d'Artois. --Marie Antoinette goesto see it. --The Queen's Submissiveness to the Reproofs of the Empress. --Birth of the Duc d'Angoulême. --She at times speaks lightly of the King. --The Emperor remonstrates with her. --Character of some of the Queen'sFriends. --The Princess de Lamballe. --The Countess Jules de Polignac. --Theyset the Queen against Turgot. --She procures his Dismissal. --Shegratifies Madame Polignac's Friends. --Her Regard for the French People. --Water Parties on the Seine. --Her Health is Delicate. --Gambling atthe Palace. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Marie Antoinette finds herself in Debt. --Forgeries of her Name arecommitted. --The Queen devotes herself too much to Madame de Polignac andothers. --Versailles is less frequented. --Remonstrances of the Empress. --Volatile Character of the Queen. --She goes to the Bals d'Opéra at Paris. --She receives the Duke of Dorset and other English Nobles with Favor. --Grand Entertainment given her by the Count de Provence. --Character ofthe Emperor Joseph. --He visits Paris and Versailles. --His Feelings towardand Conversations with the King and Queen. --He goes to the Opera. --HisOpinion of the Queen's Friends. --Marie Antoinette's Letter to theEmpress on his Departure. --The Emperor leaves her a Letter of Advice. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Impressions made on the Queen by the Emperor's Visit. --Mutual Jealousiesof her Favorites. --The Story of the Chevalier d'Assas. --The TerraceConcerts at Versailles. --More Inroads on Etiquette. --Insolence andUnpopularity of the Count d'Artois. --Marie Antoinette takes Interest inPolitics. --France concludes an Alliance with the United States. --Affairsof Bavaria. --Character of the Queen's Letters on Politics. --The Queenexpects to become a Mother. --Voltaire returns to Paris. --The Queendeclines to receive him. --Misconduct of the Duke of Orléans in the Actionoff Ushant. --The Queen uses her Influence in his Favor. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Birth of Madame Royale. --Festivities of Thanksgiving. --The Dames de laHalle at the Theatre. --Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. --The King goes to a Bald'Opéra. --The Queen's Carriage breaks down. --Marie Antoinette has theMeasles. --Her Anxiety about the War. --Retrenchments of Expense. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Anglomania in Paris. --The Winter at Versailles. --Hunting. --PrivateTheatricals. --Death of Prince Charles of Lorraine. --Successes of theEnglish in America. --Education of the Duc d'Angoulême. --Libelous Attackson the Queen. --Death of the Empress. --Favor shown some of the SwedishNobles. --The Count de Fersen. --Necker retires from Office. --His Character. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Queen expects to be confined again. --Increasing Unpopularity of theKing's Brothers. --Birth of the Dauphin. --Festivities. --Deputations fromthe Different Trades. --Songs of the Dames de la Halle. --Ball given by theBody-guard, --Unwavering Fidelity of the Regiment. --The Queen offers upher Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. --Banquet at the Hôtel de Ville. --Rejoicings in Paris. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Madame de Guimenée resigns the Office of Governess of the RoyalChildren. --Madame de Polignac succeeds her. --Marie Antoinette's Views ofEducation. --Character of Madame Royale. --The Grand Duke Paul and his GrandDuchess visit the French Court. --Their Characters. --Entertainments givenin their Honor. --Insolence of the Cardinal de Rohan. --His Character andprevious Life. --Grand Festivities at Chantilly. --Events of the War. --Rodney defeats De Grasse. --The Siege of Gibraltar fails. --M. De Suffreinfights five Drawn Battles with Sir E. Hughes in the Indian Seas. --TheQueen receives him with Great Honor on his Return. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Peace is re-established. --Embarrassments of the Ministry. --Distress of theKingdom. --M. De Calonne becomes Finance Minister. --The Winter of1783-'84 is very Severe. --The Queen devotes Large Sums to Charity. --HerPolitical Influence increases. --Correspondence between the Emperor andher on European Politics. --The State of France. --The Baron de Breteuil. --Her Description of the Character of the King. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

"The Marriage of Figaro. "--Previous History and Character ofBeaumarchais. --The Performance of the Play is forbidden. --It is said to bea little altered. --It is licensed. --Displeasure of the Queen. --Visit ofGustavus III. Of Sweden. --Fête at the Trianon. --Balloon Ascent. 

CHAPTER XX. 

St. Cloud is purchased for the Queen. --Libelous Attacks on her. --Birth ofthe Duc de Normandie. --Joseph presses her to make France support hisViews in the Low Countries. --The Affair of the Necklace. --Share which theCardinal de Rohan had in it. --The Queen's Indignation at his Acquittal. —Subsequent Career of the Cardinal. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The King visits Cherbourg. --Rarity of Royal Journeys. --The PrincessChristine visits the Queen. --Hostility of the Duc d'Orléans to the Queen. --Libels on her. --She is called Madame Deficit. --She has a SecondDaughter, who dies. --Ill Health of the Dauphin. --Unskillfulness andExtravagance of Calonne's System of Finance. --Distress of the Kingdom. --Heassembles the Notables. --They oppose his Plans. --Letters of MarieAntoinette on the Subject. --Her Ideas of the English Parliament. --Dismissal of Calonne. --Character of Archbishop Loménie de Brienne. --Obstinacy of Necker. --The Archbishop is appointed Minister. --The Distressincreases. --The Notables are dissolved. --Violent Opposition of theParliament. --Resemblance of the French Revolution to the English Rebellionof 1642. --Arrest of D'Esprémesnil and Montsabert. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Formidable Riots take place in some Provinces. --The Archbishop invitesNecker to join his Ministry. --Letter of Marie Antoinette describing herInterview with the Archbishop, and her Views. --Necker refuses. --TheQueen sends Messages to Necker. --The Archbishop resigns, and Neckerbecomes Minister. --The Queen's View of his Character. --General Rejoicing. --Defects in Necker's Character. --He recalls the Parliament. --Riots inParis. --Severe Winter. --General Distress. --Charities of the King andQueen. --Gratitude of the Citizens. --The Princes are concerned in theLibels published against the Queen. --Preparations for the Meeting of theStates-general. --Long Disuse of that Assembly. --Need of Reform. --Vicesof the Old Feudal System. --Necker's Blunders in the Arrangements for theMeeting of the States. --An Edict of the King concedes the Chief Demandsof the Commons. --Views of the Queen. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Réveillon Riot. --Opening of the States-general. --The Queen is insultedby the Partisans of the Duc d'Orléans. --Discussions as to the Number ofChambers. --Career and Character of Mirabeau. --Necker rejects his Support. --He determines to revenge himself. --Death of the Dauphin. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Troops are brought up from the Frontier. --The Assembly petitions the Kingto withdraw them. --He refuses. --Ho dismisses Necker. --The Baron deBreteuil is appointed Prime Minister. --Terrible Riots in Paris. --TheTricolor Flag is adopted. --Storming of the Bastile and Murder of theGovernor. --The Count d'Artois and other Princes fly from the Kingdom. --TheKing recalls Necker. --Withdraws the Soldiers and visits Paris. --Formationof the National Guard. --Insolence of La Fayette and Bailly. --Madamede Tourzel becomes Governess of the Royal Children. --Letters of MarieAntoinette on their Character, and on her own Views of Education. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Necker resumes Office. --Outrages in the Provinces. --Pusillanimity of theBody of the Nation. --Parties in the Assembly. --Views of theConstitutionalists or "Plain. "--Barnave makes Overtures to the Court. --TheQueen rejects them. --The Assembly abolishes all Privileges, August4th. --Debates on the Veto. --An Attack on Versailles is threatened. --GreatScarcity in Paris. --The King sends his Plate to be melted down. --TheRegiment of Flanders is brought up to Versailles. --A Military Banquetis held in the Opera-house. --October 5th, a Mob from Paris marcheson Versailles. --Blunders of La Fayette. --Ferocity of the Mob on the 5th. --Attack on the Palace on the 6th. --Danger and Heroism of the Queen. --TheRoyal Family remove to Paris. --Their Reception at the Barrier andat the Hôtel de Ville. --Shabbiness of the Tuileries. --The King fixes hisResidence there. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette on coming to the Tuileries. --Her Tact inwinning the Hearts of the Common People. --Mirabeau changes his Views. --Quarrel between La Fayette and the Duc d'Orléans. --Mirabeau desires tooffer his Services to the Queen. --Riots in Paris. --Murder of François. --The Assembly pass a Vote prohibiting any Member from taking Office. --TheEmigration. --Death of the Emperor Joseph II. --Investigation intothe Riots of October. --The Queen refuses to give Evidence. --ViolentProceedings in the Assembly. --Execution of the Marquis de Favras. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The King accepts the Constitution so far as it has been settled. --TheQueen makes a Speech to the Deputies. --She is well received at theTheatre. --Negotiations with Mirabeau. --The Queen's Views of the Positionof Affairs. --The Jacobin Club denounces Mirabeau. --Deputation ofAnacharsis Clootz. --Demolition of the Statue of Louis XIV. --Abolition ofTitles of Honor. --The Queen admits Mirabeau to an Audience. --HisAdmiration of her Courage and Talents. --Anniversary of the Capture of theBastile. --Fête of the Champ de Mars. --Presence of Mind of the Queen. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Great Tumults in the Provinces. --Mutiny in the Marquis de Bouillé's Army. --Disorder of the Assembly. --Difficulty of managing Mirabeau. --Mercy isremoved to The Hague. --Marie Antoinette sees constant Changes in theAspect of Affairs. --Marat denounces Her. --Attempts are made to assassinateHer. --Resignation of Mirabeau. --Misconduct of the Emigrant Princes. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Louis and Marie Antoinette contemplate Foreign Intervention. --The Assemblypasses Laws to subordinate the Church to the Civil Power. --Insolenceof La Fayette. --Marie Antoinette refuses to quit France by Herself. --TheJacobins and La Fayette try to revive the Story of the Necklace. --MarieAntoinette with her Family. --Flight from Paris is decided on. --The Queen'sPreparations and Views. --An Oath to observe the new EcclesiasticalConstitution is imposed on the Clergy. --The King's Aunts leave France. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Mob attacks the Castle at Vincennes. --La Fayette saves it. --He insultsthe Nobles who come to protect the King. --Perverseness of the Countd'Artois and the Emigrants. --Mirabeau dies. --General Sorrow for hisDeath. --He would probably not have been able to arrest the Revolution. --The Mob prevent the King from visiting St. Cloud. --The Assembly passes aVote to forbid him to go more than twenty Leagues from Paris. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Plans for the Escape of the Royal Family. --Dangers of Discovery. --Resolution of the Queen. --The Royal Family leave the Palace. --They arerecognized at Ste. Menehould. --Are arrested at Varennes. --Tumult in theCity, and in the Assembly. --The King and Queen are brought back to Paris. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marie Antoinette's Feelings on her Return. --She sees Hopes ofImprovement. --The 17th of July. --The Assembly inquire into the King'sConduct on leaving Paris. --They resolve that there is no Reason for takingProceedings. --Excitement in Foreign Countries. --The Assembly proceeds tocomplete the Constitution. --It declares all the Members Incapable ofElection to the New Assembly. --Letters of Marie Antoinette to the Emperorand to Mercy. --The Declaration of Pilnitz. --The King accepts theConstitution. --Insults offered to him at the Festival of the Champ deMars. --And to the Queen at the Theatre. --The First or Constituent Assemblyis dissolved. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Composition of the New Assembly. --Rise of the Girondins. --Their Corruptionand Eventual Fate. --Vergniaud's Motions against the King. --FavorableReception of the King at the Assembly, and at the Opera. --Changesin the Ministry. --The King's and Queen's Language to M. Bertrand deMoleville. --The Count de Narbonne. --Pétion is elected Mayor of Paris. --Scarcity of Money, and Great Hardships of the Royal Family. --Presentsarrive from Tippoo Sahib. --The Dauphin. --The Assembly passes Decreesagainst the Priests and the Emigrants. --Misconduct of the Emigrants. --Louis refuses his Assent to the Decrees. --He issues a Circular condemningEmigration. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Death of Leopold. --Murder of Gustavus of Sweden--Violence of Vergniaud. --The Ministers resign. --A Girondin Ministry is appointed. --Character ofDumouriez. --Origin of the Name Sans-culottes. --Union of Different Partiesagainst the Queen. --War is declared against the Empire. --Operations inthe Netherlands. --Unskillfulness of La Fayette. --The King falls into aState of Torpor. --Fresh Libels on the Queen. --Barnave's Advice. --Dumouriezhas an Audience of the Queen. --Dissolution of the ConstitutionalGuard. --Formation of a Camp near Paris. --Louis adheres to his Refusalto assent to the Decree against the Priests. --Dumouriez resigns hisOffice, and takes command of the Army. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

The Insurrection of June 20th. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette. --Different Plans are formed for her Escape. --She hopes for Aid from Austria and Prussia. --La Fayette comes to Paris. --His Mismanagement--An Attempt is made to assassinate the Queen. --TheMotion of Bishop Lamourette. --The Feast of the Federation. --La Fayetteproposes a Plan for the King's Escape. --Bertrand proposes Another. --Bothare rejected by the Queen. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Preparation for a New Insurrection. --Barbaroux brings up a Gang fromMarseilles. --The King's last Levee. --The Assembly rejects a Motion for theImpeachment of La Fayette. --It removes some Regiments from Paris. --Preparations of the Court for Defense. --The 10th of August. --The Cityis in Insurrection. --Murder of Mandat. --Louis reviews the Guards. --Hetakes Refuge with the Assembly. --Massacre of the Swiss Guards. --Sackof the Tuileries. --Discussions in the Assembly. --The Royal Authority issuspended. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Indignities to which the Royal Family are subjected. --They are removed tothe Temple. --Divisions in the Assembly. --Flight of La Fayette. --Advanceof the Prussians. --Lady Sutherland supplies the Dauphin with Clothes. --Mode of Life in the Temple. --The Massacres of September. --The Death ofthe Princess de Lamballe. --Insults are heaped on the King and Queen. --TheTrial of the King. --His Last Interview with his Family. --His Death. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Queen is refused Leave to see Cléry. --Madame Royale is taken Ill. --Plans are formed for the Queen's Escape by MM. Jarjayes, Toulan, and bythe Baron de Batz. --Marie Antoinette refuses to leave her Son. --Illnessof the young King. --Overthrow of the Girondins. --Insanity of the WomanTison. --Kindness of the Queen to her. --Her Son is taken from her, andintrusted to Simon. --His Ill-treatment. --The Queen is removed to theConciergerie. --She is tried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. --She iscondemned. --Her last Letter to the Princess Elizabeth. --Her Death andCharacter. 

INDEX

LIFE OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Importance of Marie Antoinette in the Revolution. --Value of herCorrespondence as a Means of estimating her Character. --Her Birth, November 2d, 1755. --Epigram of Metastasio. --Habits of the ImperialFamily. --Schönbrunn. --Death of the Emperor. --Projects for the Marriage ofthe Archduchess. --Her Education. --The Abbé de Vermond. --Metastasio. --Gluck. 

The most striking event in the annals of modern Europe is unquestionablythe French Revolution of 1789--a Revolution which, in one sense, may besaid to be still in progress, but which, is a more limited view, may beregarded as having been, consummated by the deposition and murder of thesovereign of the country. It is equally undeniable that, during its firstperiod, the person who most attracts and rivets attention is the queen. One of the moat brilliant of modern French writers[1] has recentlyremarked that, in spite of the number of years which have elapsed sincethe grave closed over the sorrows of Marie Antoinette, and of the almostunbroken series of exciting events which have marked the annals of Francein the interval, the interest excited by her story is as fresh andengrossing as ever; that such as Hecuba and Andromache were to theancients, objects never named to inattentive ears, never contemplatedwithout lively sympathy, such still is their hapless queen to all honestand intelligent Frenchmen. It may even be said that that interest hasincreased of late years. The respectful and remorseful pity which her fatecould not fail to awaken has been quickened by the publication of hercorrespondence with her family and intimate friends, which has laid bare, without disguise, all her inmost thoughts and feelings, her errors as wellas her good deeds, her weaknesses equally with her virtues. Few, indeed, even of those whom the world regards with its highest favor and esteem, could endure such an ordeal without some diminution of their fame. Yet itis but recording the general verdict of all whose judgment is of value, toaffirm that Marie Antoinette has triumphantly surmounted it; and that theresult of a scrutiny as minute and severe as any to which a human beinghas ever been subjected, has been greatly to raise her reputation. 

Not that she was one of those paragons whom painters of model heroineshave delighted to imagine to themselves; one who from childhood gavemanifest indications of excellence and greatness, and whose whole life wasbut a steady progressive development of its early promise. She was ratherone in whom adversity brought forth great qualities, her possession ofwhich, had her life been one of that unbroken sunshine which is regardedby many as the natural and inseparable attendant of royalty, might neverhave been even suspected. We meet with her first, at an age scarcelyadvanced beyond childhood, transported from her school-room to a foreigncourt, as wife to the heir of one of the noblest kingdoms of Europe. Andin that situation we see her for a while a light-hearted, merry girl, annoyed rather than elated by her new magnificence; thoughtless, if notfrivolous, in her pursuits; fond of dress; eager in her appetite foramusement, tempered only by an innate purity of feeling which neverdeserted her; the brightest features of her character being apparently afrank affability, and a genuine and active kindness and humanity whichwere displayed to all classes and on all occasions. We see her presentlyas queen, hardly yet arrived at womanhood, little changed in dispositionor in outward demeanor, though profiting to the utmost by theopportunities which her increased power afforded her of proving thegenuine tenderness of her heart, by munificent and judicious works ofcharity and benevolence; and exerting her authority, if possible, stillmore beneficially by protecting virtue, discountenancing vice, andpurifying a court whose shameless profligacy had for many generations beenthe scandal of Christendom. It is probable, indeed, that much of her earlylevity was prompted by a desire to drive from her mind disappointments andmortifications of which few suspected the existence, but which were onlythe more keenly felt because she was compelled to keep them to herself;but it is certain that during the first eight or ten years of herresidence in France there was little in her habits and conduct, howeveramiable and attractive, which could have led her warmest friends todiscern in her the high qualities which she was destined to exhibit beforeits close. 

Presently, however, she becomes a mother; and in this new relation webegin to perceive glimpses of a loftier nature. From the moment of thebirth of her first child, she performed those new duties which, perhapsmore than any others, call forth all the best and most peculiar virtues ofthe female heart in such a manner as to add esteem and respect to thegood-will which her affability and courtesy had already inspired;recognizing to the full the claims which the nation had upon her, thatshe should, in person, superintend the education of her children, andespecially of her son as its future ruler; and discharging that sacredduty, not only with the most affectionate solicitude, but also with themost admirable judgment. 

But years so spent were years of happiness; and, though such may sufficeto display the amiable virtues, it is by adversity that the granderqualities of the head and heart are more strikingly drawn forth. To thetrials of that stern inquisitress, Marie Antoinette was fully exposed inher later years; and not only did she rise above them, but the moreterrible and unexampled they were, the more conspicuous was thesuperiority of her mind to fortune. It is no exaggeration to say that thehistory of the whole world has preserved no record of greater heroism, ineither sex, than was shown by Marie Antoinette during the closing years ofher life. No courage was ever put to the proof by such a variety and suchan accumulation of dangers and miseries; and no one ever came out of anencounter with even far inferior calamities with greater glory. Her moralcourage and her physical courage were equally tried. It was not only thather own life, and lives far dearer to her than her own, were exposed todaily and hourly peril, or that to this danger were added repeatedvexations of hopes baffled and trusts betrayed; but these griefs werelargely aggravated by the character and conduct of those nearest to her. Instead of meeting with counsel and support from her husband and hisbrothers, she had to guide and support Louis himself, and even to find himso incurably weak as to be incapable of being kept in the path of wisdomby her sagacity, or of deriving vigor from her fortitude; while theprinces were acting in selfish and disloyal opposition to him, and so, ina great degree, sacrificing him and her to their perverse conceit, if wemay not say to their faithless ambition. She had to think for all, to actfor all, to struggle for all; and to beat up against the conviction thather thoughts, and actions, and struggles were being balked of their effectby the very persona for whom she was exerting herself; that she was butlaboring to save those who would not be saved. Yet, throughout thatprotracted agony of more than four years she bore herself with anunswerving righteousness of purpose and an unfaltering fearlessness ofresolution which could not have been exceeded had she been encouraged bythe most constant success. And in the last terrible hours, when themonsters who had already murdered her husband were preparing the same fatefor herself, she met their hatred and ferocity with a loftiness of spiritwhich even hopelessness could not subdue. Long before, she had declaredthat she had learned, from the example of her mother, not to fear death;and she showed that this was no empty boast when she rose in the lastscenes of her life as much even above her earlier displays of courage andmagnanimity as she also rose above the utmost malice of her vile enemies. 

 * * * * *

Marie Antoinette Josèphe Jeanne was the youngest daughter of Francis, originally Duke of Lorraine, afterward Grand Duke of Tuscany, andeventually Emperor of Germany, and of Maria Teresa, Archduchess ofAustria, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, more generally known, after theattainment of the imperial dignity by her husband in 1745, as the Empress-queen. Of her brothers, two, Joseph and Leopold, succeeded in turn to theimperial dignity; and one of her sisters, Caroline, became the wife of theKing of Naples. She was born on the 2d of November, 1755, a day which, when her later years were darkened by misfortune, was often referred to ashaving foreshadowed it by its evil omens, since it was that on which theterrible earthquake which laid Lisbon in ruins reached its height. But, atthe time, the Viennese rejoiced too sincerely at every event which couldcontribute to their sovereign's happiness to pay any regard to thecalamities of another capital, and the courtly poet was but givingutterance to the unanimous feeling of her subjects when he spoke of theprincess's birth as calculated to diffuse universal joy. Daughters hadbeen by far the larger part of Maria Teresa's family, so that she was, consequently, anxious for another son; and, knowing her wishes, the Dukeof Tarouka, one of the nobles whom she admitted to her intimacy, laid hera small wager that they would be realized by the sex of the expectedinfant. He lost his bet, but felt some embarrassment, in devising agraceful mode of paying it. In his perplexity, he sought the advice of thecelebrated Metastasio, who had been for some time established at Vienna asthe favorite poet of the court, and the Italian, with the ready wit of hiscountry, at once supplied him with a quatrain, which, in herdisappointment itself, could mid ground for compliment:

 "Io perdei; l' augusta figlia A pagar m' ha condannato; Ma s'è ver che a voi somiglia, Tutto il mondo ha guadagnato. "

The customs of the imperial court had undergone a great change since thedeath of Charles VI. It had been pre-eminent for pompous ceremony, whichwas thought to become the dignity of the sovereign who boasted of beingthe representative of the Roman Caesars. But the Lorraine princes had beenbred up in a simpler fashion; and Francis had an innate dislike to allostentation, while Maria Teresa had her attention too constantly fixed onmatters of solid importance to have much leisure to spare for theconsideration of trifles. Both husband and wife greatly preferred to theirgorgeous palace at Vienna a smaller house which they possessed in theneighborhood, called Schönbrunn, where they could lay aside their state, and enjoy the unpretending pleasures of domestic and rural life, cultivating their garden, and, as far as the imperious calls of publicaffairs would allow them time, watching over the education of theirchildren, to whom the example of their own tastes and habits wasimperceptibly affording the best of all lessons, a preference for simpleand innocent pleasures. 

In this tranquil retreat, the childhood of Marie Antoinette was happilypassed; her bright looks, which already gave promise of future loveliness, her quick intelligence, and her affectionate disposition combining to makeher the special favorite of her parents. It was she whom Francis, whenquitting his family in the summer of 1764 for that journey to Innspruckwhich proved his last, specially ordered to be brought to him, saying, asif he felt some foreboding of his approaching illness, that he mustembrace her once more before he departed; and his death, which took placebefore she was nine years old, was the first sorrow which ever brought atear into her eyes. 

The superintendence of her vast empire occupied a greater share of MariaTeresa's attention than the management of her family. But as MarieAntoinette grew up, the Empress-queen's ambition, ever on the watch tomaintain and augment the prosperity of her country, perceived in herchild's increasing attractions a prospect of cementing more closely analliance which she had contracted some years before, and on which sheprided herself the more because it had terminated an enmity of twocenturies and a half. From the day on which Charles V, prevailed overFrancis I. In the competition for the imperial crown, the attitude of theEmperor of Germany and of the King of France to each other had been one ofmutual hostility, which, with but rare exceptions, had been greatly infavor of the latter country. The very first years of Maria Teresa's ownreign had been imbittered by the union of France with Prussia in a warwhich had deprived her of an extensive province; and she regarded it asone of the great triumphs of Austrian diplomacy to have subsequently wonover the French ministry to exchange the friendship of Frederick ofPrussia for her own, and to engage as her ally in a war which had for itsobject the recovery of the lost Silesia. Silesia was not recovered. Butshe still clung to the French alliance as fondly as if the objects whichshe had originally hoped to gain by it had been fully accomplished; and, as the heir to the French monarchy was very nearly of the same age as theyoung archduchess, she began to entertain hopes of uniting the two royalfamilies by a marriage which should render the union between the twonations indissoluble. She mentioned the project to some of the Frenchvisitors at her court, whom she thought likely to repeat her conversationon their return to their own country. She took care that reports of herdaughter's beauty should from time to time reach the ears of Louis XV. Shehad her picture painted by French artists. She made a proficiency in theFrench language the principal object of her education; bringing over someFrench actors to Vienna to instruct her in the graces of elocution, andsubsequently establishing as her chief tutor a French ecclesiastic, theAbbé de Vermond, a man of extensive learning, of excellent judgment, andof most conscientious integrity. The appointment would have been in everyrespect a most fortunate one, had it not been suggested by Loménie deBrienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, who thus laid the abbé under anobligation which was requited, to the great injury of France, nearlytwenty years afterward, when M. De Vermond, who still remained about theperson of his royal mistress, had an opportunity of exerting his influenceto make the archbishop prime minister. 

Not that her studies were confined to French. Metastasio taught herItalian; Gluck, whose recently published opera of "Orfeo" had, establishedfor him a reputation as one of the greatest musicians of the age, gave herlessons on the harpsichord. But we fear it can not be said that sheobtained any high degree of excellence in these or in any otheraccomplishments. She was not inclined to study; and, with the exception ofthe abbé, her masters and mistresses were too courtly to be peremptorywith an archduchess. Their favorable reports to the Empress-queen wereindeed neutralized by the frankness with which their pupil herselfconfessed her idleness and failure to improve. But Maria Teresa was toomuch absorbed in politics to give much heed to the confession, or toinsist on greater diligence; though at a later day Marie Antoinetteherself repented of her neglect, and did her best to repair it, takinglessons in more than one accomplishment with great perseverance during thefirst years of her residence at Versailles, because, as she expressedherself, the dauphiness was bound to take care of the character of thearchduchess. 

There are, however, lessons of greater importance to a child than anywhich are given by even the most accomplished masters--those which flowfrom the example of a virtuous and sensible mother; and those the youngarchduchess showed a greater aptitude for learning. Maria Teresa had setan example not only to her own family, but to all sovereigns, among whomprinciples and practices such as hers had hitherto been little recognized, of regarding an attention to the personal welfare of all her subjects, even of those of the lowest class, as among the most imperative of herduties. She had been accessible to all. She had accustomed the peasantryto accost her in her walks; she had visited their cottages to inquire intoand relieve their wants. And the little Antoinette, who, more than anyother of her children, seems to have taken her for an especial model, hadthus, from her very earliest childhood, learned to feel a friendlyinterest in the well-doing of the people in general; to think no one toolowly for her notice, to sympathize with sorrow, to be indignant atinjustice and ingratitude, to succor misfortune and distress. And thesewere habits which, as being implanted in her heart, she was not likely toforget; but which might be expected rather to gain strength by indulgence, and to make her both welcome and useful to any people among whom her lotmight be cast. 

CHAPTER II. 

Proposal for the Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dauphin. --EarlyEducation of the Dauphin. --The Archduchess leaves Vienna in April, 1770. --Her Reception at Strasburg. --She meets the King at Compiègne. --TheMarriage takes place May 16th, 1770. 

Royal marriages had been so constantly regarded as affairs of state, to bearranged for political reasons, that it had become usual on the Continentto betroth princes and princesses to each other at a very early age; andit was therefore not considered as denoting any premature impatience onthe part of either the Empress-queen or the King of France, Louis XV. , when, at the beginning of 1769, when Marie Antoinette had but justcompleted her thirteenth year, the Duc de Choiseul, the French Ministerfor Foreign Affairs, who was himself a native of Lorraine, instructed theMarquis de Durfort, the French embassador at Vienna, to negotiate with thecelebrated Austrian prime minister, the Prince de Kaunitz, for hermarriage to the heir of the French throne, who was not quite fifteenmonths older. Louis XV. Had had several daughters, but only one son. Thatson, born in 1729, had been married at the age of fifteen to a Spanishinfanta, who, within a year of her marriage, died in her confinement, andwhom he replaced in a few months by a daughter of Augustus III. , King ofSaxony. His second wife bore him four sons and two daughters. The eldestson, the Duc de Bourgogne, who was born in 1750, and was generallyregarded as a child of great promise, died in his eleventh year; and whenhe himself died in 1765, his second son, previously known as the Duc deBerri, succeeded him in his title of dauphin. This prince, now the suitorof the archduchess, had been born on the 23d of August, 1754, and wastherefore not quite fifteen. As yet but little was known of him. Verylittle pains had been taken with his education; his governor, the Duc dela Vauguyon, was a man who had been appointed to that most important postby the cabals of the infamous mistress and parasites who formed the courtof Louis XV. , without one qualification for the discharge of its duties. Aservile, intriguing spirit had alone recommended him to his patrons, whilehis frivolous indolence was in harmony with the inclinations of the kinghimself, who, worn out with a long course of profligacy, had no longersufficient energy even for vice. Under such a governor, the young princehad but little chance of receiving a wholesome education, even if therewas not a settled design to enfeeble his mind by neglect. 

His father had been a man of a character very different from that of theking. By a sort of natural reaction or silent protest against the infamieswhich he saw around him, he had cherished a serious and devoutdisposition, and had observed a conduct of the most rigorous virtue. Hewas even suspected of regarding the Jesuits with especial favor, and wasbelieved to have formed plans for the reformation of morals, and perhapsof the State. It was not strange that, on the first news of the illnesswhich proved fatal to him, the people flocked to the churches with prayersfor his recovery, and that his death was regarded by all the right-thinking portion of the community as a national calamity. But thecourtiers, who had regarded his approaching reign with not unnaturalalarm, hailed his removal with joy, and were, above all things, anxious toprevent his son, who had now become the heir to the crown, from followingsuch a path as the father had marked out for himself. The negligence ofsome, thus combining with the deliberate malice of others, and aided bypeculiarities in the constitution and disposition of the young princehimself, which became more and more marked as he grew up, exercised apernicious influence on his boyhood. Not only was his education in theordinary branches of youthful knowledge neglected, but no care was eventaken to cultivate his taste or to polish his manners, though a certaindelicacy of taste and refinement of manners were regarded by thecourtiers, and by Louis XV. Himself, as the pre-eminent distinction of hisreign. He was kept studiously in the background, discountenanced anddepressed, till he contracted an awkward timidity and reserve whichthroughout his life he could never shake off; while a still moreunfortunate defect, which was another result of this system, was aninability to think or decide for himself, or even to act steadily on theadvice of others after he had professed to adopt it. 

But these deficiencies in his character had as yet hardly had time todisplay themselves; and, had they been ever so notorious, they were not ofa nature to divert Maria Teresa from her purpose. For her politicalobjects, it would not, perhaps, have seemed to her altogether undesirablethat the future sovereign of France should be likely to rely on thejudgment and to submit to the influence of another, so long as the personwho should have the best opportunity of influencing him was her owndaughter. A negotiation for the success of which both parties were equallyanxious did not require a long time for its conclusion; and by thebeginning of July, 1769, all the preliminaries were arranged; the Frenchnewspapers were authorized to allude to the marriage, and to speak of thediligence with which preparations for it were being made in bothcountries; those in which the French king took the greatest interest beingthe building of some carriages of extraordinary magnificence, to receivethe archduchess as soon as she should have arrived on French ground; whilethose which were being made in Germany indicated a more elementary stateof civilization, as the first requisite appeared to be to put the roadsbetween Vienna and the frontier in a state of repair, to prevent thejourney from being too fatiguing. 

By the spring of the next year all the necessary preparations had beencompleted; and on the evening of the 10th of April, 1770, a grand courtwas held in the Palace of Vienna. Through a double row of guards of thepalace, of body-guards, and of a still more select guard, composed whollyof nobles, M. De Durfort was conducted into the presence of the EmperorJoseph II. , and of his widowed mother, the Empress-queen, still, thoughonly dowager-empress, the independent sovereign of her own hereditarydominions; and to both he proffered, on the part of the King of France, aformal request for the hand of the Archduchess Marie Antoinette for thedauphin. When the Emperor and Empress had given their gracious consent tothe demand, the archduchess herself was summoned to the hall and informedof the proposal which had been made, and of the approval which her motherand her brother had announced; while, to incline her also to regard itwith equal favor, the embassador presented her with a letter from herintended husband, and with his miniature, which she at once hung round herneck. After which, the whole party adjourned to the private theatre of thepalace to witness the performance of a French play, "The Confident Mother"of Marivaux, the title of which, so emblematic of the feelings of MariaTeresa, may probably have procured it the honor of selection. 

The next day the young princess executed a formal renunciation of allright of succession to any part of her mother's dominions which might atany time devolve on her; though the number of her brothers and eldersisters rendered any such occurrence in the highest degree improbable, andthough one conspicuous precedent in the history of both countries had, within the memory of persons still living, proved the worthlessness ofsuch renunciations. [1] A few days were then devoted to appropriatefestivities. That which is most especially mentioned by the chroniclers ofthe court being, in accordance with the prevailing taste of the time, agrand masked ball, [2] for which a saloon four hundred feet long had beenexpressly constructed. And on the 26th of April the young bride quit herhome, the mother from whom she had never been separated, and the friendsand playmates among whom her whole life had been hitherto passed, for acountry which was wholly strange to her, and in which she had not as yet asingle acquaintance. Her very husband, to whom she was to be confided, shehad never seen. 

Though both mother and daughter felt the most entire confidence that thenew position, on which she was about to enter, would be full of nothingbut glory and happiness, it was inevitable that they should be, as theywere, deeply agitated at so complete a separation. And, if we may believethe testimony of witnesses who were at Vienna at the time, [3] the grief ofthe mother, who was never to see her child again, was shared not only bythe members of the imperial household, whom constant intercourse hadenabled to know and appreciate her amiable qualities, but by thepopulation of the capital and the surrounding districts, all of whom hadheard of her numerous acts of kindness and benevolence, which, young asshe was, many of them had also experienced, and who thronged the streetsalong which she passed on her departure, mingling tears of genuine sorrowwith their acclamations, and following her carriage to the outermost gateof the city that they might gaze their last on the darling of many hearts. 

Kehl was the last German town through which she was to pass, Strasburg wasthe first French city which was to receive her, and, as the islands whichdot the Rhine at that portion of the noble boundary river were regarded asa kind of neutral ground, the French monarch had selected the principalone to be occupied by a pavilion built for the purpose and decorated withgreat magnificence, that it might serve for another stage of the weddingceremony. In this pavilion she was to cease to be German, and was tobecome French; she was to bid farewell to her Austrian attendants, and toreceive into her service the French officers of her household, male andfemale, who were to replace them. She was even to divest herself of everyarticle of her German attire, and to apparel herself anew in garments ofFrench manufacture sent from Paris. The pavilion was divided into twocompartments. In the chief apartment of the German division, the Austrianofficials who had escorted her so far formally resigned their charge, andsurrendered her to the Comte de Noailles, who had been appointedembassador extraordinary to receive her; and, when all the deeds necessaryto release from their responsibly the German nobles whose duties were nowterminated had been duly signed, the doors were thrown open, and MarieAntoinette passed into the French division, as a French princess, toreceive the homage of a splendid train of French courtiers, who werewaiting in loyal eagerness to offer their first salutations to their newmistress. Yet, as if at every period of her life she was to be beset withomens, the celebrated German writer, Goethe, who was at that time pursuinghis studies at Strasburg, perceived one which he regarded as of mostinauspicious significance in the tapestry which decorated the walls of thechief saloon. It represented the history of Jason and Medea. On one sidewas portrayed the king's bride in the agonies of death; on the other, theroyal father was bewailing his murdered children. Above them both, Medeawas fleeing away in a car drawn by fire-breathing dragons, and driven bythe Furies; and the youthful poet could not avoid reflecting that a recordof the most miserable union that even the ancient mythology had recordedwas a singularly inappropriate and ill-omened ornament for nuptialfestivities. [4]

A bridge reached from the island to the left bank of the river; and, onquitting the pavilion, the archduchess found the carriages, which had beenbuilt for her in Paris, ready to receive her, that she might make herstate entry into Strasburg. They were marvels of the coach-maker's art. The prime minister himself had furnished the designs, and they hadattracted the curiosity of the fashionable world in Paris throughout thewinter. One was covered with crimson velvet, having pictures, emblematicalof the four seasons, embroidered in gold on the principal panels; on theother the velvet was blue, and the elements took the place of the seasons;while the roof of each was surmounted by nosegays of flowers, carved ingold, enameled in appropriate colors, and wrought with such exquisitedelicacy that every movement of the carriage, or even the lightest breeze, caused them to wave as if they were the natural produce of the garden. [5]

In this superb conveyance Marie Antoinette passed on under a succession oftriumphal arches to the gates of Strasburg, which, on this auspiciousoccasion, seemed as if it desired to put itself forward as therepresentative of the joy of the whole nation by the splendid cordialityof its welcome. Whole regiments of cavalry, drawn up in line of battle, received her with a grand salute as she advanced. Battery after batterypealed forth along the whole extent of the vast ramparts; the bells ofevery church rang out a festive peal; fountains ran with wine in the GrandSquare. She proceeded to the episcopal palace, where the archbishop, theCardinal de Rohan, with his coadjutor, the Prince Louis de Rohan (a manafterward rendered unhappily notorious by his complicity in a vileconspiracy against her) received her at the head of the most augustchapter that the whole land could produce, the counts of the cathedral, asthey were styled; the Prince of Lorraine being the grand dean, theArchbishop of Bordeaux the grand provost, and not one post in the chapterbeing filled by any one below the rank of count. She held a court for thereception of all the female nobility of the province. She dined publiclyin state; a procession of the municipal magistrates presented her a sampleof the wines of the district; and, as she tasted the luscious offering, the coopers celebrated what they called a feast of Bacchus, waving theirhoops as they danced round the room in grotesque figures. 

It was a busy day for her, that first day of her arrival on French soil. From the dinner-table she went to the theatre; on quitting the theatre, she was driven through the streets to see the illuminations, which madeevery part of the city as bright as at midday, the great square in frontof the episcopal palace being converted into a complete garden offire-works; and at midnight she attended a ball which the governor of theprovince, the Maréchal de Contades, gave in her honor to all the principalinhabitants of the city and district. Quitting Strasburg the next day, after a grand reception of the clergy, the nobles, and the magistrates ofthe province, she proceeded by easy stages through Nancy, Châlons, Rheims, and Soissons, the whole population of every town through which she passedcollecting on the road to gaze on her beauty, the renown of which hadreadied the least curious ears; and to receive marks of her affability, reports of which were at least as widely spread, in the cheerful eagernesswith which she threw down the windows of her carriage, and the frank, smiling recognition and genuine pleasure with which she replied to theirenthusiastic acclamations. It was long remembered that, when the studentsof the college at Soissons presented her with a Latin address, she repliedto them in a sentence or two in the same language. 

Soissons was her last resting-place before she was introduced to her newfamily. On the afternoon of Monday, the 14th of May, she quit it forCompiègne, which the king and all the court had reached in the course ofthe morning. As she approached the town she was met by the minister, theDuc de Choiseul, and he was the precursor of Louis himself, who, accompanied by the dauphin and his daughters, and escorted by his gorgeouscompany of the guards of the household, [6] had driven out to receive her. She and all her train dismounted from their carriages. Her master of thehorse and her "knight of honor[7]" took her by the hand and conducted herto the royal coach. She sunk on her knee in the performance of herrespectful homage; but Louis promptly raised her up, and, having embracedher with a tenderness which gracefully combined royal dignity withpaternal affection, and having addressed her in a brief speech, [8] whichwas specially acceptable to her, as containing a well-timed compliment toher mother, introduced her to the dauphin; and, when they reached thepalace, he also presented to her his more distant relatives, the princesand princesses of the blood, [9] the Duc d'Orléans and his son, the Duc deChartres, destined hereafter to prove one of the foulest and mostmischievous of her enemies; the Duc de Bourbon, the Princes of Condé andConti, and one lady whose connection with royalty was Italian rather thanFrench, but to whom the acquaintance, commenced on this day, proved thecause of a miserable and horrible death, the beautiful Princesse deLamballe. 

Compiègne, however, was not to be honored by the marriage ceremony. Thenext morning the whole party started for Versailles, turning out of theroad, at the express request of the archduchess herself, to pay a briefvisit to the king's youngest daughter, the Princess Louise, who had takenon herself the Carmelite vows, and resided in the Convent of St. Denis. The request had been suggested by Choiseul, who was well aware that theprincess shared the dislike entertained by her more worldly sisters to thehouse of Austria; but it was accepted as a personal compliment by the kinghimself, who was already fascinated by her charms, which, as he affirmed, surpassed those of her portrait, and was predisposed to view all her wordsand actions in the most favorable light. Avoiding Paris, which Louis, eversince the riots of 1750, had constantly refused to enter, they reached thehunting-lodge of La Muette, in the Bois de Boulogne, for supper. Here shemade the acquaintance of the brothers and sisters of her future husband, the Counts of Provence and Artois, both destined, in their turn, tosucceed him on the throne; of the Princess Clotilde, who may be regardedas the most fortunate of her race, in being saved by a foreign marriageand an early death from witnessing the worst calamities of her family andher native land; of the Princess Elizabeth, who was fated to share them inall their bitterness and horror; and (a strangely incongruous sequel tothe morning visit to the Carmelite convent), the Countess du Barri alsocame into her presence, and was admitted to sup at the royal table; as if, even at the very moment when he might have been expected to conducthimself with some degree of respectful decency to the pure-minded younggirl whom he was receiving into his family, Louis XV. Was bent onexhibiting to the whole world his incurable shamelessness in its mostoffensive form. 

At midnight he, with the dauphin, proceeded to Versailles, whither, thenext morning, the archduchess followed them. And at one o'clock on the16th, in the chapel of the palace, the Primate of France, the Archbishopof Rheims, performed the marriage ceremony. A canopy of cloth of silverwas held over the heads of the youthful pair by the bishops of Senlis andChartres. The dauphin, after he had placed the wedding-ring on his bride'sfinger, added, as a token that he endowed her with his worldly wealth, agift of thirteen pieces of gold, which, as well as the ring, had receivedthe episcopal benediction, and Marie Antoinette was dauphiness of France. 

CHAPTER III. 

Feelings in Germany and France on the Subject of the Marriage. --Letter ofMaria Teresa to the Dauphin--Characters of the Different Members of theRoyal Family. --Difficulties which beset Marie Antoinette. --Maria Teresa'sLetter of Advice. --The Comte de Mercy is sent as Embassador to Franceto act as the Adviser of the Dauphiness. --The Princesse de Lorraine atthe State Ball. --A Great Disaster takes place at the Fire-works in Paris. --The Peasant at Fontainebleau. --Marie Antoinette pleases the King. --Description of her Personal Appearance. --Mercy's Report of the Impressionshe made on her First Arrival. 

The marriage which was thus accomplished was regarded with unmodifiedpleasure by the family of the bride, and with almost equal satisfaction bythe French king. In spite of the public rejoicings in both countries withwhich it was accompanied, it can not be said to have been equallyacceptable to the majority of the people of either nation. There was stilla strong anti-French party at Vienna, [1] and (a circumstance of fargreater influence on the fortunes of the young couple) there was a stronganti-Austrian party in France, which was not without its supporters evenin the king's palace. That the marriage should have been so earnestlydesired at the imperial court is a strange instance of the extent to whichpolitical motives overpowered every other consideration in the mind of thegreat Empress-queen, for she was not ignorant of the real character of theFrench court, of the degree in which it was divided by factions, of thebase and unworthy intrigues which were its sole business, and of thesagacity and address which were requisite for any one who would steer hisway with safety and honor through its complicated mazes. 

Judgment and prudence were not the qualities most naturally to be expectedin a young princess not yet fifteen years old. The best prospect whichMarie Antoinette had of surmounting the numerous and varied difficultieswhich beset her lay in the affection which she speedily conceived for herhusband, and in the sincerity, we can hardly say warmth, with which hereturned her love. Maria Teresa had bespoken his tenderness for her in aletter which she wrote to him on the day on which her daughter leftVienna, and which has often been quoted as a composition worthy of heralike as a mother and as a Christian sovereign; and as admirablycalculated to impress the heart of her new son-in-law by claiming hisattachment for his bride, on the ground of the pains which she had takento make her worthy of her fortune. 

"Your bride, my dear dauphin, has just left me. I do hope that she willcause your happiness. I have brought her up with the design that sheshould do so, because I have for some time forseen that she would shareyour destiny. 

"I have inspired her with an eager desire to do her duty to you, with atender attachment to your person, with a resolution to be attentive tothink and do every thing which may please you. I have also been mostcareful to enjoin her a tender devotion toward the Master of allSovereigns, being thoroughly persuaded that we are but badly providing forthe welfare of the nations which are intrusted to us when we fail in ourduty to Him who breaks sceptres and overthrows thrones according to hispleasure. 

"I say, then, to you, my dear dauphin, as I say to my daughter: 'Cultivateyour duties toward God. Seek to cause the happiness of the people overwhom you will reign (it will be too soon, come when it may). Love theking, your grandfather; be humane like him; be always accessible to theunfortunate. If you behave in this manner, it is impossible that happinesscan fail to be your lot. ' My daughter will love you, I am certain, becauseI know her. But the more that I answer to you for her affection, and forher anxiety to please you, the more earnestly do I entreat you to vow toher the most sincere attachment. 

"Farewell, my dear dauphin. May you be happy. I am bathed in tears. [2]"

The dauphin did not falsify the hopes thus expressed by the Empress-queen. But his was not the character to afford his wife either the advice orsupport which she needed, while, strange to say, he was the only member ofthe royal family to whom she could look for either. The king was not onlyutterly worthless and shameless, but weak and irresolute in the mostordinary matters. Even when in the flower and vigor of his age, he hadnever been able to summon courage to give verbal orders or reproofs to hisown children, [3] but had intimated his pleasure or displeasure by letters. He had been gradually falling lower and lower, both in his own vices andin the estimation of the world; and was now, still more than when LordChesterfield first drew his picture, [4] both hated and despised. Thedauphin's brothers, for such mere boys, were singularly selfish andunamiable; and the only female relations of her husband, his aunts, towhom, as such, it would have been natural that a young foreigner shouldlook for friendship and advice, were not only narrow-minded, intriguing, and malicious, but were predisposed to regard her with jealousy as likelyto interfere with the influence which they had hoped to exert over theirnephew when he should become their sovereign. 

Marie Antoinette had, therefore, difficulties and enemies to contend withfrom the very first commencement of her residence in France. And many evenof her own virtues were unfavorable to her chances of happiness, calculated as they were to lay her at the mercy of her ill-wishers, and todeprive her of some of the defenses which might have been found in adifferent temperament. Full of health and spirits, she was naturally eagerin the pursuit of enjoyment, and anxious to please every one, from feelingnothing but kindness toward every one; she was frank, open, and sincere;and, being perfectly guileless herself, she was, as through her whole lifeshe continued to be, entirely unsuspicious of unfriendliness, much more oftreachery in others. Her affability and condescension combined with thistrustful disposition to make her too often the tool of designing andgrasping courtiers, who sought to gain their own ends at her expense, andwho presumed on her good-nature and inexperience to make requests which, as they well knew, should never have been made, but which they alsoreckoned that she would be unwilling to refuse. 

But lest this general amiability and desire to give pleasure to thosearound her might seem to impart a prevailing tinge of weakness to hercharacter, it is fair to add that she united to these softer feelings, robuster virtues calculated to deserve and to win universal admiration;though some of them, never having yet been called forth by circumstances, were for a long time unsuspected by the world at large. She had pride--pride of birth, pride of rank--though never did that feeling show itselfmore nobly or more beneficially. It never led her to think herself abovethe very meanest of her subjects. It never made her indifferent to theinterests, to the joys or sorrows, of a single individual. The idea withwhich it inspired her was, that a princess of her race was never to commitan unworthy act, was never to fail in purity of virtue, in truth, incourage; that she was to be careful to set an example of these virtues tothose who would naturally look up to her; and that she herself was to keepconstantly in her mind the example of her illustrious mother, and never, by act, or word, or thought, to discredit her mother's name. And as shethus regarded courage as her birthright, so she possessed it in abundanceand in variety. She had courage to plan, and courage to act; courage toresolve, and courage to adhere to the resolution once deliberately formed;and, above all, courage to endure and to suffer, and, in the veryextremity of misery, to animate and support others less royally endowed. 

Such, then, as she was, with both her manifest and her latentexcellencies, as well as with those more mixed qualities which had somedefects mingled with their sweetness, Marie Antoinette, at the age offourteen years and a half, was thrown into a world wholly new to her, toguide herself so far by her own discretion that there was no one who hadboth judgment and authority to control her in her line of conduct or inany single action. She had, indeed, an adviser whom her mother hadprovided for her, though without allowing her to suspect the nature orfull extent of the duties which she had imposed upon him. Maria Teresa hadbeen in some respects a strict mother, one whom her children in generalfeared almost as much as they loved her; and the rigorous superintendenceon some points of conduct which she had exercised over Marie Antoinettewhile at home, she was not inclined wholly to resign, even after she hadmade her apparently independent. At the moment of her departure fromVienna, she gave her a letter of advice which she entreated her to readover every month, and in which the most affectionate and judicious counselis more than once couched in a tone of very authoritative command; thewhole letter showing not only the most experienced wisdom and the mostaffectionate interest in her daughter's happiness, but likewise a thoroughinsight into her character, so precisely are some of the errors againstwhich the letter most emphatically warns her those into which she mostfrequently fell. And she appointed a statesman in whom she deservedlyplaced great confidence, the Count de Mercy-Argenteau, her embassador tothe court at Versailles, with the express design that he should always beat hand to afford the dauphiness his advice in all the difficulties whichshe could not avoid foreseeing for her; and who should also keep theEmpress-queen herself fully informed of every particular of her conduct, and of every transaction by which she was in any way affected. This partof his commission was wholly unsuspected by the young princess; but thecount discharged such portions of the delicate duty thus imposed upon himwith rare discretion, contriving in its performance to combine thestrictest fidelity to his imperial mistress with the most entire devotionto the interests of his pupil, and to preserve the unqualified regard andesteem of both mother and daughter to the end of their lives. Toward thelatter, as dauphiness, and even as queen, he stood for some years in aposition very similar to that which Baron Stockmar fills in the history ofthe late Prince Consort of England, being, however, more frequent in hisadmonitions, and occasionally more severe in his reproofs, as the youthand inexperience of Marie Antoinette not unnaturally led her into greatermistakes than the scrupulous conscientiousness and almost prematureprudence of the prince consort ever suffered him to commit; and hisdiligent reports to the Empress-queen, amounting at times to a diary ofthe proceedings of the French court, have a lasting and inestimable value, since they furnish us with so trustworthy a record of the whole life ofMarie Antoinette for the first ten years of her residence in France, [5] ofher actions, her language, and her very thoughts (for she ever scorned togive a reason or to make an excuse which was not absolutely and strictlytrue), that there is perhaps no person of historical importance whoseconduct in every transaction of gravity or interest is more minutelyknown, or whose character there are fuller materials for appreciating. 

The very day of her marriage did not pass without her receiving a strangespecimen of the factious spirit which prevailed at the court, and of thehollowness of the welcome with which the chief nobles had greeted herarrival. A state ball was given at the palace to celebrate the wedding, and as the Princess of Lorraine, a cousin of the Emperor Francis, was theonly blood-relation of Marie Antoinette who was at Versailles at the time, the king assigned her a place in the first quadrille, giving herprecedence for that occasion, next to the princes of the blood. It did notseem a great stretch of courtesy to show to a foreigner, even had she notbeen related to the princess in whose honor the ball was given; but thedukes and peers fired up at the arrangement, as if an insult had beenoffered them. They held a meeting at which they resolved that no member oftheir families should attend, and carried out their resolution soobstinately that at five o'clock, when the dancing was to commence, exceptthe royal princesses there were only three ladies in the room. The king, who, following the example of Louis XIV. , acted on these occasions as hisown master of ceremonies, was forced to send special and personal ordersto some of those who had absented themselves to attend without delay. Andso by seven o'clock twelve or fourteen couples were collected[6] (thenumber of persons admitted to such entertainments was always extremelysmall), and the rude disloyalty of the protest was to outward appearanceeffaced by the submission of the recusants. 

But all the troubles which arose out of the wedding festivities were notso easily terminated. Little as was the good-will which subsisted betweenLouis XV. And the Parisians, the civic authorities thought their owncredit at stake in doing appropriate honor to an occasion so important asthe marriage of the heir of the monarchy, and on the 30th of May theyclosed a succession of balls and banquets by a display of fire-works, inwhich the ingenuity of the most celebrated artists had been exhausted tooutshine all previous displays of the sort. Three sides of the Place LouisXV. Were filled up with pyramids and colonnades. Here dolphins darted outmany-colored flames from their ever-open mouths. There, rivers of firepoured forth cascades spangled with all the variegated brilliancy withwhich the chemist's art can embellish the work of the pyrotechnist. Thecentre was occupied with a gorgeous Temple of Hymen, which seemed to leanfor support on the well-known statue of the king, in front of which it wasconstructed; and which was, as it were, to be carried up to the skies byabove three thousand rockets and fire-balls into which it was intended todissolve. The whole square was packed with spectators, the pedestrians infront, the carriages in the rear, when one of the explosions set fire to aportion of the platforms on which the different figures had beenconstructed. At first the increase of the blaze was regarded only as aningenious surprise on the part of the artist. But soon it became clearthat the conflagration was undesigned and real; panic-succeeded todelight, and the terror-stricken crowd, seeing themselves surrounded withflames, began to make frantic efforts to escape from the danger; but therewas only one side of the square uninclosed, and that was blocked up bycarriages. The uproar and the glare made the horses unmanageable, and in afew moments the whole mass, human beings and animals, was mingled inhelpless confusion, making flight impossible by their very eagerness tofly, and trampling one another underfoot in bewildered misery. Of thosewho did succeed in extricating themselves from the square, half made theirway to the road which runs along the bank of the river, and found thatthey had only exchanged one danger for another, which, though of anopposite character, was equally destructive. Still overwhelmed withterror, though the first peril was over, the fugitives pushed one anotherinto the stream, in which great numbers were drowned. The number of thekilled could never be accurately ascertained: but no calculation estimatedthe number of those who perished at less than six hundred, while those whowere grievously injured were at least as many more. 

The dauphin and dauphiness were deeply shocked by a disaster so painfullyat variance with their own happiness, which, in one sense, had caused it. Their first thought was, as far as they might be able, to mitigate it. Most of the victims were of the poorer class, the grief of whose survivingrelatives was, in many instances, aggravated by the loss of the means oflivelihood which the labors of those who had been cut off had hithertosupplied; and, to give temporary succor to this distress, the dauphin anddauphiness at once drew out from the royal treasury the sums allowed tothem for their private expenses for the month, and sent the money to themunicipal authorities to be applied to the relief of the sufferers. ButMarie Antoinette did more. She felt that to give money only was but coldbenevolence; and she made personal visits to many of those families whichhad been most grievously afflicted, showing the sincerity of her sympathyby the touching kindness of her language, and by the tears which shemingled with those of the widow and the orphan. [7] Such unmerited kindnessmade a deep impression on the citizens. Since the time of Henry IV. Noprince had ever shown the slightest interest in the happiness or misery ofthe lower classes; and the feeling of affectionate gratitude which thisunprecedented recognition of their claims to be sympathized with asfellow-creatures awakened was fixed still more deeply in their hearts ashort time afterward, when, at one of the hunting-parties which took placeat Fontainebleau, the stag charged a crowd of the spectators and severelywounded a peasant with his horns. Marie Antoinette sprung to the ground atthe sight, helped to bind up the wound, and had the man driven in her owncarriage to his cabin, whither she followed him herself to see that everyproper attention was paid to him. [8] And the affection which she thusinspired among the poor was fully shared by the chief personage in thekingdom, the sovereign himself. A life of profligacy had not renderedLouis wholly insensible to the superior attractions of innocence andvirtue. Perhaps a secret sense of shame at the slavery in which his vicesheld him, and which, as he well knew, excited the contempt of even hismost dissolute courtiers, though he had not sufficient energy to shake itoff, may have for a moment quickened his better feelings; and the freshbeauty of the young princess, who, from the first moment of her arrival atthe court, treated him with the most affectionate and caressing respect, awakened in him a genuine admiration and good-will. He praised her beautyand her grace to all his nobles with a warmth that excited the jealousy ofhis infamous mistress, the Countess du Barri. He made allowance for somechildishness of manner as natural at her age, [9] showed an anxiety forevery thing which could amuse or gratify her, which afforded a markedcontrast to his ordinary apathy. And, though in so young a girl it wasrather the promise of future beauty than its developed perfection that herfeat-* as yet presented, they already exhibited sufficient charms toexempt those who extolled them from the suspicion of flattery. A clear andopen forehead, a delicately cut nose, a complexion of dazzling brilliancy, with bright blue eyes, whose ever-varying lustre seemed equally calculatedto show every feeling which could move her heart; which could, at timesseem almost fierce with anger, indignation, or contempt, but whoseprevailing expression was that of kindly benevolence or light-heartedmirth were united with a figure of exquisite proportions, sufficientlytall for dignity, though as yet, of course, slight and unformed, and everymovement of which was directed by a grace that could neither be taught norimitated. If any defect could be discovered in her face, it consisted in asomewhat undue thickness of the lips, especially of the lower lip, whichhad for some generations been the prevailing characteristic of her family. 

Accordingly, a month after her marriage, Mercy could report to MariaTeresa that she had had complete success, and was a universal favorite;that, besides the king, who openly expressed his satisfaction, she had wonthe heart of the dauphin, who had been very unqualified in the language inwhich he had praised both her beauty and her agreeable qualities to hisaunts; and that even those princesses were "enchanted" with her. The wholecourt, and the people in general, extolled her affability, and thegraciousness with which she said kind things to all who approached her. Though the well-informed embassador had already discovered signs of thecabals which the mistress and her partisans were forming against her, andhad been rendered a little uneasy by the handle which she had more thanonce afforded to her secret enemies, when, "in gayety of heart and withoutthe slightest ill-will, " she had allowed herself to jest on some personsand circumstances which struck her as ridiculous, her jests being seasonedwith a wit and piquancy which rendered them keener to those who were theirobjects, and more so mischievous to herself. He especially praised theunaffected dignity with which she had received the mistress who hadattended in her apartments to pay her court, though in no respect deceivedas to the lady's disposition, her penetration into the characters of allwith whom she had been brought into contact, denoting, as it struck him, "a sagacity" which, at her age, was "truly astonishing. [10]"

CHAPTER IV. 

Marie Antoinette gives her Mother her First Impressions of the Court andof her own Position and Prospects. --Court Life at Versailles. --MarieAntoinette shows her Dislike of Etiquette. --Character of the Ducd'Aiguillon. --Cabals against the Dauphiness. --Jealousy of Mme. Du Barri. --The Aunts, too, are Jealous of Her. --She becomes more and more Popular. --Parties for Donkey-riding. --Scantiness of the Dauphiness's Income. --HerInfluence over the King. --The Duc de Choiseul is dismissed. --She beginsto have Great Influence over the Dauphin. 

Marie Antoinette herself was inclined to be delighted with all that befellher, and to make light of what she could hardly regard as pleasant orbecoming; and two of her first letters to her mother, written in the earlypart of July, [1] give us an insight into the feelings with which sheregarded her new family and her own position, as well as a picture of herdaily occupations and of the singular customs of the French court, strangely inconsistent in what it permitted and in what it disallowed, and, in the publicity in which its princes lived, curiously incompatiblewith ordinary ideas of comfort and even delicacy. 

"The king, " she says, "is full of kindnesses toward me, and I love himtenderly. But it is pitiable to see his weakness for Madame du Barri, whois the silliest and most impertinent creature that it is possible toconceive. She has played with us every evening at Marly, [2] and she hastwice been seated next to me; but she has not spoken to me, and I have notattempted to engage in conversation with her; but, when it was necessary, I have said a word or two to her. 

"As for my dear husband, he is greatly changed, and in a most advantageousmanner. He shows a great deal of affection for me, and is even beginningto treat me with great confidence. He certainly does not like M. De la, Vauguyon; but he is afraid of him. A curious thing happened about the dukethe other day. I was alone with my husband, when M. De la Vauguyon stolehurriedly up to the doors to listen. A servant, who was either a fool or avery honest man, opened the door, and there stood his grace the dukeplanted like a sentinel, without being able to retreat. I pointed out tomy husband the inconvenience that there was in having people listening atthe doors, and he took my remark very well. "

She did not tell the empress the whole of this occurrence; she had beentoo indignant at the duke's meanness to suppress her feelings, and shereproved the duke himself with a severity which can hardly be said to havebeen misplaced. 

"Duke de la Vauguyon, " she said, "my lord the dauphin is now of an age todispense with a governor; and I have no need of a spy. I beg you not toappear again in my presence. [3]"

Between the writing of her first and second letters she had heard fromMaria Teresa; and she "can not describe how the affection her motherexpresses for her has gone to her heart. Every letter which she hasreceived has filled her eyes with tears of regret at being separated fromso tender and loving a mother, and, happy as she is in France, she wouldgive the world to see her family again, if it were but for a moment. Asher mother wishes to know how the days are passed; she gets up betweennine and ten, and, having dressed herself and said her morning prayers, she breakfasts, and then she goes to the apartments of her aunts, whoseshe usually finds the king. That lasts till half-past ten; then at elevenshe has her hair dressed. 

"At twelve, " she proceeds to say, "what is called the Chamber is held, andthere every one who does not belong to the common people may enter. I puton my rouge and wash my hands before all the world; the men go out, andthe women remain; and then I dress myself in their presence. Then comesmass. If the king is at Versailles, I go to mass with him, my husband, andmy aunts; if he is not there, I go alone with the dauphin, but always atthe same hour. After mass we two dine by ourselves in the presence of allthe world; but dinner is over by half-past one, as we both eat very fast. From the dinner-table I go to the dauphin's apartments, and if he hasbusiness, I return to my own rooms, where I read, write, or work; for I ammaking a waistcoat for the king, which gets on but slowly, though, Itrust, with God's grace, it will be finished before many years are over. At three o'clock I go again to visit my aunts, and the king comes to themat the same hour. At four the abbé[4] comes to me, and at five I haveevery day either my harpsichord-master or my singing-master till six. Athalf-past six I go almost every day to my aunts, except when I go outwalking. And you must understand that when I go to visit my aunts, myhusband almost always goes with me. At seven we play cards till nineo'clock; but when the weather is fine I go out walking, and then there isno play in my apartments, but it is held at my aunts'. At nine we sup; andwhen the king is not there, my aunts come to sup with us; but when theking is there, we go after supper to their rooms, waiting there for theking, who usually comes about a quarter to eleven; and I lie down on agrand sofa and go to sleep till he comes. But when he is not there, we goto bed at eleven o'clock. "

The play-table which is alluded to in these letters was one of the mostcurious and mischievous institutions of the court. Gambling had been oneof its established vices ever since the time of Henry IV. , whose enormouslosses at play had formed the subject of Sully's most incessantremonstrances. And from the beginning of the reign of Louis XIV. , agaming-table had formed a regular part of the evening's amusement. It wasthe one thing which was allowed to break down the barrier of etiquette. Onall other occasions, the rules which regulated who might and who might notbe admitted to the royal presence were as precise and strict as in manycases they were unreasonable and unintelligible. But at the gaming-tableevery one who could make the slightest pretensions to gentle birth wasallowed to present himself and stake his money; [5] and the levelinginfluence of play was almost as fully exemplified in the king's palace asin the ordinary gaming-houses, since, though the presence of royalty sofar acted as a restraint on the gamblers as to prevent any open explosion, accusations of foul play and dishonest tricks were as rife as in the mostvulgar company. 

Marie Antoinette was winning many hearts by her loveliness and affability;but she could not scatter her kind speeches and friendly smiles among allwith whom she came into contact without running counter to the prejudicesof some of the old courtiers who had been formed on a different system; towhom the maintenance of a rigid etiquette was as the very breath of theirnostrils, and in whose eyes its very first rule and principle was thatprinces should keep all the world at a distance. Foremost among thesesticklers for old ideas was the Countess de Noailles, her principal "ladyof honor, " whose uneasiness on the subject speedily became so notorious asto give rise to numerous court squibs and satirical odes, the authors ofwhich seemed glad to compliment the dauphin and to vex her ladyship at thesame time, but who could not be deterred by these effusions from lecturingMarie Antoinette on her disregard of her rank, and on the danger of makingherself too familiar, till she provoked the young princess into giving herthe nickname of Madame Etiquette; and, no doubt, in her childishplayfulness, to utter many a speech and do many an act whose principleobject was to excite the astonishment or provoke the frowns of the tooprim lady of honor. 

There can be no doubt that, though she often pushed her strictness toofar, Madame de Noailles to some extent had reason on her side; and that acertain degree of ceremony and stately reserve is indispensable in courtlife. It is a penalty which those born in the purple must pay for theirdignity, that they can have no friend on a perfect equality withthemselves; and those who in different ages and countries have tried toemancipate themselves from this law of their rank have not generally woneven the respect of those to whom they have condescended, and still lessthe approbation of the outer world, whose members have perhaps a secretdislike to see those whom they regard as their own equals lifted abovethem by the familiarity of princes. 

This, however, was a matter of comparatively slight importance. An excessof condescension is at the worst a venial and an amiable error; but evenat the early period plots were being contrived against the young princess, which, if successful, would have been wholly destructive of her happiness, and which, though she was fully aware of them, she had not means byherself to disconcert or defeat. They were the more formidable becausethey were partly political, embracing a scheme for the removal of aminister, and consequently conciliated more supporters and insured greaterperseverance than if they had merely aimed at securing a preponderance ofcourt favor for the plotters. Like all the other mistresses who hadsuccessfully reigned in the French courts, Madame du Barri had a party ofadherents who hoped to rise by her patronage. The Duc de Choiseul himselfhad owed his promotion to her predecessor, Madame de Pompadour, and thosewho hoped to supplant him saw in a similar influence the best prospect ofattaining their end. One of the least respectable of the French nobles wasthe Duc d'Aiguillon. As Governor of Brittany, he had behaved withnotorious cowardice in the Seven Years' War. He had since been, ifpossible, still more dishonored by charges of oppression, peculation, andsubornation, on which the authorities of the province had prosecuted him, and which the Parisian Parliament had pronounced to be established. But nokind of infamy was a barrier to the favor of Louis XV. He cancelled theresolution of the Parliament, and showed such countenance to the culpritthat d'Aiguillon, who was both ambitious and covetous, conceived the ideaof supplanting Choiseul in the Government. As one of Choiseul's principalmeasures had been the negotiation of the dauphin's marriage, MarieAntoinette was known to regard him with a good-will which was founded ongratitude. But, unfortunately, her feelings on this point were not sharedby her husband; for Choiseul had had notorious differences with hisfather, the late dauphin, and, though it was perfectly certain that thatprince had died of natural disease, people had been found to whisper inhis son's ear suspicions that he had been poisoned, and that the ministerto whom he was unfriendly had been concerned in his death. 

The two plots, therefore, to overthrow the minister and to weaken theinfluence of the dauphiness, went hand-in-hand, and, as might have beenexpected from the character of the patroness of both, no means were toovile or wicked for the intriguers who had set them on foot. Madame duBarri was, indeed, seriously alarmed for the maintenance of her ownascendency. The king took such undisguised pleasure in his newgranddaughter's company, that some of the most experienced courtiers beganto anticipate that she would soon gain entire influence over him[6]. Themistress began, therefore, to disparage her personal charms, neverspeaking of her to Louis ("France, " as she generally called him), exceptas "the little blowsy, [7]" while her ally, De la Vauguyon, endeavored tofurther her views by exerting the influence which he mistakenly flatteredhimself that he still retained over the dauphin, to surround her with hisown creatures. He tried to procure the dismissal of the Abbé de Vermond, who, having been, as we have seen, the tutor of Marie Antoinette atVienna, still remained attached to her person as her reader; and whosecomplete knowledge of all the ways of the court, joined to a thoroughhonesty and devoted fidelity to her best interests, rendered his servicesmost valuable to his mistress in her new sphere. He sought to recommend acreature of his own as her confessor; to obtain for his own daughter theappointment of one of her chief ladies; and, with a wickedness peculiar tothe French court, he even endeavored to imitate the vile arts by which theDuc de Richelieu had deprived Marie Leczinska of the affections of theking, to alienate the dauphin from his young wife, and to induce him tocommit himself to the guidance of Madame du Barri. But this part of thescheme failed. The dauphin was strangely insensible to the personal charmsof Marie Antoinette herself, and was wholly inaccessible to any inferiortemptations; and, as far as the arrangements of the court were concerned, the success of the mistress's cabal was limited to procuring the dismissalof the mistress of the robes, the Countess de Grammont, for refusing tocede to Madame du Barri and some of her friends the place which belongedto her office at some private theatricals which were held in the palace. 

Louis XIV. Had taught his nobles the pernicious notion that an order towithdraw from the court was a penal banishment, and his successor nowbanished Madame de Grammont fourteen leagues from Versailles, and for sometime refused to recall his sentence, though Marie Antoinette herself wroteto him to complain of one of her servants being so treated for such acause. She had not, as she reported to her mother, been very willing towrite, knowing that Madame du Barri read all the king's letters; but Mercyhad urged her to take the step, thinking it very important that she shouldestablish the practice of communicating directly with Louis on all mattersrelating to her own household, and that she should avoid the blunder ofhis daughters, her aunts, whose conduct toward their father had, in hisopinion, been mischievously timid, and to follow whose example would beprejudicial both to her dignity and to her comfort. 

The aunts too, and especially the eldest, Madame Adelaide, had schemes oftheir own, which, they also sought to carry out by underhand methods. Themore conscious they were that they themselves had no influence over theirfather, the less could they endure the chance of their niece acquiringany, though it could not have been said to have been established at theirexpense. On the other hand, they had before his marriage had considerablepower with the dauphin, which they had now but little hope of retaining. They saw also that Marie Antoinette had in a few weeks gained a generalpopularity such as they had never won in their whole lives, and on allthese accounts they were painfully jealous of her. They put ideas andplans into her head which they expected to grate upon their father's tasteor indolence, and then contrived to have them represented ormisrepresented to him, though he disappointed their malice by regardingsuch things as childish ebullitions natural to a girl of her age, and wasfar more inclined to humor than to reprove her. With the same object, theytried to induce her to interfere in appointments in which she had noconcern; but she remembered her mother's advice, and on this point keptsteadily in the path which that affectionate adviser had marked out forher. They even ventured to make disparaging observations on her manners, as inexperienced and unformed, to the dauphin himself, till he silencedthem by the warmth of his praises alike of her beauty and of herdisposition; and they were so afraid of any addition to her popularitywith the nation at large, that, when the city of Paris and the states ofLanguedoc presented her with an address, they recommended her to make noreply, assuring her that on similar occasions they themselves had nevergiven any answers. Luckily, she had a better adviser, who on this occasionwas the Abbé de Vermond. He told her truly that in this matter the conductwhich the older princesses had pursued was a warning, not a pattern: thatthey had made all France discontented; and at his suggestion MarieAntoinette gave to each address "an answer full of graciousness, withwhich the public was enchanted. "

Thus in the first year of her marriage, by her kindness of heart, guidedby the advice of Mercy and the abbé, to which she listened with thegreatest docility, she had won general affection, and had made no enemiesbut those whose enmity was an honor. She was, as she wrote to her mother, perfectly happy, though, had she not wished to make the best of matters, she was not, in fact, wholly free from disappointments and vexations, someof which continued for years to cause her uneasiness and anxiety, thoughothers were comparatively trivial or temporary, while one was of an almostcomical nature. 

She had conceived a great desire to learn to ride. Her mother had been agreat horsewoman; and, as the dauphin, like the king, was passionatelyaddicted to hunting, which hitherto she had only witnessed from acarriage, Marie Antoinette not unnaturally desired to be mistress of anaccomplishment which would enable her to give him more of hercompanionship. Unluckily Mercy disapproved of the idea. It is impossibleto read his correspondence with the empress, and in subsequent years withMarie Antoinette herself, without being forcibly impressed with respectfor his consummate prudence, his sound judgment in matters of publicpolicy, and his unswerving fidelity to the interests of both mother anddaughter. But at the same time it is difficult to avoid seeing that he wastoo little inclined to make allowance for the youthful eagerness foramusements which was natural to her age, and that at times he carried hissupervision into matters on which his statesman-like experience andsagacity had hardly qualified him to form an opinion. He was proud of hisprincess's beauty; and, considering himself in charge of her figure aswell as of her conduct, he had made himself very uneasy by the fancieddiscovery that she was becoming crooked. He was sure that one shoulder wasgrowing higher than the other; he earnestly recommended stays, and wasvery much displeased with her aunts for setting her against them, becausethey were not fashionable in Paris. And when the horse exercise wasproposed, he set his face against it; he wrote to Maria Teresa, who agreedwith him in thinking it ruinous to the complexion, injurious to the shape, and not to be safely indulged in under thirty years of age[8]; and, lestdistance should weaken the authority of the empress, he enlisted Madame deNoailles and Choiseul on his side, and Choiseul persuaded the king that itwas a very objectionable pastime for a young bride. 

There was not as yet the slightest prospect of the dauphiness becoming amother (a circumstance which was, in fact, the most serious of hervexations, and that which lasted longest): but the king on this pointagreed with his minister, and after some discussion a compromise was hitupon, and it was decided that she might ride a donkey. The whole countrywas immediately ransacked for a stud of quiet donkeys. [9] In September thecourt moved to Compiègne, and day after day, while the king and thedauphin were shooting in one part of the woods, on the other side acavalcade of donkey-riders, the aunts and the king's brothers all swellingMarie Antoinette's train, trotted up and down the glades, and sought outshady spots for rural luncheons out-of-doors; and, though even thispastime was occasionally found liable to as much danger as an expeditionon nobler steeds, the merry dauphiness contrived to extract amusement forherself and her followers from her very disasters. It was long a standingjoke that on one occasion, when her donkey and herself came down in a softplace, her royal highness, before she would allow her attendants toextricate her from the mud, bid them go to Madame de Noailles, and ask herwhat the rules of etiquette prescribed when a dauphiness of France failedto keep her seat upon a donkey. 

She had also another annoyance which was even of a less royal characterthan being doomed to ride on a donkey. She had absolutely no pocket-money. For many generations the princes of the country had been accustomed to diptheir hands so unrestrainedly into the national treasury, that theirlegitimate appointments had been fixed on a very moderate, if not scanty, scale; so that any one who, like the dauphin and dauphiness, might bescrupulous not to exceed their income (though that scruple had probablyaffected no one before) could not fail to be greatly straitened. Theallowance of Marie Antoinette was fixed at no higher amount than sixthousand francs a month; and of this small sum, according to a reportwhich, in the course of the autumn, Mercy made to the empress, not asingle crown really reached the princess for her private use. [10] Nearlyhalf of the money was stopped to pay some pensions granted MarieLeczinska, with which the dauphiness could by no possibility have theslightest concern. Almost as much more was intrusted to the gentlemen ofher chamber for the expenses of the play table, at which she was expectedto preside, since there was no queen to discharge that duty; and whetherher royal highness's cards won or lost, the money equally disappeared, [11]and the remainder was distributed in presents to her ladies, at thediscretion of Madame de Noailles. Had not Maria Teresa, when she firstquit Vienna, intrusted Mercy with a thousand pounds for her use, and hadshe not herself been singularly economical in her ideas, she would havebeen in the humiliating position of being unable to provide for her ownmost ordinary wants, and, a matter about which she was even more anxious, for her constant charities. Yet so inveterate was the mismanagement inboth the court and the government, that it was some time before Mercycould succeed, by the strongest remonstrances supported by clear proofs ofthe real situation of her royal highness, in getting her affairs and herresources placed upon a proper footing. 

In spite of all the efforts of the cabal, the king's regard for herincreased daily. He had not for many years been used to being treated withrespect, and she, not from any artfulness, but from her native proprietyof feeling, which forbade her ever to forget that he was her husband'sgrandfather and her king, united a tone of the most loyal respect with herfilial caresses. She called him papa, and even paid him the tacitcompliment of grounding occasional requests on considerations of humanityand justice, little as such motives had ever influenced Louis, and rarelyas their names had of late been heard in the precincts of the palace. Sheeven induced him to pardon Madame de Grammont; insisting on such aconcession as due to herself, when she demanded it for one of her ownretinue, till he laughed, and replied, "Madame, your orders shall beexecuted. " And the steadiness she thus showed in protecting her ownservants won her many hearts among the courtiers, at the same time that itfilled her aunts with astonishment, who, while commending her firmness, could not avoid adding that "it was easy to see that she did not belong totheir race. [12]" And how strong as well as how general was of respect andgood-will which she had thus diffused was seen in a remarkable manner atsome of the private theatricals, which were a frequent diversion of theking, when the actor, at the end of one of his songs, introduced someverses which he had composed in her honor, and the whole body of courtierswho were present showed their approbation by a vehement clapping of theirhands, in defiance of a standing order of the court, which prohibited anysuch demonstrations being made in the sovereign's presence. [13]

It, however, more than counterbalanced these triumphs that, before the endof the year, the cabal of the mistress succeeded in procuring thedismissal of the Choiseul, and the appointment of the Duc d'Aiguillon asminister. For Choiseul had been not only a faithful, but a most judicious, friend to her. If others showed too often that they regarded her as aforeigner, he only remembered it as a reason for giving her hints as tothe feelings of the nation or of individuals which a native would not haverequired. And she thankfully acknowledged that his suggestions had alwaysbeen both kind and useful, and expressed her sense of her obligations tohim, and her concern at his dismissal to her mother, who fully shared herfeelings on the subject. 

And, encouraged by this victory over her most powerful adherent, the cabalbegan to venture to attack Marie Antoinette herself. They surrounded herwith spies; they even spread a report that Louis had begun to see throughand to distrust her, in the hope that, when it should reach the king's ownears, it might perhaps lay the foundation of the alienation which itpretended to assert; and they grew the bolder because the king's nextbrother was about to be married to a Savoyard princess, of whose favor Dela Vauguyon flattered himself that he was already assured. Under thesecircumstances Marie Antoinette behaved with consummate prudence, as far atleast as her enemies were concerned. She despised the efforts made tolower her in the general estimation so completely that she seemed whollyunconscious of them. She did not even allow herself to be provoked intotreating the authors of the calumnies with additional coldness; but gaveno handle to any of them to complain of her, so that the critical andanxious eyes of Mercy himself found nothing to wish altered in her conducttoward them. [14] And throughout the winter she pursued the even tenor ofher way, making herself chiefly remarkable by almost countless acts ofcharity, which she dispensed with such judgment as showed that theyproceeded, not from a heedless disregard of money, but from a thoughtfuland vigilant kindness, which did not think the feelings any more than thenecessities of the poor beneath her notice. 

Circumstances to which she contributed only indirectly enhanced herpopularity and weakened the effects of the mistress's hostility. Versailles had not been so gay for many winters, and the votaries of mereamusement, always a strong party at every court, rejoiced at the additionto the royal family to whom the gayety was owing. Louis roused himself togratify the young princess, who enlivened his place with the firstrespectable pleasures which it or he had known for years. When he saw thatshe liked dramatic performances, he opened the private theatre of thepalace twice a week. Because she was fond of dancing, he encouraged her tohave a weekly ball in her own apartments, at which she herself was theprincipal attraction, not solely by the elegance of her every movement, but still more by the graciousness with which she received and treated herguests, having a kind smile and an affable word for all, apparentlyforgetting her rank in the frankness of her condescension, yet at the sametime bearing herself with an innate dignity which prevented the mostforward from presuming on her kindness or venturing on any unduefamiliarity. [15]

The winter of 1770 was one of unusual severity; and she found resourcesfor a further enlivenment of the court in the frost itself. Sledging onthe snow was an habitual pastime at Vienna, where the cold is more severethan at Paris; nor in former years had sledges been wholly unknown in theBois de Boulogne. And now Marie Antoinette, whose hardy habits madeexercise in the fresh air almost a necessity for her, had sledges builtfor herself and her attendants; and the inhabitants of Versailles and theneighborhood, as fond of novelty as all their countrymen, were delightedat the merry sledging-parties which, as long as the snow lasted, exploredthe surrounding country, while the woods rang with the horses' bells, and, almost as loudly and still more cheerfully, with the laughter of thecompany. 

Her liveliness had, as it were, given a new tone to the whole court; andthough the dauphin held out longer against the genial influence of hiswife's disposition than most people, it at last in some degree thawed evenhis frigidity. She ascribed his apathy and apparent dislike to femalesociety rather to the neglect or malice of his early tutors than to anynatural defect of capacity or perversity of disposition; and oftenlectured him on his deficiencies, and even on some of his favoritepursuits, which she looked upon as contributing to strengthen his shynesswith ladies. She was not unacquainted with English literature, in whichthe rusticity and coarseness of the fox-hunting squires formed a piquantsubject for the mirth of dramatists and novelists; and if Squire Westernhad been the type of sportsmen in all countries, she could not haveinveighed more vigorously than she did against her husband's addiction tohunting. One evening, when he did not return from the field till the playin the theatre was half over, she not only frowned upon him all the restof the entertainment, but when, after the company had retired, he began toenter into an explanation of the cause of his delay, a scene ensued whichit will be best to give in the very words of Mercy's report to theempress. 

"The dauphiness made him a short but very energetic sermon, in which sherepresented to him with vivacity all the evils of the uncivilized kind oflife he was leading. She showed him that no one of his attendants couldstand that kind of life, and that they would like it the less that his ownair and rude manners made no amends to those who were attached to histrain; and that, by following this plan of life, he would end by ruininghis health and making himself detested. The dauphin received this lecturewith gentleness and submission, confessed that he was wrong, promised toamend, and formally begged her pardon. This circumstance is certainly veryremarkable, and the more so because the next day people observed that hepaid the dauphiness much more attention, and behaved toward her with amuch more lively affection than usual. [16]"

We do not, however, find in reality that the severity of her admonitionsproduced any permanent diminution of his fondness for hunting andshooting; but the gentleness of her general manners, and the delight whichhe saw that all around her took in her graciousness, so far excited hisadmiration that he began to follow her example. He said that "she had suchnative grace that every thing which she did succeeded to perfection; thatit must be admitted that she was charming. " And before the end of thewinter he had come to take an active part both in her Monday balls, and inthose which her ladies occasionally gave in her honor; "dancing himselfthe whole of the evening, and conversing with all the company with an airof cheerfulness and good-nature of which no one before had ever thoughthim capable. [17]" The happy change in his demeanor was universallyattributed to the dauphiness; and, as the character of their future kingwas naturally watched with anxiety as a matter of the highest importance, it greatly increased the attachment of all who had the welfare of thenation at heart to the princess, whose general example had produced sobeneficial an effect. 

CHAPTER V. 

Mercy's Correspondence with Empress. --Distress and Discontent pervadeFrance. --Goldsmith predicts a Revolution. --Apathy of the King. --TheAunts mislead Marie Antoinette. --Maria Teresa hears that the Dauphinessneglects her German Visitors. --Marriage of the Count de Provence. --GrowingPreference of Louis XV. For the Dauphiness. --The Dauphiness appliesherself to Study. --Marie Antoinette becomes a Horsewoman. --Her Kindnessto all beneath her. --Cabals of the Adherents of the Mistress. --TheRoyal Family become united. --Concerts in the Apartments of the Dauphiness. 

Marie Antoinette was not a very zealous or copious letter-writer. Her onlycorrespondent In her earlier years was her mother, and even to her herletters are less effusive and less full of details than might have beenexpected, one reason for their brevity arising out of the intrigues of thecourt, since she had cause to believe herself so watched and spied uponthat her very desk was not safe; and, consequently, she never ventured tobegin a letter to the empress before the morning on which it was to besent, lest it should be read by those for whose eyes it was not intended. For our knowledge, therefore, of her acts and feelings at this period ofher life, we still have to rely principally on Mercy's correspondence, which is, however, a sufficiently trustworthy guide, so accurate was hisinformation, and so entire the frankness with which she opened herself tohim on all occasions and on all subjects. 

The spring of 1771 opened very unfavorably for the new administration;omens of impending dangers were to be seen on all sides. Ten or twelveyears before, Goldsmith, whose occasional silliness of manner preventedhim from always obtaining the attention to which his sagacity entitledhim, had named the growing audacity of the French parliaments as not onlyan indication of the approach of great changes in that country, but aslikely also to be their moving cause. [1] And they had recently shown suchdetermined resistance to the royal authority, that, though in the mostconspicuous instance of it, their assertion of their right to pronounce anindependent judgment on the charges brought against the Duc d'Aiguillon, they were unquestionably in the right; and though their pretensions weresupported by almost the whole body of the princes of the blood, some ofwhom were immediately banished for their contumacy, Louis had beenpersuaded to abolish them altogether. And Marie Antoinette, though shecarefully avoided mixing herself up with politics, was, as she reported toher mother, [2] astonished beyond measure at their conduct, which shelooked upon as arising out of the grossest disloyalty, and which certainlyindicated the existence of a feeling very dangerous to the maintenance ofthe royal authority on the part of those very men who were most bound touphold it. There was also great and general distress. For a moment in theautumn it had been relieved by a fall in the price of bread, which theunreasoning gratitude of the populace had attributed to the benevolence ofthe dauphiness; but the severity of the winter had brought it back withaggravated intensity till it reached even to the palace, and compelled acurtailment of some of the festivities with which it had been intended tocelebrate the marriage of the Count de Provence, which was fixed for theapproaching May. 

Distress is the sure parent of discontent, unless the people have a verycomplete confidence in their government. And this was so far from beingthe case in France at this time, that the distrust of and contempt forthose in the highest places increased daily more and more. The influencewhich Madame du Barri exerted over the king became more rooted as hebecame more used to submit to it, and more notorious as he grew moreshameless in his avowal of it. She felt her power, and her intriguesbecame in the same proportion more busy and more diversified in theirobjects. In the vigorous description of Mercy, Versailles was whollyoccupied by treachery, hatred, and vengeance; not one feeling of honestyor decency remained; while the people, ever quick-witted to perceive thevices of their rulers, especially when they are indulged at their expense, revenged themselves by bitter and seditious language, and by satires andpasquinades in which neither respect nor mercy was shown even to thesacred person of the sovereign himself. He was callous to all marks ofcontempt displayed for himself; but was, or was induced to professhimself, deeply annoyed at the conduct of the dauphin, who showed a fixedaversion for the mistress, which, however, his grandfather did not regardas dictated by his own feelings. Louis rather believed that it wasfostered by Marie Antoinette, and that she, in encouraging her husband, was but following the advice of her aunts; and he threatened toremonstrate with the dauphiness on the subject, though, as Mercy correctlydivined, he could not nerve himself to the necessary resolution. 

It was true that Marie Antoinette did often allow herself to be far toomuch influenced by those princesses. She confessed to Mercy that she wasafraid to displease or thwart them; a feeling which he regarded as themore unfortunate because, when she was not actuated by that consideration, her own judgment and her own impulses would always guide her aright; andbecause, too, the elder princesses were the most unsafe of all advisers. They were notoriously jealous of one another, and each at times tried toinspire her niece with her feelings toward the other two; and they often, without meaning it, played into the hands of the mistress's cabal, intriguing for selfish objects of their own with as much malice andmeanness as could be practiced by Madame du Barri herself. 

Still, in spite of these drawbacks, it was almost inevitable that theyshould have great influence over their niece. Their experience might wellbe presumed by her to have given them a correct insight into the ways ofthe court, and the best mode of behaving to their own father; and she, aforeigner and almost a child, was not only in need of counsel andguidance, but had no one else of her own sex to whom she could sonaturally look for information or advice. They were, as she explained toMercy, her only society; and, though she was too clear-sighted not to seetheir faults, and not at times to be aware that she was suffering fromtheir perverseness, she, like other people, was often compelled totolerate what she could not mend, and to shut her eyes to disagreeablequalities when forced to live on terms of intimacy with the possessors. 

On this point Maria Teresa was, perhaps, hardly inclined to makesufficient allowance for her difficulties, and insisted over and overagain on the mischief which would arise to her from the habit ofsurrendering her judgment to these princesses. She told her that, thoughfar from being devoid of virtues and real merit, "they had never succeededin making themselves loved or esteemed by either their father or thepublic;[3]" and she added other admonitions which, as they were avowedlysuggested by reports that had reached her, may be taken as indicating someerrors into which her daughter's lightness of heart had occasionallybetrayed her. She entreated her not to show an exclusive preference forthe more youthful portion of her society, to the neglect of those who wereolder, and commonly of higher consideration; never to laugh at people orturn them into ridicule--no habit could be more injurious to herself, andindulgence in it would give reason to doubt her good-nature; it might gainher the applause of a few young people, but it would alienate a muchgreater number, and those the people of the most real weight andrespectability. "This is not, " said the experienced and wise empress, "atrivial matter in a princess. We live on the stage of the great world, andit is above all things essential that people should entertain a high ideaof us. If you will only not allow others to lead you astray, you are sureof success; a kind Providence has endowed you so liberally with beauty, and with so many charms, that all hearts are yours if you are butprudent. [4]"

The empress would have had her exhibit this prudence in her conduct alsoto Madame du Barri. She pressed upon her that she was justified inappearing ignorant of that lady's real position and character; that sheneed only be aware that she was received at court, and that respect forthe king should prevent her from suspecting him of countenancingundeserving people. 

One other detail in the accounts of Marie Antoinette's conduct, which fromtime to time reached Vienna, had also vexed the empress, and it should bekept in mind by any one who would fairly estimate the truth of the chargebrought against her, and urged with such rancor after she had becomequeen--of postponing the interests of France to those of her native land, of being Austrian at heart. Maria Teresa had heard, on the contrary, thatshe had given those Austrians who had presented themselves at Versaillesbut a cold reception, and she did not attempt to conceal her discontent. With a natural and becoming pride in and jealousy for her own loyal anddevoted subjects, she entreated her daughter never to feel ashamed ofthem, or ashamed of being German herself, even if, comparatively speaking, the name should imply some deficiency in polish. "The French themselveswould esteem her more if they saw in her something of German solidity andfrankness. [5]"

The daughter answered the mother with some adroitness. She took no noticeof the advice about her behavior to Madame du Barri. It was the one topicon which her own feelings of propriety, as well as those of the dauphin, coincided with the suggestions of the aunts, and she did not desire to vexor provoke the empress by a prolonged discussion of the question; but thecharge of coldness to her own countrymen she denied earnestly. "She shouldalways glory in being a German. Some of those nobles whom the empress hadexpressly named she had treated with careful distinction, and had evendanced with them, though they were not men of the very highest character. She well knew that the Germans had many good qualities which she couldwish that the French shared with them;" and she promised that, wheneverany of her mother's subjects of such standing and merit as to be worthy ofher attention came to the court, they should have no cause to complain ofher reception of them. Her language on the subject is so measured andcareful as to lead us almost inevitably to the inference that the reportswhich had excited such dissatisfaction at Vienna were not withoutfoundation, but that the French gayety, even if often descending tofrivolity, was more to her taste than the German solidity which her motherso highly esteemed, and that she had been at no great pains to hide apreference which must naturally he acceptable to those among whom herfuture life was to be spent. 

In the middle of May, the Count de Provence was married to the PrincessJoséphine Louise of Savoy, and the court went to Fontainebleau to receivethe bride. The necessity for leaving Madame du Barri behind threw the kingmore into the company of the dauphiness than he had been on any previousoccasion, and her unaffected graces seemed for the moment to have made acomplete conquest of him. He came in his dressing-gown to her apartmentsfor breakfast, and spent a great portion of the day there. The courtiersagain began to speculate on her breaking down the ascendency of thefavorite, remarking that, though Louis was careful to pay his new relativethe honors which, were her due as a stranger and a bride, he returned asspeedily as he could with decency to the dauphiness as if for relief; andthat, though she herself took care to put her new sister-in-law forward onall occasions, and treated her with the most marked cordiality andaffection, every one else made the dauphiness the principal object ofhomage even in the festivities which were celebrated in honor of thecountess. Indeed, it was evident from the very first that any attempt ofthe mistress's cabal to establish a rivalry between the two princessesmust be out of the question. The Countess de Provence had no beauty, noraccomplishments, nor graciousness. Horace Walpole, who was meditating avisit to Paris, where he had some diligent correspondents, was told thathe would lose his senses when he saw the dauphiness, but would bedisenchanted by her sister; and the saying, though that of a blind oldlady, expressed the opinion of all Frenchmen who could see. [6]

Indeed, so obvious was the king's partiality for her that even Madame duBarri more than once sought to propitiate her by speaking in praise of herto Mercy, and professing an eager desire to aid in procuring thegratification of any of her wishes. But he was too shrewd and toowell-informed to place the least confidence in her sincerity, though hedid not fear half as much harm to his pupil from her enmity as from thepretended affection of the aunts, who, from a mixture of folly andtreachery, were unwearied in their attempts to keep her at a distancefrom the king, by inspiring her with a fear of him, for which hisdisposition, which had as much good-nature in it as was compatible withweakness, gave no ground whatever. Indeed, the mischief they did was notconfined to their influence over her, if Mercy was correct in his beliefthat it was their disagreeable tempers and manners which at this time, and for the remainder of the reign, prevented Louis from associatingmore with his family, which, had all been like the dauphiness, he wouldhave preferred to do. 

It would probably have been in vain that Mercy remonstrated against hersubmitting as she did to the aunts, had he not been at all times able tosecure the co-operation of the empress, who placed the most implicitconfidence in his judgment in all matters relating to the French court, and remonstrated with her daughter energetically on the want of properself-respect which was implied in her surrendering her own judgment tothat of the aunts, as if she were a slave or a child. And MarieAntoinette replied to her mother in a tone of such mingled submissivenessand affection as showed how sincere was her desire to remove every shadeof annoyance from the empress's mind; and which may, perhaps, lead to asuspicion that even her subservience to the aunts proceeded in a greatdegree from her anxiety to win the good-will of every one, and from thekindness which could not endure to thwart those with whom she was muchassociated; though at the same time she complained to the ambassador thather mother wrote without sufficient knowledge of the difficulties withwhich she was surrounded. But she had too deep an affection and reverencefor her mother to allow her words to fall to the ground; and graduallyMercy began to see a difference in her conduct, and a greater inclinationto assert her own independence, which was the feeling that above allothers he thought most desirable to foster in her. 

Another topic which we find constantly urged in the empress's letterswould seem strangely inconsistent with Marie Antoinette's position, if wedid not remember how very young she still was. For her mother writes toher in many respects as if she were still at school, and continuallyinculcates on her the necessity of profiting by De Vermond's instructions, and applying herself to a course of solid reading in theology and history. And here, though her natural appetite for amusement interfered with herstudies somewhat more than the empress, prompted by Mercy, was willing tomake allowance for, she profited much more willingly by her mother'sadvice, having indeed a natural inclination for the works of history andbiography, and a decided distaste for novels and romances. She could nothave had a better guide in such matters than De Vermond, who was a man ofextensive information and of a very correct taste; and under his guidanceand with his assistance she studied Sully's memoirs, Madame de Sévigné'sletters, and any other books which he recommended to her, and which gaveher an idea of the past history of the country as well as the masterpiecesof the great French dramatists. [7]

The latter part of the year 1771 was marked by no very strikingoccurrences. Marie Antoinette had carried her point, and had begun to rideon horseback without either her figure or her complexion suffering fromthe exercise. On the contrary, she was admitted to have improved inbeauty. She sent her measure to Vienna, to show Maria Teresa how much shehad grown, adding that her husband had grown as much, and had becomestronger and more healthy-looking, and that she had made use of hersaddle-horses to accompany him in his hunting and shooting excursions. Like a true wife, she boasted to her mother of his skill as a shot: thevery day that she wrote he had killed forty head of game. (She did notmention that a French sportsman's bag was not confined to the larger game, but that thrushes, blackbirds, and even, red-breasts, were admitted toswell the list. ) And the increased facilities for companionship with himthat her riding afforded increased his tenderness for her, so that she washappier than ever. Except that as yet she saw no prospect of presentingthe empress with a grandchild, she had hardly a wish ungratified. 

Her taste for open-air exercise of this kind added also to the attachmentfelt for her by the lower classes, from the opportunities which arose outof it for showing her unvarying and considerate kindness. The contrastwhich her conduct afforded to that of previous princes, and indeed to thatof all the present race except her husband, caused her actions of thissort to be estimated rather above their real importance. But how great wasthe impression which they did make on those who witnessed them may be seenin the unanimity with which the chroniclers of the time record herforbidding her postilions to drive over a field of corn which lay betweenher and the stag, because she would rather miss the sight of the chasethan injure the farmer; and relate how, on one occasion, she gave upriding for a week or two, and sent her horses back from Compiègne toVersailles, because the wife of her head-groom was on the point of herconfinement, and she wished her to have her husband near her at such amoment; and on another, when the horse of one of her attendants kickedher, and inflicted a severe bruise on her foot, she abstained frommentioning the hurt, lest it should bring the rider into disgrace by beingattributed to his awkward management. 

Not that the intrigues of the mistress and her adherents were at alldiminished. They were even more active than ever since the marriage of theCount de Provence, who, in an underhanded way, instigated his wife to showcountenance to Madame du Barri, and who allowed, if he did not encourage, the mistress and her friends to speak slightingly of the dauphiness in hispresence. But, as Marie Antoinette felt firmer in her own position, shecould afford to disregard the malice of these caballers more than she hadfelt that she could do at first, and even to defy them. On one occasionthat the Count de Provence was imprudent enough to discuss some of hisschemes with the door open while she was in the next room, she told himfrankly that she had heard all that he said, and reproached him for hisduplicity; and the dauphin coming in at the moment, she flew to him, throwing her arms round his neck, and telling him how she appreciated hishonesty and candor, and how the more she compared him with the others, themore she saw his superiority. Indeed, she soon began to find that theCountess de Provence was as little to be trusted as her husband; and theonly member of the family whom she really liked, or of whom she had at alla favorable opinion, was the Count d'Artois, who, though not yet out ofthe school-room, "showed, " as she told her mother, "sentiments of honestywhich he could never have learned of his governor. [8]"

Her indefatigable guardian, Mercy, reported to the empress that sheimproved every day. He had learned to conceive a very high idea of herabilities; and he dilated with especial satisfaction on the powers ofconversation which she was developing; on her wit and readiness inrepartee; on her originality, as well as facility of expression; and onher perfect possession of the royal art of speaking to a whole companywith such notice of each member of it, that each thought himself theperson to whom her remarks were principally addressed. She possessedanother accomplishment, also, of great value to princes--a tenaciousrecollection of faces and names. And she had made herself acquainted withthe history of all the chief nobles, so as to be able to make gracefulallusions to facts in their family annals of which they were proud, and, what was perhaps even more important, to avoid unpleasant or dangeroustopics. The king himself was not insensible to the increase of attractionwhich her charms, both of person and manner, conferred on the royalpalace. He was perfectly satisfied with the civility of her behavior toMadame du Barri, who admitted that she had nothing to complain of. Andthe only point in which even Mercy, the most critical of judges, saw anyroom for alteration in her conduct was a certain remissness in bestowingher notice on men of real eminence, and on foreign visitors if they werenot of the very highest rank; the remark as to the latter class beingperhaps dictated by a somewhat excessive natural susceptibility, and by alaudable desire that any Germans who returned from France to their owncountry should sing her praises in her native land. 

Perhaps one of the strongest proofs of the regard in which, at this time, she was held by all parties in the court is found in the circumstance thatthe Count de Provence himself very soon found it impossible to continuehis countenance to the intrigues against her which he had previouslyfavored. He preferred ingratiating himself and the countess with her. Marie Antoinette was always placable, and from the first had been eager, as the head of the family, to place her sister-in-law at her ease; so thatwhen the count evinced his desire to stand on a friendly footing with her, she showed every disposition to meet his wishes, and the spring and summerof 1772 exhibited to the courtiers, who were little accustomed to suchscenes, a happy example of an intimate family union. Marie Antoinette hadalways been fond of music, and, as we have seen before, ever since herarrival in France, had devoted fixed hours to her music-master. And now, on almost every evening which was not otherwise preoccupied, she gavelittle concerts in her apartments to the royal family, their principalattendants, and a few of the chief nobles of the court; being herselfoccasionally one of the performers, and maintaining her character as ahostess by a combined affability and dignity which made all her guestspleased with themselves as with her, and set all imitation and alldetraction alike at defiance. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Marie Antoinette wishes to see Paris. --Intrigues of Madame Adelaide. --Characters of the Dauphin and the Count de Provence. --Grand Review atFontainebleau. --Marie Antoinette ill the Hunting Field. --Letter from herto the Empress. --Mischievous Influence of the Dauphin's Aunts on herCharacter. --Letter of Marie Antoinette to the Empress. --Her Affection forher Old House. --The Princes are recalled from Exile. --Lord Stormont. --Great Fire at the Hôtel-Dieu. --Liberality and Charity of MarieAntoinette. --She goes to the Bal d'Opéra. ---Her Feelings about thePartition of Poland. --The King discusses Politics with her, and thinkshighly of her Ability. 

It was a curious proof of the mischievousness as well as of the extent ofthe influence which Madame Adelaide and her sister were able to exert overthe indolence and apathy of their father, that when Marie Antoinette hadfor more than two years been married and living within twelve miles ofParis, she had never yet seen it by daylight, although the universal andnatural expectation of the citizens had been that the royal pair would paythe city a state visit immediately after their marriage. Her own wisheshad not been consulted in the matter; for she was naturally anxious to seethe beautiful city of which she had heard so much; and the delay which hadtaken place was equally at variance with Madame de Noailles' notions ofpropriety. But when the countess suggested a plan for visiting the capital_incognito_, proposing that the dauphiness should drive as far as theentrance to the suburbs, and then, having sent on her saddle-horses, should ride along the boulevards, Madame Adelaide, professing a desire tojoin the party, raised so many difficulties on the subject of the retinuewhich was to follow, and was so successful in creating jealousies betweenher own ladies and those in attendance on Marie Antoinette, that Madame deNoailles was forced to recommend the abandonment of the project. Mercy wasfar more annoyed than his young mistress; he saw that the secret object ofMadame Adelaide was to throw as many hindrance as possible in the way ofthe dauphiness winning popularity by appearing in public, while he alsocorrectly judged hat it would be consistent both with propriety and withher interest, as the future queen of the country, rather to seek and evenmake opportunities for enabling the people to become acquainted with her. But to Marie Antoinette any disappointment of that kind was a verytrifling matter. She had vexations which, as she told the embassador, shecould not explain even to him; and they kept alive in her a feeling ofhomesickness which, in all persons of amiable and affectionatedisposition, must require some, time to subdue. Even when her brother, theArchduke Ferdinand, had quit Vienna in the preceding autumn to enter onthe honorable post of Governor of Lombardy, she had not congratulated, butcondoled with him, "feeling by her own experience how much it costs to beseparated from one's family. " And what she had found in her own home didnot as yet make up to her for all she had left behind. Even her husband, though uniformly kind in language and behavior, was of a singularly coldand undemonstrative disposition; and it almost seemed as if the gayetywhich he exhibited at her balls were an effort so foreign to his naturethat he indemnified himself by unpardonable boorishness on otheroccasions. The Count de Provence had but little more polish, and a farworse temper. Squabbles often took place between the two brothers. Thoughboth married men, they were still in age only boys; and on more than oneoccasion they proceeded to acts of personal violence to each other in herpresence. Luckily no one else was by, and she was able to pacify andreconcile them; but she could hardly avoid feeling ashamed of having beencalled on to exert herself in such a cause, or contrasting the undignifiedboisterousness (to give it no worse name) of such scenes with the decorousself-respect which, with all their simplicity of character, had alwaysgoverned the conduct of her own relations. 

Not but that, in the opinion of Mercy, [1] the dauphin was endowed bynature with a more than ordinary share of good qualities. His faults wereonly such as proceeded from an excessively bad education. He had many mostessential virtues. He was a young man of perfect integrity andstraightforwardness; he was desirous to hear the truth; and it was nevernecessary to beat about the bush, or to have recourse to roundabout waysof bringing it before him. On the contrary, to speak to him with perfectfrankness was the surest way both to win his esteem and to convince hisreason. On one or two occasions in which he had consulted the embassador, Mercy had expressed his opinions without the least reserve, and hadperceived that the young prince had liked him better for his candor. 

The king still kept up the habit of spending the greater part of theautumn at Compiègne and Fontainebleau, visits which Marie Antoinettewelcomed as a holiday from the etiquette of Versailles. She wrote word toher mother that she was growing very fast, and taking asses' milk to keepup her strength; that that regimen, with constant exercise, was doing hergreat good; and that she had gained great praise for the excellence of herriding. On one occasion, when they were at Fontainebleau, she especiallydelighted the officers of her husband's regiment of cuirassiers, when theking reviewed it in person. The dauphin himself took the command of hismen, and put them through their evolutions while she rode by his side; hethen presented each of the officers to her separately, and she distributedcockades to the whole body. The first she gave to the dauphin himself, [2]who placed it in his hat. Each officer, as he received his, did the same. And after the king had taken his departure, she, with her husband, remained on the field for an hour, conversing freely with the soldiers, and showing the greatest interest in all that concerned the regiment. Throughout the day the young prince had exhibited a knowledge of theprofession, and a readiness as well as an ease of manner, which hadsurprised all the spectators, and Mercy had the satisfaction of hearingevery one attribute the admirable appearance which he had made on soimportant an occasion (for it was the first time of his appearing in sucha position) to the example and hints of the dauphiness. 

It was scarcely less of a public appearance, while it was one in which theking himself probably took more interest, when, a few days afterward, onthe occasion of a grand stag-hunt in the forest, she joined in the chasein a hunting uniform of her own devising. The king was so delighted thathe scarcely left her side, and extolled her taste in dress, as well as herskill in horsemanship, to all whom he honored with his conversation. Butthe empress was not quite so well pleased. Her disapproval of horseexercise for young married women was as strong as ever. She had alsointerpreted some of her daughter's submissive replies to her admonitionson the subject as a promise that she would not ride, and she scolded herseverely (no weaker word can express the asperity of her language) forneglect of her engagement, as well as for the risk of accidents which areincurred by those who follow the hounds, and some of which, as she heard, had befallen the dauphiness herself. Her daughter's explanation was asfrank as it deserved to be accounted sufficient, while her letter isinteresting also, as showing her constant eagerness to exculpate herselffrom the charge of indifference to her German countrymen, an eagernesswhich proves how firmly she believed the notion to be fixed in theempress's mind. 

"I expect, my dear mamma, that people must have told you more about myrides than there really was to be told. I will tell you the exact truth. The king and the dauphin both like to see me on horseback. I only say thisbecause all the world perceives it, and especially while we were absentfrom Versailles they were delighted to see me in my riding-habit. But, though I own it was no great effort for me to conform myself to theirdesires, I can assure you that I never once let myself he carried away bytoo much eagerness to keep close to the hounds; and I hope that, in spiteof all my giddiness, I shall always allow myself to be restrained by theexperienced hunters who constantly accompany me, and I shall never thrustmyself into the crowd. I should never have supposed any one could havereported to you as an accident what happened to me in Fontainebleau. Everynow and then one finds in the forest large stepping stones; and as we weregoing on very gently my horse stumbled on one covered with sand, which hedid not see; but I easily held him up, and we went on.... Esterhazy was atour ball yesterday. Every one was greatly pleased with his dignifiedmanner and with his style of dancing. I ought to have spoken to him whenhe was presented to me, and my silence only proceeded from embarrassment, as I did not know him. It would be doing me great injustice to think thatI have any feeling of indifference to my country; I have more reason thanany one to feel, every day of my life, the value of the blood which flowsin my veins, and it is only from prudence that at times I abstain fromshowing how proud I am of it.... I never neglect any mode of payingattention to the king, and of anticipating his wishes as far as I can. Ihope that he is pleased with me. It is my duty to please him, my duty andalso my glory, if by such means I can contribute to maintain the allianceof the two houses.... [3]"

The empress was but half pacified about the riding and hunting. She ownedthat, if both the king and the dauphin approved of it, she had nothingmore to say, though she still blamed the dauphiness for forgetting apromise which she understood to have been made to herself. At the sametime, no language could be kinder than that in which she asked "whetherher daughter could believe that she would wish to deprive her of soinnocent a pleasure, she who would give her very life to procure her one, if she were not apprehensive of mischievous consequences;" herapprehensions being solely dictated by her anxiety to see her daughterbear an heir to the throne. But she would by no means admit her excusesfor giving the Hungarian prince a cold reception. "How, " she said, "couldshe forget that her little Antoinette, when not above twelve or thirteenyears old, knew how to receive people publicly, and say something politeand gracious to every one, and how could she suppose that the samedaughter, now that she was dauphiness, could feel embarrassment?Embarrassment was a mere chimera. "

But the truth was that it was not a mere chimera. Mercy had more than oncedeplored, as one among the mischievous effects of Madame Adelaide'sconstant interference and domineering influence, that it had bred in MarieAntoinette a timidity which was wholly foreign to her nature. And indeedit was hardly possible for one still so young to be aware that she wassurrounded by unfriendly intriguers and spies, and to preserve thatuniform presence of mind which her rank and position made so desirable forher, and which was in truth so natural to her that she at once recoveredit the moment that her circumstances changed. 

And a probability of an early change was already apparent. During the lastmonths of 1772 there was a general idea that the king's health and mentalfaculties were both giving away; and all the different parties aboutVersailles began to show their sense of her approaching authority. It wasremarked that both the ministers and the mistress had become very guardedin their language, and in their behavior to her and her husband. The Countde Provence took a curious way of showing his expectation of a change, bydelivering her a long paper of counsels for her guidance, the chief objectof which was to warn her against holding such frequent conversations withMercy. She apparently thought that the writer's desire was to remove theembassador from her confidence that he himself might occupy the vacantplace, and she showed her opinion of the value of the advice by reading itto Mercy and then putting it into the fire. 

Some extracts from the first letter which she wrote to her mother in 1773will serve to give us a fair idea of her feelings at this time, both fromwhat it does and from what it does not mention. The intelligence which hasreached her about her sister recalls to her mind her own anxiety to becomea mother, her disappointment in this matter being, indeed, one of the mostconstant topics of lamentation in the letters of both daughter and mother, till it was removed by the birth of the princess royal. But that is heronly vexation. In every other respect she seems perfectly contented withthe course which affairs are taking; while we see how thoroughly unspoiledshe is both in the warmth of the affection with which she speaks of herfamily and greets the little memorials of home which have been sent her;and still more in the continuance of her acts of charity, and in herdesign that her benevolence should be unknown. 

"I hear that the queen[4] is expecting to be confined. I hope her childwill be a son. When shall I be able to say the same of myself? They tellme, too, that the grand duke[5] and his wife are going into Spain. Igreatly wish that they would conceive a dread of the sea-voyage, and takethis place in their way. The journey would be a little longer; but theywould be well received here, for my brother is very highly thought of;and, besides, I am somewhat jealous at being the only one of my familyunacquainted with my sister-in-law. 

"The pictures of my little brothers which you have sent me have given megreat pleasure. I have had them set in a ring, and wear it every day. Those who have seen my brothers at Vienna pronounce the pictures verylike, and every one thinks them very good-looking. New-year's-day here isa day of a great crowd and grand ceremony. There was nothing either toblame or to praise in the degree in which I adopted my dear mamma'sadvice. The Favorite came to pay her respects to me at a moment when myapartment was very full It was impossible for me to address myself toevery one separately, so I spoke to the whole company in a body; and Ihave reason to believe that both the Favorite and her sister, who is herprincipal adviser, were pleased; though I have also reason to believethat, two days afterward, M. D'Aiguillon tried to persuade them that theyhad been ill-treated. As for the minister himself, he has never complainedof me, and, indeed, I have always been careful to treat him equally wellwith the rest of his colleagues. 

"You will have learned, my dear mamma, that the Duc d'Orléans and the Ducde Chartres are returned from banishment. I am glad of it for the sake ofpeace, and for that of the tranquillity and comfort of the king. But, ifshe had been in the king's place, I do not think my dear mamma would haveaccepted the letter which they have dared to write, and which they havegot printed in foreign newspapers. [6]

"I was glad to see M. De Stormont. [7] I asked him all the news about mydear family, and it was a pleasure to him to inform me. He seems to me tohave overcome his prejudices, and every one here thinks him a man ofthorough high-breeding. I have desired M. De Mercy to invite him to one ofmy Monday balls. We are going to have one at, Madame de Noailles'. Theywill last till Ash-Wednesday. They will begin an hour or two later thanthey used to, that we may not be so tired as we were last year when wecame to Lent In spite of the amusements of the carnival, I am alwaysfaithful to my poor harp, and they say that I make great progress with it. I sing, too, every week at the concert given by my sister of Provence. Although there are very few people there, they are very well amused; andmy singing gives great pleasure to my two sisters. [8] I also find time toread a little. I have begun the 'History of England' by Mr. Hume. It seemsto me very interesting, though it is necessary to recollect that it is aProtestant who has written it. 

"All the newspapers have spoken of the terrible fire at the Hotel-Dieu. [9]They were obliged to remove the patients into the cathedral and thearchbishop's palace. There are generally from five to six thousandpatients in the hospital. In spite of all the exertions that were made, itwas impossible to prevent the destruction of a great part of the building;and, though it is now a fortnight since the accident happened, the tire isstill smoldering in the cellars. The archbishop has enjoined a collectionto be made for the sufferers, and I have sent him a thousand crowns. Isaid nothing of my having done so to any one, and the compliments whichthey have paid me on it have been embarrassing to me; but they have saidit was right to let it be known that I had sent this money, for the sakeof the example. "

She was on this, as on many other occasions, one of those who

 "Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. "

One of her sayings, with which she more than once repressed the panegyricsof those who, as it seemed to her, extolled her benevolence too loudly, was that it was not worth while to say a great deal about giving a littleassistance; and, on this occasion, so secret had she intended to keep herbenevolence that she had not mentioned it to De Vermond, or even to Mercy. But she judged rightly that the empress would enter into the feelingswhich had prompted both the act and also the silence; and she was amplyrewarded by her mother's praise. 

"I have been enchanted, " the empress wrote, in instant reply, "with thethousand crowns that you have sent to the Hôtel-Dieu, and you speak veryproperly in saying that you have been vexed at people speaking to youabout it. Such actions ought to be known to God alone, and I am certainthat you acted in that spirit. Still, those who published your act hadgood reasons for what they did, as you say yourself, thinking of theinfluence of your example. My dear little girl, we owe this example to theworld, and to set such is one of the most essential and most delicateduties of our condition. The more frequently you can perform acts ofbenevolence and generosity without crippling your means too much, thebetter; and what would be ostentation and prodigality in another isbecoming and necessary for those of our rank. We have no other resourcesbut those of conferring benefits and showing kindness; and this is evenmore the case with a dauphiness or a queen consort, which I myself havenot been. "

There could hardly be a better specimen of the principles on which theempress herself had governed her extensive dominions, or of the value ofher example and instructions to her daughter, than that which is containedin these few lines; but it is not always that such lessons are so closelyfollowed as they were by the virtuous and beneficent dauphiness. Thewinter passed on cheerfully; the ordinary amusements of the palace beingvaried by her going with the dauphin and the Count and Countess ofProvence to one of the public masked balls of the opera-house, a diversionwhich, considering the unavoidably mixed character of the company, it ishard to avoid thinking somewhat unsuited to so august a party, but onewhich had been too frequently countenanced by different members of theroyal family for several years for such a visit to cause remarks, thoughthe masks of the princes and princesses could not long preserve theirsecret Another favorite amusement of the court at this time was therepresentation of proverbs, in which Marie Antoinette acted with thelittle Elizabeth; and we have a special account of one such performance, which was given in her honor by one of her ladies, having been originallydevised for the Day of Saint Anthony, as her saint's day, [10] though itwas postponed on account of her being confined to her room with a cold. The proverb was, "Better late than never;" and, as the most acceptablecompliment to the dauphiness, the managers introduced a number ofcharacters attired in a diversity of costumes, intended to represent thenatives of all the countries ruled over by the Empress-queen, each of whommade a speech, in which the praises of Maria Teresa and Marie Antoinettewere happily combined. 

The king got better, and intrigues of all kinds were revived; but, aidedby Mercy's counsels, and supported by the dauphin's unalterable affection, Marie Antoinette disconcerted all that were aimed at her by the uniformprudence of her conduct. Happily for her, with all his defects, herhusband was still one in whom she could feel perfect confidence. As shetold Mercy, under any conceivable circumstances she was sure of his viewsand intentions being always right; the only difficulty was to engage himin a sufficiently decided course of action, which his timid and sluggishdisposition rendered almost painful to him. And just at this moment shewas more anxious than usual to inspire him with her own feelings andspirit, because she could not avoid fearing that the discontent with whichthe few people in France who deserved the name of statesmen regarded therecent partition of Poland might create a coolness between France andAustria, calculated to endanger the alliance, the continuance of which wasso indispensable to her happiness, and, as she was firmly convinced, tothe welfare of both countries. She conversed more than once with Mercy onthe subject, and her reflections, both on the partition, and on the degreein which the mutual interest of the two nations was concerned in theirremaining united, gave him a very good idea of her political capacity. Healso reported to his imperial mistress that he had found out that KingLouis had conceived the same opinion of her, and had begun to discussaffairs of importance with her. He trusted that his majesty would get ahabit of doing so; since, if his life should be spared, she would thus intime become able to exert a very useful influence over him; and as, at allevents, "it was absolutely certain that some day or other she would governthe kingdom, it was of the very greatest consequence to the success of thegreat and brilliant career which she had before her that she shouldpreviously accustom herself to regard affairs with such principles andviews as were suitable to the position which she must occupy. "

CHAPTER VII. 

Marie Antoinette is anxious for the Maintenance of the Alliance betweenFrance and Austria. --She, with the Dauphin, makes a State Entry intoParis. --The "Dames de la Halle. "--She praises the Courtesy of theDauphin. --Her Delight at the Enthusiasm of the Citizens. --She, with theDauphin, goes to the Theatre, and to the Fair of St. Ovide, and to St. Cloud. --Is enthusiastically received everywhere. --She learns to drive. --She makes some Relaxations in Etiquette. --Marriage of the Comte d'Artois. --The King's Health grows Bad. --Visit of Marshal Lacy to Versailles. --TheKing catches the Small-pox. --Madame du Barri quits Versailles. --The Kingdies. 

Politics were, indeed, taking such a hold over Marie Antoinette that theybegin to furnish some topics for her letters to her mother, one of whichshows that she had already formed that opinion of French fickleness whichshe had afterward too abundant cause to maintain. "I do hope, " she says, "that the good intelligence between our two nations will last. One goodthing in this country is, that if ill-natured feelings are quick to arise, they disappear with equal rapidity. The King of Prussia is innately a badneighbor, but the English will also always be bad neighbors to France, andthe sea has never prevented them from doing her great mischief. " We might, firstly, demur to any actions of our statesmen being classed with thetreacherous aggressions of Frederick of Prussia, nor did many years of herhusband's reign pass over before the greatest of English ministersproposed and concluded a treaty between the two countries, which he fondlyand wisely hoped would lay the foundations of a better understanding, ifnot of a lasting peace, between the two countries. But even before thattreaty was framed, and before Pitt's voice had become predominant in theState, Marie Antoinette's complaint that the sea had never disarmed us ofpower to injure France had received the strongest exemplification that asyet the history of the two nations afforded in Rodney's great victory. However, she soon turns to more agreeable subject, and proceeds to speakof a pleasure to which she was looking forward, and which, as we havealready seen, had been unaccountably deferred till this time, in defianceof all propriety and of all precedent. "I hope that the dauphin and Ishall make our entry into Paris next month, which will be a great delightto me. I do not venture to speak of it yet, though I have the king'spromise: it would not be the first time that they had made him change hismind. "

The most elaborate exposure of the cabals and intrigues which ever sinceher marriage had been persistently directed against Marie Antoinette couldnot paint them so forcibly as the simple fact that three years had nowelapsed since her marriage; and that, though the state entrance of theheir of the crown and his bride into the metropolis of the kingdom oughtto have been a prominent part of the marriage festivities, it had neveryet taken place. Nor, though Louis had at last given his formal promisethat it should be no longer delayed, did the young pair even yet feel surethat an influence superior to theirs might not induce him to recall it. However, at last the intrigues were baffled, and, on the 8th of June, thevisit, which had been expected by the Parisians with an eagernessexceeding that of the dauphiness herself, was made. It was in everyrespect successful; and it is due to Marie Antoinette to let the outlineof the proceeding be described by herself. 

"Versailles, June 14th. 

"MY DEAREST MOTHER, --I absolutely blush for your kindness to me. The daybefore yesterday Mercy sent me your precious letter, and yesterday Ireceived a second. That is indeed passing one's fête day happily. OnTuesday I had a fête which I shall never forget all my life. We made ourentrance into Paris. As for honors, we received all that we could possiblyimagine; but they, though very well in their way, were not what touched memost. What was really affecting was the tenderness and earnestness of thepoor people, who, in spite of the taxes with which they are overwhelmed, were transported with joy at seeing us. When we went to walk in theTuileries, there was so vast a crowd that we were three-quarters of anhour without being able to move either forward or backward. The dauphinand I gave repeated orders to the Guards not to beat any one, which had avery good effect. Such excellent order was kept the whole day that, inspite of the enormous crowd which followed us everywhere, not a person washurt. When we returned from our walk we went up to an open terrace, andstaid there half an hour. I can not describe to you, my dear mamma, thetransports of joy and affection which every one exhibited toward us. Before we withdrew we kissed our hands to the people, which gave themgreat pleasure. What a happy, thing it is for persons in our rank to gainthe love of a whole nation so cheaply! Yet there is nothing so precious; Ifelt it thoroughly, and shall never forget it. 

"Another circumstance which gave great pleasure on that glorious day wasthe behavior of the dauphin. He made admirable replies to every address, and remarked every thing that was done in his honor, and especially theearnestness and delight of the people, to whom he showed great kindness. Of all the copies of verses which were given me on this occasion, theseare the prettiest which I inclose to you. [1] Tomorrow we are going toParis to the opera, There is great anxiety for us to do so; and I believethat we shall go on two other days also to visit the French and theItalian comedy. I feel more and more, every day of my life, how much mydear mamma has done for my establishment. I was the youngest of all herdaughters, and she has treated me as if I were the eldest; so that mywhole soul is filled with the most tender gratitude. 

"The king has had the kindness to procure the release of three hundred andtwenty prisoners, for debts due to nurses who have brought up theirchildren. Their release took place two days after our entrance. I wishedto attend Divine service on my fête day; but the evening before, mysister, the Countess of Provence, had a party for me, a proverb with songsand fire-works, and this distraction forced me to put off going to churchtill the next day. 

"I am very glad to hear that you have such good hope of the continuance ofpeace. While the intriguers of this country are devouring one another, they will not harass their neighbors nor their allies. "

She does not enter into details; the pomp and ceremony of their receptionby nobles and magistrates had been in her eyes as nothing in comparisonwith the cordial welcome given to them by the poorer citizens. While they, on their part, must have been equally gratified at perceiving the sincerepleasure with which she and the dauphin accepted their salutations; afeeling how different from that which had animated any of their princesfor many years, we may judge from the order given to the guards to forbearbeating the crowd which gathered round them, as no doubt, without such anorder, the soldiers would have thought it usual and natural to do. 

Not that the proceedings of the day had not been magnificent and imposingenough to attract the admiration of any who thought less of the hearts ofthe citizens than of pomp and splendor. The royal train, conveyed fromVersailles in six state carriages, was received at the city gate by thegovernor, the Marshal Duc de Brissac, accompanied by the head of thepolice, the provost of the merchants, and all the other municipalauthorities. The marshal himself was the heir of the Comte de Brissac who, nearly two centuries before, being also Governor of Paris, had tendered tothe victorious Henry IV. The submission of the city. But Henry was as yetonly the chief of a party, not the accepted sovereign of the whole nation;and the enthusiasm with which half the citizens rained their shouts ofexultation in his honor had its drawback in the sullen silence of theother half, who regarded the great Bourbon as their conqueror rather thantheir king, and his triumphant entrance as their defeat and humiliation. 

To-day all the citizens were but one party. As but one voice was heard, sobut one heart gave utterance to it. The joy was as unanimous as it wasloud. From the city gates the royal party passed on to the great nationalcathedral of Notre Dame, and from thence to the church dedicated byClovis, the first Christian king, to St. Geneviève, whose recentrestoration was the most creditable work of the present reign, and whichsubsequently, under the new name of the Pantheon, was destined to becomethe resting-place of many of the worthies whose memory the nationcherishes with enduring pride. At last they reached the Tuileries, theirprogress having been arrested at different points by deputations of allkinds with loyal and congratulatory addresses; at the Hôtel-Dieu by theprioress with a company of nuns; on the Quai Conti by the Provost of theMint with his officers; before the college bearing the name of itsfounder, Louis le Grand, the Rector of the University, at the head of hisstudents, greeted them in a Latin speech, at the close of which he securedthe re-doubling of the acclamations of the pupils by promising them aholiday. Not that the cheers required any increase. The citizens in theirecstasy did not even think their voices sufficient. As the royal couplemoved slowly through the gardens of the Tuileries arm-in-arm, every handwas employed in clapping, hats were thrown up, and every token of joywhich enthusiasm ever devised was displayed to the equally delightedvisitors. "Good heavens, what a crowd!" said Marie Antoinette to DeBrissac, who had some difficulty in keeping his place at her side. "Madame, " said the old warrior, as courtly as he was valiant, "if I maysay so without offending my lord the dauphin, they are all so manylovers. " When they had made the circuit of the garden and returned to thepalace, the most curious part of the day's ceremonies awaited them. Abanqueting-table was arranged for six hundred guests, and those guestswere not the nobles of the nation, nor the clergy, nor the must renownedwarriors, nor the municipal officers, but the fish-women of the citymarket. A custom so old that its origin can not be traced had establishedthe right of these dames to bear an especial part in such festivities. Inthe course of the morning they had made their future queen free of theirmarket, with an offering of fruits and flowers. And now, as, according toa singular usage of the court, no male subject was ever allowed to sit attable with a queen or dauphiness of France, the dinner party over whichthe youthful pair, sitting side by side, presided, consisted wholly ofthese dames whose profession is not generally considered as imparting anygreat refinement to the manners, and who, before the close of theentertainment, showed, in more cases than one, that they had imported someof the notions and fashions of their more ordinary places of resort intothe royal palace. 

It was characteristic of Marie Antoinette that, in her description of theday to her mother, she had dwelt with special emphasis on the graciousdeportment of her husband. It was equally natural for Mercy to assure theempress[2] that it had been the grace and elegance of the dauphinessherself which had attracted general admiration, and that it was to herexample and instruction that every one attributed the courteous demeanorwhich, as he did not deny, the young prince had unquestionably exhibited. It was she whom the king, as he affirmed, had complimented on the resultof the day; a success which she had gracefully attributed to himself, saying that he must be greatly beloved by the Parisians to induce them togive his children so splendid a reception[3]. To whomsoever it was owing, the embassador certainly did not exaggerate the opinion of the worldaround him when he affirmed that, in the memory of man, no one recollectedany ceremony which had made so great a sensation, and had been attended byso complete a success. 

And it was followed up, as she expected, by several visits to thedifferent Parisian theatres, which, in compliance with the king's expressdirection, were made in all the state which would have been observed hadhe himself been present. Salutes were fired from the Bastile and the Hoteldes Invalides; companies of Royal Guards lined the vestibule and thepassage of the theatre; sentinels stood even on the stage; but, fond asthe French are of martial finery and parade, the spectators paid littleattention to the soldiers, or even to the actors. All eyes were fixed onthe dauphiness alone. At Mercy's suggestion, the dauphin and she hadpreviously obtained the king's permission to allow the violation of therule which forbade any clapping of hands in the presence of royalty. Thisrelaxation of etiquette was hailed as a great condescension by theplay-goers, and throughout the evening of their appearance at the Italiancomedy the spectators had already made abundant use of their newprivilege, when the enthusiasm was brought to a height by a chorus whichended with the loyal burden of "Vive le roi!" Clerval, the performer ofthe principal part, added, "Et ses chers enfants;" and the compliment wasre-echoed from every part of the house with continued clapping andcheering, till it reminded Marie Antoinette of a somewhat similar scenewhich, as a child, she had witnessed in the theatre of Vienna, [4] when theempress, from her box, had announced to the audience that a son (the heirto the empire) had just been born to the Archduke Leopold. 

The ice being, thus, as it were, once broken, the dauphin and dauphinesstook many opportunities of appearing in public during the followingmonths, visiting the great Paris fair of St. Ovide, as it was called, walking up and down the alleys, and making purchases at the stalls thewhole Place Louis XV. , to which the fair had recently been removed, beingilluminated, and the crowd greeting them with repeated and enthusiasticcheers. They also went in state to the exhibition of pictures at theLouvre, and drove to St. Cloud to walk about the park attached to thatpalace, which was one of the most favorite places of resort for theParisians on the fine summer evenings; so that, while the court was atVersailles, scarcely a week elapsed without her giving them an opportunityof seeing her, in which it was evident that she fully shared theirpleasure. To be loved was with her a necessity of her very nature; and, asshe was constantly referring with pride to the attachment felt by theAustrians for her mother, she fixed her own chief wishes on inspiring witha similar feeling those who were to become her and her husband's subjects. She was, at least for the time, rewarded as she desired. This is, indeed, said they, the best of innovations, the best of revolutions, [5] to see theprinces mingling with the people, and interesting themselves in theiramusements. This was really to unite all classes; to attach the country tothe palace and the palace to the country; and it was to the dauphinessthat the credit of this new state of things was universally attributed. 

She was looking forward to a greater pleasure in a visit from her. Brother, the emperor, which the empress hoped might be attended withconsequences more important than those of passing pleasure; since shetrusted to his influence, and, if opportunity should occur, to hisremonstrances, to induce the dauphin to break through the unaccountablecoldness with which, in some respects, he still treated his beautifulwife. But Joseph was forced to postpone his visit, and the fulfillment ofthe empress's anticipations was also postponed for some years. 

However, Marie Antoinette never allowed disappointments to dwell in hermind longer than she could help. She rather strove to dispel therecollection of them by such amusements as were within her reach. Shelearned to drive, and found great diversion in being her own charioteerthrough the glades of the forest. She began to make further inroads in thecourt etiquette, giving balls in which she broke through the custom whichprescribed that special places should be marked out for the royal family, and directed that the princes and princesses should sit with the rest ofthe company during the intervals between the dances; an arrangement whichenabled her to talk to every one, and which gained her general good-willfrom the graciousness of her manner. She did not greatly trouble herselfat the jealousy of her popularity openly displayed by her aunts and hersister-in-law, who could not bear to hear her called "La bellissima. [6]"Nor was her influence weakened when, in November, a fresh princess, thesister of Madame de Provence, arrived from Italy, to be married to theComte d'Artois, for the bride was even less attractive than her sister. According to Mercy, she was pale and thin, had a long nose and a widemouth, danced badly, and was very awkward in manner. So that Louishimself, though usually very punctilious in his courtesies to those in herposition, could not forbear showing how little he admired her. 

An incident occurred on the evening of the marriage which is worthremarking, from the change which subsequently took place in the taste ofthe dauphiness, who a few years afterward provoked unfavorable comments bythe ardor with which she surrendered herself to the excitement of thegaming-table. As a matter of course, a grand party was invited to thepalace to celebrate the event of the morning; and, as an invariable partof such entertainments, a table was set out for the then fashionable gameof lansquenet, at which the king himself played, with the royal family andall the principal persons of the court. In the course of the evening MarieAntoinette won more than seven hundred pounds; but she was ratherembarrassed than gratified by her good fortune. She had tried to lose themoney back; but, as she had been unable to succeed, the next morning shesent the greater part of it to the curates of Versailles to be distributedamong the poor, and gave the rest to some of her own attendants who seemedto her to need it, being determined, as she said, to keep none of it forherself. 

The winter revived the apprehensions concerning the king's health; he wasmanifestly sinking into the grave, while

 "That which should accompany old age, As love, obedience, honor, troops of friends, He might not look to have. "

His very mistress began with great zeal than ever, though with no bettertaste, to seek to conciliate the dauphiness. She tried to purchase hergood-will by a bribe. She was aware that the princess greatly admireddiamonds, and, learning that a jeweler of Paris had a pair of ear-rings ofa size and brilliancy so extraordinary that the price which he asked forthem was 700, 000 francs, she persuaded the Comte de Noailles to carry themto Marie Antoinette to show them, with a message from herself that if thedauphiness liked to keep them, she would induce the king to make her apresent of them. [7] Whether Marie Antoinette admired them or not, she hadfar too proper a sense of dignity to allow herself to be entrapped intothe acceptance of an obligation by one whom she so deservedly despised. She replied coldly that she had jewels enough, and did not desire toincrease the number. But the overture thus made by Madame du Barri couldnot be kept secret, and more than one of her partisans followed the hintafforded by her example, and showed a desire to make their peace withtheir future queen. The Duc d'Aiguillon himself was among the foremost ofher courtiers, and entreated the mediation of Mercy in his favor, makingthe ambassador his messenger to assure her that "he should impose it uponhimself as a law to comply with her wishes in every thing;" and onlydesired that he might be allowed to know which of the requests that shemight make were dictated by her own judgment, and which merely proceededfrom her indulgent favor to the importunities of others. For MarieAntoinette had of late often broken through the rule which, in compliancewith her mother's advice, she had at first laid down for herself, toabstain from recommending persons for preferment; and had pressed many apetition on the minister's notice as to which it was self-evident that shecould know nothing of their merits, nor feel any personal interest intheir success. 

In the spring of 1774 she had an opportunity of convincing her mother thatany imputation of neglect of her countrymen when visiting the court wasunfounded, by the marked honors which she paid to Marshal Lacy, one of themost honored veterans of the Seven Years' War. Knowing how highly he wasesteemed by her mother, she took care to be informed beforehand of the dayof his arrival. She gave orders that he should find invitations to herparties awaiting him. She made arrangements to give him a private audienceeven before he saw the king, where her reception of him showed how deepand ineffaceable was her love for her family and her old home, even whilefairly recognizing the fact that her first duties and her first affectionsnow belonged to France. The old warrior avowed that he had been greatlymoved by the touching affection with which she spoke to him of her loveand veneration for her mother; and by the tears which he saw in her eyeswhen she said that the one thing wanting to her happiness was the hope ofbeing allowed one day to see that dear mother once more. She showed himsome of the last presents which the empress had sent her, and dwelt withfond minuteness of observation on some views of Schönbrunn and other spotsin the neighborhood of Vienna which were endeared to her by her earlyrecollections. 

The return of mild weather seemed to be bringing with it same return ofstrength to the king, when, on the 28th of April, he was suddenly seizedwith illness, which was presently pronounced by the physicians to be thesmall-pox. All was consternation at Versailles, for it was soon perceivedto be a severe if not a malignant attack; and at the same time all wasperplexity. Thirty years before, when Louis had been supposed to be on hisdeathbed at Metz, bishops, peers, and ministers had found in the loss ofroyal favor reason to repent the precipitation with which they hadinsisted on the withdrawal of Madame de Châteauroux; and now, should heagain recover, it was likely that Madame du Barri would he equallyresentful, and that the confessor who should make her removal a necessarycondition of his administering the sacraments of the Church to the king, and the courtiers who should support or act upon their requisition, wouldsurely find reason to repent it. Accordingly, for the first few days ofLouis's illness, she remained at Versailles; but he grew visibly worse. His daughters, who, though they had not had the disease themselves, tendedhis sick-bed with the most devoted and fearless affection, consulted thephysicians, who declared it dangerous to admit of any further delay in theministration of the rites of the Church. He himself gave his sanction tothe ladies' departure, and then the royal confessor administered thesacraments, and drew up a declaration to be published in the royal name, that, "though he owed no account of his conduct to any but God alone, henevertheless declared that he repented having given rise to scandal amonghis subjects, and only desired to live for the support of religion and thewelfare of his people. "

Even this avowal the Cardinal de Roche-Aymer promised Madame du Barri tosuppress; but the royal confessor, the Abbé Mandoux, overruled him, andcompelled its publication, in spite of the Duc de Richelieu, the chiefconfidant of the mistress, and long the chief minister and promoter of theking's debaucheries, who insulted the cardinal with the grossest abuse forhis breach of promise. [8] It may be doubted whether such a compromise withprofligacy, and such a profanation of the most solemn rites of the Churchby its ministers, were not the greatest scandal of all; but it was in toocomplete harmony with their conduct throughout the whole of the reign. And, as it was impossible but that religion itself should suffer in theestimation of worldly men from such an open disregard of all but its mereoutward forms, it can hardly be denied that the French cardinals andprelates about the court had almost as great a share in bringing aboutthat general feeling of contempt for all religion which led to that formaldisavowal of God himself which was witnessed twenty years later, as thescoffers who were now uniting against it, or the professed infidels whothen, renounced it. Such as it was, the king's act of penitence was notperformed too soon. At the end of the first week of May all prospect ofhis recovery vanished. Mortification set in, and on the 10th of May hedied. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette. --Feelings of the NewSovereigns. --Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent. --Marie Antoinettewrites to Maria Teresa. --The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns. --Madame Adelaide has the Small-pox. --Anxieties of Maria Teresa. --Mischievous Influence of the Aunts. --Position and Influence of the Countde Mercy. --Louis consults the Queen on Matters of Policy. --Her Prudence. --She begins to Purify the Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette. --HerCare of her Pages. --The King and the renounce the Gifts of Le JoyeuxAvénement and La Ceinture de la Reine. ---She procures the Pardon of theDue de Choiseul. 

Throughout the morning of the 10th of May there was great confusion andagitation at Versailles. The physicians declared that the king could notlive out the day; and the dauphin had decided on removing his household tothe smaller palace of La Muette at Choisy, to spend in that comparativeretirement the first week or two after his grandfather's death, duringwhich it would hardly be decorous for the royal family to be seen inpublic. But, as it was not thought seemly to appear to anticipate theevent by quitting Versailles while Louis was still alive, a lighted candlewas placed in the window of the sick-room, which, the moment that the kinghad expired, was to be extinguished, as a signal to the equerries toprepare the carriages. The dauphin and dauphiness were in an adjoiningroom awaiting the intelligence, when, at about three o'clock in theafternoon, a sudden trampling of feet was heard, and Madame de Noaillesentered the apartment to entreat them to advance into the saloon toreceive the homage of the princes and principal officers of the court, whowere waiting to pay their respects to their new sovereigns. They cameforward arm-in-arm; and in tears, in which sincere sorrow was mingled withnot unnatural nervousness, received the salutations of the courtiers, andimmediately afterward left Versailles with all the family. 

Louis XVI. And Marie Antoinette had now reached the pinnacle of humangreatness, as sovereigns of one of the noblest empires in the world. Yetthe first feelings which their elevation had excited in both, andespecially in the queen, were rather those of dismay and perplexity thanof exultation. In the preceding autumn, Mercy[1] had remarked to theempress, with surprise and vexation, that, though the dauphiness exhibitedsingular readiness and acuteness in comprehending political questions, shewas very unwilling, and, as it seemed to him, afraid of dealing with them, and that she shrunk from the thought that the day would come when she mustpossess power and authority. And the continuance of this feeling isvisible in her first letter to her mother, some passages of which show asobriety of mind under such a change of circumstances, which, almost asmuch as the benevolence which the letter also displays, augured well forthe happiness of the people over whom she was to reign, so far at least asthat happiness depended on the virtues of the sovereign. 

"Choisy, May 14th. 

"My Dearest Mother, --Mercy will have informed you of the circumstances ofour misfortune. Happily his cruel disease left the king in possession ofhis senses till the last moment, and his end was very edifying. The newking seems to have the affection of his people. Two days before the deathof his grandfather, he sent two hundred thousand[2] francs to the poor, which has produced a great effect. Since he has been here, he has beenworking unceasingly, answering with his own hand the letters of theministers, whom as yet he can not see, and many others likewise. One thingis certain, and that is that he has a taste for economy, and the greatestdesire possible to make his people happy. In every thing he has as great adesire to be rightly instructed as he has need to be. I trust that Godwill bless his good intentions. 

"The public expected great changes in a moment. The king has limitedhimself to sending away the creature[3] to a convent, and to driving fromthe court every thing which is connected with that scandal. The king evenowed this example to the people of Versailles, who, at the very moment ofhis grandfather's death, insulted Madame do Mazarin, [4] one of thehumblest servants of the favorite. I am earnestly entreated to exhort theking to mercy toward a number of corrupt souls who had done much mischieffor many years; and I am strongly inclined to comply with the request. 

 * * * * *

"A messenger has just arrived to forbid my going to see my Aunt Adelaide, who has a great deal of fever. They are afraid of the small-pox for her. Iam horrified, and can not bring myself to think of the consequences. It isa terrible thing for her to pay so immediately for the sacrifice which shemade. 

"I am very glad that Marshal Lacy was pleased with me. I confess, my dearmamma, that I was greatly affected when he took leave of me, at thinkinghow rarely it happens to me to see any of my countrymen, and especially ofthose who have the happiness to approach you. A little time back I sawMadame de Marmier, which was a great pleasure to me, since I know howhighly you value her. 

"The king has allowed me myself to name the ladies who are to have placesin my household, now that I am queen; and I have had the satisfaction ofgiving the Lorrainers[5] a proof of my regard, in taking for my chiefalmoner the Abbé de Sabran, a man of excellent character, of noble birth, and already named for the bishopric about to be established at Nancy. 

"Although it pleased God that I should be born in the rank which I thisday occupy, still I can not forbear admiring the bounty of Providence inchoosing me, the youngest of your daughters, for the noblest kingdom inEurope. I feel more than ever what I owe to the tenderness of my augustmother, who expended such pains and labor in procuring for me thissplendid establishment. I have never so greatly longed to throw myself ather feet, to embrace her, to lay open my whole soul to her, and to showher how entirely it is filled with respect and tenderness and gratitude. "

It is impossible to read these glowing words, so full of the joy and hopeof youth, and breathing a confidence of happiness apparently sowell-founded, since it was built on a resolution to use the power placedin the writer's hands for the welfare of the people over whom it was tobe exerted, without reflecting how painful a contrast to the hopes nowexpressed is presented by the reality of the destiny in store for herand her husband. At the moment he was as little disturbed by forebodingsof evil as his queen, and willingly yielded to her request to add a fewlines with his own hand to the empress, that, on so momentous anoccasion as his accession she might not be left to gather his feelingssolely from her report of them. The postscript of the letter isaccordingly their joint performance, he evidently desiring to gratifyMaria Teresa by praise of her daughter; and she, while pleased at hisacquiescence, not concealing her amusement at the clumsiness, or, to saythe least, the rusticity, of some of his expressions. 

P. S. In the king's hand: "I am very glad, my dear mamma, to find anoccasion to prove to you my tenderness and my attachment. I should be veryglad to have your advice at this time, which is so embarrassing. I shouldbe enchanted to be able to please you, and to show by my conduct all myattachment and the gratitude which I feel for your kindness in giving meyour daughter, with whom I am as well satisfied as possible. "

P. S. By the queen: "The king would not let my letter go without adding aword from himself. I am quite aware that it would not have been too muchfor him to do to write an entire letter. But I must beg my dear mamma toexcuse him, in consideration of the mass of business with which he isoccupied, and also a little on account of his timidity and the embarrassedmanner which is natural to him. You see, my dear mamma, by his complimentat the end, that, though he has great affection for me, he does not spoilme by insipid flatteries. "

It is almost equally remarkable that the empress herself, though thus tosee her favorite daughter on the throne of France had been her most ardentwish, was far from regarding the consummation of her desires withunalloyed pleasure. She was so completely a politician above all things, that, though she was well aware that Louis XV. Had been one of the mostinfamous kings that ever dishonored a throne, she looked upon him solelyas an ally; described him to her daughter as "that good and tenderprince;" declared that she should never cease to regret him, and that shewould wear mourning for him all the rest of her life. At the same time, she did not conceal from herself that he had left his kingdom in a mostdeplorable condition. She had, as she declared, herself experienced howheavy is the burden of an empire; she reflected how young her daughterwas; and expressed a sad fear that "her days of happiness were over. " "Shewas now in a position in which there was no half-way between completegreatness and great misery. [6]" The best hopes for her future the empresssaw in the character for purity and kindness which Marie Antoinette hadalready established and in the esteem and affection of the people whichthose qualities had won for her; and she entreated her, taking it forgranted that in advising her she was advising the king also, to be prudentand cautious, to avoid making any sudden changes, and above all things tomaintain the alliance between the two countries, and to listen to theexperienced and faithful advice of her embassador. 

Maria Teresa was mistaken when she thought that her daughter would at alltimes be able to lead her husband. Though slow in action, Louis was notdeficient in perception. On many subjects he had views of his own, which, in some cases, were clear and sound enough, and to which, even when theywere not so, he adhered with considerable tenacity. At the same time, though he had but little affection for his aunts, and still less respectfor their judgment, he had been so long accustomed to listen to theiradvice while he had no authority, that he could not as yet wholly shakeoff all feeling of deference for it, and their influence was exerted withmost mischievous effect in the first week of his reign. Indeed, it hadbeen exhibited even before the reign began, though the form which it tookgreatly interfered with the personal comfort of the young sovereigns. Ithad been settled that the king and queen should go by themselves to LaMuette, and that the rest of the royal family should remove to theTrianon. But Madame Adelaide had no inclination for a plan which wouldseparate her from her nephew at a moment when so many matters ofimportance would come before her for decision. At the last moment sheprevailed upon him to consent that the whole family should go to Choisytogether; and the very next day she induced him to dismiss his ministers, and to place the Comte de Maurepas at the head of the Government, thoughLouis himself had selected another-statesman for the office, M. Machault, who, as finance minister twenty-five years before, had shown both abilityand integrity, and who had enjoyed the confidence of the king's father, and though Maurepas had never been supposed to be either able or honest, and might well have been regarded as superannuated, since he had begun hisofficial life under Louis XIV. 

With the change in the position of Marie Antoinette, Mercy's position hadalso been changed, and likewise his view of the line of conduct which itwas desirable for her to adopt. Hitherto he had been the counselor of aprincess who, without wary walking, was liable every moment to beoverwhelmed by the intrigues with which she was surrounded; and his chiefobject had been to enable his royal pupil to escape the snares and dangerswhich encompassed her. Now, as far as his duties could be determined bythe wish of the empress, in which her daughter fully acquiesced, he waselevated to the post of confidential adviser to a great queen, who, in hisopinion, was inevitably destined to be the real ruler of the kingdom. Itwas a strange position for so experienced a politician as the empress todesire for him, and for so prudent a statesman to accept. Yet, anomalousas it was, and dangerous as it would usually be for a foreign embassadorto interfere in the internal politics of the kingdom to which he is sent, his correspondence bears ample testimony to both his sagacity and hisdisinterestedness. And it would have been well for both his royal pupiland her adopted country had his advice more frequently and more steadilyguided the course of both. 

On one point of primary importance his advice to the queen differed fromthat which he had been wont to give to the dauphiness. While dauphiness, he had urged her to abstain from any interference in public affairs. Henow, on the contrary, desired to see her take an active part in them, explaining to the empress that the reason which actuated him was thecharacter of the new king, who, as he regarded him, was never likely toexert the authority which belonged to him with independence or steadiness, but was certain to be led by some one or other, while it would in thehighest degree endanger the maintenance of the alliance between France andAustria (which, coinciding with the judgment of his imperial mistress, heregarded as the most important of all political objects), and be mostinjurious to the welfare of France and to her own personal comfort, ifthat leader should be any one but the queen. [7]

But, as we have seen, he could not prevent Louis from yielding at times toother influences. Taking the same view of the situation as the empress, ifindeed Maria Teresa had not adopted it from him, he had urged MarieAntoinette to prevent any change in the ministry being made at first, inwhich it is highly probable that she did not coincide with him, thoughequally likely that Maurepas was not the minister whom she would havepreferred. Another piece of advice which he gave was, however, taken, andwith the happiest effect The poorer classes in Paris and its neighborhoodwere suffering from a scarcity which almost amounted to a famine; and, before the death of Louis XV. , Mercy had recommended that the firstmeasure of the new reign should be one which should lower the price ofbread. That counsel was too entirely in harmony with the activebenevolence of the new monarch to be neglected. The necessary edicts wereissued. In twenty-four hours the price of the loaf was reduced bytwo-fifths, and Mercy had the satisfaction of hearing the reliefgenerally attributed to the influence of the new queen. 

It can not he supposed that the king knew either the opinion which theempress and the embassador had formed of his capacity and disposition, orthe advice which they had consequently given to the queen. But he veryearly began to show that he himself also appreciated his wife's quicknessof intelligence and correctness of judgment. Maria Teresa, in pressing onher daughter her opinion of the general character of the policy which theinterest of France required, explained her view of her daughter's positionto be that she was "the friend and confidante of the king. [8]" And Junehad hardly arrived before he began to discuss all his plans anddifficulties with her; while she spared his pride and won his furtherconfidence by avoiding all appearances of pressing for it, as if heradvice were necessary to him, but at the same time showing with whatsatisfaction she received it. To those who solicited her intervention, herlanguage was most carefully guarded. "She did not, " she said, "interferein any affair of state; she only coincided in all the wishes andintentions of the king. "

There were, however, matters which were strictly and exclusively withinher own province; and in them she at once began to exert her authoritymost beneficially. Her first desire was to purify the court wherelicentiousness in either sex had long been the surest road to royal favor. She began by making a regulation, that she would receive no lady who wasseparated from her husband; and she abolished a senseless and inexplicablerule of etiquette which had hitherto prohibited the queen and princessesfrom dining or supping in company with their husbands. [9] Such anexclusion from the king's table of those who were its most natural andbecoming ornaments had notoriously facilitated and augmented the disordersof the last reign; and it was obvious that its maintenance must at leasthave a tendency to lead to a repetition of the old irregularities. Fortunately, the king was as little inclined to approve of it as thequeen. All his tastes were domestic, and he gladly assented to herproposal to abolish the custom. Throughout the reign, at all ordinarymeals, at his suppers when he came in late from hunting, when he hadperhaps invited some of his fellow-sportsmen to share his repast, and atState banquets, Marie Antoinette took her seat at his side, not onlyadding grace and liveliness to the entertainment, but effectuallypreventing license, and even the suspicion of scandal; and, as she desiredthat her household as well as her family should set an example ofregularity and propriety to the nation, she exercised a carefulsuperintendence over the behavior of those who had hitherto been among theleast-considered members of the royal establishment. Even the king'sconfessor had thought the morals of the royal pages either beneath hisnotice or beyond his control; but Marie Antoinette took a higher view ofher duties. She considered her pages[10] as placed under her charge, andherself as bound to extend what one of themselves calls a maternal careand kindness to them, restraining as far as she could, and when she couldnot restrain, reproving their boyish excesses, softening their hearts andwinning their affections by the gentle dignity of her admonitions, and bythe condescending and hopeful indulgence with which she accepted theirexpressions of contrition and their promises of amendment. In one matter, too, which, if not exactly political, was at all events of publicinterest, she acted in a manner of which none of her predecessors had setan example. By a custom of immemorial antiquity, at the accession of a newsovereign, a tax had been levied on the whole kingdom as an offering tothe king, known as "the gift of the happy accession;[11]" when there was aqueen, a similar tax was imposed upon the Parisians, to provide what wascalled "the girdle of the queen. [12]" It has already been mentioned thatthe distress which existed in Paris at this time was so severe that, justbefore the death of the late king, Louis and Marie Antoinette had relievedit by a munificent gift from their private purse; and to lay additionalburdens on the people at such a time was not only repugnant to theirfeelings, but seemed especially inconsistent with their recent generosity. Accordingly, the very first edict of the new reign announced that neithertax would be imposed. The people felt the kindness which dictated such arelief more than even the relief itself, and repaid it with expressions ofgratitude such as no French sovereign had heard for above a century; butMarie Antoinette, with the humility natural to her on such subjects, madelight of her own share in the act of benevolence, turning off thecompliments which were paid to her with a playful jest, that it wasimpossible for a queen to affix a purse to her girdle, now that girdleshad gone out of fashion. [13]

On another subject, also, not wholly unconnected with politics, Since thenobleman concerned had once been the chief minister, but in which MarieAntoinette's interest was personal, she broke through her usual rule ofnot beginning the discussion with the king, and requested the recall frombanishment of the Due de Choiseul. An unfounded prejudice based uponcalumnies set on foot by the cabal of Madame du Barri, had envenomedLouis's mind against the duke. He bad been led to suspect that his ownfather, the late dauphin, had been poisoned, and that Choiseul had beenaccessory to the crime. There was nothing more certain than that thedauphin's death had been natural; but a dislike of the accused dukelingered in the king's mind, and he eluded compliance with his wife'srequest till she put it on entirely personal grounds, by declaring it tobe humiliating to herself that one to whom she was under the deepestobligations as the negotiator of her own happy marriage should be underthe king's displeasure without her being able to procure his pardon. Louisfelt the force of the appeal thus made to him. "If she used that argument, he could deny her nothing, " and the duke's sentence was remitted, thoughhis royal patroness was unable to procure his re-admission to office. Nordid Maria Teresa regret that she failed in that object; since she fearedhis restless character, and felt the alliance between the two countriessafer in the hands of the new foreign secretary, the Count de Vergennes. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Comte de Provence intrigues against the Queen. --The King gives her theLittle Trianon, --She lays out an English Garden. --Maria Teresa cautionsher against Expense. --The King and Queen abolish some of the Old Forms. --The Queen endeavors to establish Friendships with some of her YoungerLadies. --They abuse her Favor. --Her Eagerness for Amusement. --Louis entersinto her Views. --Etiquette is abridged. --Private Parties at Choisy. --Supper Parties. --Opposition of the Princesses. --Some of the Courtiers aredissatisfied at the Relaxation of Etiquette. --Marie Antoinette is accusedof Austrian Preferences. 

Her accession to the throne, however, had not entirely delivered MarieAntoinette from intrigues. It had only changed their direction and object, and also the persona of the intriguers. Her chief enemy now was the princewho ought to have been her best friend, the next brother of her husband, the Comte de Provence. Among the papers of Louis XV. The king had foundproofs, in letters from both count and countess, that they had both beenactively employed in trying to make mischief, and to poison the mind oftheir grandfather against the dauphiness. They became still more busy now, since each day seemed to diminish the probability of Marie Antoinettebecoming a mother; while, if she should leave no children, the Comte deProvence would be heir to the throne. He scarcely made any secret that hewas already contemplating the probability of his succession; and, as therewere not wanting courtiers to speculate also on the chance, it soon becameknown that there was no such sure road to the favor of monsieur[1] as thatof disparaging and vilifying the queen. There might have been some safetyfor her in being put on her guard against her enemy; and the king himself, who called his brother Tartuffe, did, in consequence of his discovery, usegreat caution and circumspection in his behavior toward him; but MarieAntoinette was of a temper as singularly forgiving as it was open: shecould not bear to regard with suspicion even those of whose unfriendlinessand treachery she had had proofs; and after a few days she resumed her oldfamiliarity with the pair, as if she had no reason to distrust them, slighting on this subject the remonstrances of Mercy, who pointed out toher in vain that she was putting weapons into their hands which they wouldbe sure to turn against herself. 

At this moment she was especially happy with a new pastime. Amidst thestately halls of Versailles she had often longed for a villa on a smallerscale, which she might call her own; and the wish was now gratified. Onone side of the park of Versailles, and about a mile from the palace, thelate king had built an exquisite little pavilion for his mistress, whichwas known as the Little Trianon. There had been a building of one kind oranother on the same spot for above a century. Louis XIV. Had erected therea cottage of porcelain for his imperious favorite, Madame de Montespan;and it was the more sumptuous palace with which, after her death, hereplaced it, that gave rise to the strange quarrel between the haughtymonarch and his equally haughty minister, Louvois, of which St. Simon hasleft us so curious an account. [2] This had been allowed to fall into astate of decay; and a few years before his death, Louis XV. Had pulleddown what remained of it, and had built a third on its foundations, whichhad been the most favorite abode of Madame du Barri during his life, butwhich was now rendered vacant by her dismissal. The house was decoratedwith an exquisite delicacy of taste, in which Louis XV. Had far surpassedhis predecessor; but the chief charm of the place was generally accountedto be the garden, which had been laid out by Le Notre, an artist, whoseoriginal genius as a landscape gardener was regarded by many of hiscontemporaries as greatly superior to his more technical skill as anarchitect. [3]

A few hundred yards off was another palace, the Great Trianon; but it wasthe Little Trianon which caught the queen's fancy; and, on her expressionof a wish to have it for her own, the king at once made it over to her;and, pleased with her new toy, Marie Antoinette, still a girl in herimpulsive eagerness for a fresh pleasure (she was not yet nineteen), beganto busy herself with remodeling the pleasure-grounds with which it wassurrounded. Before the time of Le Notre, the finest gardens in the countryhad been laid out on what was called the Italian plan. He was too good apatriot to copy the foreigners: he drove out the Italians, and introduceda new arrangement, known as the French style, which was, in fact, but animitation of the stiff, formal Dutch mode. But of late the Englishgardeners had established that supremacy in the art which they have eversince maintained; and the present aim of every fashionable horticulturistin France was to copy the effects produced on the banks of the Thames byWise and Browne. 

Marie Antoinette fell in with the prevailing taste. She imported Englishdrawings and hired English, gardeners. She visited in person the Count deCaraman, and one or two other nobles, who had already done something bytheir example to inoculate the Parisians with the new fashion. Andpresently lawns and shrubberies, widening invariably simple flower-beds, supplanted the stately uniformity of terraces, alleys converging oncentral fountains, or on alcoves as solid and stiff as the palace itself, and trees cut into all kinds of fantastic shapes, which had previouslybeen regarded as the masterpieces of the gardeners' invention. Herhappiness was at its height when, at the end of a few months, all wascompleted to her liking, and she could invite her husband to anentertainment in a retreat which was wholly her own, and the chiefbeauties of which were her own work. 

As yet, therefore, all was happiness, and prospect of happiness. EvenMaria Teresa, whose unceasing anxiety for her daughter often induced herto see the worst side of things, was rendered for a moment almost playfulby the reports which reached Vienna of the universal popularity of "LouisXVI. And his little queen!" "She blushed, " she said, "to think that inthirty-three years of her reign she had not done as much as Louis had donein thirty-three days. [4]" But she still warned her daughter that everything depended on keeping up the happy impression already made; that muchstill remained to be done. And the queen's answer showed that her newauthority had brought with it some cares. "It is true, " she writes, "thatthe praises of the king resound everywhere. He deserves it well by theuprightness of his heart, and the desire which he has to act rightly; butthis French enthusiasm disquiets me for the future. The little that Iunderstand of business shows me that some matters are full of difficultyand embarrassment. All agree that the late king has left his affairs in avery bad state. Men's minds are divided; and it will be impossible toplease all the world in a country where the vivacity of the people wantsevery thing to be done in a moment. My dear mamma is quite right when shesays we must lay down principles, and not depart from them. The king willnot have the same weakness as his grandfather. I hope that he will have nofavorites; but I am afraid that he is too mild and too easy. You maydepend upon it that I will not draw the king into any great expenses. "(The empress had expressed a fear lest the Trianon might prove a cause ofextravagance. ) "On the contrary, I, of my own accord, have refused to makedemands on him for money which some have recommended me to make. "

Some relaxations, too, of the formality which had previously beenmaintained between the sovereign and the subordinate members of the royalfamily, and especially an order of the king that his brothers and sisterswere not in private intercourse to address him as his majesty, had gratedon the empress's sense of the distance always to be preserved between amonarch and the very highest of his subjects. And she had complained thatreports had reached her that "there was no distinction between the queenand the other princesses; and that the familiarity subsisting in the courtwas extreme. " But Marie Antoinette replied, in defense of the king andherself, that there was "great exaggeration in these reports, as indeedthere was about every thing that went on at the court; that thefamiliarity spoken of was seen but by very few. It is not for me, " shesaid, "to judge; but it seems to me that what exists among us is only theair of kindly affection and gayety which is suitable to our age. It istrue that the Count d'Artois" (who had been the special subject of some ofthe empress's unfavorable comments) "is very lively and very giddy, but Ican always keep him in order. As for my aunts, no one can any longer saythat they lead me; and as for monsieur and madame, I am very far fromplacing entire confidence in them. 

"I must confess that I am fond of amusement, and am not very greatlyinclined to grave subjects. I hope, however, to improve by degrees; and, without ever mixing myself up in intrigues, to qualify myself gradually tobe of service to the king when he makes me his confidante, since he treatsme at all times with the most perfect affection. "

Her reflections on the impulsiveness and impatience of the Frenchcharacter, and of the difficulties which those qualities placed in thepath of their rulers, justify the praises which Mercy had lavished on hersagacity, for it is evident that to them the chief troubles of her lateryears may be clearly traced. And it is difficult to avoid agreeing withher rather than with her mother, and thinking the most entire freedom ofintercourse between the king and his nearest relations as desirable as itwas natural. Royalty is, as the empress herself described it, a burdensufficiently heavy, without its weight being augmented by observances andrestrictions which would leave the rulers without a single friend evenamong the members of their own family. And probably the empress herselfmight have seen less reason for her admonitions on the subject, had it notbeen for the circumstance, which was no doubt unfortunate, that the royalfamily at this time contained no member of a graver age and a settledrespectability of character who might, by his example, have tempered theexuberance natural to the extreme youth of the sovereigns and theirbrothers. 

Not that Marie Antoinette was content to limit the number of those whomshe admitted to familiarity to her husband's kinsmen and kinswomen. Stillfretting in secret over the want of any object on whom to lavish amother's tenderness, she sought for friendship as a substitute, shuttingher eyes to the fact that persons in her rank, as having no equals, canhave no friends, in the true sense of the word. Nor, had such a thing beenpossible anywhere, was France the country in which to find it. Theredisinterestedness and integrity had long been banished from her own sexalmost as completely as from the other; and most of those whom she tookinto favor made it their first object to render that favor profitable tothemselves. If she professed in their society to forget for a few hoursthat she was queen, they never forgot it; they never lost sight of thefact that she could confer places and pensions, and they often discardedmoderation and decency in the extravagance of their solicitations; whileshe frequently, with an overamiable facility, surrendering her ownjudgment to their importunities, not only granted their requests, but attimes even adopted their prejudices, and yielded herself as an instrumentto gratify their antipathies or resentments. 

And the same feeling of vacancy in her heart, of which she was everpainfully conscious, produced in her also a constant restlessness, and acraving for excitement which exhibited itself in an insatiable appetitefor amusement (as she confessed to her mother), and led her to seekdistraction even in pastimes for which naturally she had but littleinclination. In these respects it can not be said that, during the firstyear of her reign, she was as uniformly prudent as she had been whiledauphiness. The restraint in which she had lived for those four years hadnot been unwholesome for one so young; but it had no doubt been irksome toher. And the feeling of complete liberty and independence which hadsucceeded it had, by a sort of natural reaction, sharpened the energy withwhich she now pursued her various diversions. It is possible, too, thatthe zest with which she indulged herself may have derived additionalkeenness from the knowledge that her ill-wishers found in it pretext formisconstruction and calumny; and that, being conscious of entire purity inthought, word, and deed, she looked on it as due to her own character toshow that she set all such detraction and detractors at defiance. To allcavilers, as also to her mother, whose uneasiness was frequently arousedby gossip which reached Vienna from Paris, her invariable reply was thather way of life had the king her husband's entire approbation. And whilehe felt a conjugal satisfaction in the contemplation of his queen'sattractions and graces, the qualities in which, as he was well aware, hehimself was most deficient, Louis might well also cherish the mostabsolute reliance on her unswerving rectitude, knowing the pride withwhich she was wont to refer to her mother's example, and to boast that thelesson which, above all others, she had learned from it was that toprinces of her birth and rank wickedness and baseness were unpardonable. 

Indeed, many of the amusements Louis not only approved, but shared withher, while she associated herself with those in which he delighted, as faras she could, joining his hunting parties twice a week, either onhorseback or in her carriage, and at all times exhibiting a pattern ofdomestic union of which the whole previous history of the nation affordedno similar example. The citizens of Paris could hardly believe their eyeswhen they saw their king and queen walk arm-in-arm along the boulevards;and the courtiers received a lesson, if they had been disposed to profitby it, when on each Sunday morning they saw the royal pair repair to theparish church for divine service, the day being closed by their publicsupper in the queen's apartment. 

And this appearance of domestic felicity was augmented by the introductionof what may be called private parties, with which, at the queen'sinstigation, Louis consented to vary the cold formality of the ordinaryentertainments of the court. In the autumn they followed the example ofLouis XV. By exchanging for a few weeks the grandeur of Versailles for thecomparative quiet of some of their smaller palaces; and, while they wereat Choisy, they issued invitations once or twice a week to several of theParisian ladies to come out and spend the day at the palace, when, as theprincipal officers of the household were not on duty, they themselves didthe honors to their guests, the queen conversing with every one with herhabitual graciousness, while the king also threw off his ordinary reserve, and seemed to enter into the pleasures of the day with a gayety andcordiality which surprised the party, and which, from the contrast that itpresented to his manner when he was by himself, was very generallyattributed to the influence of the queen's example. 

And these quiet festivities were so much to his taste that afterward, whenthe court moved to Fontainebleau, and when they settled at Versailles forthe winter, he cheerfully agreed to a proposal of Marie Antoinette to havea weekly supper party; adopting also another suggestion of hers which wasindispensable to render such reunions agreeable, or even, it may be said, practicable. At her request he abolished the ridiculous rule which, underthe last two kings, had forbidden gentlemen to be admitted to sit at tablewith any princess of the royal family. But natural as the idea seemed, itwas not carried out without opposition on the part of Madame Adelaide andher sisters, who remonstrated against it as an infraction of all the oldobservances of the court, till it became a contest for superiority betweenthe queen and themselves. Marie Antoinette took counsel with Mercy, and, by his advice, pointed out to her husband that to abandon the plan afterit had been announced, in submission to an opposition which the princesseshad no right to make, would be to humiliate her in the eyes of the wholecourt. Louis had not yet shaken off all fear of his aunts; but they wereluckily absent, so he yielded to the influence which was nearest. Thesuppers took place. He and the queen themselves made out the lists of theguests to be invited, the men being named by him, and the ladies beingselected by the queen. They were a great success; and, as the history ofthe affair became known, the court and the Parisians generally rejoiced inthe queen's triumph, and were grateful to her for this as for every otherinnovation which had a tendency to break down the haughty barrier which, during the last two reigns, had been established between the sovereign andhis subjects. Nor were these pleasant informal parties the only instancesin which, great inroads were made on the old etiquette. The Comte deMirabeau, a man fatally connected in subsequent years with some of themost terrible of the insults which were offered to the royal family, aboutthis time described etiquette as a system invented for the express purposeof blunting the capacity of the French princes, and fixing them inposition of complete dependence. And Marie Antoinette seems to haveregarded it with similar eyes; her dislike of it being quickened by theexpectations which its partisans and champions entertained that her everymovement was to be regulated by it. And its requirements were sufficientlyburdensome to tax a far better-trained patience that was natural to onewho though a queen, was not yet nineteen. Not only was no guest of themale sex, except the king, allowed to sit at table with her, but noman-servant, no male officer of her household, might be present when theking and she dined together, as indeed usually happened; even hispresence could not sanction the introduction of any other man. The ladyof honor, on her knees, though in full dress, presented him the napkinto wipe his fingers and filled his glass; ladies in waiting in the samegrand attire changed the plates of the royal pair; and after dinner, asindeed throughout the day, the queen could not quit one room in thepalace for another, unless some of her ladies were at hand in completecourt dress to attend upon her. [5] These usages, which were in realityso many chains to restrain all freedom, and to render comfortimpossible, were abolished in the first few months of the new reign;but, little as was the foundation which they had in common sense, andequally little as was the addition which they made to the royal dignity, it is certain that many of the courtiers, besides Madame de Noailles, were greatly disconcerted at their extinction. They regarded the queen'sorders on the subject as a proof of a settled preference for Austrianover French fashions. They began to speak of her as "the Austrian, " aname which, though Madame Adelaide had more than once chosen it todescribe her during the first year of her marriage, had since that timebeen almost forgotten, but which was now revived, and was continuallyreproduced by a certain party to cast odium on many of her most simpletastes and most innocent actions. Her enemies oven affirmed that inprivate she was wont to call the Trianon her "little Vienna, [6]" as ifthe garden, which she was laying out with a taste that long made it theadmiration of all the visitors to Versailles, were dear to her, not asaffording a healthful and becoming occupation, nor for the sale of thegiver, but only because it recalled to her memory the gardens ofSchönbrunn, to which, as their malice suggested, she never ceased tolook back with unpatriotic regret. 

In one point of view they were unquestionably correct. The queen didundoubtedly desire to establish in the French court the customs and thefeelings which, during her childhood, had prevailed at Vienna; but theywere wholly wrong in thinking them Austrian usages. They were Lorrainesein their origin; they had been imported to Vienna for the first time byher own father, the Emperor Francis; when she referred to them, it was as"the patriarchal manners of the House of Lorraine[7]" that she spoke ofthem; and her preference for them was founded on the conviction that itwas to them that her mother and her mother's family were indebted for thelove and reverence of the people which all the trials and distresses ofthe struggle against Frederic had never been able to impair. 

Nor was it only the old stiffness and formality, which had been compatiblewith the grossest license, that was now discountenanced. A wholly newspirit was introduced to animate the conversation with which those royalentertainments were enlivened. Under Louis XV. , and indeed before hisreign, intrigue and faction had been the real rulers of the court, spiteful detraction and scandal had been its sole language. But, to thedispositions, as benevolent as they were pure, of the young queen and herhusband, malice and calumny were almost as hateful as profligacy itself. She held, with the great English dramatist, her contemporary, that truewit was nearly allied to good-nature;[8] and she showed herself moredecided in nothing than in discouraging and checking every tendency todisparagement of the absent, and diffusing a tone of friendly kindnessover society. On one occasion, when she heard some of her ladies laughingover a spiteful story, she reproved them plainly for their mirth as "badtaste. " On another she asked some who were thus amusing themselves, "Howthey would like any one to speak thus of themselves in their absence, andbefore her?" and her precept, fortified by example (for no unkind commenton any one was ever heard to pass her lips), so effectually extinguishedthe habit of detraction that in a very short time it was remarked that nocourtier ventured on an ill-natured word in her presence, and that eventhe Comte de Provence, who especially aimed at the reputation of a sayerof good things, and affected a character for cynical sharpness, learned atlast to restrain his sarcastic tongue, and at least to pretend adisposition to look at people's characters and actions with as muchindulgence as herself. 

CHAPTER X. 

Settlement of the Queen's Allowance. --Character and Views of Turgot. --Sheinduces Gluck to visit Paris. --Performance of his Opera of "Iphigénieen Aulide. "--The First Encore. --Marie Antoinette advocates theRe-establishment of the Parliaments, and receives an Address from them. --English Visitors at the Court. --The King is compared to Louis XII. AndHenri IV. --The Archduke Maximilian visits his Sister. --Factious Conduct ofthe Princes of the Blood. --Anti-Austrian Feeling in Paris. --The War ofGrains. --The King is crowned at Rheims. --Feelings of Marie Antoinette. --Her Improvements at the Trianon. --Her Garden Parties there. --Descriptionof her Beauty by Burke, and by Horace Walpole. 

Maria Teresa had warned her daughter against extravagance, a warning whichwould have been regarded as wholly misplaced by any other of the Frenchprinces, who were accustomed to treat the national treasury as a fundintended to supply the means for their utmost profusion, but whichcertainly coincided with the views of Marie Antoinette herself, who, as wehave seen, vindicated herself from the charge of prodigality, and declaredthat she took great care that her improvements at the Trianon should notbe beyond her means. Yet it would not have been surprising if they hadbeen found to be so, since, even after she became queen, her incomecontinued to be far too narrow for her rank. The nominal allowance of allformer kings and queens had been fixed at an unreasonably low rate, fromthe pernicious custom of drawing on the treasury for all deficiencies; butthis mode of proceeding was inconsistent with the notions of proprietyentertained by the new sovereigns, and with those of the new financeminister. 

Maurepas himself had never been distinguished for ability, but he wassufficiently clear-sighted to be aware that the principal difficulties ofthe State arose from the disorder into which the profligacy andprodigality of the late reign, ever since the death of the wise Fleury, had thrown its finances; and he had made a most happy choice for theoffice of comptroller-general of finance, appointing to it a man namedTurgot, who, as Intendant of the Limousin, had brought that province intoa condition of prosperity which had made it a model for the rest of thekingdom. In his new and more enlarged sphere of action, Turgot's abilitiesexpanded; or, perhaps it should rather be said, had a fairer field fortheir display. He showed himself equally capable in every department ofhis duties; as a financial reformer, as an administrator, and as alegislator. No minister in the history of the nation had ever so unitedlarge-minded genius with disinterested integrity. He had not acceptedoffice without a full perception of its difficulties. He saw all that hadto be done, and applied himself to putting the finances of the nation on ahealthy footing, as an indispensable preface to other reforms equallynecessary. He easily secured the co-operation of the king and queen, Louischeerfully adopting the retrenchments which he recommended, though some ofthem, such as the reduction in the hunting establishment, touched hispersonal tastes. But at the same time, as there was no illiberality in hiseconomy, or, rather, as he saw that real economy could only be practicedif the sovereigns had a fixed income really adequate to the call upon it, he placed their allowances on a more satisfactory footing than had everbeen fixed for them before, the queen's privy purse being settled at a sumwhich Mercy agreed with him would prove sufficient for all her expenses, though it was but 200, 000 francs a year. 

And so it was generally found to be; for, with the exception of anoccasional fancy for some splendid jewel, Marie Antoinette had noexpensive tastes. Her economy was even far greater than her attendantsapproved, extending to details which they would have wished her to regardas beneath the dignity of a sovereign;[1] and so judiciously did shemanage her resources that she was able to defray out of her privy pursethe pensions which she occasionally conferred on men eminent in arts orliterature, whom she rightly judged it a royal duty to encourage. 

One of her first acts of liberality of this kind was exercised in favor ofa countryman of her own, the celebrated Gluck. Music was one of her mostfavorite accomplishments. She still devoted a portion of almost every dayin taking lessons on the harp; but the French music was not to her taste;while, since the death of Handel, Gluck's superiority to all his othermusical contemporaries had been generally acknowledged in all countries. She now, by the gift of a pension of 6000 francs, induced him to visitParis. It was at the French opera that many of his most celebrated workswere first given to the world; and an incident which took place at theperformance of one of them showed that, if the frequenters of Versailleswere dissatisfied at the inroads lately made on the old etiquette, thequeen had a compensation in the warm attachment with which she hadinspired the Parisians. Instead of conveying the performers to Versailles, as had been the extravagant practice of the late reign, Louis and MarieAntoinette went into Paris when they desired to visit the theatre. Thecitizens, delighted at the contrast which their frequent visits to thecapital afforded to the marked dislike of it shown by the late king, crowded the theatre on every night on which they were expected; and on oneof these occasions Gluck's "Iphigénie" was the opera selected forperformance. It contains a chorus in which, according to the design of thedramatist, Achilles was directed to turn to his followers with the words

 "Chantez, célébrez votre reine. "

But the French opera-singers were a courtly race. The French opera hadbeen established a century before as a Royal Academy of Music by LouisXIV. , who had issued letters patent which declared the profession of anopera-singer one that might be followed even by a nobleman; and it seemed, therefore, quite consistent with the rank thus conferred on them that theyshould take the lead in paying loyal compliments to their princes. Accordingly, when the performer who represented the invincible son ofThetis, the popular tenor singer, Le Gros, came to the chorus in question, he was found to have prepared a slight change in his part. He did notaddress himself to the myrmidons behind him, but he came forward, and, with a bow to the boxes and pit, substituted the following, "Chantons, célébrons notre reine, L'hymen, que sous ses lois l'enchaîne, Va nous rendre à jamais heureux. "

The audience was taken by surprise, but it was a surprise of delight. Thewhole house rose to its feet, cheering and clapping their hands. For thefirst time in theatrical history, the repetition of a song was demanded. The now familiar term of "Encore!" was heard and obeyed. The queen herselfwas affected to tears by the enthusiastic affection displayed toward her, nor at such a moment did she suffer her feeling of the evanescentcharacter of popularity among so light-minded a people to dwell in hermind, or to mar the pleasure which such a reception was well calculated toimpart. 

Popularity at this moment seemed doubly valuable to her, because she wasnot ignorant that the feeling of disappointment at the unproductiveness ofher marriage had recently been increased by the knowledge that the youngCountess d'Artois was about to become a mother. And the attachment whichshe inspired was not confined to the play-goers; it was shared by a bodyso little inclined to exhibitions of impulsive loyalty as the Parliament. It has been seen that Louis XV. Had abolished that body; but one of thefirst proposals made by Maurepas to the new king had had itsre-establishment for its object. The question had been discussed in theking's council, and also in the royal family, with great eagerness. Theablest of the ministers protested against the restoration of an assemblywhich had invariably shown itself turbulent and usurping, and the kinghimself was generally understood to share their views. But MarieAntoinette, led by the advice of Choiseul, was eager in her support ofMaurepas, and it was believed that her influence decided Louis. If it wasso, it was an exertion of her power that she had ample cause to repent ata subsequent period; but at the time she thought of nothing but showingher sense of the general superiority of Choiseul, and so requiting some ofthe obligations under which she considered that she lay to him forarranging her marriage; and she received a deputation from there-established Parliament with marked pleasure, and replied to theiraddress with a graciousness which seemed intended to show that shesincerely rejoiced at the event which had given cause for it. 

It was not till Christmas that the royal family went out of mourning; but, as soon as it was left off, the court returned to its accustomed gayety--balls, concerts, and private theatricals occupying the evenings; thoughthe people remarked with undisguised satisfaction that the expenses offormer years had been greatly retrenched. It was also noticed that manyforeigners of distinction, and especially some English ladies of highrank, gladly accepted invitations to the balls, which they certainly wouldnot have done while their presence was likely to bring them into contactwith Madame du Barri. Lady Ailesbury is especially mentioned as havingbeen received with marked distinction by the queen, and also by the king, who was careful to show his approval of her entertainments by the sharewhich he took in them; and, as he paraded the saloons arm-in-arm with her, to distinguish those whom she noticed, so that, to quote the words of oneof the most lively chroniclers of the day, their example seemed to be fastbringing conjugal love and fidelity into fashion. She even persuaded himto depart still further from his usual reserve, so as to appear in costumeat more than one fancy ball; the dress which he chose being that of theonly predecessor of his own house whom he could in any point have desiredto resemble, Henry IV. He had already been indirectly compared to thatmonarch, the first Bourbon king, by the ingenious flattery of a print-*seller. In the long list of sovereigns who had reigned over France in thefive hundred years which had passed by since the warrior-saint of theCrusades had laid down his life on the sands of Tunis, there had been buttwo to whom their countrymen could look back with affection or respect--Louis XII. , to whom his subjects had given the title of The Good, andHenry, to whom more than one memorial still preserved the surname of TheGreat. And the courtly picture-dealer, eager to make his market of thegratitude with which his fellow-citizens greeted the reforms with whichthe reigning sovereign had already inaugurated his reign, contrived toextract a compliment to him even out of the severe prose of themultiplication-table; publishing a joint portrait of the three kings, Louis XII. , Henry IV. , and Louis XVI. , with an inscription beneath totestify that 12 and 4 made 16. 

In the spring of 1775, Marie Antoinette received a great pleasure in avisit from her younger brother, Maximilian. He was the only member of herfamily whom she had seen in the five years that had elapsed since she leftVienna. But, eagerly as she had looked forward to his visit, it did notbring her unmixed satisfaction, being marred by the ill-breeding of theprinces of the blood, and still more by the approval of their conductdisplayed by the citizens of Paris, which seemed to afford a convincingevidence of the small effect which even the queen's virtues and graces hadproduced in softening the old national feeling of enmity to the house ofAustria. The archduke, who was still but a youth, did not assert his royalrank while on his travels, but preserved such an _incognito_ as princes onsuch occasions are wont to assume, and took the title of Count de Burgau. The king's brothers, however, like the king himself, paid no regard to hisdisguise, but visited him at the first instant of his arrival; but theprinces of the blood stood on their dignity, refused to acknowledge a rankwhich was not publicly avowed, or to recollect that the visitor was aforeigner and brother to their queen, and insisted on receiving theattention of the first visit from him. The excitement which the questioncaused in the palace, and the queen's indignation at the slight thusoffered, as she conceived, to her brother, were great. High words passedbetween her and the Duc d'Orléans, the chief of the recusants, on thesubject; and one part of her remonstrance throws a curious additionallight on the strange distance which, as has been already pointed out, theetiquette of the French court had established between the sovereigns andthe very highest of their subjects, even the nearest of their relations. The duke had insisted on the _incognito_ as debarring Maximilian from allclaim to attention from a prince like himself whose rank was notconcealed. She urged that the king and his brothers had not regarded it inthat light. "The duke knew, " she said, "that the king had treatedMaximilian as a brother; that he even invited him to sup in private withhimself and her, an honor to which no prince of the blood had everpretended. " And, finally, warming with her subject, she told him that, though her brother would be sorry not to make the acquaintance of theprinces of the blood, he had many other things in Paris to see, and wouldmanage to do without it. [2] Her expostulation was fruitless. The princesadhered to their resolution, and she to hers. They were not admitted toany of the festivities of the palace during the archduke's stay, and wereeven excluded from all the private entertainments which were given in hishonor, since she made it known that the king and she would refuse toattend any to which they were invited. But, though their conduct wassurely both discourteous to a foreigner and disrespectful to theirsovereign, the Parisian populace took their part; and some of them whoshowed themselves ostentatiously in the streets of the city on days onwhich there were parties at Versailles were loudly applauded by a crowdwhich was not entirely drawn from the lower classes. It was noticed thatthe Duc de Chartres, the son of the Duc d'Orléans, was one of the foremostin exciting this anti-Austrian feeling, the outbreak of which wasespecially remarkable as the first instance in which the enthusiasm of thecitizens for Marie Antoinette seemed to have cooled, or at least to havebeen interrupted. And this change in their feelings produced so painful animpression on her mind, that, after her brother's departure, she abandonedher intention of going to the opera, though Gluck's "Orfeo" was to beperformed, lest she should meet with a reception less cordial than that towhich she had hitherto been accustomed. 

This ebullition against the house of Austria, however, was at the momentdictated rather by discontent with the Home Government than by any settledfeeling on the subject of foreign politics. Corn had been at a rather highprice in Paris and its neighborhood throughout the winter; and thedearness was taken advantage of by the enemies of Turgot, and employed bythem as an argument to prove the impolicy of his measures to introducefreedom of trade. They even organized[3] formidable riots at Paris andVersailles, which, however, Turgot, whose resolution was equal to hiscapacity, prevailed on the king to repress by acts of vigor very unusualto him, and very foreign to his disposition. The troops were called out;the Parliament was summoned to a Bed of Justice, and enjoined to put thelaw in force against the guilty; two of the most violent revolters wereexecuted; order was restored, and the wholly factitious character of theoutbreak was proved by the tranquillity which ensued, though the price ofbread remained unaltered till the commencement of the harvest, thecitizens themselves presently making a jest of their sedition, andnicknaming it The War of the Grains. [4]

In France, one excitement soon drives out another, and the whole attentionof the nation was now fixed on the coronation, which had been appointed totake place in June. After some discussion, it had been settled that Louisshould be crowned alone. There had not been many precedents for thecoronation of a queen in France; and the last instance, that of Marie deMedicis, as having been followed by the assassination of her husband, wasregarded by many as a bad omen. If Marie Antoinette had herself expressedany wish to be her husband's partner in the solemnity, it would certainlyhave been complied with, and their subsequent fate would have beenregarded as a confirmation of the evil augury. But she was indifferent onthe subject, and quite contented to behold it as a spectator. It tookplace on Sunday, the 11th of June, in the grand Cathedral at Rheims. Theprogress of the royal family, which had quit Versailles for that city onthe preceding Monday, had resembled a triumphant procession, soenthusiastic had been the acclamations which had greeted the king andqueen at each town through which they had passed; and all the previousdisplays of joy were outdone by the demonstrations afforded by thecitizens of Rheims itself. It was midnight, on the 8th of June, when thequeen reached the gates; but the road outside and the streets inside werethronged with a crowd as dense as midday could have produced, whichfollowed her to the archbishop's palace, making the whole city resoundwith their loyal cheers; and which, the next morning, awaited hercoming-forth after holding a grand reception of all the nobles of theprovince, to meet the king when he made his solemn entry in theafternoon. The ceremony in the cathedral was one of great magnificence;but, in the account of the day which, after her return to Versailles, she wrote to her mother, she does not enter into details, as beingnecessarily known to the empress in their general character; confiningherself rather to a description of the impression which the manifestcordiality with which the whole people had entered into the spirit ofthe solemnity had made upon her own mind and heart. [5]

"The coronation was perfect in every respect. It was made plain that everyone was highly delighted with the king, and so he deserves that all hissubjects should be. Great and small, all displayed the greatest interestin him; and at the moment of placing the crown on his head the ceremoniesof the church were interrupted by the most touching acclamations. I couldnot restrain myself; my tears flowed in spite of all my efforts, and thepeople were pleased to see them. During the whole time of our journey Idid my best to correspond to the earnestness of the people; and althoughthe heat was great, and the crowd immense, I do not regret my fatigue, which, moreover, has not injured my health. It is a very astonishingcircumstance, but at the same time a very pleasant one, to be so wellreceived only two months after the revolt, and in spite of the high priceof bread, which unhappily still continues. It is a strange peculiarity inthe French character to allow themselves to be so easily led away bymischievous suggestions, and then immediately to return to good behavior. It is very certain that when we see people, even in times of distress, treating us so well, we are the more bound to labor for their happiness. The king seems to me penetrated with this truth. As for me, I feel thatall my life, even if I were to live a hundred years, I shall never forgetthe coronation day. "

But all the tumultuous pomp and exultation only made her return withrenewed pleasure to her quiet retreat of the Trianon, which, with theassistance of the illustrious Buffon, then superintendent of the king'sgardens, and of Bernard de Jussieu, Director of the Jardin des Plantes, and celebrated as one of the first botanists of Europe, she was laying outwith a delicate taste that long rendered it one of the chief attractionsto all the inhabitants of the district. For the sentiment which sheexpressed in the letter to the empress, which has just been quoted, wasnot the mere formal utterance of a barren philanthropy, but was dictatedand carried out by an active benevolence. She felt in her inmost heart theduty which she there professed, of exerting herself to promote thehappiness of the people, and was far too unselfish to desire to keep toherself the whole of the delight her gardens were calculated to afford. The Trianon was a possession exactly calculated to gratify her taste forinnocent rural pleasure. As she said herself, at Versailles she was aqueen; here she was a plain country lady, superintending not only herflowers, but her farm-yard and her dairy, taking pride in her stock andher produce. She would invite the king and the rest of the royal family togarden parties, where, at a table set out under a bower of honeysuckle, she would pour out their coffee with her own hands, boasting of thethickness of her cream, the freshness of her eggs, the ruddiness andflavor of her strawberries, as so many proofs of her skill in managing herestablishment; and would not fear to shock her aunts by tempting one ofher sisters-in-law to a game at ball, or battledoor and shuttlecock. Butshe probably enjoyed still more the power of gratifying the inhabitants ofVersailles and the neighborhood. The moment that her improvements werecompleted, she opened the gardens to the public to walk in, and gaveout-of-door parties and children's dances, to which all the inhabitants ofVersailles who presented themselves in decent apparel were admitted. Shewould even open the dance herself with some well-conducted boy, andafterward stroll among the crowd, talking affably to all the company, evento the governesses and nurses, and delighting the parents with theinterest which she exhibited in the characters, the growth, and even thenames of the children. 

There were some who, startled at the unwonted sight of a sovereign sotreating her subjects as fellow-creatures, confessed a fear that suchfamiliarity was not without its dangers;[6] but the objects of hercondescension worshiped her for it; and for a time at least the greatmajority of the nation forgot that she was Austrian. She was now nearlytwenty years of age. Her form had developed into a rare perfection ofelegance. Her features had added to the original brilliancy of her girlishloveliness something of that higher beauty which judgment and sagacityinspire, and which dignity renders only the more imposing; while the samebenevolence and purity beamed in every look which were remarked as hermost sterling characteristics on her first arrival in the country. And itis not to her French or German admirers alone that we are reduced to trustfor the impression which at this time she made on all beholders. We haveseen that English gentlemen and ladies of rank were frequent visitors tothe French court; and from two of these, men of widely differentcharacters, talents, and turns of mind, we have a striking concurrence oftestimony as to the power of the fascination which she exerted on all whocame within the sphere of her influence. Burke was the earlier visitor. Indeed, it was in the last months of the preceding reign, while she wasstill dauphiness, that she had excited in his enthusiastic imaginationthose emotions which he afterward described in words which will live aslong as the English language. It was in the spring of 1774 that it seemedto him that "surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed totouch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in--glittering like the morning-star, full of life, and splendor, and joy. " Noone could be less like Burke than Horace Walpole, a cynical observer, whopiqued himself on indifference, and especially on a superiority to thevulgar belief in the merits and attractions of kings and princes. Yet hisreport of the charms of Marie Antoinette, as he saw them in the autumn ofthis year, 1775, reveals an admiration of them as vivid as that of thewarm-hearted and more poetical Irishman. He saw her, as he reports to LadyOssory, first at a state court hall, [7] given on the occasion of themarriage of the Princess Clotilde, in the theatre of the palace; and hewould have desired to give his correspondent some description of thebeauty of the building; "the bravest in the universe, and yet one in whichtaste predominates over expense;" but he was absorbed by the still morepowerful attractions of the princess whom he had seen in it: "What I haveto say I can tell your ladyship in a word, for it was impossible to seeany thing but the queen. Hebes, and Floras, and Helens, and Graces arestreet-walkers to her. She is a statue and beauty when standing orsitting; grace itself when she moves. " As he is writing to a lady, heproceeds to describe her dress, which to ladies of the present day maystill have its interest: "She was dressed in silver, scattered over with_laurier_ roses; few diamonds; and feathers, much lower than themonument. " He proceeds to describe the ball itself, and some of thecompany, which was, however, very select; but at every sentence or two hecomes back to the queen, so deep and so real was the impression which shehad made on him. "Monsieur is very handsome. The Comte d'Artois is abetter figure and a better dancer. Their characters approach to those oftwo other royal dukes. [8] There were but eight minuets, and, except thequeen and princesses, only eight lady dancers; I was not so much struckwith the dancing as I expected. For beauty I saw none, or the queeneffaced all the rest. After the minuets were French country-dances, muchincumbered by the long trains, longer tresses, and hoops. In the intervalsof dancing, baskets of peaches, china oranges (a little out of season), biscuits, ices, and wine-and-water were presented to the royal family anddancers. The ball lasted just two hours. The monarch did not dance, butfor the first two rounds of the minuet even the queen does not turn herback to him. Yet her behavior is as easy as divine. "

Such was a French court ball on days of most special ceremony, a somewhatsolemn affair, which required graciousness such as that of MarieAntoinette to make admission to every one a very enviable privilege; eventhough its stiffness had been in some degree relieved by a new regulationof the queen, that the invitations, which had hitherto been confined tomatrons, should be extended to unmarried girls. Scarcely any changeproduced greater consternation among the admirers of old customs. Thedowagers searched all the registers of those who had been admitted to thecourt balls since the beginning of the century to fortify theirobjections. But, to their dismay, some of the early festivities in thetime of Marie Leczinska proved to have been shared by one or two noblemaidens. The discovery was of little importance, since Marie Antoinettehad shown that she was not afraid of making precedents. But still it insome degree silenced the grumblers, and for the rest of the reign no onecontested the queen's right to decide who should, and who should not, beadmitted to her society. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Tea is introduced. --Horse-racing of Count d'Artois. --Marie Antoinette goesto see it--The Queen's Submissiveness to the Reproofs of the Empress. --Birth of the Duc d'Angoulême. --She at times speaks lightly of the King. --The Emperor remonstrates with her. --Character of some of the Queen'sFriends. --The Princess de Lamballe. --The Countess Jules de Polignac. --They set the Queen against Turgot. --She procures his Dismissal. --Shegratifies Madame Polignac's Friends. --Her Regard for the French People. --Water Parties on the Seine. --Her Health is Delicate. --Gambling at thePalace. 

Nor were these the only innovations which marked the age. A rage foradopting English fashions--_Anglomanie_, as it was called--began toprevail; and, among the different modes in which it exhibited itself, itis especially noticed that tea[1] was now introduced, and began to sharewith coffee the privileges of affording sober refreshment to those whoaspired in their different ways to give the tone to French society. 

A less innocent novelty was a passion for horse-racing, in which the Comted'Artois and the Duc de Chartres set the example of indulging, establishing a race-course in the Bois de Boulogne. The count had butlittle difficulty in persuading the queen to attend it, and she soonshowed so decided a fancy for the sport, and became so regular a visitorof it, that a small stand was built for her, which in subsequent yearsprovoked some unfavorable comments, when the princess obtained her leaveto give luncheon in it to some of their racing friends, who were not inall instances of a character deserving to be brought into a royalpresence. 

She pursued this, as she pursued every other amusement which she took up, with great keenness for a while, so much so as to provoke earnestremonstrances from her mother, whose letters were commonly dictated byMercy's reports and suggestions. Nor, if she felt uneasiness, did MariaTeresa spare her daughter, or take any great care to moderate her languageof reproof. At times her tone is so severe as to excite a feeling ofwonder at the submissiveness with which her letters were received. Noexpress eulogy of her admirers could give so great an idea of MarieAntoinette's amiability, good-nature, genuine modesty, and sincereaffection for her mother, as the ingenuousness with which she admitserrors, or the temper with which she urges excuses. To that veneratedparent she is just as patient of admonition, now that she is seated on athrone, as she could have been in her schoolroom at Schönbrunn; and, inreply to the scoldings (no milder word can do justice to the earnestvehemence of the letters which at this time she received from Vienna), shepleads not only that an appetite for amusement is natural to her age, butthat she enters into none of which the king does not fully approve, andnone which are ever allowed to interfere with her giving him fullenjoyment of her society whenever he has leisure or inclination for it. 

But her replies to her mother hint also at the continuance of the oldcauses for her restlessness, and for her eager pursuit of new diversionsto distract her thoughts. Her natural desire for children of her own wasgreatly increased when, on the 12th of August, her sister-in-law, theCountess d'Artois, presented her husband with a son. [2] She treated theyoung mother with a sisterly kindness suited to the occasion, whichextorted the unqualified praise of Mercy himself; but she could notrestrain her feelings on the subject to her mother, and she expressed toher frankly the extreme pain "which she suffered at thus seeing an heir tothe throne who was not her own child. " Nor is it strange that at suchmoments she should feel hurt at the coldness with which her husbandcontinued to behave toward her, or that she should ran eagerly after anyexcitement which might aid in diverting her mind from a comparison of herown position with that of her happier sister-in-law. [3]

It would have been well if she had confined her expressions ofdisappointment to her mother. But since we may not disguise her occasionalacts of imprudence, it must be confessed that at times her mortificationled her to speak of her husband to strangers in a tone of disparagementwhich was highly unbecoming. Maximilian had been accompanied by the Countde Rosenburg, who had in consequence been admitted to the intimate societyof the court during the archduke's visit, and who had inspired MarieAntoinette with so favorable an opinion of his character and judgment thatafter his return to Vienna she more than once sent him an account of theproceedings at the palace since her brother's departure. She describes tohim a series of concerts, at which she had sung herself with some of herladies. She gives him a list of the guests, remarking, with aparticularity which seems to show that she expects her words to bereported to the empress, that the gentlemen, though amiable and well bred, were not young. But she also complains that the king's tastes do notresemble hers, that he cares for nothing but hunting and mechanicalemployments; and, indulging in an unwonted bit of sarcasm, she proceeds:"You will allow that I should not look well beside a forge. I could neverbecome a Vulcan; and the part of Venus would displease him more than myreal tastes, which he does not disapprove. " In another letter she mentionshim in a tone of contemptuous pity, almost equally unbecoming, speaking ofhim as "the poor man" whom she had made a tool of to further some views ofher own, though Mercy assured the empress that her assertion of having sotreated him was a mere fiction of her imagination, to impart a sort oflively tone to her letter; that, in spite of occasional outbursts oflevity, she had in reality the firmest affection and esteem for Louis; andthat nothing could be more irreproachable than her conduct toward him inevery respect. He added that the people in general did her full justice onthis head; that if her popularity with the Parisians had for a momentsuffered any diminution through the artifices of faction, the cloud hadbeen blown away; and that she had been recently received at the differenttheatres with as fervent a loyalty as had greeted even her firstappearance. 

The empress, however, was so uneasy that she induced her son, the EmperorJoseph, to add his expostulations to hers; and he, who was a prince ofconsiderable shrewdness, as well as of a high idea of the proprieties ofhis rank, wrote her a long letter of remonstrance; imputing with greattruth the failings, which he pointed out with sufficient plainness, to afacility of disposition which made her indulgent to the manoeuvres ofthose whom she admitted to her friendship, but who did not deserve such anhonor. He even spoke of the society which she had gathered round her, ascalculated to prevent him from performing his promise of paying her avisit; "for what should he do in a court of frivolous intriguers?" And heconcluded by urging her to prevent these false friends from making a toolof her for the gratification of their own selfishness and rapacity; and tobe solicitous for no friendship or confidence but that of her husband; thestudy of whose wishes was to her not only a state duty, but the only onewhich would make her permanently happy, and secure to her the lastingaffection of the people. 

There was, however, no subject on which Marie Antoinette was so littleamenable to advice as the choice of her friends, and none on which shemore required it. Above all the frequenters of the court, two ladies weredistinguished by her especial favor--the Princess de Lamballe and theCountess de Polignac. The princess, a daughter of the Prince de Carignanin Savoy, having been married to the son of the Duc de Penthièvre, wasleft a widow before she was twenty years of age. She had been originallyrecommended to Mario Antoinette in the first year of her residence inFrance, partly by her royal birth, and partly by her misfortunes; and theattachment which the dauphiness at once conceived for her was cemented bythe ardor with which it was returned. In many respects the princess welldeserved the favor with which she was regarded. Her temper was sweet andamiable; her character singularly truthful and sincere; and, that shemight never be separated from her friend, the place of superintendent ofthe queen's household was revived for her. Some cavilers were disposed togrumble at the re-establishment of an office which had been suppressed asuseless and costly; but no one could allege that Madame de Lamballe abusedthe royal favor, and her share in the calamities of later days justifiedthe queen's choice by the proof it afforded of the princess's unalterablefidelity and devotion. 

But the countess was a very different character. She had, indeed, awell-bred air of good humor, but that, with her youth (she was buttwenty years of age), was her only qualification; for her capacity wasnarrow, her disposition selfish and grasping, and she was so inveteratea manoeuvrer, that, when she had no intrigues of her own on foot, shewas always ready to lend herself to the plots of others. What was worse, she did not enjoy an untainted character. The name of the Comte deVaudreuil was often coupled with hers in the scandals of the court. Andthe queen, since she could hardly be ignorant of the reports which werecirculated, incurred, by the marked favor which she showed to thecountess, the imputation of shutting her eyes to the frailties of herfriends, and thus showing that dissoluteness was not an insuperablebarrier to her partiality. It was only the earnest remonstrance of Mercywhich prevented her from conferring the place of lady of honor on thecountess; but she allowed her to exert a pernicious influence over herin many ways, for the countess was unwearied in soliciting appointmentsand pensions for her relatives; at times making demands in such numbers, and of so exorbitant a character, that the queen herself was forced toadmit the impossibility of granting them all, though she still sought togratify her to far too great an extent, and would not allow the provedinsatiability of her and her family to open her eyes to her realcharacter. 

It was, however, a far more mischievous submission to the influence of thecountess and her coterie, when she permitted them to prejudice her againstTurgot, whom she had more than once described to her mother as an uprightstatesman, and who had constantly shown, so far as he could makecompliance consistent with his duty to the State, a sincere desire toconsult her wishes. But as the Polignac party saw in his prudence, integrity, and firmness the most formidable obstacle to their project ofusing the queen's favor to enrich themselves, she now yielded up herjudgment to their calumnies. Forgetting her former praises of theminister's integrity, she began to disparage him as one whose measurescaused general dissatisfaction, and at last she pushed her hostility tohim so far that she actually tried to induce Louis not to be content withdismissing him from office, but to send him as a prisoner to theBastille. [4] That she could not avoid feeling some shame at the part whichshe had acted may be inferred from the pains which she took to conceal itfrom her mother, whom she assured that, though she was not sorry for hisdismissal, she had in no degree interfered in the matter; but "her conductand even her intentions were well known, and known to be far removed fromall manoeuvres and intrigues. [5]"

Unfortunately the ambassador's letters tell a different story. As asincere friend as well as a loyal servant of Marie Antoinette, heexpresses to the empress his deep feeling that, "as the comptroller-general enjoyed a great reputation for integrity, and was beloved by thepeople, it was a melancholy thing that his dismissal should be in part thequeen's work, [6]" and his fear that her conduct in the affair may"hereafter bring upon her the reproaches of the king her husband, and evenof the entire nation. " The foreboding thus uttered was but too sadlyrealized. She had driven from her husband's councils the only man whocombined with the penetration to perceive the absolute necessity of alarge reform and the character of the changes required, the genius todevise them and the firmness to carry them out. 

Thirteen years later, a variety of causes, some of which will be unfoldedin the course of this narrative, had contributed to irritate theimpatience of the nation, while the unskillfulness of the existingminister had disarmed the royal authority. And the very same reforms whichwould now have been accepted with general thankfulness were then only usedby demagogues as a pretext for further inflaming the minds of themultitude against every thing which bore the slightest appearance ofauthority, even against the very sovereign who had granted them. Franceand all Europe to this day feel the sad effects of Marie Antoinette'sinterference. 

She had given fatal proof of the truth of the words wrung from her bynervous excitement at the moment of the late king's death, when shedeclared that Louis and she were too young to reign; and the best excusethat can be found for her is that she was not yet one-and-twenty. It wasnot, however, wholly from submission to the interested malevolence ofothers that she had shown herself the enemy of the great financier andstatesman. She had a spontaneous dislike to the retrenchments whichnecessarily formed a great portion of his economical measures; not asinterfering with the indulgence of any extravagant tastes of her own, butas restraining her power of gratifying her friends. For she was entirelyimpressed with the idea that no person or body could have any right tocall in question the king's disposal of the national revenue; and thatthere was no prerogative of the crown of which the exercise was morebecoming to the royal dignity than that of granting pensions or creatingsinecures with no limitations but such as might be imposed by his own willor discretion. And on this point her husband fully shared her feelings. "What, " said he, on one occasion to Turgot, who was urging him to refusean utterly unwarrantable application for a pension. "What are a thousandcrowns a year?" "Sire, " replied the minister, "they are the taxation of avillage. " The king acquiesced for the moment, but probably not withoutsome secret wincing at the control to which he seemed to be subjected; andwe may, perhaps, suppose that even the queen's disapproval of the ministerwould have been less effectual had it not been re-enforced by the king'sown feelings. 

In fact, that the part which she took against the great minister was thefruit of mere inconsiderateness and ignorance of the feelings andnecessities of the nation, and that, if she had known the depth of thepeople's distress, and the degree in which it was caused by theviciousness of the whole existing system of government, she would gladlyhave promoted every measure which could tend to their relief, we may findabundant proof in a letter which she had written to her mother, a fewweeks earlier. Maria Teresa had spoken with some harshness of the Frenchfickleness. Marie Antoinette replies:[7]

"You are quite right in all you say about French levity, but I am trulygrieved that on that account you should conceive an aversion for thenation. The disposition of the people is very inconsistent, but it is notbad. Pens and tongues utter a great many things which are not in theirheart. The proof that they do not cherish hatred is that on the veryslightest occasion they speak well of one, and even praise one much morethan one deserves. I have just this moment myself had experience of this. There had been a terrible fire in Paris in the Palace of Justice, and thesame day I was to have gone to the opera, so I did not go, but sent twohundred louis to relieve the most pressing cases of distress;[8] and eversince the fire, the very same people who had been circulating libels andsongs against me[9] have been extolling me to the skies. "

These revelations of her inmost thoughts to her mother show how real andwarm was her affection for the French as a nation, as well as how littleshe claimed any merit for her endeavors to benefit them; though asubsequent passage in the same letter also shows that she had been so muchannoyed by some pasquinades and libels, of which she had been the subject, that she had become careful not to furnish fresh opportunities to herenemies: "We have had here such a quantity of snow as has not been seenfor many years, so that people are going about in sledges, as they do atVienna. We were out in them yesterday about this place; and to-day thereis to be a grand procession of them through Paris. I should greatly haveliked to be able to go; but, as a queen has never been seen at suchthings, people might have made up stories if I had gone, and I preferredgiving up the pleasure to being worried by fresh libels. "

She was still as eager as ever in the pursuit of amusement, and especiallyof novelties in that way, when not restrained by considerations such asthose which she here mentions. When at Choisy, she gave water parties onthe river in boats with awnings, which she called gondolas, rowing down asfar as the very entrance to the city. It was not quite a prudent diversionfor her, for at this time her health was not very strong. She easilycaught cold, and the reports of such attacks often caused great uneasinessat Vienna; but the watermen were highly delighted, looking on her act inputting herself under their care as a compliment to their craft; and someof them, to increase her pleasure, jumped overboard and swam about. Theirwell-meant gallantry, however, was nearly having an unfavorable effect;unaware that it was not an accident, she thought that their lives were indanger, and the fear for them turned her sick, while Madame de Lamballefainted away. But when she perceived the truth, the qualm passed away, andshe rewarded them handsomely for their ducking; begging, however, that itmight not be repeated, and assuring them that she needed no such proof toconvince her of their dutiful and faithful loyalty. 

But the craving for excitement which was bred and nourished by thecontinuance of her unnatural position with respect to her husband in someparts of his treatment of her, was threatening to produce a verypernicious effect by leading her to become a gambler. Some of those ladieswhom she admitted to her intimacy were deeply infected with this fatalpassion; and one of the most mischievous and intriguing of the wholecompany, the Princess de Guimenée, introduced a play-table at some of herballs, which she induced Marie Antoinette to attend. At first the queentook no share in the play; as she had hitherto borne none, or only aformal part, in the gaming which, as we have seen, had long been arecognized feature in court entertainments; but gradually the hope ofbanishing vexation, if only by the substitution of a heavier care, gotdominion over her, and in the autumn of 1776 we find Mercy commenting onher losses at lansquenet and faro, at that time the two most fashionableround games, the stakes at which often rose to a very considerable amount. Though she continued to indulge in this unhealthy pastime for some time, in Mercy's opinion she never took any real interest in it. She practicedit only because she wished to pass the time, and to drive away thought;and because the one accomplishment she wanted was the art of refusing. Sheeven carried her complaisance so far as to allow professed gaming-tablekeepers to be brought from Paris to manage a faro-bank in her apartments, where the play was often continued long after midnight. It was not theleast evil of this habit that it unavoidably left the king, who never quithis own apartments in the evening, to pass a great deal of time byhimself; but, as if to make up for his coldness in one way, he was mostindulgent in every other, and seemed to have made it a rule never todiscountenance any thing which could amuse her. His behavior to her, inMercy's eyes, seemed to resemble servility; "it was that of the mostattentive courtier, " and was carried so far as to treat with markeddistinction persons whose character he was known to disapprove, solelybecause she regarded them with favor. [10]

In cases such as these the defects in the king's character contributedvery injuriously to aggravate those in hers. She required control, and hewas too young to exercise it. He had too little liveliness to enter intoher amusements; too little penetration to see that, though many of them--it may be said all, except the gaming-table--were innocent if he partookof them, indulgence in them, when he did not share them, could hardly failto lead to unfriendly comments and misconstruction; though even hispresence could hardly have saved his queen's dignity from some humiliationwhen wrangles took place, and accusations of cheating were made in herpresence. The gaming-table is a notorious leveler of distinctions, and theworst-behaved of the guests were too frequently the king's own brothers;they were rude, overbearing, and ill-tempered. The Count de Provence onone occasion so wholly forgot the respect due to her, that he assaulted agentleman in her presence; and the Count d'Artois, who played for veryhigh stakes, invariably lost his temper when he lost his money. Indeed, the queen seems to have felt the discredit of such scenes; and it isprobable that it was their frequent occurrence which led to a temporarysuspension of the faro-bank; as a violent quarrel on the race-coursebetween d'Artois and his cousin, the Duke de Chartres, whom he openlyaccused of cheating him, for a while disgusted her with horse-races, andled her to propose a substitution of some of the old exercises ofchivalry, such as running at the ring; a proposal which had a greatelement of popularity in it, as being calculated to lead to a renewal ofthe old French pastimes, which seemed greatly preferable to the existingrage for copying, and copying badly, the fashions and pursuits of England. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Marie Antoinette finds herself in Debt. --Forgeries of her Name arecommitted. --The Queen devotes herself too much to Madame de Polignac andothers. --Versailles is less frequented. --Remonstrances of the Empress. --Volatile Character of the Queen. --She goes to the Bals d'Opéra at Paris. --She receives the Duke of Dorset and other English Nobles with Favor. --Grand Entertainment given her by the Count de Provence. --Character of theEmperor Joseph. --He visits Paris and Versailles. --His Feelings toward andConversations with the King and Queen. --He goes to the Opera. --His Opinionof the Queen's Friends. --Marie Antoinette's Letter to the Empress on hisDeparture. --The Emperor leaves her a Letter of Advice. 

But this addiction to play, though it was that consequence of theinfluence of the society to which Marie Antoinette was at this time sodevoted, which would have seemed the most objectionable in the eyes ofrigid moralists, was not that which excited the greatest dissatisfactionin the neighborhood of the court. Excessive gambling had so long been anotorious vice of the French princes, that her letting herself down tojoin the gaming-table was not regarded as indicating any peculiar laxityof principle; while the stakes which she permitted herself, and the lossesshe incurred, though they seemed heavy to her anxious German friends, wereas nothing when compared with those of the king's brothers. Even when itbecame known that she was involved in debt, that again was regarded as anordinary occurrence, apparently even by the king himself, who paid theamount (about £20, 000) without a word of remonstrance, merely remarkingthat he did not wonder at her funds being exhausted since she had such apassion for diamonds. For a great portion of the debts had been incurredfor some diamond ear-rings which the queen herself did not wish for, andhad only bought to gratify Madame de Polignac, who had promised her customto the jeweler who had them for sale. Marie Antoinette had evidentlybecome less careful in regulating her expenses, till she was awakened bythe discovery of a crime which she herself imputed to her own carelessnessin such matters. The wife of the king's treasurer had borrowed money inher name, and had forged her handwriting to letters of acknowledgment ofthe loans. The fraud was only discovered through Mercy's vigilance, andthe criminal was at seized and punished, but it proved a wholesome lessonto the queen, who never forgot it, though, as we shall see hereafter, ifothers remembered it, the recollection only served to induce them to tryand enrich themselves by similar knaveries. 

And this devotion of the queen to the society of the Polignacs andGuimenées, "her society, " as she sometimes called it, [1] had also amischievous effect in diminishing her popularity with the great body ofthe nobles. The custom of former sovereigns had been to hold receptionsseveral evenings in each week, to which the men and women of the highestrank were proud to repair to pay their court. But now the royal apartmentswere generally empty, the king being alone in his private cabinet, whilethe queen was passing her time at some small private party of youngpeople, by her presence often seeming to countenance intrigues of whichshe did not in her heart approve, and giddy conversation which was hardlyconsistent with her royal position; though Mercy, in reporting thesehabits to the empress, adds that the queen's own demeanor, even in themoments of apparently unrestrained familiarity, was marked by such uniformself-possession and dignity, that no one ever ventured to take libertieswith her, or to approach her without the most entire respect. [2]

It was hardly strange, then, that those who were not members of thissociety should feel offended at finding the court, as it were, closedagainst them, and should cease to frequent the palace when they had nocertainty of meeting any thing but empty rooms. They even absentedthemselves from the queen's balls, which in consequence were so thinlyattended that sometimes there were scarcely a dozen dancers of each sex, so that it was universally remarked that never within the memory of theoldest courtiers had Versailles been so deserted as it was this winter;the difference between the scene which the palace presented now from whathad been witnessed in previous seasons striking the queen herself, andinclining her to listen more readily to the remonstrances which, atMercy's instigation, the empress addressed to her. Her mother pointed outto her, with all the weight of her own long experience, theincompatibility of a private mode of life, such as is suitable forsubjects, with the state befitting a great sovereign; and urged her torecollect that all the king's subjects, so long as their rank andcharacters were such as to entitle them to admission at court, had anequal right to her attention; and that the system of exclusiveness whichshe had adopted was a dereliction of her duty, not only to those who werethus deprived of the honors of the reception to which they were entitled, but also to the king, her husband, who was injured by any line of conductwhich tended to discourage the nobles of the land from paying theirrespects to him. 

In the midst of all her giddiness, Marie Antoinette always listened withgood humor, it may even be said with docility, to honest advice. No oneever in her rank was so unspoiled by authority; and more than oneconversation which she held with the ambassador on the subject showed thatthese remonstrances, re-enforced as they were by the undeniable fact ofthe thinness of the company at the palace, had made an impression on hermind; though such impressions were as yet too apt to be fleeting, and tooliable to be overborne by fresh temptations; for in volatile impulsivenessshe resembled the French themselves, and the good resolutions she made oneday were always liable to be forgotten the next. Nothing as yet was steadyand unalterable in her character but her kindness of heart andgraciousness of manner; they never changed; and it was on her genuinegoodness of disposition and righteousness of intention that her Germanfriends relied for producing an amendment as she grew older, far more thanon any regrets for the past, or intentions of improvement for the future, which might be wrung from her by any momentary reflection or vexation. 

If Versailles was less lively than usual, Paris, on the other hand, hadnever been so gay as during the carnival of 1777. The queen went toseveral of the masked balls at the opera with one or other of herbrothers-in-law and their wives; the king expressing his perfectwillingness that she should so amuse herself, but never being able toovercome his own indolence and shyness so far as to accompany her. Itcould not have been a very lively amusement. She did not dance, but sat inan arm-chair surveying the dancers, or walked down the saloon attended byan officer of the bodyguard and one lady in waiting, both masked likeherself. Occasionally she would grant to some noble of high rank the honorof walking at her side; but it was remarked that those whom she thusdistinguished were often foreigners; some English noblemen, such as theDuke of Dorset and Lord Strathavon being especially favored, for a reasonwhich, as given by Mercy, shows that that insular stiffness which, withnational self-complacency, Britons sometimes confess as a not unbecomingcharacteristic, was not at that time attributed to them by others; sincethe ambassador explains the queen's preference by the self-evident factthat the English gentlemen were the best dancers, and made the best figurein the ball-room. 

But all the other festivities of this winter were thrown into the shade byan entertainment of extraordinary magnificence, which was given in thequeen's honor by the Count de Provence at his villa at Brunoy. [3] Thecount was an admirer of Spenser, and appeared to desire to embody thespirit of that poet of the ancient chivalry in the scene which hepresented to the view of his illustrious guest when she entered hisgrounds. Every one seemed asleep. Groups of cavaliers, armed _cap-a-pie_, and surrounded by a splendid retinue of squires and pages, were seenslumbering on the ground; their lances lying by their sides, their shieldshanging on the trees which overshadowed them; their very horses reposingidly on the grass on which they cared not to browse. All seemed under theinfluence of a spell as powerful as that under which Merlin had bound thepitiless daughter of Arthur; but the moment that Marie Antoinette passedwithin the gates the enchantment was dissolved; the pages sprung to theirfeet, and brought the easily roused steeds to their awakened masters. Twenty-five challengers, with scarfs of green, the queen's favorite color, on snow-white chargers, overthrew an equal number of antagonists; but nodeadly wounds were given. The victory of her champions having beendecided, both parties of combatants mingled as spectators at a play, andafterward as dancers at a grand ball which was wound up by a display offire-works and a superb illumination, of which the principal ornament wasa gorgeous bouquet of flowers, in many-colored fire, lighting up theinscription "Vive Louis! Vive Marie Antoinette!"

At last, however, the carnival came to an end. Not too soon for thequeen's good, since hunts and long rides by day, and balls kept up till alate hour by night, had been too much for her strength, [4] so that evenindifferent observers remarked that she looked ill and had grown thin. Buteven had Lent not interrupted her amusements, she would have ceased for awhile to regard them, her whole mind being now devoted to preparing forthe reception of her brother, the Emperor Joseph, whose visit, which hadbeen promised in the previous year, was at last fixed for the month ofApril. It was anticipated with anxiety by the Empress and Mercy, as wellas by Marie Antoinette. He was a prince of a peculiar disposition andhabits. Before his accession to the imperial throne, he had been kept, apparently not greatly against his will, in the background. Nor, while hisfather lived, did he give any indications of a desire for power, or of anycapacity for exercising it; but since he had been placed on the throne hehad displayed great activity and energy, though he was still, in theopinion of many, more of a philosopher--a detractor might said more of apedant--than of a statesman. He studied theories of government, and wasextremely fond of giving advice; and as both Louis and Marie Antoinettewere persons who in many respects stood in need of friendly counsel, Mercyand Maria Teresa had both looked forward to his visit to the French courtas an event likely to be of material service to both, while his sisterregarded it with a mixed feeling of hope and fear, in which, however, thepleasurable emotions predominated. 

She was not insensible to the probability that he would disapprove of someof her habits; indeed, we have already seen that he had expressed hisdisapproval of them, and of some of her friends, in the preceding year;and she dreaded his lectures; but, on the other hand, she felt confidentthat a personal acquaintance with the court would prove to him that manyof the tales to her prejudice which had readied him had been mischievousexaggerations, and that thus he would be able to disabuse their mother, and to tranquilize her mind on many points. She hoped, too, that apersonal knowledge of each other by him and her own husband would tend tocement a real friendship between them; and that his stronger mind wouldobtain an influence over Louis, which might induce him to rouse himselffrom his ordinary apathy and reserve, and make him more of a man of theworld and more of a companion for her. Lastly, but probably above all, shethirsted with sisterly affection for the sight of her brother, andanticipated with pride the opportunity of presenting to her new countrymena relation of whom she was proud on account of his personal endowments andcharacter, and whose imperial rank made his visit wear the appearance of amarked compliment to the whole French nation. 

High-strung expectations often insure their own disappointment, but it wasnot so in this instance; though the august visitor's first act displayedan eccentricity of disposition which must have led more people than one toentertain secret misgivings as to the consequences which might flow from avisit which had such a commencement. Like his brother Maximilian, he tootraveled incognito, under the title of the Count Falkenstein; and hepersisted in maintaining his disguise so absolutely that he refused tooccupy the apartments which the queen had prepared for him in the palace, and insisted on taking up his quarters with Mercy in Paris, and at ahotel, for the few days which he passed at Versailles. 

However, though by his conduct in this matter he to some extentdisappointed the hope which his sister had conceived of an uninterruptedintercourse with him during his stay in France, in every other respect thevisit passed off to the satisfaction of all the parties principallyconcerned. Fortunately, at their first interview Marie Antoinette herselfmade a most favorable impression on him. She had been but a child when hehad last seen her. She was now a woman, and he was wholly unprepared forthe matured and queenly beauty at which she had arrived. He was not a manto flatter any one, but almost his first words to her were that, had shenot been his sister, he could not have refrained from seeking her handthat he might secure to himself so lovely a partner; and each succeedingmeeting strengthened his admiration of her personal graces. She, alwayseager to please, was gratified at the feeling she had inspired; and thusan affectionate tone was from the first established between them, and allreserve was banished from their conversation. It was not diminished by theadmonitions which, as he conceived, his age and greater experienceentitled him to address to her, though sometimes they took the form ofbanter and ridicule, sometimes that of serious reproof;[5] but she boreall his lectures with unvarying good humor, promising him that the timeshould come when she would make the amendment which he desired; neverattempting to conceal from him, and scarcely to excuse, the faults ofwhich she was not unconscious, nor the vexations which in some particularscontinually disquieted her. 

It was, at least, equally fortunate that the king also conceived a greatliking for his brother-in-law at first sight. His character disposed himto receive with eagerness advice from one who had himself occupied athrone for several years, and whose relationship seemed a sufficientwarrant that his counsels would be honest and disinterested. Accordinglythose about him soon remarked that Louis treated the emperor with acordiality that he had never shown to any one else. They had many long andinteresting conversations, sometimes with Marie Antoinette as a thirdparty, sometimes by themselves. Louis discussed with the emperor hisanxiety to have a family, and his hopes of such a result; and Josephexpressed his opinion freely on all subjects, even volunteeringsuggestions of a change in the king's habits; as when he recommended him, as a part of his kingly duty, to visit the different provinces, sea-ports, cities, and manufacturing towns of his kingdom, so as to acquaint himselfgenerally with the feelings and resources of the people. Louis listenedwith attention. If there was any case in which the emperor's advice wasthrown away, it was, if the queen's suspicions were correct, when herecommended to the king a line of conduct adverse to her influence. 

Mercy had told the emperor that Louis was devotedly attached to the queen, but that he feared her at least as much as he loved her; and Joseph wouldhave desired to see some of this fear transferred to and felt by her; andshowed his wish that the king should exert his legitimate authority as ahusband to check those habits of his wife of which they both disapproved, and which she herself did not defend. But, even if Louis did for a momentmake up his mind to adopt a tone of authority, his resolution faded awayin his wife's presence before her superior resolution; and to the end oftheir days she continued to be the leader, and he to follow her guidance. 

It need hardly be told that so august a visitor had entertainments givenin his honor. The king gave banquets at Versailles, the queen less formalparties at her Little Trianon, though gayeties were not much to Joseph'staste; and, at a visit which his sister compelled him to pay to the opera, he remained ensconced at the back of her box till she dragged him forward, and, as if by main force, presented him to the audience. The whole theatreresounded with applause, expressed in such a way as to mark that it was tothe queen's brother, fully as much as to the emperor, that the homage waspaid. The opera was "Iphigénie, " the chorus in which, "_Chantons, célébrons notre reine_, " had by this time been almost as fully adopted, asthe expression of the national loyalty, as "God save the Queen" is inEngland. But even on its first performance it had not been hailed withmore rapturous cheering than shook the whole house on this occasion; andJoseph had the satisfaction of believing that his sister's hold on theaffection and on the respect of the Parisians was securely established. 

He was less pleased at the races in the Bois de Boulogne, which he visitedthe next day. No inconsiderable part of Mercy's disapproval of suchgatherings had been founded on the impropriety of gentlemen appearing inthe queen's presence in top-boots and leather breeches, instead of incourt dress; and the emperor's displeasure appears to have been chieflyexcited by the hurry and want of stately order which were inseparable fromthe excitement of a race-course, and which, indifferent as he was to manypoints of etiquette, seemed even to him derogatory to the majesty of aqueen to witness so closely. But he was far more dissatisfied with thecompany at the Princess de Guimenée's, to which the queen, with not quiteher usual judgment, persuaded him one evening to accompany her. He saw notonly gambling for much higher stakes than could be right for any lady toventure (the queen did not play herself), but he saw those who took partin the play lose their tempers over their cards and quarrel with oneanother; while he heard the hostess herself accused of cheating, thegamesters forgetting the respect due to their queen in their excitementand intemperance. He spoke strongly on the subject to Marie Antoinette, declaring that the apartment was no better than a common gaming-house; butwas greatly mortified to see that his reproofs on this subject werereceived with less than the usual attention, and that she allowed herpartiality for those whom she called her friends to outweigh her feelingof the impropriety of disorders of which she could not deny the existence. 

But entertainments and amusements were not permitted to engross much ofhis time. If he visited the king and queen as a brother, he was visitingFrance and Paris as a sovereign and a statesman, and as such he made acareful inspection of all that Paris had most worthy of his attention--ofthe barracks, the arsenals, the hospitals, the manufactories. And heacquired a very high idea of the capabilities and resources of thecountry, though, at the same time, a very low opinion of the talents andintegrity of the existing ministers. Of the king himself he conceived afavorable estimate. Of his desire to do his duty to his people he hadalways been convinced, but, in a long conversation which he had held withhim on the character of the French people, [6] and of the best mode ofgoverning them, in which Louis entered into many details, he found hiscorrectness of judgment and general knowledge of sound principles ofpolicy far superior to his anticipations, though at the same time he feltconvinced that his want of readiness and decision, and his timidity inaction, would always render and keep him very inferior to the queen, especially whenever it should be necessary to come to a prompt decision onmatters of moment. 

After a visit of six weeks, he quit Paris for his dominions in theNetherlands at the end of May, and a letter of the queen to her mother isvery expressive of the pleasure which she had received from his visit, andof the lasting benefits which she hoped to derive from it. 

"Versailles, June 14th. 

"MY DEAREST MOTHER, --It is plain truth that the departure of the emperorhas left a void in my heart from which I can not recover. I was so happyduring the short time of his visit that at this moment it all seems like adream. But one thing will never be a dream to me, and that is, the goodadvice and counsel which he gave me, and which is forever engraven in myheart. 

"I must tell my dear mamma that he gave me one thing which I earnestlybegged of him, and which causes me the greatest pleasure: it is a packetof advice, which he has left me in writing. At this moment it constitutesmy chief reading; and, if ever I could forget what he said to me, which Ido not believe I ever could, I should still have this paper always beforeme, which would soon recall me to my duty. My dear mamma will have learnedby the courier, who started yesterday, how well the king behaved duringthe last moments of my brother's visit. I can assure you that I thoroughlyunderstand him, and that he was really affected at the emperor'sdeparture. As he does not always recollect to pay attention to forms, hedoes not at all times show his feelings to the outer world, but all that Isee proves to me that he is truly attached to my brother, and that he hasthe greatest regard for him; and at the moment of my brother's departure, when I was in the deepest distress, he showed an attention to, and atenderness for, me which all my life I shall never forget, and which wouldattach me to him, if I had not been attached to him already. 

"It is impossible that my brother should not have been pleased with thisnation. For one who, like him, knows how to estimate men, must have seenthat, in spite of the exceeding levity which is inveterate in the people, there is a manliness and cleverness in them, and, speaking generally, anexcellent heart, and a desire to do right. The only thing is to managethem properly.... I have this moment received your dear letter by thepost. What goodness yours is, at a moment when you have so much businessto think of, to recollect my name day! It overwhelms me. You offer upprayers for my happiness. The greatest happiness that I can have is toknow that you are pleased with me, to deserve your kindness, and toconvince you that no one in the world feels greater affection or greaterrespect for you than I. "

It is a letter very characteristic of the writer, as showing that neithertime nor distance could chill her affection for her family; and that theattainment of royal authority had in no degree extinguished her habitualfeeling of duty: that it had even strengthened it by making itsperformance of importance not only to herself, but to others. Nor is thejealousy for the reputation of the French people, and the desire so warmlyprofessed that they should have won her brother's favorable opinion, lessbecoming in a queen of France; while, to descend to minor points, theneatness and felicity of the language may be admitted to prove, if hereducation had been incomplete when she left Austria, with how much pains, since her progress had depended on herself, she had labored to make up forits deficiencies. That she should have asked her brother, as she herementions, to leave her his advice in writing, is a practical proof thather expression of an earnest desire to do her duty was not a mere form ofwords; while the resolution which she avows never to forget hisadmonitions shows a genuine humility and candor, a sincere desire to betold of and to amend her faults, which one is hardly prepared to meet within a queen of one-and-twenty. For Joseph did not spare her, nor forbear toset before her in the plainest light those parts of her conduct which hedisapproved. He told her plainly that if in France people paid her respectand observance, it was only as the wife of their king that they honoredher; and that the tone of superiority in which she sometimes allowedherself to speak of him was as ill-judged as it was unbecoming. He hintedhis dissatisfaction at her conduct toward him as her husband in a seriesof questions which, unless she could answer as he wished, must, even inher own judgment, convict her of some failure in her duties to him. Didshe show him that she was wholly occupied with him, that her study was tomake him shine in the opinion of his subjects without any thought ofherself? Did she stifle every wish to shine at his expense, to be affablewhen he was not so, to seem to attend to matters which he neglected? Didshe preserve a discreet silence as to his faults and weaknesses, and makeothers keep silence about them also? Did she make excuses for him, andkeep secret the fact of her acting as his adviser? Did, she study hischaracter, his wishes? Did she take care never to seem cold or weary whenwith him, never indifferent to his conversation or his caresses?

The other matters on which the emperor chiefly dwells were those on whichMercy, and, by Mercy's advice, Maria Teresa also, had repeatedly pressedher. But those questions of Joseph's set plainly before us some of hisyoung sister's difficulties and temptations, and, it must be confessed, some points in which her conduct was not wholly unimpeachable indiscretion, even though her solid affection for her husband never waveredfor a moment. In some respects they were an ill-assorted couple. He wasslow, reserved, and awkward. She was clever, graceful, lively, and lookingfor liveliness. Both were thoroughly upright and conscientious; but he wasindifferent to the opinions formed of him, while she was eager to please, to be applauded, to be loved. The temptation was great, to one so young, at times to put her graces in contrast to his uncouthness; to be seen tolead him who had a right to lead her; and, though we may regret, we cannot greatly wonder, that she had not always steadiness to resist it. Onetie was still wanting to bind her to him more closely; and happily the daywas not far distant when that was added to complete and rivet their union. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Impressions made on the Queen by the Emperor's Visit. --Mutual Jealousiesof her Favorites. --The Story of the Chevalier d'Assas. --The TerraceConcerts at Versailles--More Inroads on Etiquette. --Insolence andUnpopularity of the Count d'Artois. --Marie Antoinette takes Interest inPolitics. --France concludes an Alliance with the United States. --Affairsof Bavaria. --Character of the Queen's Letters on Politics. --The Queenexpects to become a Mother. --Voltaire returns to Paris. --The Queendeclines to receive him. --Misconduct of the Duke of Orléans in the Actionoff Ushant. --The Queen uses her Influence in his Favor. 

The emperor's admonitions and counsels had not been altogether unfruitful. If they had not at once entirely extinguished his sister's taste for thepractices which he condemned, they had evidently weakened it; even though, as the first impression wore off, and her fear of being overwhelmed with_ennui_[1] resumed its empire, she relapsed for a while into her oldhabits, it was no longer with the same eagerness as before, and notwithout frequent avowals that they had lost their attraction. She visiblydrew off from the entanglements of the coterie with which she hadsurrounded herself. The members had grown jealous of one another. Madamede Polignac feared the influence of the superior disinterestedness of thePrincess de Lamballe; Madame de Guimenée, who was suspected of a want ofeven common honesty, grudged every favor that was bestowed on Madame dePolignac; and their rivalry, which was not always suppressed even in thequeen's presence, was not only felt by her to be degrading to herself, butwas also wearisome. 

Throughout the autumn her occupations and amusements were of a simplerkind. She read more, and agreeably surprised De Vermond by the soundnessof her reflections on many incidents and characters in history. Accountsof chivalrous deeds had an especial charm for her. Hume was still herfavorite author. And it happened that, while the gallantry of the loyalchampions of Charles I. Was fresh in her memory, a casual conversationthrew in her way an opportunity of doing honor to the self-devoted heroismof a French soldier whom the proudest of the British cavaliers might havewelcomed as a brother, but whose valiant and self-sacrificing fidelity hadbeen left unnoticed by the worthless sovereign in whose service he hadperished, and by his ministers, who thought only of securing the favor ofthe reigning mistress--favor to be won by actions of a very differentcomplexion. 

In the Seven Years' War, when the French army, under the Marshal DeBroglie, and the Prussians, under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, werewatching one another in the neighborhood of Wesel, the Chevalier d'Assas, a captain in the regiment of Auvergne, was in command of an outpost on adark night of October. He had strolled a little in advance of his sentriesinto the wood which fronted his position, when suddenly he found himselfsurrounded and seized by a body of armed enemies. They were the advancedguard of the prince's army, who was marching to surprise De Broglie by anight attack, and they threatened him with instant death if he made theslightest noise. If he were but silent, he was safe as a prisoner of war;but his safety would have been the ruin of the whole French army, whichhad no suspicion of its danger. He did not for even a moment hesitate. With all the strength of his voice he shouted to his men, who were withinhearing, that the enemy were upon them, and fell, bayoneted to death, almost before the words had passed his lips. He had saved his comrades andhis commander, and had influenced the issue of the whole campaign. Theenemy, whose well-planned enterprise his self-devotion had baffled, paid acordial tribute of praise to his heroism, Ferdinand himself publiclyexpressing his regret at the fate of one whose valor had shed honor onevery brother-soldier; but not the slightest notice had been taken of himby those in authority in France till his exploit was accidentallymentioned in the queen's apartments. It filled her with admiration. Sheasked what had been done to commemorate so noble a deed. She was told"nothing;" the man and his gallantry had been alike forgotten. "Had heleft descendants or kinsmen?" "He had a brother and two nephews; thebrother a retired veteran of the same regiment, the nephews officers indifferent corps of the army. " The dead hero was forgotten no longer. MarieAntoinette never rested till she had procured an adequate pension for thebrother, which was settled in perpetuity on the family; and promotion forboth the nephews; and, as a further compliment, Clostercamp, the name ofthe village which was the scene of the brave deed, was added forever totheir family name. The pension is paid to this day. For a time, indeed, itwas suspended while France was under the sway of the rapacious andinsensible murderers of the king who had granted it; but Napoleon restoredit; and, amidst all the changes that have since taken place in thegovernment of the country, every succeeding ruler has felt it equallyhonorable and politic to recognize the eternal claims which patrioticvirtue has on the gratitude of the country. 

Marie Antoinette had thus the honor of setting an example to theGovernment and the nation. Her heart was getting lighter as the vexationsunder which she had so long fretted began to disappear. The latecard-parties were often superseded, throughout the autumn, by concerts onthe terrace at Versailles, where the regimental bands were the performers, and to which all the well-dressed towns-people were admitted, while thequeen, attended by the princesses and her ladies, and occasionallyescorted by Louis himself, strolled up and down and among the crowd, diffusing even greater pleasure than they themselves enjoyed; MarieAntoinette, as usual, being the central object of attraction, and greetingall with a teaming brightness of expression, and an affability as cordialas it was dignified, which deserved to win all hearts. One of theentertainments which she gave to the king at the Little Trianon may herecorded, not for any unusual sumptuousness of the spectacle, but ashaving been the occasion on which she made one more inroad on theestablished etiquette of the court in one of its most unaccountablerestrictions: to such royal parties the king's ministers had never beenregarded as admissible, but on this night Marie Antoinette commanded thecompany of the Count and Countess de Maurepas. And the innovation wasregarded not only by them as a singular favor, but by all their colleaguesas a marked compliment to the whole body of ministers, and served toincrease their desire to consult her inclinations in every matter in whichshe took an interest. 

And the esteem which she thus conciliated was at this time not destituteof real importance, since the conduct of the other members of the royalfamily excited very different feelings. The Count de Provence wasgenerally distrusted as intriguing and insincere. And the Count d'Artois, whose bad qualities were of a more conspicuous character, was becoming anobject of general dislike, not so much from his dissipated mode of life asfrom the overbearing arrogance which he imparted into his pleasures. Norank was high enough to protect the objects of his displeasure from hisinsolence; even ladies were not safe from it;[2] while his extravagancewas beyond all bounds since he considered himself entitled to claim from, the national treasury whatever he might require in addition to his statedincome. He was at the same time repairing one castle, that of St. Germain, which the king had given him; rebuilding another large house which he hadpurchased in the same neighborhood; and pulling down and rebuilding athird, named Bagatelle, in the Bois de Boulogne, which he had just bought, and as to which he had laid an enormous wager that it should be completedand furnished in sixty days. To win his bet nearly a thousand workmen wereemployed day and night, and, as the requisite materials could not beprovided at so short a notice, he sent patrols of his regiment to scourthe roads, and seize every cart loaded with stones or timber for otheremployers, which he thus appropriated to his own use. He did, indeed, payfor the goods thus seized, and he won his bet, but when the princes of theland made so open a parade of their disregard of all law and all decency, one can hardly wonder that men in secret began, to talk of a revolution, or that all the graces and gentleness of the queen should be needed tooutweigh such grave causes of discontent and indignation. 

As the new year opened, affairs of a very different kind began to occupythe queen's attention. On political questions, the advice which theempress gave her differed in some degree from that of her embassador. Maria Teresa was an earnest politician, but she was also a mother; and, asbeing eager above all things for her daughter's happiness, while sheentreated Marie Antoinette to study politics, history, and such othersubjects as might qualify her to be an intelligent companion of the king, and so far as or whenever he might require it, his chief confidante, shewarned her also against ever wishing to rule him. But Mercy was astatesman above every thing, and, feeling secure of being able to guidethe queen, he desired to instill into her mind an ambition to govern theking. On one most important question she proved wholly unable to do so, since the decision taken was not even in accordance with the judgment orinclination of Louis himself; but he allowed himself to be persuaded bytwo of his ministers to adopt a course against which Joseph had earnestlywarned him in the preceding year, and which, as he had been thenconvinced, was inconsistent alike with his position as a king and with hisinterests as King of France. 

England had been for some years engaged in a civil war with her coloniesin North America, and from the commencement of the contest a strongsympathy for the colonists had been evinced by a considerable party inFrance. Louis, who, for several reasons disliked England and Englishideas, was at first inclined to coincide in this feeling as a developmentof anti-English principles: he was far from suspecting that its source wasrather a revolutionary and republican sentiment. But he had conversed withhis brother-in-law on the possibility of advantages which might accrue toFrance from the weakening of her old foe, if French aid should enable theAmericans to establish their independence. Joseph's opinion was clear andunhesitating: "I am a king; it is my business to be royalist. " And heeasily convinced Louis that for one sovereign to assist the subjects ofanother monarch who were in open revolt, was to set a mischievous examplewhich might in time be turned against himself. But since his return toVienna, unprecedented disasters had befallen England; a whole army hadlaid down its arms; the ultimate success of the Americans seemed to everystatesman in Europe to be assured, and the prospect gave suchencouragement to the war party in the French cabinet that Louis couldresist it no longer. In February, 1778, a treaty was concluded with theUnited States, as the insurgents called themselves; and France plungedinto a war from which she had nothing to gain, which involved her inenormous expenses, which brought on her overwhelming defeats, and which, from its effects upon the troops sent to serve with the American army, whothus became infected with republican principles, had no slight influencein bringing about the calamities which, a few years later, overwhelmedboth king and people. 

All Marie Antoinette's language on the subject shows that she viewed thequarrel with England with even greater repugnance than her husband; but itis curious to see that her chief fear was lest the war should be waged byland, and that she felt much greater confidence in the French navy than inthe army;[3] though it was just at this time that Voltaire was pointingout to his countrymen that England had always enjoyed and always wouldpossess a maritime superiority which different inquirers might attributeto various causes, but which none could deny. [4]

Even before the conclusion of this treaty, however, the Americans hadfound sympathizers in France, to one of whom some of the circumstances ofthe war which they were now waging gave a subsequent importance to whichno talents or virtues of his own entitled him. The Marquis de La Fayettewas a young man of ancient family, and of fair but not excessive fortune. He was awkward in appearance and manner, gawky, red-haired, and singularlydeficient in the accomplishments which were cultivated by other youths ofhis age and rank. [5] But he was deeply imbued with the doctrines of thenew philosophy which saw virtue in the mere fact of resistance toauthority; and when the colonists took up arms, he became eager to affordthem such aid as he could give. He made the acquaintance of Silas Deane, one of the most unscrupulous of the American agents, who promised him, though he was only twenty years of age, the rank of major-general. As hewas at all times the slave of a most overweening conceit, he was temptedby that bait; and, though he could not leave France without incurring theforfeiture of his military rank in the army of his own country, in April, 1777, he crossed over to America to serve as a volunteer under Washington, who naturally received with special distinction a recruit of suchpolitical importance. He was present at more than one battle, and waswounded at Brandywine; but the exploit which made him most conspicuous wasa ridiculous act of bravado in sending a challenge to Lord Carlisle, thechief of the English Commissioners who in 1778 were dispatched to Americato endeavor to re-establish peace. However, the close of the war, whichended, as is well known, in the humiliation of Great Britain and theestablishment of the independence of the colonies, made him seem a hero tohis countrymen on his return. The queen, always eager to encourage andreward feats of warlike enterprise, treated him with marked distinction, and procured him from her husband not only the restoration of hiscommission, but promotion to the command of a regiment;[6] kindness which, as will be seen, he afterward requited with the foulest ingratitude. 

Nor was this most imprudent war with England the only question of foreignpolitics which at this time interested Marie Antoinette. Her native land, her mother's hereditary dominions, were also threatened with war. On thedeath of the Elector of Bavaria at the end of 1777, Joseph, who had beenmarried to his sister, claimed a portion of his territories; and Frederickof Prussia, that "bad neighbor, " as Marie Antoinette was wont to call him, announced his resolution to resist that claim, by force of arms ifnecessary. If he should carry out the resolution which he had announced, and if war should in consequence break out, much would depend on theattitude which France would assume on her fidelity to or disregard of thealliance which had now subsisted more than twenty years. So all-importantto Austria was her decision, that Maria Teresa forgot the line which, as ageneral rule of conduct, she had recommended to her daughter, and wrote toher with the most extreme earnestness to entreat her to lose noopportunity of influencing the King's council. If it depended upon MariaTeresa, the claim would probably not have been advanced; but Joseph hadmade it on the part of the empire, and, when it was once made, the empresscould not withhold her support from her son. She therefore threw herselfinto the quarrel with as much earnestness as if it had been her own. Indeed, since Joseph had as yet no authority over her hereditarypossessions, it was only by her armies that it could be maintained; and inher letters to her daughter she declared that Marie Antoinette had herhappiness, the welfare of her house, and of the whole Austrian nation inher hands; that all depended on her activity and affection. She knew thatthe French ministers were inclined to favor the views of Frederick, but ifthe alliance should be dissolved it would kill her. [7] Marie Antoinettegrew pale at reading so ominous a denunciation. It required no art toinflame her against Frederick. The Seven Years' War had begun when she wasbut a year old; and all her life she had heard of nothing more frequentlythan of the rapacity and dishonesty of that unprincipled aggressor. Shenow entered with eagerness into her mother's views, and pressed them onLouis with unremitting diligence and considerable fertility of argument, though she was greatly dismayed at finding that not only his ministers, but he himself, regarded Austria as actuated by an aggressive ambition, and compared her claim to a portion of Bavaria to the partition of Poland, which, six years before, had drawn forth unwonted expressions of honorableindignation from even his unworthy grandfather. The idea that the alliancebetween France and the empire was itself at stake on the question, madeher so anxious that she sent for the ministers themselves, pressing herviews on both Maurepas and Vergennes with great earnestness. But they, though still faithful to the maintenance of the alliance, sympathized withthe king rather than with her in his view of the character of the claimwhich the emperor had put forward; and they also urged another argumentfor abstaining from any active intervention, that the finances of thecountry were in so deplorable a state that France could not afford to goto war. It was plain, as she told them, that this consideration should atleast equally have prevented their quarreling with England. But, in spiteof all her persistence, they were not to be moved from this view of thetrue interest of France in the conjuncture that had arisen; and, accordingly, in the brief war which ensued between the empire and Prussia, France took no part, though it is more than probable that her mediationbetween the belligerents, which had no little share in bringing about thepeace of Teschen, [8] was in a great degree owing to the queen's influence. 

For she was not discouraged by her first failure, but renewed herimportunities from time to time; and at last did succeed in wringing apromise from her husband that if Prussia should invade the Flemishprovinces of Austria, France would arm on the empress's side. So fully didthe affair absorb her attention that it made her indifferent to thegayeties which the carnival always brought round. She did, indeed, as amatter of duty, give one or two grand state balls, one of which, in whichthe dancers of the quadrilles were masked, and in which their dressesrepresented the male and female costumes of India, was long talked of forboth the magnificence and the novelty of the spectacle; and she attendedone or two of the opera-balls, under the escort of her brothers-in-law andtheir countesses; but they had begun to pall upon her, and she maderepeated offers to the king to give them up and to spend her evenings inquiet with him. But he was more inclined to prompt her to seek amusementthan to allow her to sacrifice any, [9] even such as he did not care topartake of; nevertheless, he was pleased with the offer, and it wasobserved by the courtiers that the mutual confidence of the husband andwife in each other was more marked and more firmly established than ever. He showed her all the dispatches, consulted her on all points, andexplained his reasons when he could not adopt all her views. As MarieAntoinette wrote to her brother, "If it were possible to reckon wholly onany man, the king was the one on whom she could thoroughly rely. [10]"

So greatly, indeed, did the quarrel between Austria and Prussia engrossher, that it even occupied the greater part of letters whose ostensibleobject is to announce prospects of personal happiness which might havebeen expected to extinguished every other consideration. In one, aftertouching briefly on her health and hopes, she proceeds:

"How kind my dear mamma is, to express her approval of the way in which Ihave conducted myself in these affairs up to the present time! Alas! thereis no need for you to feel obliged to me; it was my heart that acted inthe whole matter. I am only vexed at not being able to enter myself intothe feelings of all these ministers, so as to be able to make themcomprehend how every thing which has been done and demanded by theauthorities at Vienna is just and reasonable. But unluckily none are moredeaf than those who will not hear; and, besides, they have such a numberof terms and phrases which mean nothing, that they bewilder themselvesbefore they come to say a single reasonable thing. I will try one plan, and that is to speak to them both in the king's presence, to induce them, at least, to hold language suitable to the occasion to the King ofPrussia; and in good truth it is for the interest and glory of theking[11] himself that I am anxious to see this done; for he can not butgain by supporting allies who on every account ought to be so dear to him. 

"In other respects, and especially in my present conditions, he behavesmost admirably, and is most attentive to me. I protest to you, my dearmamma, that my heart would be torn by the idea that you could for a momentsuspect his good-will in what has been done. No; it is the terribleweakness of his ministers, and tis own great want of self-reliance, whichdoes all the mischief; and I am sure that if he would never act but on hisown judgment, every one would see his honesty, his correctness of feeling, and his tact, which at present they are far from appreciating. [12]"

And at the end of the month she writes again:

"I saw Mercy a day or two ago: he showed me the articles which the King ofPrussia sent to my brother. I think it is impossible to see any thing moreabsurd than his proposals. In fact, they are so ridiculous that they muststrike every one here; I can answer for their appearing so to the king. Ihave not been able to see the ministers. M. De Vergennes has not been here[she is writing from Marly]; he is not well, so that I must wait till wereturn to Versailles. 

"I had seen before the correspondence of the King of Prussia with mybrother. It is most abominable of the former to have sent it here, and themore so since, in truth, he has not much to boast of. His imprudence, hisbad faith, and his malignant temper are visible in every line. I have beenenchanted with my brother's answers. It is impossible to put into lettersmore grace, more moderation, and at the same time more force. I am goingto say something which is very vain; but I do believe that there is not inthe whole world any one but the emperor, the son of my dearest mother, whohas the happiness of seeing her every day, who could write in such amanner. "

There is no trace in these letters of the levity and giddiness of whichMercy so often complains, and which she at times did not deny. On thecontrary, they display an earnestness as well as a good sense and anenergy which are gracefully set off by the affection for her mother, andthe pride in her brother's firmness and address which they also express. With respect to the conduct of Louis at this crisis we may perhaps differfrom her; and may think that he rarely showed so much self-reliance, thegeneral want of which was in truth his greatest defect, as when hepreferred the arguments of Vergennes to her entreaties. But if her praisesof the emperor are, as she herself terms them, vanity, it is the vanity ofsisterly and patriotic affection, which can not but be regarded withapproval; and we may see in it an additional proof of the correctness ofan assertion, repeated over and over again in Mercy's correspondence, that, whenever Marie Antoinette gave the rein to her own natural impulses, she invariably both thought and acted rightly. 

In one of the extracts which have just been quoted, the queen alludes toher own condition; and that, in any one less unselfish, might well havedriven all other thoughts from her head. For the event to which she had solong looked forward as that which was wanted to crown her happiness, andwhich had been so long deferred that at times she had ceased to hope forit at all, was at last about to take place--she was about to become amother. Her own joy at the prospect was shared to its full extent by boththe king and the empress. Louis, roused out of his usual reserve, wrotewith his own hand to both the empress and the emperor, to give theintelligence; and Maria Teresa declared that she had nothing left to wishfor, and that she could now close her eyes in peace. And the news wasreceived with almost equal pleasure by the citizens of Paris, who had longdesired to see an heir born to the crown; and by those of Vienna, who hadnot yet forgotten the fair young princess, the flower of her mother'sflock, as they had fondly called her, whom they had sent to fill a foreignthrone. Her own happiness exhibited itself, as usual, in acts ofbenevolence, in the distribution of liberal gifts to the poor of Paris andVersailles, and a foundation of a hospital for those in a similarcondition with herself. [13]

In the course of the spring, Paris was for a moment excited even more thanby the declaration of war against England, or than by the expectation ofthe queen's confinement, by the return of Voltaire, who had long been indisgrace with the court, and had been for many years living in a sort oftacit exile on the borders of the Lake of Geneva. He was now in extremeold age, and, believing himself to have but a short time to live, hewished to see Paris once more, putting forward as his principal motive hisdesire to superintend the performance of his tragedy of "Irene. " Hisadmirers could easily secure him a brilliant reception at the theatre; butthey were anxious above all things to obtain for him admission to thecourt, or at least a private interview with the queen. She felt in adilemma. Joseph, a year before, had warned her against givingencouragement to a man whose principles deserved the reprobation of allsovereigns. He himself, though on his return to Vienna he had passedthrough Geneva, had avoided an interview with him, while the empress hadbeen far more explicit in her condemnation of his character. On the otherhand, Marie Antoinette had not yet learned the art of refusing, when thosewho solicited a favor had personal access to her; and she had also somecuriosity to see a man whose literary fame was accounted one of the chiefglories of the nation and the age. She consulted the king, but foundLouis, on this subject, in entire agreement with her mother and herbrother. He had no literary curiosity, and he disapproved equally thelessons which Voltaire had throughout his life sought to inculcate uponothers, and the licentious habits with which he had exemplified his ownprinciples in action. She yielded to his objections, and Voltaire, deeplymortified at the refusal, [14] was left to console himself as best he couldwith the enthusiastic acclamations of the play-goers of the capital, whocrowned his bust on the stage, while he sat exultingly in his box, andescorted him back in triumph to his house; those who could approach nearenough even kissing his garments as he passed, till he asked them whetherthey designed to kill him with delight; as, indeed, in some sense, theymay be said to have done, for the excitement of the homage thus paid tohim day after day, whenever he was seen in public, proved too much for hisfeeble frame. He was seized with illness, which, however, was but anatural decay, and in a few weeks after his arrival in Paris he died. 

As the year wore on, Marie Antoinette was fully occupied in makingarrangements for the child whose coming was expected with such impatience. Her mother is of course her chief confidante. She is to be the child'sgodmother; her name shall be the first its tongue is to learn topronounce; while for its early management the advice of so experienced aparent is naturally sought with unhesitating deference. Still, MarieAntoinette is far from being always joyful. Russia has made an alliancewith Prussia; Frederick has invaded Bohemia, and she is so overwhelmedwith anxiety that she cancels invitations for parties which she was aboutto give at the Trianon, and would absent herself from the theatre and fromall public places, did not Mercy persuade her that such a withdrawal wouldseem to be the effect, not of a natural anxiety, but of a despondencywhich would be both unroyal and unworthy of the reliance which she oughtto feel on the proved valor of the Austrian armies. 

The war with England, also, was an additional cause of solicitude andvexation. The sailors in whom she had expressed such confidence were notbetter able than before to contend with British antagonists. In anundecisive skirmish which took place in July between two fleets of thefirst magnitude, the French admiral, D'Orvilliers, had made a practicalacknowledgment of his inferiority by retreating in the night, and eludingall the exertions of the English admiral, Keppel, to renew the action. Thediscontent in Paris was great; the populace was severe on one or two ofthe captains, who were thought to have taken undue care of their ships andof themselves, and especially bitter against the Duke de Chartres, who hadhad a rear-admiral's command in the fleet, and who, after having madehimself conspicuous before D'Orvilliers sailed, by his boasts of theprowess which he intended to exhibit, had made himself equally notoriousin the action itself by the pains he took to keep himself out of danger. On his return to Paris, shameless as he was, he scarcely dared show hisface, till the Comte d'Artois persuaded the queen to throw her shield overhim. It was impossible for him to remain in the navy; but, to soften hisfall, the count proposed that the king should create a new appointment forhim, as colonel-general of the light cavalry. Louis saw the impropriety ofsuch a step: truly it was but a questionable compliment to pay to hishussars, to place in authority over them a man under whom no sailor wouldwillingly serve. Marie Antoinette in her heart was as indignant as anyone. Constitutionally an admirer of bravery, she had taken especialinterest in the affairs of the fleet and in the details of this action. She had honored with the most marked eulogy the gallantry of Admiral duChaffault, who had been severely wounded; but now she allowed herself tobe persuaded that the duke's public disgrace would reflect on the wholeroyal family, and pressed the request so earnestly on the king that atlast he yielded. In outward appearance the duke's honor was saved; but thepublic, whose judgment on such matter is generally sound, and who hadrevived against him some of the jests with which the comrades of Luxemburghad shown their scorn of the Duke de Maine, blamed her interference; andthe duke himself, by the vile ingratitude with which he subsequentlyrepaid her protection, gave but too sad proof that of all offendersagainst honor the most unworthy of royal indulgence is a coward. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Birth of Madame Royale. --Festivities of Thanksgiving. --The Dames de laHalle at the Theatre. --Thanksgiving at Notre Dame. --The King goes to a Bald'Opéra. --The Queen's Carriage breaks down. --Marie Antoinette has theMeasles. --Her Anxiety about the War. --Retrenchments of Expense. 

Mercy, while deploring the occasional levity of the queen's conduct, andher immoderate thirst for amusement, had constantly looked forward to thebirth of a child as the event which, by the fresh and engrossingoccupation it would afford to her mind, would be the surest remedy for herjuvenile heedlessness. And, as we have seen, the absence of any prospectof becoming a mother had, till recently, been a constant source of anxietyand vexation to the queen herself--the one drop of bitterness in her cup, which, but for that, would have been filled with delights. But thisdisappointment was now to pass away. From the moment that it was publiclyannounced that the queen was in the way to become a mother, one generaldesire seemed to prevail to show how deep an interest the whole nationfelt in the event. In cathedrals, monasteries, abbeys, universities, andparish churches, masses were celebrated and prayers offered for her safedelivery. In many instances, private individuals even gave extraordinaryalms to bring down the blessing of Heaven on the nation, so interested inthe expected event. And on the 19th of December, 1778, the prayers wereanswered, and the hopes of the country in great measure realized by thebirth of a princess, who was instantly christened Maria Thérèse Charlotte, in compliment to the empress, her godmother. 

The labor was long, and had nearly proved fatal to the mother, from thestrange and senseless custom which made the queen's bed-chamber on such anoccasion a reception-room for every one, of whatever rank or station, whocould force his way in. [1] In most countries, perhaps in all, thegenuineness of a royal infant is assured by the presence of a few greatofficers of state; but on this occasion not only all the ministers, withall the members of the king's or of the queen's household, were present inthe chamber, but a promiscuous rabble filled the adjacent saloon andgallery, and, the moment that it was announced that the birth was about totake place, rushed in disorderly tumult into the apartment, some climbingon the chairs and sofas, and even on the tables and wardrobes, to obtain abetter sight of the patient. The uproar was great. The heat becameintense; the queen fainted. The king himself dashed at the windows, whichwere firmly closed, and by an unusual effort of strength tore down thefastenings and admitted air into the room. The crowd was driven out, butMarie Antoinette continued insensible; and the moment was so critical thatthe physician had recourse to his lancet, and opened a vein in her foot. As the blood came she revived. The king himself came to her side, andannounced to her that she was the mother of a daughter. 

It can hardly be said that the hopes of the nation, or of the kinghimself, had been fully realized, since an heir to the throne, a dauphin, that had been universally hoped for. But in the general joy that was feltat the queen's safety the disappointment of this hope was disregarded, andthe little princess, Madame Royale, as she was called from her birth, wasreceived by the still loyal people in the same spirit as that in whichAnne Boleyn's lady in waiting had announced to Henry VIII. The birth ofher "fair young maid:"

 "_King Henry_. Now by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the queen delivered? Say ay; and of a boy. 

 "_Lady_. Ay, ay, my liege, And of a lovely boy. The God of Heaven Both now and ever bless her. 'Tis a girl, Promises boys hereafter. "

And a month before the empress had expressed a similar sentiment: "Itrust, " she wrote to her daughter in November, "that God will grant me thecomfort of knowing that you are safely delivered. Every thing else is amatter of indifference. Boys will come after girls. [2]" And the samefeeling was shared by the Parisians in general, and embodied by M. Imbert, a courtly poet, whose odes were greatly in vogue in the fashionablecircles, in an epigram which was set to music and sung in the theatres. 

 "Pour toi, France, un dauphin doit naître, Une Princesse vient pour en être témoin, Sitôt qu'on voit une grâce paraître, Croyez que l'amour n'est pas loin. [3]"

Marie Antoinette herself was scarcely disappointed at all. When theattendants brought her her babe, she pressed it to her bosom. "Poor littlething, " said she, "you are not what was desired, but you shall not be theless dear to me. A son would have belonged to the State; you will be myown: you shall have all my care, you shall share my happiness and sweetenmy vexations. [4]"

The Count de Provence made no secret of his joy. He was still heirpresumptive to the throne. And, though no one shared his feelings on thesubject, for the next few weeks the whole kingdom, and especially thecapital, was absorbed in public rejoicings. Her own thankfullness wasdisplayed by Marie Antoinette in her usual way, by acts of benevolence. She sent large sums of money to the prisons to release poor debtors; shegave dowries to a hundred poor maidens; she applied to the chief officersof both army and navy to recommend her veterans worthy of especial reward;and to the curates of the metropolitan parishes to point out to her anydeserving objects of charity; and she also settled pensions on a number ofpoor children who were born on the same day as the princess; one of whom, who owed her education to this grateful and royal liberality, becameafterward known to every visitor of Paris as Madame Mars, the mostaccomplished of comic actresses. [5]

One portion of the rejoicings was marked by a curious incident, in whichthe same body whose right to a special place of honor at ceremoniesconnected with the personal happiness of the royal family we have alreadyseen admitted--the ladies of the fish-market--again asserted theirpretensions with triumphant success. On Christmas-eve the theatres wereopened gratuitously, but these ladies, who, with their friends, thecoal-heavers, selected the most aristocratic theatre, La ComédieFrançaise, for the honor of their visit, arrived with aristocraticunpunctuality, so late that the guards stopped them at the doors, declaring that the house was full, and that there was not a seat vacant. They declared that in any event room must be made for them. "Who were inthe boxes of the king and queen? for on such occasions those places weretheirs of right. " Even they, however, were full, and the guards demurredto the ladies' claim to be considered, though for this night only, as therepresentatives of royalty, and to have the existing occupants of theseats demanded turned out to make room for them. The box-keeper and themanager were sent for. The registers of the house confirmed the validityof the claim by former precedents, and a compromise was at last effected. Rows of benches were placed on each side of the stage itself. Those on theright were allotted to the coal-heavers as representatives of Louis; theladies of the fish-market sat on the left as the deputies of MarieAntoinette. Before the play was allowed to begin, his majesty the king ofthe coal-heavers read the bulletin of the day announcing the rapidprogress of the queen toward recovery; and then, giving his hand to thequeen of the fish-wives, the august pair, followed by their respectivesuites, executed a dance expressive of their delight at the good news, andthen resumed their seats, and listened to Voltaire's "Zaire" with the mostedifying gravity. [6] It was evident that in some things there was alreadyenough, and rather more than enough, of that equality the unreasonable andunpractical passion for which proved, a few years later, the most pregnantcause of immeasurable misery to the whole nation. 

But the demonstration most in accordance with the queen's own taste wasthat which took place a few weeks later, when she went in a stateprocession to the great national cathedral of Notre Dame to return thanks;one most interesting part of the ceremony being the weddings of thehundred young couples to whom she had given dowries, who also received asilver medal to commemorate the day. The gayety of the spectacle, sincethey, with the formal witnesses of their marriage, filled a great part ofthe antechapel; and the blessings invoked on the queen's head as she leftthe cathedral by the prisoners whom she had released, and by the poorwhose destitution she had relieved, made so great an impression on thespectators, that even the highest dignitaries of the court added theircheers and applause to those of the populace who escorted her coach to thegates on its return to Versailles. 

She was now, for the first time since her arrival in France, really andentirely happy, without one vexation or one foreboding of evil. The king'sattachment to her was rendered, if not deeper than before, at least farmore lively and demonstrative by the birth of his daughter; his delightcarrying him at times to most unaccustomed ebullitions of gayety. On thelast Sunday of the carnival, he even went alone with the queen to themasked opera ball, and was highly amused at finding that not one of thecompany recognized either him or her. He even proposed to repeat his visiton Shrove-Tuesday; but when the evening came he changed his mind, andinsisted on the queen's going by herself with one of her ladies, and thechange of plan led to an incident which at the time afforded greatamusement to Marie Antoinette, though it afterward proved a greatannoyance, as furnishing a pretext for malicious stories and scandal. Topreserve her _incognito_, a private carriage was hired for her, whichbroke down in the street close by a silk-mercer's shop. As the queen wasalready masked, the shop-men did not know her, and, at the request of thelady who attended her, stopped for her the first hackney-coach whichpassed, and in that unroyal vehicle, such as certainly no sovereign ofFrance had ever set foot in before, she at last reached the theatre. Asbefore, no one recognized her, and she might have enjoyed the scene andreturned to Versailles in the most absolute secrecy, had not her sense ofthe fun of a queen using such a conveyance overpowered her wish forconcealment, so that when, in the course of the evening, she met one ortwo persons of distinction whom she knew, she could not forbear tellingthem who she was, and that she had come in a hackney-coach. 

Her health seemed less delicate than it had been before her confinement. But in the spring she was attacked by the measles, and her illness, slightas it was, gave occasion to a curious passage in court history. The fearof infection was always great at Versailles, and, as the king himself andsome of the ladies had never had the complaint, they were excluded fromher room. But that she might not be left without attendants, four noblesof the court, the Duke de Coigny, the Duke de Guines, the Count Esterhazy, and the Baron de Besenval, in something of the old spirit of chivalry, devoted themselves to her service, and solicited permission to watch byher bedside till she recovered. As has been already seen, the bed-chamberand dressing-room of a queen of France had never been guarded fromintrusion with the jealousy which protects the apartments of ladies inother countries, so that the proposal was less startling than it wouldhave been considered elsewhere, while the number of nurses removed allpretext for scandal. Louis willingly gave the required permission, beingapparently flattered by the solicitude exhibited for his queen's health. And each morning at seven the sick-watchers[7] took their seats in thequeen's chamber, sharing with the Countess of Provence, the Princesse deLamballe, and the Count d'Artois the task of keeping order and quiet inthe sick-room till eleven at night. Though there was no scandal, there wasplenty of jesting at so novel an arrangement. Wags proposed that in thecase of the king being taken ill, a list should be prepared of the ladieswho should tend his sick-bed. However, the champions were not long onduty: at the end of little more than a week their patient wasconvalescent. She herself took off the sentence of banishment which shehad pronounced against the king in a brief and affectionate note, whichsaid "that she had suffered a great deal, but what she had felt most wasto be for so many days deprived of the pleasure of embracing him. " And thetemporary separation seemed to have but increased their mutual affectionfor each other. 

The Trianon was now more than ever delightful to her. The new plantations, which contained no fewer than eight hundred different kinds of trees, richwith every variety of foliage, were beginning, by their effectiveness, togive evidence of the taste with which they had been laid out; while with acharity which could not bear to keep her blessings wholly to herself, shehad set apart one corner of the grounds for a row of picturesque cottages, in which she had established a number of pensioners whom age or infirmityhad rendered destitute, and whom she constantly visited with presents fromher dairy or her fruit-trees. Roaming about the lawns and walks, which shehad made herself, in a muslin gown and a plain straw hat, she could forgetthat she was a queen. She did not suspect that the intriguers, who fromtime to time maligned her most innocent actions, were misrepresenting eventhese simple and natural pleasures, and whispering in their secret cabalsthat her very dress was a proof that she still clung as resolutely as everto her Austrian preferences; that she discarded her silk gowns becausethey were the work of French manufacturers, while they were her brother'sFlemish subjects who supplied her with muslins. 

But, far beyond her plantations and her flowers, her child was to her asource of unceasing delight. She could be carried by her side about thegarden a great part of the day. For, as in her anticipations andpreparations she had told her mother long before, French parents kepttheir children as much as possible in the open air, [8] a fashion whichfully accorded with her own notions of what was best calculated to give aninfant health and strength. And before the babe was five months old, [9]she flattered herself that it already distinguished her from its nurses. That nothing might be wanting to her comfort, peace was re-establishedbetween Austria and Prussia; and if at this time the war with England didmake her in some degree uneasy, she yet felt a sanguine anticipation oftriumph for the French arms, in the event of a battle between the hostilefleets; a result of which, when the antagonists did come within sight ofeach other, it appeared that the French and Spanish admirals felt far lessconfident. Her anxieties and hopes are vividly set forth in a letterwhich, in the course of the summer, she wrote to her mother, which is alsosingularly interesting from its self-examination, and from the substantialproof it supplies of the correctness of those anticipations which werebased on the salutary effect which her novel position as a mother might beexpected to have upon her character. 

"Versailles, August 16th. 

"My Dearest Mother, --I can not find language to express to my dear mammamy thanks for her two letters, and for the kindness with which sheexpresses her willingness to exert herself to the utmost to procure uspeace. [10] It is true that that would be a great happiness, and my heartdesires it more than any thing in the world; but, unhappily, I do not seeany appearance of it at present. Every thing depends on the moment. Ourfleets, the French and Spanish, being now united, we have a considerablesuperiority. [11]

"They are now in the Channel; and I can not without great agitationreflect that at any instant the whole fate of the war may be decided. I amalso terrified at the approach of September, when the sea is no longerpracticable. In short, it is only on the bosom of my dearest mamma that Ilay aside all my disquiet God grant that it may be groundless, but herkindness encourages me to speak to her as I think. The king is touched, quite as he should be, with all the service you so kindly propose torender him; and I do not doubt that he will be always eager to profit byit, rather than to deliver himself up to the intrigues of those who haveso frequently deceived France, and whom we must regard as our naturalenemies. 

"My health is completely re-established. I am going to resume my ordinaryway of life, and consequently I hope soon to be able to announce to mydearest mother fresh news such as that of last year. She may feel quitere-assured now as to my behavior. I feel too strongly the necessity ofhaving more children to be careless in that. If I have formerly doneamiss, it was my youth and my levity; but now my head is thoroughlysteadied, and you may reckon confidently on my properly feeling all myduties. Besides that, I owe such conduct to the king as a reward for histenderness, and, I will venture to say it, his confidence in me, for whichI can only praise him more find more. 

"... I venture to send my dear mamma the picture of my daughter: it isvery like her. The dear little thing begins to walk very well in herleading-strings. She has been able to say "papa" for some days. Her teethhave not yet come through, but we can feel them all. I am very glad thather first word has been her father's name. It is one more tie for him. Hebehaves to me most admirably, and nothing could be wanting to make me lovehim more. My dear mamma will forgive my twaddling about the little one;but she is so kind that sometimes I abuse her kindness. "

It was well for Marie Antoinette's happiness that her husband was one inwhom, as we have seen that she told her mother, she could feel entireconfidence, for during her seclusion in the measles the intriguers of thecourt had ventured to try and work upon him. Mercy had reason to suspectthat some were even wicked enough to desire to influence him against hiswife by the same means by which the Duke de Richelieu had formerlyalienated his grandfather from Marie Leczinska; and the queen herselfreceived proof positive that Maurepas, in spite of her civilities to himand his countess, had become jealous of her political influence, and hadendeavored to prevent his consulting her on public affairs. But allmanoeuvres intended to disturb the conjugal felicity of the royal pairwere harmless against the honest fidelity of the king, the gracefulaffection of the queen, and the firm confidence of each in the other. Thepeople generally felt that the influence which it was now notorious thatthe queen did exert on public affairs was a salutary one; and greatsatisfaction was expressed when it became known in the autumn that theusual visit to Fontainebleau was given up, partly as being costly, andtherefore undesirable while the nation had need to concentrate all itsresources on the effective prosecution of the war, and partly that theking might be always within reach of his ministers in the event of anyintelligence of importance arriving which required prompt decision. 

Her letters to her mother at this time show how entirely her wholeattention was engrossed by the war; and, at the same time, with what wiseearnestness she desired the re-establishment of peace. Even some gleams ofsuccess which had attended the French arms in the West Indies, where theMarquis de Bouillé, the most skillful soldier of whom France at that timecould boast, took one or two of the British islands, and the Countd'Estaing, whose fleet of thirty-six sail was for a short time farsuperior to the English force in that quarter, captured one or two more, did not diminish her eagerness for a cessation of the war. Though it iscurious to see that she had become so deeply imbued with the principles ofstatesmanship with which M. Necker, the present financial minister, wasseeking to inspire the nation, that her objections to the continuance ofthe war turned chiefly on the degree in which it affected the revenue andexpenditure of the kingdom. She evidently sympathizes in thedisappointment which, as she reports to the empress, is generally felt bythe public at the mismanagement of the admiral, M. D'Orvilliers, who, withforces so superior to those of the English, has neither been able to fallin with them so as to give them battle, nor to hinder any of theirmerchantmen from reaching their harbors in safety. As it is, he will havespent a great deal of money in doing nothing. [12] And a month later sherepeats the complaints. [13] The king and she have renounced the journeyto Fontainebleau because of the expenses of the war; and also that theymay be in the way to receive earlier intelligence from the army. But thefleet has not been able to fall in with the English, and has done nothingat all. It is a campaign lost, and which has cost a great deal of money. What is still more afflicting is, that disease has broken out on board theships, and has caused great havoc; and the dysentery, which is raging asan epidemic in Brittany and Normandy, has attacked the land force also, which was intended to embark for England ... "I greatly fear, " sheproceeds, "that these misfortunes of ours will render the Englishdifficult to treat with, and may prevent proposals of peace, of which Isee no immediate prospect. I am constantly persuaded that if the kingshould require a mediation, the intrigues of the King of Prussia willfail, and will not prevent the king from availing himself of the offers ofmy dear mamma. I shall take care never to lose sight of this object, whichis of such interest to the whole happiness of my life. " So full is hermind of the war, that four or five words in each letter to report that"her daughter is in perfect health, " or that "she has cut four teeth, " areall that she can spare for that subject, generally of such engrossinginterest to herself and the empress; while, before the end of the year, wefind her taking even the domestic troubles of England into hercalculations, [14] and speculating on the degree in which the aspect ofaffairs in Ireland may affect the great preparations which the Englishministers are making for the next campaign. 

The mere habit of devoting so much consideration to affairs of this kindwas beneficial as tending to mature and develop her capacity. She wasrapidly learning to take large views of political questions, even if theywere not always correct. And the acuteness and earnestness of her commentson them daily increased her influence over both the king and theministers, so that in the course of the autumn Mercy could assure theempress[15] that "the king's complaisance toward her increased every day, "that "he made it his study to anticipate all her wishes, and that thisattention showed itself in every kind of detail, " while Maurepas also wasunable to conceal from himself that her voice always prevailed "in everycase in which she chose to exert a decisive will, " and accordingly "benthimself very prudently" before a power which he had no means of resisting. So solicitous indeed did the whole council show itself to please her, thatwhen the king, who was aware that her allowance, in spite of its recentincrease was insufficient to defray the charges to which she was liable, proposed to double it, Necker himself, with all his zeal for economy andretrenchment, eagerly embraced the suggestion; and its adoption gave thequeen a fresh opportunity of strengthening the esteem and affection of thenation, by declaring that while the war lasted she would only accept halfthe sum thus placed at her disposal. 

The continuance of the war was not without its effect on the gayety of thecourt, from the number of officers whom their military duties detainedwith their regiments; but the quiet was beneficial to Marie Antoinette, whose health was again becoming delicate, so much so, that after a granddrawing-room which she held on New-year's-eve, and which was attended bynearly two hundred of the chief ladies of the city, she was completelyknocked up, and forced to put herself under the care of her physician. 

Meanwhile the war became more formidable. The English admiral, Rodney, thegreatest sailor who, as yet, had ever commanded a British fleet, in themiddle of January utterly destroyed a strong Spanish squadron off Cape St. Vincent; and as from the coast of Spain he proceeded to the West Indies, the French ministry had ample reason to be alarmed for the safety of theforce which they had in those regions. It was evident that it wouldrequire every effort that could be made to enable their sailors tomaintain the contest against an antagonist so brave and so skillful And, as one of the first steps toward such a result, Necker obtained the king'sconsent to a great reform in the expenditure of the court and in the civilservice; and to the abolition of a great number of costly sinecures. Wemay be able to form some idea of the prodigality which had hitherto wastedthe revenues of the country, from the circumstance that a single edictsuppressed above four hundred offices; and Marie Antoinette was so sincerein her desire to promote such measures, that she speaks warmly in theirpraise to her mother, even though they greatly curtailed her power ofgratifying her own favorites. 

"The king, " she says, "has just issued an edict which is as yet only theforerunner of a reform which he designs, to make both in his own householdand in mine. If it be carried out, it will be a great benefit, not onlyfor the economy which it will introduce, but still more for its agreementwith public opinion, and for the satisfaction it will give the nation. " Itis impossible for any language to show more completely how, above allthings, she made the good of the country her first object. And she was themore inclined to approve of all that was being done in this way from herconviction that Necker was both honest and able; an opinion which sheshared with, if she had not learned it from, her mother and her brother, and which was to some extent justified by the comparative order which hehad re-established in the finance of the country, and by the degree inwhich he had revived public credit. She was not aware that the realdangers of the situation had a source deeper than any financialdifficulty, a fact which Necker himself was unable to comprehend. And shecould not foresee, when it became necessary to grapple with those dangers, how unequal to the struggle the great banker would be found. 

It may, perhaps, be inferred that she did suspect Necker of somedeficiency in the higher qualities of statesmanship when, in the spring of1780, she told her mother that "she would give every thing in the world tohave a Prince Kaunitz in the ministry;[16] but that such men were rare, and were only to be found by those who, like the empress herself, had thesagacity to discover and the judgment to appreciate such merit. " She was, however, shutting her eyes to the fact that her husband had had a ministerfar superior to Kaunitz; and that she herself had lent her aid to drivehim from his service. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Anglomania in Paris. --The Winter at Versailles. --Hunting. --PrivateTheatricals. --Death of Prince Charles of Lorraine. --Successes of theEnglish in America. --Education of the Duc d'Angoulême. --Libelous Attackson the Queen. --Death of the Empress. --Favor shown to some of the SwedishNobles. --The Count de Fersen. --Necker retires from Office. --His Character. 

It is curious, while the resources of the kingdom were so severely taxedto maintain the war against England, of which every succeeding dispatchfrom the seat of war showed more and more the imprudence, to read inMercy's correspondence accounts of the Anglomania, which still subsistedin Paris; surpassing that which the letters of the empress describe asreigning in Vienna, though it did not show itself now in quite the samemanner as a year or two before, in the aping of English vices, gambling atraces, and hard drinking, but rather in a copying of the fashions of men'sdress; in the introduction of top-boots; and, very wholesomely, in theadoption of a country life by many of the great nobles, in imitation ofthe English gentry; so that, for the first time since the coronation ofLouis XIV. , the great territorial lords began to spend a considerable partof the year on their estates, and no longer to think the interests andrequirements of their tenants and dependents beneath their notice. 

The winter of 1779 and the spring of 1780 passed very happily. IfVersailles, from the reasons mentioned above, was not as crowded as informer years, it was very lively. The season was unusually mild; thehunting was scarcely ever interrupted, and Marie Antoinette, who now madeit a rule to accompany her husband on every possible occasion, sometimesdid not return from the hunt till the night was far advanced, and foundher health much benefited by the habit of spending the greater part ofeven a winter's day in the open air. Her garden, too, which daily occupiedmore and more of her attention, as it increased in beauty, had the sametendency; and her anxiety to profit by the experience of others on oneoccasion inflicted a whimsical disappointment of the free-thinkers of thecourt. The profligate and sentimental infidel Rousseau had died a coupleof years before, and had been buried at Ermenonville, in the park of theCount de Girardin. In the course of the summer the queen drove over toErmenonville, and the admirers of the versatile writer flatteredthemselves that her object was to pay a visit of homage to the shrine oftheir idol; but they wore greatly mortified to find that, though his tombwas pointed out to her, she took no further notice of it than such asconsisted of a passing remark that it was very neat, and very prettilyplaced; and that what had attracted her curiosity was the English gardenwhich the count had recently laid out at a great expense, and from whichshe had been led to expect that she might derive some hints for thefurther improvement of her own Little Trianon. 

She had not yet entirely given up her desire for novelty in heramusements; and she began now to establish private theatricals atVersailles, choosing light comedies interspersed with song, and with butfew characters, the male parts being filled by the Count d'Artois and someof the most distinguished officers of the household, while she herselftook one of the female parts; the spectators being confined to the royalfamily and those nobles whose posts entitled them to immediate attendanceon the king and queen. She was so anxious to perform her own part well, though she did not take any of the principal characters, but preferred toact the waiting-woman rather than the mistress, that she placed herselfunder the tuition of Michu, a professional actor of reputation from one ofthe Parisian theatres; but, though the audience was far too courtly togreet her appearance on the stage without vociferous applause, thepreponderance of evidence must lead us to believe that her majesty was nota good actress. [1] And perhaps we may think that as the parts which sheselected required rather an arch pertness than the grace and majesty whichwere more natural to her, so, also, they were not altogether in keepingwith the stately dignity which queens should never wholly lay aside. 

It was well, however, that she should have amusements to cheer her, forthe year was destined to bring her heavy troubles before its close: lossesin her own family, which would be felt with terrible heaviness by heraffectionate disposition, were impending over her; while the news fromAmerica, where the English army at this time was achieving triumphs whichseemed likely to have a decisive influence on the result of the war, caused her great anxiety. How great, a letter which she wrote to hermother in July affords a striking proof. In June, when she heard of thedangerous illness of her uncle, Prince Charles of Lorraine, now Governorof the Low Countries, formerly the gallant antagonist of Frederick ofPrussia, she declared that "the intelligence overwhelmed her with anagitation and grief such as she had never before experienced, " and shelamented with evidently deep and genuine distress the threatenedextinction of the male line of the house of Lorraine. But before she wroteagain, the news of Sir Henry Clinton's exploits in Carolina had arrived, and, though almost the same post informed her of the prince's death, thesorrow which that bereavement awakened in her mind was scarcely allowed, even in its first freshness, an equal share of her lamentations with themore absorbing importance of the events of the campaign beyond theAtlantic. 

"MY DEAREST MOTHER, --I wrote to you the moment that I received the sadintelligence of my uncle's death; though, as the Brussels courier hadalready started, I fear my letter may have arrived rather late. I will notventure to say more on the subject, lest I should be reopening a sorrowfor which you have so much cause to grieve.... The capture ofCharleston[2] is a most disastrous event, both for the facilities it willafford the English and for the encouragement which it will give to theirpride. It is perhaps still more serious because of the miserable defensemade by the Americans. One can hope nothing from such bad troops. "

It is curious to contrast the angry jealousy which she here betrays of ourdisposition and policy as a nation, with the partiality which, as we haveseen, she showed for the agreeable qualities of individual Englishmen. Buther uneasiness on this subject led to practical results, by inducing herto add her influence to that of a party which was discontented with theministry; and was especially laboring to persuade the king to make achange in the War Department, and to dismiss the Prince de Montbarey, whose sole recommendation for the office of secretary of state seemed tobe that he was a friend of the prime minister, and to give his place tothe Count de Ségur. The change was made, as any change was sure to be madein favor of which she personally exerted herself; even the partisans of M. De Maurepas himself were forced to allow that the new minister was inevery respect far superior to his predecessor; and Mercy was desirous thatshe should procure the dismissal of Maurepas also, thinking it of greatimportance to her own comfort that the prime minister should be bound toher interests. 

But she was far more anxious on other subjects. Nearly two years had nowelapsed since the birth of the princess royal; and there was as yet noprospect of a companion to her, so that the Count d'Artois began to makearrangements for the education of his infant son, the Duc d'Angoulême, with a premature solicitude, which was evidently designed to point thechild out to the nation as its future sovereign. [3] The queen was greatlyannoyed; and, to add to her vexation, one of the teething illnesses towhich children are subject at this time threw the little princess intoconvulsions, which, to a mother's anxiety, seemed even dangerous to herlife; though in a day or two that apprehension passed away. 

But these hopes of D'Artois and his flatterers again filled the court withintrigues. In the course of the summer she was made highly indignant byfinding that news from the court, with malicious comments, were sent fromParis across the frontier to be printed at Deux-Ponts or Düsseldorf, andthen circulated in Paris and in Vienna; and it was difficult to avoidconnecting these libels with those who in the palace itself weremanifestly building hopes on the diminution of her influence and thedisparagement of her character. 

But this and all other vexations were presently thrown into the shade by agreat grief, the more difficult to bear because it was wholly unexpectedby her--the death of her mother. In reality, Maria Teresa had been unwellfor some time; but the suspicions of the serious character of hercomplaint, which she secretly entertained, she had never revealed to MarieAntoinette; and at last the end followed too quickly on the firstappearance of danger to allow time for any preparatory warnings to bereceived at Versailles before the fatal intelligence arrived. On the 24thof November she was taken ill in a manner which excited the alarm of herphysicians, but her family felt no apprehensions. Even on the 27th, theemperor felt so sanguine that the cough which seemed her most distressingsymptom was but temporary, that it was with the greatest unwillingnessthat he consented to her receiving the communion, as the physiciansrecommended; but the next day even he was forced to acquiesce in thehopeless view which they took of their patient; and on the 29th she died, after having borne sufferings, which for the last three days had been ofthe most painful character, with the same heroism with which, in herearlier life, she had struggled against griefs of a different kind. 

The dispatch announcing her death was brought to the king; and it ischaracteristic of his timid disposition that he could not nerve himself tocommunicate it to his wife, but suppressed all mention of it during theevening; and in the morning summoned the Abbé de Vermond, and employed himto break the news to her, reserving for himself the less painful task ofapproaching her with words of affectionate consolation after the firstshock was over. For a time, however, she was almost overwhelmed withsorrow. She attempted to write to her brother, but after a few lines sheclosed the letter, declaring that her tears prevented her from seeing thepaper; and those about her found that for some time she could bear noother topic of conversation than the courage, the wisdom, the greatness ofher mother, and, above all, her warm affection for herself and for all herother children. [4]

With the death of the empress we lose the aid of Mercy's correspondence, which has afforded such invaluable service in the light it has thrown onthe peculiarities of Marie Antoinette's position, and the gradualdevelopment of her character during the earlier years of her residence inFrance. We shall again obtain light from the same source of almost greaterimportance, when the still more terrible dangers of the Revolutionrendered the queen more dependent than ever on his counsels. But for thenext few years we shall be compelled to content ourselves with scantiermaterials than have been furnished by the empress's unceasing interest inher daughter's welfare, and the embassador's faithful and candid reports. 

The death of Maria Teresa naturally closed the court of her daughteragainst all gayeties during the spring of 1781. Still, one of the taxeswhich princes pay for their grandeur is the force which, at times, theyare compelled to put upon their inclinations, when they dispense with thatretirement which their own feelings would render acceptable; and, after afew weeks of seclusion, a few guests began to be admitted to the royalsupper-table, among whom, as a very extraordinary favor, were some Swedishnobles;[5] one of whom, the Count de Stedingk, had established a claim tothe royal favor by serving, with several of his countrymen, as a volunteerin the Count d'Estaing's fleet in the West Indies. Such service was highlyesteemed by both king and queen, since Louis, though he had beenunwillingly dragged into the war by the ambition of the Count de Vergennesand the popular enthusiasm, naturally, when once engaged in it, took asvivid an interest in the prowess of his forces as if he had never beentroubled with any misgivings as to the policy which had set them inmotion; and Marie Antoinette was at all times excited to enthusiasm by anydeed of valor, and, as we have seen, took an especial interest in theachievements of the navy. 

The King of Sweden, the chivalrous Gustavus III. , had already made theacquaintance of Louis and Marie Antoinette in a short visit which he hadpaid to France the year after their marriage; and the queen now wrote tohim in warm praise of M. De Stedingk, and all his countrymen who had comeunder her notice, while the king rewarded the count's valor and the woundswhich had been incurred in its exhibition by an order of knighthood, [6]and the more substantial gift of a pension. But the Swede who soon outranall his compatriots in the race for the royal favor of both king and queenwas the Count Axel de Fersen, a descendant, it was believed, of one of theScotch officers of the great Macpherson clan, who, in the stormy times ofthe Thirty Years' War, had sought fame and fortune under the banner ofGustavus Adolphus. The beauty of his countess was celebrated throughoutboth Sweden and France, and his own was but little inferior to it. If shewas known as "The Rose of the North, " his name was rarely mentionedwithout the addition of "The handsome. " He was a perfect master of allnoble and knightly accomplishments, and was also distinguished for acertain high-souled and romantic[7] enthusiasm, which lent a tinge to allhis conversation and demeanor; and this combination won for him the markedfavor of Marie Antoinette. The calumniators, whom the condition andprospects of the royal family made more busy than ever at this time, insinuated that he had touched her heart; but those who knew best themanners of life and characters of both denounced it as the vilest oflibels. The count's was a loyal attachment, doing nothing but honor to himwho felt it, and to the queen who inspired it; and it was marked by apermanence which distinguishes no devotion but that which is pure andnoble, as he showed ten years later by the well-planned and courageous, though unsuccessful, efforts which he made for the deliverance of thequeen and all her family. 

That Marie Antoinette, who from early youth had shown an intuitiveaccuracy of judgment in her estimate of character, should, from the veryfirst, honorably distinguish a man capable of such devotion to her servicewas not unnatural; but there was another circumstance in his favor, whichhe shared with the other foreign nobles, English and German, who in theseyears were well received by the queen. Their disinterestedness presented astriking contrast to the rapacity of the French. Every French noble valuedthe court only for what he could obtain from it. Even Madame de Polignac, whom the queen specially honored with the title of her friend, exhibitedan all-grasping covetousness, of which, with all her efforts to shut hereyes to it, Marie Antoinette could not be unconscious; and her perceptionof the difference between her French and her foreign courtiers was markedby herself in a few words, when the Comte de la Marck, who was himself offoreign extraction, ventured once to recommend to her greater caution inher display of liking for the foreign nobles, as what might excite thejealousy of the French;[8] and she replied that "he might be right, butthe foreigners were the only people who asked her for nothing. "

Meanwhile, the war went on in America; the colonists themselves weremaking but little, if any, progress, and the French contingent werecertainly reaping no honor, M. De La Fayette, the only officer who came incontact with a British force, showing no military skill or capacity, andnot even much courage. But in the course of the spring France sustained afar heavier loss than even the defeat of an army could have inflicted onher, in the retirement of Necker from the ministry. As a statesman, he wascertainly not entitled to any very high rank. He had neither extensiveknowledge, nor large views, nor firmness; the only project ofconstitutional reform which he had brought forward had been but amutilated and imperfect copy of the system devised by the original andstatesman-like daring of Turgot. At a subsequent period he proved himselfincapable of discerning the true character of the circumstances whichsurrounded him, and wholly ignorant of the feelings of the nation, and ofthe principles and objects of those who aspired to take a lead in itscouncils. But as yet his financial policy had undoubtedly been successful. He had greatly relieved the general distress, he had maintained the publiccredit, and he had inspired the nation with confidence in itself, andother countries also with confidence in its resources; but he had mademany and powerful enemies by the retrenchments which had been a necessarypart of his system. As early as the spring of 1780, Mercy had reported tothe empress that both the king's brothers and the Duc d'Orléans complainedthat some of his measures infringed upon their established rights; thatthe Count d'Artois had had a very stormy discussion with Necker himself, and, when he could neither convince nor overbear him, had tried, thoughunsuccessfully, to enlist the queen against him. The count had sinceemployed the controller of his own household, M. Boutourlin, to writepamphlets against him, and, in point of fact, many of the most elaboratedetails of a financial statement which Necker had recently published werevery ill-calculated to endure a strict scrutiny; but M. Boutourlin did hiswork so badly that Necker had no difficulty in repelling him, and for amoment seemed the stronger for the attack that had been made upon him. 

He had been so far right in his estimate of his position that he couldrely on the support of the queen, who was aware that both her mother andher brother had a high opinion of his integrity; but though the king alsohad from time to time given his cordial sanction to his differentmeasures, it was not in the nature of Louis to withstand repeated pressureand solicitation. Necker, too, himself unintentionally played into thehands of his enemies. He had nominally only a subordinate position in theministry. As he was a Protestant, Louis had feared to offend the clergy bygiving him a seat in the council, or the title of comptroller-general; buthad conferred that post on M. Taboureau des Reaux, making Necker directorof the treasury under him. The real management of the exchequer was, however, placed wholly in his hands; and, as he was one of the vainest ofmen, he had gradually assumed a tone of importance as if his were theparamount influence in the Government; going so far as even to opennegotiations with foreign statesmen to which none of his colleagues wereprivy. [9] It was not strange that he was not very well satisfied with aposition which seemed as if it had been contrived in order to keep him outof sight, and to deprive him of the credit belonging to his financialsuccesses; but hitherto he had been satisfied to bide his time. Now, however, his triumph over M. Boutourlin seemed to him so to haveestablished his supremacy as to entitle him to insist on a promotion whichshould be a public recognition of his position as the real minister offinance, and as entitled to a preponderating voice in all matters ofgeneral policy. He accordingly demanded admission to the council, and, onits being refused, at once resigned his office. 

The consternation was universal; the general public had gradually learnedto place such confidence in him that they looked on his loss asirreparable. Some even of the princes who had originally striven toprepossess the king against him either changed their minds or feared toshow their disagreement with the common feeling. And Marie Antoinette, whofully shared his views as to the primary importance of finance in allquestions of government, condescended to admit him to an interview;requested him, as a personal favor to herself, to recall his resignation, urging upon him that patience would surely in time procure him all that heasked; and, in her honest earnestness for the welfare of the nation, weptwhen he withdrew without having yielded to her solicitations. It was latein the evening and dark when he took his leave, and afterward, when he wastold that he had drawn tears from her eyes by his refusal, he said that, had he seen them, he should have submitted to a wish so enforced, even atthe sacrifice of his own comfort and reputation. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Queen expects to be confined again. --Increasing Unpopularity of theKing's Brothers. --Birth of the Dauphin. --Festivities. --Deputations fromthe Different Trades. --Songs of the Dames de la Halle. --Ball given by theBody-guard. --Unwavering Fidelity of the Regiment. --The Queen offers up herThanksgiving at Notre Dame. --Banquet at the Hôtel de Ville. --Rejoicing inParis. 

How irreparable his loss was, was shown by the rapid succession of financeministers who, in the course of the next seven years, successively heldthe office of comptroller-general. All were equally incompetent, and undertheir administration, sometimes merely incapable, sometimes combiningrecklessness and corruption with incapacity, the treasury again becameexhausted, the resources of the nation dwindled away, and the distress ofall but the wealthiest classes became more and more insupportable. But fora time the attention of Marie Antoinette was drawn off from politicalembarrassments by the event which alone seemed wanting to complete herpersonal happiness, and to place her position and popularity on animpregnable foundation. 

In the spring she discovered that she was again about to become a mother. The whole nation expected the result with an intense anxiety. The king'sbrothers were daily becoming more and more deservedly unpopular. The Countd'Artois, who as the father of a son, occupied more of the generalattention than his elder brother, seemed to take pains to parade hiscontempt for the commercial class, and still more for the lower orders, and his disapproval of every proposal which had for its object toconciliate the traders or to relieve the sufferings of the poor; while theCount de Provence openly established a mistress, the Countess de Balbi, atthe Luxembourg Palace, his residence in the capital, where she presidedover the receptions which he took upon himself to hold, to the exclusionof his lawful princess. The Countess de Provence was not well calculatedto excite admiration or sympathy, since she was plain and ungracious. ButMadame de Balbi, whose character had been disgracefully notorious evenbefore her connection with the count, was not more attractive inappearance or manner than the Savoy princess; and the citizens of Paris, who in this instance faithfully represented the feelings of the entirenation, did not disguise their anxiety that the child about to be bornshould be a prince, who might extinguish the hopes and projects of bothhis uncles. 

Their wishes were gratified. On the morning of the 22d of October the kingwas starting from the palace on a hunting expedition with his brothers, when it was announced to him that the queen was taken ill. [1] He at oncereturned to her room, and, mindful of the danger which she had incurred onthe occasion of the birth of Madame Royale from the greatness and disorderof the crowd, he broke through the ancient custom, and ordered that thedoors should be closed, and that no one should be admitted beyond a verysmall number of the great officers, male and female, of the household. Hiscares were rewarded by a comparatively easy birth; and his anxiety toprotect his wife from agitation was further shown by a second arrangement, which was perhaps hardly so easy to carry out, but which was alsoperfectly successful. As was most natural, the queen and himself fullyshared the ardent wishes of the nation that the expected child shouldprove an heir to the throne; and he consequently feared that, should itnot be so, the disappointment might produce an injurious effect on themother's health; or, should their hopes be realized, that the excessivejoy might be equally dangerous. With a desire, therefore, to avoidexposing her to either shock in the first moments of weakness, he forbadeany announcement of the sex of the child being made to any one buthimself. The instant that the child was born, he hastened to the bedsideto judge for himself whether she could bear the news. Presently she cameto herself; and it seemed to her that the general silence indicated thatshe had become the mother of a second daughter. But she desired to beassured of the fact. "See, " said she to Louis, "how reasonable I am. I askno questions. [2]" And Louis, who from joy was scarcely able to containhimself, seeing her freedom from agitation, thought he might safely revealto her the whole extent of their happiness. He called out, so as to beheard by the Princess de Guimenée, who still held the post of governess tothe royal children, and who had already exhibited the child to thewitnesses in the antechamber, and was now awaiting his summons at the opendoor, "My lord the dauphin begs to be admitted. " The Princess de Guimenéebrought "my lord the dauphin" to his mother's arms, and for a few minutesthe small company in the room gazed in respectful silence while the fatherand mother mingled tears of joy with broken words of thanksgiving. 

Yet even in this moment of exultation Marie Antoinette could not forgether first-born, nor the feelings which had made her rejoice at the birthof a daughter, who still had, as it were, no rival in her eyes, because norival claim to her own could be set up with respect to a princess. Shekissed the long-wished-for infant over and over again; pressed him fondlyto her heart; and then, after she had perused each feature with anxiousscrutiny, and pointed out some resemblances, such as mothers see, to hisfather, "Take him, " said she, to Madame de Guimenée; "he belongs to theState; but my daughter is still mine. [3]"

Presently the chamber was cleared; and in a few minutes the glad tidingswere carried to every corner of the palace and town of Versailles, and, asspeedily as expresses could gallop, to the anxious city of Paris. By asomewhat whimsical coincidence, the Count de Stedingk, who, from havingbeen one of the intended hunting-party, had been admitted into theantechamber, rushing down-stairs in his haste to spread the intelligence, met the Countess de Provence on the staircase. "It is a dauphin, madame, "he cried; "what a happy event!" The countess made him no reply. Nor didshe or her husband pretend to disguise their mortification. The Countd'Artois was a little less open in the display of his discontent, whichwas, however, sufficiently notorious. But, with these exceptions, allFrance, or at least all France sufficiently near the court to feel anypersonal interest in its concerns, was unanimous in its exultation. 

As soon as the new-born child was dressed, his father took him in hisarms, and, carrying him to the window, showed him to the crowd[4] which, on the first news of the queen's illness, had thronged the court-yard, andwas waiting in breathless expectation the result. A rumor had alreadybegun to penetrate the throng that the child was a son, and the momentthat the happy tidings were confirmed, and the infant--their future king, as they undoubtingly hailed him--was presented to their view, their joybroke forth in such vociferous acclamations that it became necessary tosilence them by an appeal to them to show consideration for the mother'sweakness. 

For the next three months all was joy and festivity. When the little Ducd'Angoulême, now a sprightly boy of six years old, was taken into thenursery to see, or, in the court language, to pay his homage to, the heirto the throne, he said to his father, as he left the room, "Papa, howlittle my cousin is!" "The day will come, my boy, " replied the count, "when you will find him quite great enough. " And it seemed as if the wholenation, and especially the city of Paris, thought no celebration of thebirth of its future king could be too sumptuous for his greatness. It wasa real heart-felt joy that was awakened in the people. On the dayfollowing the birth, chroniclers of the time remarked that no othersubject was spoken of; that even strangers stopped one another in thestreets to exchange congratulations. [5]

The different trades and guilds led the way in the expression of theseloyal felicitations. When his royal highness was a week old, he held agrand reception. Deputations from different bodies of artisans, each witha band of music at its head, and each carrying some emblem of itsoccupation, marched in a long procession to Versailles. The chimney-sweepsbore aloft a chimney entwined with garlands, on the top of which wasperched one of the smallest of their boys; the chairmen carried a chairsuperbly gilt, on which sat in state a representative of the royal nurse, with a child in her arms in royal robes; the butchers drove a fat ox; thepastry-cooks bore on a splendid tray a variety of pastry and sweetmeatssuch as might tempt children of a larger growth than the little princethey had come to honor; the blacksmiths beat an anvil in time to theircheers; the shoe-makers brought a pair of miniature boots; the tailors haddevoted elaborate and minute pains to the embroidering of a uniform of thedauphin's regiment, such as might even now fit its young colonel, if hisparents would permit him to be attired in it. The crowd was too great tobe received in even the largest saloon of the palace; but it filled thecourt-yard beneath; and, as the weather was luckily favorable, the dauphinwas brought to the balcony and displayed to the people, while they greetedhim with cheers, which were renewed from time to time, even after he hadbeen withdrawn, till the shouting seemed as if it would have no end. 

One deputation, consisting of members of the fairer sex, received evenhigher honors. Fifty ladies of the fish-market vindicated thelong-acknowledged claims of their body by forming a separate procession. Each dame was dressed in a gown of rich black silk, their establishedcourt-dress, and nearly every one had diamond ornaments. To them, thecelebrated antechamber, from the oval window at the end known as theBull's Eye, was opened;[6] and three of their body were admitted even intothe queen's room, and to the side of the bed. The popular poet La Harpe, whom the partiality of Voltaire had designated as the heir of his genius, had composed an address, which the spokeswoman of the party had writtenout on the back of her fan, and now read with a sweet voice, which hadprocured her the honor of being so selected, [7] and with very appropriatedelivery. The queen made a brief but most gracious answer, and then, ontheir retirement, the whole company, with a train of fish-women of thelower class, was entertained at a grand banquet, which they enlivened withsongs composed for the occasion. One of them so hit the fancy of the kingand queen that they quoted it more than once in their letters to theircorrespondents, and Marie Antoinette even sung it occasionally to herharp:

 "Ne craignez pas, Cher papa, D' voir augmenter vot' famille, Le Bon Dieu z'y pourvoira: Fait's en tant qu' Versailles en fourmille Y eut-il cent Bourbons chez nous, Y a du pain, du laurier pour tous. "

The body-guard celebrated the auspicious event by giving a grand ball inthe concert-room of the palace to the queen on her recovery; it wasattended by the whole court, and Marie Antoinette opened it herself, dancing a minuet with one of the troop, whom his comrades had selected forthe honor, and whom the king promoted, as a memorial of the occasion andas a testimony of his approval of the loyalty of that gallant regiment. 

Amidst all the troubles of later years, the fidelity of those noble troopsnever wavered. They had even in one hour of terrible danger the honor, inthe same palace, of saving the life of their queen. But it is a melancholyproof of the fleeting character and instability of popular favor which issupplied by the recollection that these very artisans who were now sovociferous, and undoubtedly at this moment so sincere in their professionof loyalty, were afterward her foul and ferocious enemies. And yet between1781 and 1789 there had been no change in the character or conduct of theking and queen, or rather, it may be said, the intervening years had beena period during which a countless series of acts of beneficence haddisplayed their unceasing affection for their subjects. 

The festivities were crowned in the most appropriate manner by a publicthanksgiving, offered by the queen herself to Heaven for the gift of ason, and for her own recovery. But that celebration was necessarilypostponed till her strength was entirely re-established; and it was nottill the 21st of January that the physicians would allow her to encounterthe excitement of so interesting but fatiguing a day. The court had quitVersailles for La Muette the day before, to be nearer the city; and on theappointed morning, which the watchers for omens delightedly remarked asone of midsummer brilliancy, [8] the most superb procession that even Parishad ever witnessed issued from the gates of the old hunting-lodge, whoseearlier occupants had been animated by a very different spirit. [9]

That the honors of the day might be wholly the queen's, Louis himself didnot accompany her, but followed her three hours later, to meet her at theHôtel de Ville. Nineteen coaches, glittering with burnished gold, andevery panel of which was embellished with crowns, wreaths, or allegoricalpictures, marching on at a stately walk toward the city gate, conveyed thequeen, radiant with beauty and happiness, the sisters and aunts of theking, the long train of her and their ladies, and all the great officersof her household. Squadrons of the body-guard furnished the escort, ridingin front of the queen's carriage and behind it, but not on either side, she herself having forbidden any arrangement which might intercept thefull sight of herself from a single citizen. Companies of other regimentsawaited the procession at different points, and closed up behind it as itpassed, swelling the vast train which thus grew at every step. Anadditional escort, almost an army in itself, in double rank, lined thewhole road from the barrier of the Champs Élysées of the great cathedral;and, as the royal coach passed through the city gate, a herald proclaimedthat "The king wishing to consecrate by fresh acts of kindness the happymoment when God showered his mercies on him by the birth of a dauphin, andat the same time to give to the inhabitants of his good city of Paris somespecial mark of his beneficence, granted an exemption from the poll-tax toall the burgesses, traders, and artisans who were not in suchcircumstances as made the payment easy. "

The proclamation was received with all the thankfulness of surprise; thecheers, which had never censed from the moment that the procession firstcame in sight, were redoubled, and it was amidst shouts of congratulationboth to themselves and to her that the queen proceeded onward to NotreDame. Having paid her vows and made her offerings in the cathedral of thenation, she passed on to the Church of Ste. Geneviève, the especialpatroness of the city, and repeated her thanksgiving before the tomb ofClovis, the founder of the monarchy. At the Hôtel de Ville she was met bythe king, with the princess, his brothers, the great officers of hishousehold, and the ministers; and there (after having first come forwardon the balcony to afford the multitude, who completely filled the vastsquare in front of the building, a sight of their sovereigns), the royalpair, sitting side by side, presided at a banquet of unsurpassedmagnificence and luxury. In compliance with the strictest laws of the oldetiquette, none but ladies were admitted to the king's table, but othertables were provided for the male guests. The most renowned musiciansperformed the sweetest airs, but the melodies of Gluck and Grétry weredrowned in the cheers of the multitude outside, who thus relieved theirimpatience for the re-appearance of their queen. 

The banquet was succeeded by a grand reception, with its singular butinvariable accompaniment of a gaming-table, [10] and the whole wasconcluded by a grand illumination and display of fireworks, in which thepyrotechnists had exhausted their allegorical ingenuity. A Temple of Hymenoccupied the centre, and the God of Marriage--never, so far as presentappearances indicated, more auspiciously employed--presented to France theprecious infant who was the most recent fruit of his favor; while theflame upon his altar, which never had burned with a brighter light, wasfed by the thank-offerings of the whole French people. As each new featureof the display burst upon their eyes, the acclamations of the populaceredoubled, and their enthusiasm was kindled to the utmost pitch when Louisand Marie Antoinette descended the stairs, and, arm-in-arm, walked outamong the crowd, ostensibly to see the illuminations from the differentpoints which presented the most imposing spectacle; but really, as thecitizens perceived, to show their sympathy with the joy of the people bymingling with the multitude, and thus allowing all to approach and even toaccost them; while they, and especially the queen, replied to every loyalcheer or homely word of congratulation by a cordial smile or expression ofapproval or thanks, which long dwelt in the memory of those to whom theywere addressed. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Madame de Guimenée resigns the Office of Governess of the Royal Children. --Madame de Polignac succeeds her. --Marie Antoinette's Views ofEducation. --Character of Madame Royale. --The Grand Duke Paul and his GrandDuchess visit the French Court. --Their Characters. --Entertainments givenin their Honor. --Insolence of the Cardinal de Rohan. --His Character andprevious Life. --Grand Festivities at Chantilly. --Events of the War. --Rodney defeats de Grasse. --The Siege of Gilbralter fails. --M. De Suffreinfights five Drawn Battles with Sir E. Hughes in the Indian Seas. --TheQueen receives him with great Honor on his Return. 

The post of governess to the royal children was one which was conferredfor life, and did not even cease on the accession of a new sovereign, andthe birth of a new royal family. Madame de Guimenée, therefore, havingbeen appointed to that office on the birth of the first child of the latedauphin, the father of Louis XVI. , still retained it, and on the birth ofMadame Royale transferred her services to that princess. The arrangementhad been far from acceptable to Marie Antoinette, who had no great likingfor the lady, though, with her habitual kindness of disposition, she hadaccepted her attentions, and had often condescended to appear as a guestat her evening parties, taking only the precaution of ascertainingbeforehand whom she was likely to meet there. [1] But, in the spring of1782, the Prince de Guimenée became involved in pecuniary difficultiesthat compelled him to retire from the court, and his princess to resignher appointment, which Marie Antoinette at once bestowed on Madame dePolignac. Her attachment to that lady affords a striking exemplificationof one feature in her character, a steady adherence to friendships onceformed, which can never be otherwise than amiable, even when, as it may bethought was the case in this and one or two other instances, she carriedit to excess; for she could hardly fail to be aware that Madame dePolignac was most unpopular with all classes, and that her unpopularitywas not undeserved. She was covetous for herself, and she had a number ofrelations, equally rapacious, who regarded her court favor solely as ameans of enriching the whole family. She had procured a valuable reversionfor her husband; and subsequently the rare favor of an hereditary dukedom;and it was characteristic of her disposition that she might have attainedthe rank of duchess for herself at an earlier date, but that she preferredto it the chance of other favors of a more practically useful nature; norwas it till she had received such sums of money that nothing more couldwell be asked, that she turned her ambition to titles, and to themuch-coveted dignity of a stool to sit upon in the presence of royalty. [2]

But the more people spoke ill of her, the more the queen protected her;and if she received the resignation of Madame de Guimenée with pleasure, much of her joy seemed to be owing to the opportunity which it affordedher of promoting the new duchess to the vacant place, while Madame dePolignac had even the address to persuade her that she accepted the postunwillingly, and, in undertaking it, was making a sacrifice to loyalty andfriendship. But if the queen was duped on that point, she was not deceivedon others. She knew that the duchess had no qualifications for the office;that she was neither clever nor accomplished. But her absence of anyspecial qualifications was, in fact, her best recommendation in the eyesof her patroness; for Marie Antoinette had high ideas of the duty which amother owes to her children. She thought herself bound to take uponherself the real superintendence of their education, and, having thisview, she preferred a governess who would be content that her children'sminds should receive their color from herself. Her own idea of education, as we shall see it hereafter described by herself, [3] was that example wasmore powerful than precept, and that love was a better teacher than fear;and, acting on this principle, from the moment that her little daughterwas old enough to comprehend her intentions and wishes, she began to makeher her companion; abandoning, or at least relaxing, her pursuit of otherpleasures for that which was now her chief delight, as well as in her eyesher chief duty--the task of watching over the early promise, the openingtalents and virtues of those who were destined, as she hoped, to have apredominant influence on the future welfare of the nation. Especially shemade a rule of taking the little princess with her on the differenterrands of humanity and benevolence, which, wherever she might be, andmore particularly while she was at Versailles, formed an almost habitualpart of her occupations. She saw that much of the distress which nowseemed to be the normal condition of the humbler classes, and much of thediscontent, which was felt by all classes but the highest, were caused bythe pride of the princes and nobles, who, in France, drew a far morerigorous and unbending line of demarkation between themselves and theirinferiors than prevailed in other countries; and she desired from theirearliest infancy to imbue her children with a different principle, and toteach them by her own example that none could be so lowly as to be beneaththe notice even of a sovereign; and that, on the contrary, the greater thedepression of the poor, the greater claim did it give them on thesolicitude and protection of their princes and rulers. 

Nor were these lessons, which even worldly policy might have dictated, theonly ones which she sought to inculcate on the little princess before themore exciting pursuits of society should have rendered her lesssusceptible to good impressions. Unfriendly as her husband's aunts hadalways been to herself, and little as there was that was really amiable intheir characters, there was yet one, the Princess Louise, the Nun of St. Denis, whose renunciation of the world seemed to point her out to herfamily as a model of holiness and devotion; and as, above all things, Marie Antoinette desired to inspire her little daughter with a deep senseof religious obligation, she soon began to take her with her in all hervisits to the convent, and to encourage her to converse with the otherSisters of the house. Nor did she abandon the practice even when it wassuggested to her that such an intercourse with those who were notoriouslyalways on the watch to attract recruits of rank or consideration, mighthave the result of inclining the child to follow her great-aunt's example;and perhaps, by renouncing the world, to counteract plans which herparents might have preferred for her establishment in life. MarieAntoinette declared that should the princess express such a desire, farfrom being annoyed, "she should feel flattered by it;[4]" she would, itmay be presumed, have regarded it as a convincing testimony of thesoundness of her own system of education, and of the purity of theinstruction which she had given. 

But such was not to be the destiny of her whose life at this moment seemedto beam with prospects of happiness which it would have been cruel toallow her to exchange for the gloom of a convent, though, even before shearrived at womanhood, the most austere seclusion of such an abode wouldhave seemed a welcome asylum from dangers yet undreamed of. Her destinywas indeed to be one of trials and afflictions even to the end; trialsvery different in their kind from those which the gates of the Carmelitesisterhood would have opened to her. But her mother's early lessons ofhumility and piety, and still more her mother's virtuous and heroicexample, never ceased to bear their fruit in their influence on hercharacter, amidst all the vicissitudes of fortune. The unhappydaughter, [5] as she was styled by the faithful and eloquent champion ofher race, lived to win the respect even of its enemies, [6] supplying, atmore than one critical moment, a courage and decision of which her malerelatives were destitute; and, in the second and final ruin of her house, her fortitude and resignation still commanded the loyal adherence of alarge party among her countrymen, and the esteem of foreign statesmen, whogladly recognized in her no small portion of the nobility of her femaleancestors. 

In the spring of 1782 the attention of the Parisians was occupied for awhile by the arrival of two visitors from a nation which as yet had sentforth but few of its sons to mingle in society with those of othercountries. The Grand Duke of Russia, who had indeed been its rightfulemperor ever since the murder of his father twenty years before, but whohad been compelled to postpone his claims to those of his ambitious andunscrupulous mother, Catherine II. , had conceived a desire so far toimitate the example of his great ancestor, the founder of the Russianempire, Peter the Great, as to make a personal investigation of themanners of other people besides his own. To use the language in which theempress communicated to Louis XVI. Her son's wish to pay him a visit, hesought, in the first instance, "to take lessons in courtesy and nobilityfrom the most elegant court in the world. " And as Louis had responded witha cordial invitation to Versailles, at the end of May he, with his grandduchess, a princess of Würtemberg, arrived at the palace. 

Paul had not as yet given any indications of the brutal and ferociousdisposition which distinguished him in his later years, till it graduallydeveloped into a savage insanity which neither his nobles nor even hissons could endure. He appeared rather a young man of frank and opentemper, somewhat more unguarded in his language, especially concerning hisown affairs and position, than was quite prudent or becoming; but kind inintention, sometimes even courteous in manner, shrewd in discerning whatthings and what persons were most worthy of his notice, and showing nodeficiency of judgment in the observations which he made upon them. Thegrand duchess, however, was generally regarded as greatly superior to herhusband in every respect. He was almost repulsive in his ugliness. She wasextremely handsome in feature, though disfigured by a stoutnessextraordinary in one so young. She had also a high reputation foraccomplishments and general ability, though that too was disguised by acoldness or ungraciousness of manner that gave strangers a disagreeableimpression of her; which, however, a more intimate acquaintance greatlyremoved. 

Their characters had preceded them, and Marie Antoinette, for perhaps thefirst time in her life, felt very uneasy as to her own power of receivingthem with the dignity which became both her and them. As she afterwardexplained her feelings to Madame de Campan, "she found the part of aqueen much move difficult to play in the presence of other sovereigns, orof princes who were born to become sovereigns, than before ordinarycourtiers. [7]" She even fortified her courage before dinner with a glassof water, and the medicine proved effectual. Even if it cost her an effortto preserve her habitual gayety, her difficulty was unperceived, andindeed, after the few first moments, ceased to be a difficulty. Paulhimself cared but little for female attractions or graces; but thearchduchess was charmed with her union of liveliness and dignity, whichsurpassed all her previous experiences of courts; and one of her ladies, Madame d'Oberkirch, who has left behind her some memoirs, to which allsucceeding writers have been indebted for many particulars of this visit, could scarcely find words to describe the impression the queen's beautyhad made upon her and all her fellow-travelers. "The queen was marvelouslybeautiful; she fascinated every eye. It was absolutely impossible for anyone to display a greater grace and nobility of demeanor. [8]" Madamed'Oberkirch, like herself, was German by birth; and Marie Antoinettebegged her to speak German to her, that she might refresh her recollectionof her native language; but she found that she had almost forgotten it. "Ah, " said she, "German is a fine language; but French, in the mouths ofmy children, seems to me the finest language in the world. " And in thesame spirit of entire adoption of French feelings, and even of Frenchprejudices, she declared to the baroness that though the Rhine and theDanube were both noble rivers, the Seine was so much more beautiful thatit had made her forget them both. 

But her preference for every thing French did not make her neglect theduties of hospitality to her foreign visitors; she wished rather that theyshould carry with them as fixed an idea as she herself entertained of thesuperiority of France to their own country, in this as in every otherparticular. And she gave two magnificent entertainments in their honor atthe Little Trianon, displaying the beauties of her garden by day, and alsoby night, by an illumination of extraordinary splendor. They were highlydelighted with the beauty and the novelty of a scene such as they hadnever before witnessed; but her pleasure was in a great degree marred bythe indecent boldness of one whose sacred profession, as well as hisancient lineage, ought to have restrained him from such misconduct, thoughit was but too completely in harmony with his previous life. Prince Louisde Rohan was a descendant of the great Duke de Sully, and a member of afamily which, during the last reign, had possessed an influence at courtwhich was surpassed by that of no other house among the French nobles. [9]He himself had reaped the full advantage of its interest. As we havealready seen, he had been coadjutor of Strasburg when Marie Antoinettepassed through that city on her way to France in 1770. He had subsequentlybeen promoted to the rank of cardinal; and, though he was notoriouslydevoid of capacity, yet through the influence of his relations, and thatof Madame du Barri, with whom they maintained an intimate connection, hehad obtained the post of embassador to the court of Vienna, where he hadmade himself conspicuous for every species of disorder. His whole life inthe Austrian capital had been a round of shameless profligacy andextravagance. The conduct of the inferior members of the embassy, stimulated by his example, and protected by his official character, hadbeen equally scandalous, till at last Maria Teresa had felt herself bound, in justice to her subjects, to insist on his recall. The moment that hebecame aware that his position was in danger, he began to write abusiveletters against the Empress-queen, and to circulate libels at Viennaagainst both her and Marie Antoinette, on whom he openly threatened toavenge himself, if his pleasures or his prospects should in any way beinterfered with. [10]

Since his return to France he had had the address to conciliate Maurepas, who, adding the authority of his ministerial office to the solicitationsof the cardinal's sister, Madame de Marsan, had succeeded in wringing fromthe unwilling king his appointment to the honorable and lucrativepreferment of grand almoner. But even that post, though it made him one ofthe great officers of the court, did not weaken his desire to annoy thequeen, for having, as he believed, used her influence to deprive him ofhis embassy, and for having by her marked coldness since his return fromVienna, showed her disapproval of his profligate character, and of hisinsolence to her mother. 

And, unhappily, there were not wanting persons base enough to co-operatewith him, generally discredited as he was, as instruments of their ownsecret malice. The birth of the dauphin had been a fatal blow to the hopeswhich had been founded on the possible succession of the king's brothers;and from this time forth the whisperers of detraction and calumny weremore than ever busy, sometimes venturing to forge her handwriting, andsometimes daring, with still fouler audacity, to invent stories designedto tarnish her reputation by throwing doubts on her conjugal fidelity. Atsuch a moment the presence of such a man as the cardinal on the stage wasan evil omen. His audacity, it seemed, could hardly be purposeless, andhis purpose could not be innocent. 

He had been most anxious to obtain admission to one of the entertainmentswhich the queen gave to the Russian princes; and, when he wasdisappointed, he had the silly audacity to bribe the porter of the Trianonto admit him into the garden, where, as the royal party passed down thedifferent walks, he thrust himself ostentatiously at different points intotheir sight, professing to disguise himself by throwing a mantle over hisshoulders, but taking care that his scarlet stockings should prevent anyuncertainty from being felt as to his identity. That he should havepresumed to intrude into the queen's presence in her own palace withoutpermission was in itself an insult; but those behind the scenes believedthat he had a deeper design, and that he wished to diffuse a belief thatMarie Antoinette secretly regarded him with a favor which she wasunwilling to show openly, and that he had not obtained admission to hergarden without her connivance. 

The princes of the blood, too, the Prince de Condé and the Duke deBourbon, invited Paul and his archduchess to an entertainment atChantilly, which far surpassed in splendor the display at Trianon. But thequeen was willing, on such an occasion, to be eclipsed by her subjects. "The princes, " she said, "might well give festivities of vast cost, because they defrayed the charges out of their private revenues; but theexpenses of entertainments given by the king or by herself fell on thenational treasury, of which they were bound to be the guardians in theinterest of the poor tax-payers. "

Not that, in all probability, Paul and his archduchess noticed theinferiority. Court festivities at St. Petersburg were as yet neithernumerous nor magnificent, and they soon showed themselves so wearied withthe round of gayety which had been forced upon them, that some of thediversions which had been projected at other royal palaces besidesVersailles were given up to avoid distressing them. [11] The sight whichpleased them most was the play, to which, at their own special request, the queen accompanied them, and where they were greatly struck by themagnificence of the theatre and every thing connected with theperformance, as well as with the reception which the audience gave thequeen. Much as they had admired what they had seen, it was her grace andkind solicitude for their gratification which made the greatest impressionon them; and the archduchess kept up a correspondence with her during therest of their travels, especially dwelling on the scenes which pleased hermost in Germany, and on the persons she met who were known to and regardedby the queen. 

Political affairs were at this time causing Marie Antoinette greatanxiety. One of her most frequently expressed wishes had been that theFrench fleet should have an opportunity of engaging that of England in apitched battle, when the judicious care which M. De Sartines had bestowedon the marine would be seen to bear its fruit. But when the battle didtake place, the result was such as to confound instead of justifying herpatriotic expectations. In April, the English Admiral Rodney inflicted onthe Count de Grasse a crushing defeat off the coast of Jamaica. InSeptember, the combined forces of France and Spain were beaten off withstill heavier loss from the impregnable fortress of Gibraltar; and theonly region in which a French admiral escaped disaster was the Indian Sea, where the Bailli de Suffrein, an officer of rare energy and ability, encountered the British admiral, Sir Edward Hughes, in a series of severeactions, and, except on one occasion in which he lost a few transports, never permitted his antagonist to claim any advantage over him; the singleloss which he sustained in his first combat being more thancounterbalanced by his success on land, where, by the aid of Hyder Ali'sson, the celebrated Tippoo, be made himself master of Cuddalore; and then, dropping down to the Cingalese coast, recaptured Trincomalee, the conquestof which had been one of Hughes's most recent achievements. [12] The queenfelt the reverses keenly. She even curtailed some of her own expenses inorder to contribute to the building of new ships to replace those whichhad been lost; and she received M. De Suffrein, on his return from Indiaat the conclusion of the war, with the most sincere and markedcongratulations. She invited him to the palace, and, when he arrived, shecaused Madame de Polignac to bring both her children into the room. "Mychildren, " said she, "and especially you, my son, know that this M. DeSuffrein. We are all under the greatest obligations to him. Look well athim, and ever remember his name. It is one of the first that all mychildren must learn to pronounce, and one which they must neverforgot. [13]"

She was acting up to her mother's example, than whom no sovereign hadbetter known how to give their due honor to bravery and loyalty. Such aqueen deserved to have faithful friends; and Suffrein was a man who, hadhis life been spared, might, like the Marquis de Bouillé, have shown thateven in France the feelings of chivalry and devotion to kings and ladieswere not yet extinguished. But he died before either his country or hisqueen had again need of his services, or before he had any opportunity ofproving by fresh achievements his gratitude to a sovereign who knew sowell how to appreciate and to honor merit. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Peace is re-established. --Embarrassments of the Ministry. --Distress of theKingdom. --M. De Calonne becomes Finance Minister. --The Winter of 1783-'84is very Severe. --The Queen devotes Large Sums to Charity. --Her PoliticalInfluence increases--Correspondence between the Emperor and her onEuropean Politics. --The State of France. --The Baron de Breteuil. --HerDescription of the Character of the King. 

The conclusion of peace between France and England was one of the earliestevents of the year 1783, but it brought no strength to the ministry; or, rather, it placed its weakness in a more conspicuous light. Maurepas haddied at the end of 1781, and, since his death, the Count de Vergennes hadbeen the chief adviser of the king; but his attention was almostexclusively directed to the conduct of the diplomacy of the kingdom, andto its foreign affairs, and he made no pretensions to financial knowledge. Unluckily the professed ministers of finance, Joly de Fleury and hissuccessor, D'Ormesson, were as ignorant of that great subject as himself, and, within two years after Necker's retirement, their mismanagement hadbrought the kingdom to the very verge of bankruptcy. D'Ormesson wasdismissed, and for many days it was anxiously deliberated in the palace bywhom he should be replaced. Some proposed that Necker should he recalled, but the king had felt himself personally offended by some circumstanceswhich had attended the resignation of that minister two years before. Thequeen inclined to favor the pretensions of Loménie de Brienne, Archbishopof Toulouse; not because he had any official experience, but becausefifteen years before he had recommended the Abbé de Vermond to MariaTeresa; and the abbé, seeing in the present embarrassment an opportunityof repaying the obligation, now spoke highly to her of the archbishop'stalents. But Madame de Polignac and her party persuaded her majesty toacquiesce in the appointment of M. De Calonne, a man who, like Turgot, hadalready distinguished himself as intendant of a province, though he hadnot inspired those who watched his career with as high an opinion of hisuprightness as of his talents. He had also secured the support of theCount d'Artois by promising to pay his debts; and Louis himself was won tothink well of him by the confidence which he expressed in his own capacityto grapple with the existing, or even with still greater difficulties. 

Nor, indeed, had he been possessed of steadiness, prudence, and principle, was he very unfit for such a post at such a time. For he was very fertilein resources, and well-endowed with both physical and moral courage; butthese faculties were combined with, were indeed the parents of, amischievous defect. He had such reliance on his own ingenuity and abilityto deal with each difficulty or danger as it should arise, that he wasindifferent to precautions which might prevent it from arising. The spiritin which he took office was exemplified in one of his first speeches tothe queen. Knowing that he was not the minister whom she would havepreferred, he made it his especial business to win her confidence; and hehad not been long installed in office when she expressed to him her wishthat he would find means of accomplishing some object which she desired topromote. "Madame, " was his courtly reply, "if it is possible, it is donealready. If it is impossible, I will take care and manage it. " But beingvery unscrupulous himself, he overshot his mark when he sought topropitiate her further by offering to represent as hers acts of charitywhich she had not performed. The winter of 1783 was one of unusualseverity. The thermometer at Paris was, for some weeks, scarcely abovezero; scarcity, with its inevitable companion, clearness of price, reducedthe poor of the northern provinces, and especially of the capital and itsneighborhood, to the verge of starvation. The king, queen, and princessesgave large sums from their privy purses for their relief; but as suchsupplies were manifestly inadequate, Louis ordered the minister to drawthree millions of francs from the treasury, and to apply them for thealleviation of the universal distress. Calonne cheerfully received andexecuted the beneficent command. He was perhaps not sorry, at his firstentrance on his duties, to show how easy it was for him to meet even anunforeseen demand of so heavy an amount; and he fancied he saw in it ameans of ingratiating himself with Marie Antoinette. He proposed to herthat he should pay one of the millions to her treasurer, that that officermight distribute it, in her name, as a gift from her own allowance; butMarie Antoinette disdained such unworthy artifice. She would have feltashamed to receive praise or gratitude to which she was not entitled. Sherejected the proposal, insisting that the king's gift should be attributedto himself alone, and expressing her intention to add to it by curtailingher personal expenditure, by abridging her entertainments so long as thedistress should last, and by dedicating the sums usually appropriated topleasure and festivity to the relief of those whose very existence seemedto depend on the aid which it was her duty and that of the king tofurnish. For there was this especial characteristic in Marie Antoinette'scharity, that it did not proceed solely from kindness of heart andtenderness of disposition, though these were never wanting, but also froma settled principle of duty, which, in her opinion, imposed uponsovereigns, as a primary obligation, the task of watching over the welfareof their subjects as persons intrusted by Providence to their care; andsuch a feeling was obviously more to be depended upon as a constant motivefor action than the most vivid emotion of the moment, which, if easilyexcited, is not unfrequently as easily overpowered by some fresh object. 

Meanwhile events were gradually compelling her to take a more active partin politics. Maurepas had been jealous of her influence, and, while thatold minister lived, Louis, who from his childhood had been accustomed tosee him in office, committed almost every thing to his guidance. But, ashe always required some one of stronger mind than himself to lean upon, assoon as Maurepas was gone he turned to the queen. It was to her that henow chiefly confided his anxieties and perplexities; from her that hesought counsel and strength; and the ministers naturally came to regardher as the real ruler of the State. Accordingly, we find from hercorrespondence of this period that even such matters as the appointment ofthe embassadors to foreign states were often referred to her decision; andhow greatly the habit of considering affairs of importance expanded hercapacity we may learn from the opinion which her brother, the emperor, whowas never disposed to flatter, or even to spare her, had evidently come toentertain of her judgment. In one long letter, written in September of theyear 1783, he discussed with her the attitude which France had assumedtoward Austria ever since the dismissal of Choiseul; the willingness ofher ministers to listen to Prussian calumnies; the encouragement whichthey had given to the opposition in the empire; and their obsequiousnessto Prussia; while Austria had not retaliated, as she had had manyopportunities of doing, by any complaisance toward England, though theEnglish statesmen had made many advances toward her. It is a curiousinstance of fears being realized in a sense very different from that whichtroubled the writer at the moment, that among the acts of France of which, had he been inclined to be captious, he might justly have complained, heenumerates her recent acquisition of Corsica, as one which, "for a numberof reasons, might be very prejudicial to the possessions of the house ofAustria and its branches in Italy. " It did indeed prove an acquisitionwhich largely influenced the future history, not only of Austria, but ofthe whole world, when the little island, which hitherto had been but ahot-bed of disorder, and a battle-field of faction burdensome to itsGenoese masters, gave a general to the armies of France whose mostbrilliant exploits were a succession of triumphs over the Austriancommanders in every part of the emperor's dominion. His letter concludeswith warnings drawn from the present condition and views of the differentstates of Europe, and especially of France, whose "finances and resources, to speak with moderation, have been greatly strained" in the recent war;embracing in their scope even the designs of Russia on the independence ofTurkey; and with a request that his sister would inform him frankly whathe is to believe as to the opinions of the king; and in what light he isto regard the recent letters of Vergennes, which, to his apprehension, show an indifference to the maintenance of the alliance between the twocountries. [1]

It is altogether a letter such as might pass between statesmen, and provesclearly that Joseph regarded his sister now as one fully capable of takinglarge views of the situation of both countries. And her answer shows thatshe fully enters into all the different questions which he has raised, though it also shows that she is guided by her heart as well as by herjudgment; still looks on the continuance of the friendship between hernative and her adopted country as essential not only to her comfort, buteven in some degree to her honor, and also that on that account she isdesirous at times of exerting a greater influence than is always allowedher. 

"Versailles, September 29th, 1783. 

"Shall I tell you, my dear brother, that your letter has delighted me byits energy and nobleness of thought and why should I not tell you so? I amsure that you will never confound your sister and your friend with thetricks and manoeuvres of politicians. 

"I have read your letter to the king. You may be sure that it, like allyour other letters, shall never go out of my hands. The king was struckwith many of your reflections, and has even corroborated them himself. 

"He has said to me that he both desired and hoped always to maintain afriendship and a good understanding with the empire; but yet that it wasimpossible to answer for it that the difference of interests might not attimes lead to a difference in the way of looking at and judging ofaffairs. This idea appeared to me to come from himself alone, and from thedistrust with which people have been inspiring him for a long time. For, when I spoke to him, I believe it to be certain that he had not seen M. DeVergennes since the arrival of your courier. M. De Mercy will havereported to you the quietness and gentleness with which this minister hasspoken to him. I have had occasion to see that the heads of the otherministers, which were a little heated, have since cooled again. I trust, that this quiet spirit will last, and in that case the firmness of yourreply ought to lead to the rudeness of style which the people here adoptedbeing forgotten. You know the ground and the characters, so you can not besurprised if the king sometimes allows answers to pass which he would nothave given of his own accord. 

"My health, considering my present condition, [2] is perfect. I had aslight accident after my last letter; but it produced no bad consequences:it only made a little more care necessary. Accordingly I shall go fromChoisy to Fontainebleau by water. My children are quite well. My boy willspend his time at La Muette while we are absent. It is just a piece ofstupidity of the doctors, who do not like him to take so long a journey athis age, though he has two teeth and is very strong. I should be perfectlyhappy if I were but assured of the general tranquillity, and, above all, of the happiness of my much-loved brother, whom I love with all myheart. [3]"

Another letter, written three months later, explains to the emperor theobject of some of the new arrangements which Calonne had introduced, having for one object, among others, the facilitation of a commercialintercourse, especially in tobacco, with the United States. She hopes thatanother consequence of them will be the abolition of the whole system offarmers-general of the revenue; and she explains to him both theadvantages of such a measure, and at the same time the difficulties ofcarrying it out immediately after so costly a war, since it would involvethe instant repayment of large sums to the farmers, with all the clearnessof a practiced financier. She mentions also the appointment of the Baronde Breteuil as the new minister of the king's household, [4] and herestimate of his character is rendered important by his promotion, sixyears later, to the post of prime minister. The emperor also had amplemeans of judging of it himself, since the baron had succeeded the Cardinalde Rohan as embassador at Vienna. "I think, with you, that he requires tobe kept within bounds; and he will be so more than other ministers by thenature of his office, which is very limited, and entirely under the eyesof the king and of his colleagues, who will be glad of any opportunitiesof mortifying his vanity. However, his activity will be very useful in athousand details of a department which has been neglected and badlymanaged for the last sixty years. " And though it is a slight anticipationof the order of our narrative, it will not be inconvenient to give heresome extracts from a third letter to the same brother, written in theautumn of the following year, in which she describes the king's character, and points out the difficulties which it often interposes to her desire ofinfluencing his views and measures. 

It may perhaps be thought that she unconsciously underrates her influenceover her husband, though there can be no doubt that he was one of thosemen whom it is hardest to manage; wholly without self-reliance, yet with ascrupulous wish to do right that made him distrustful of others, even, ofthose whose advice he sought, or whose judgment he most highly valued. 

"September 22d, 1784. 

"I will not contradict you, my dear brother, on what you say about theshort-sightedness of our ministry. I have long ago made some of thereflections which you express in your letter. I have spoken on the subjectmore than once to the king; but one must know him thoroughly to be able tojudge of the extent to which, his character and prejudices cripple myresources and means of influencing him. He is by nature very taciturn; andit often happens that he does not speak to me about matters of importanceeven when he has not the least wish to conceal them from me. He answers mewhen I speak to him about them, but he scarcely ever opens the subject;and when I have learned a quarter of the business, I am then forced to usesome address to make the ministers tell me the rest, by letting them thinkthat the king has told me every thing. When I reproach him for not havingspoken to me of such and such matters, he is not annoyed, but only seems alittle embarrassed, and sometimes answers, in an off-hand way, that he hadnever thought of it. This distrust, which is natural to him, was at firststrengthened by his govern--or before my marriage. M. De Vauguyon hadalarmed him about the authority which his wife would desire to assume overhim, and the duke's black disposition delighted in terrifying his pupilwith all the phantom stories invented against the house of Austria. M. DeMaurepas, though less obstinate and less malicious, still thought itadvantageous to his own credit to keep up the same notions in the king'smind. M. De Vergennes follows the same plan, and perhaps avails himself ofhis correspondence on foreign affairs to propagate falsehoods. I havespoken plainly about this to the king more than once. He has sometimesanswered me rather peevishly, and, as he is never fond of discussion, Ihave not been able to persuade him that his minister was deceived, or wasdeceiving him. I do not blind myself as to the extent of my own influence. I know that I have no great ascendency over the king's mind, especially inpolitics; and would it be prudent in me to have scenes with his ministerson such subjects, on which it is almost certain that the king would notsupport me? Without ever boasting or saying a word that is not true, I, however, let the public believe that I have more influence than I reallyhave, because, if they did not think so, I should have still less. Theavowals which I am making to you, my dear brother, are not very flatteringto my self-love; but I do not like to hide any thing from you, in orderthat you may be able to judge of my conduct as correctly as is possible atthis terrible distance from you, at which my destiny has placed me. [5]"

A melancholy interest attunes to sentences such as these, from theinfluence which the defects in her husband's character, when joined tothose of his minister, had on the future destinies of both, and of thenation over which he ruled. It was natural that she should explain them toa brother; and though, as a general rule, it is clearly undesirable forqueens consort to interfere in politics, it is clear that with such ahusband, and with the nation and court in such a condition as then existedin France, it was indispensable that Marie Antoinette should covet, and, so far as she was able, exert, influence over the king, if she were notprepared to see him the victim or the tool of caballers and intriguers whocared far more for their own interests than for those of either king orkingdom. But as yet, though, as we see, these deficiencies of Louisoccasionally caused her annoyance, she had no foreboding of evil. Hergeneral feeling was one of entire happiness; her children were growing andthriving, her own health was far stronger than it had been, and sheentered with as keen a relish as ever into the excitements and amusementsbecoming her position, and what we may still call her youth, since she waseven now only eight-and-twenty. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

"The Marriage of Figaro"--Previous History and Character of Beaumarchais. --The Performance of the Play is forbidden. --It is said to be a littlealtered. --It is licensed. --Displeasure of the Queen. --Visit of GustavusIII. Of Sweden. --Fête at the Trianon. --Balloon Ascent. 

In the spring of 1784, the court and capital wore wrought up to a highpitch of excitement by an incident which was in reality of so ordinary andtrivial a character, that it would be hard to find a more striking proofhow thoroughly unhealthy the whole condition and feeling of the nationmust have been, when such a matter could have been regarded as important. It was simply a question whether a play, which had been recently acceptedby the manager of the principal theatre in Paris, should receive thelicense from the theatrical censor which was necessary to its beingperformed. 

The play was entitled "The Marriage of Figaro. " The history of the author, M. Beaumarchais, is curious, as that of a rare specimen of the literaryadventurer of his time. He was born in the year 1732. His father was awatch-maker named Caron, and he himself followed that trade till he wasthree or four and twenty, and attained considerable skill in it. But hewas ambitious. He was conscious of a handsome face and figure, and knewtheir value in such a court as that of Louis XV. He gave up his trade as awatch-maker, and bought successively different places about the court, thelast of which was sold at a price sufficient to entitle him to claimgentility; so that, in one of his subsequent railings against the nobles, he declared that his nobility was more incontestable than that of most ofthe body, since he could produce the stamped receipt for it. Following theexample of Molière and Voltaire, he changed his name, and called himselfBeaumarchais. He married two rich widows. He formed a connection with thecelebrated financier, Paris Duverney, who initiated him in the mysteriesof stock-jobbing. Being a good musician, he obtained the protection of theking's daughters, taught them the harp, and conducted the weekly concertswhich, during the life of Marie Leczinska, they gave to the king and theroyal family. He wrote two or three plays, none of which had any greatsuccess, while one was a decided failure. He became involved in lawsuits, one of which he conducted himself against the best ability of the Parisianbar, and displayed such wit and readiness that he not only gained hiscause, but established a notoriety which throughout life was apparentlyhis dearest object. He crossed over to England, where he made theacquaintance of Wilkes, and one or two agents of the American colonies, then just commencing their insurrection; and, partly from politicalsympathy with their views of freedom, partly, as he declared, to retaliateon England for the injuries which France had suffered at her hands in theSeven Years' War, he became a political agent himself, procuring arms andships to be sent across the Atlantic, and also a great quantity of storesof a more peaceful character, out of which he had hoped to make a handsomeprofit. But the Americans gave him credit for greater disinterestedness;the President of Congress wrote him a letter thanking him for his zeal, but refused to pay for his stores, for which he demanded nearly a hundredand fifty thousand francs. He commenced an action for the money in theAmerican courts, but, as he could not conduct it himself, he did notobtain an early decision; indeed, the matter imbittered all his closingdays, and was not settled when he died. 

But while he was in the full flush of self-congratulation at the degree inwhich, as he flattered himself, he had contributed to the downfall ofEngland, the exuberance of his spirits prompted him to try his hand at afourth play, a sort of sequel to one of his earlier performances--"TheBarber of Seville. " He finished it about the end of the year 1781, and, asthe manager of the theatre was willing to act it, he at once applied forthe necessary license. But it had already been talked about: if one partyhad pronounced it lively, witty, and the cleverest play that had been seensince the death of Molière, another set of readers declared it full ofimmoral and dangerous satire on the institutions of the country. It isalmost inseparable from the very nature of comedy that it should be tosome extent satirical. The offense which those who complained of "TheMarriage of Figaro" on that account really found in it was, that itsatirized classes and institutions which could not bear such attacks, andhad not been used to them. Molière had ridiculed the lower middle class;the newly rich; the tradesman who, because he had made a fortune, thoughthimself a gentleman; but, as one whose father was in the employ ofroyalty, he laid no hand on any pillar of the throne. But Beaumarchais, in"The Marriage of Figaro, " singled out especially what were called theprivileged classes; he attacked the licentiousness of the nobles; thepretentious imbecility of ministers and diplomatists; the cruel injusticeof wanton arrests and imprisonments of protracted severity against whichthere was no appeal nor remedy; and the privileged classes in consequencedenounced his work, and their complaints of its character and tendencymade such an impression that the court resolved that the license shouldnot he granted. 

The refusal, however, was not at first pronounced in a straightforwardway; but was deferred, as if those who had resolved on it feared topronounce it. For a long time the censor gave no reply at all, tillBeaumarchais complained of the delay as more injurious to him than adirect denial. When at last his application was formally rejected, heinduced his friends to raise such a clamor in his favor, that Louisdetermined to judge for himself, and caused Madame de Campan to read it tohimself and the queen. He fully agreed with the censor. Many passages hepronounced to be in extremely bad taste. When the reader came to theallusions to secret arrests, protracted imprisonments, and the tediousformalities of the law and lawyers, he declared that it would be necessaryto pull down the Bastile before it could be acted with safety, asBeaumarchais was ridiculing every thing which ought to be respected. "Itis not to be performed, then?" said the queen. "No, " replied the king, "you may depend upon that. "

Similar refusals of a license had been common enough, so that there was noreason in the world why this decision should have attracted any noticewhatever. But Beaumarchais was the fashion. He had influential patronseven in the palace: the Count d'Artois and Madame de Polignac, with thecoterie which met in her apartments, being among them; and the mere ideathat the court or the Government was afraid to let the play be actedcaused thousands to desire to see it, who, without such a temptation, would have been wholly indifferent to its fate. The censor could notprevent its being read at private parties, and such readings became sopopular that, in 1782, one was got up for the amusement of the Russianprince, who was greatly pleased by the liveliness of the dramaticsituations, and, probably, not sufficiently aware of the prevalence ofdiscontent in many circles of French society to sympathize with those whosaw danger in its satire. 

The praises lavished on it gave the author greater boldness, which wasquite unnecessary. He even meditated an evasion of the law by getting itacted in a place which was not a theatre, and tickets were actually issuedfor the performance in a saloon which was often used for rehearsals, whena royal warrant[1] peremptorily forbidding such a proceeding was sent downfrom the palace. A clamor was at once raised by the friends ofBeaumarchais, as if "sealed letters" had never been issued before. Theytalked in a loud voice of "oppression" and "tyranny;" and any one who knewthe king's disposition might have divined that such an act of vigor wassure to be followed by one of weakness. Presently Beaumarchais changed histone. He gave out that he had retrenched the passages which had excitedthe royal disapproval, and requested that the play might be re-examined. Anew censor of high literary reputation reported to the head of thepolice[2] that if one or two passages were corrected, and one or twoexpressions, which were liable to be misinterpreted, were suppressed, heforesaw no danger in allowing the representation. Beaumarchais at oncepromised to make the required corrections, and one of Madame de Polignac'sfriends, the Count de Vaudreuil, the very nobleman with whom that lady'sname was by many discreditably connected, obtained the king's leave toperform it at his country house, that thus an opportunity might beafforded for judging whether or not the alterations which had been madewere sufficient to render its performance innocent. 

The king was assured that the passages which he had regarded asmischievous were suppressed or divested of their sting. Marie Antoinetteapparently had her suspicions; but Louis could never long withstandrepeated solicitations, and, as he had not, when Madame de Campan read it, formed any very high opinion of its literary merits, he thought that, nowthat it was deprived of its venom, it would be looked upon as heavy, andwould fail accordingly. Some good judges, such as the Marquis deMontesquieu, were of the same opinion. The actors thought differently. "Itis my belief, " said a man of fashion to the witty Mademoiselle Arnould, using the technical language of the theatre, "that your play will be'damned. '" "Yes, " she replied, "it will, fifty nights running. " But, evenif Louis had heard of her prophecy, he would have disregarded it. He gavehis permission for the performance to take place, and on the 27th April, 1784, "The Marriage of Figaro" was accordingly acted to an audience whichfilled the house to the very ceiling; and which the long uncertainty as towhether it would ever be seen or not had disposed to applaud every sceneand every repartee, and even to see wit where none existed. To animpartial critic, removed both by time and country from the agitationwhich had taken place, it will probably seem that the play thus obtained areception far beyond its merits. It was undoubtedly what managers wouldcall a good acting play. Its plot was complicated without being confused. It contained many striking situations; the dialogue was lively, but therewas more humor in the surprises and discoveries than verbal wit in therepartees. Some strokes of satire were leveled at the grasping dispositionof the existing race of courtiers, whose whole trade was represented asconsisting of getting all they could, and asking for more; and others atthe tricks of modern politicians, feigning to be ignorant of what theyknew; to know what they were ignorant of; to keep secrets which had noexistence; to lock the door to mend a pen; to appear deep when they wereshallow; to set spies in motion, and to intercept letters; to try toennoble the poverty of their means by the grandeur of their objects. Thecensorship, of course, did not escape. The scene being laid in Spain, Figaro affirmed that at Madrid the liberty of the press meant that, solong as an author spoke neither of authority, nor of public worship, norof politics, nor of morality, nor of men in power, nor of the opera, norof any other exhibition, nor of any one who was concerned in any thing, hemight print what be pleased. The lawyers were reproached with a scrupulousadherence to forms, and a connivance at needless delays, which put moneyinto their pockets; and the nobles, with thinking that, as long as theygave themselves the trouble to be born, society had no right to expectfrom them any further useful action. But such satire was too general, itmight have been thought, to cause uneasiness, much more to do specificinjury to any particular individual, or to any company or profession. Figaro himself is represented as saying that none but little men fearedlittle writings. [3] And one of the advisers whom King Louis consulted asto the possibility of any mischief arising from the performance of theplay, is said to have expressed his opinion in the form of an apothegm, that "none but dead men were killed by jests. " The author might even haveargued that his keenest satire had been poured upon those nationalenemies, the English, when he declared what has been sometimes regarded asthe national oath to be the pith and marrow of the English language, theopen sesame to English society, the key to unlock the English heart, andto obtain the judicious swearer all that he could desire. [4]

And an English writer, with English notions of the liberty of the press, would hardly have thought it worth while to notice such an affair at all, did he not feel bound to submit his judgment to that of the Frenchthemselves. And if their view be correct, almost every institution inFrance must have been a dead man past all hopes of recovery, since theFrench historical writers, to whatever party they belong, are unanimous indeclaring that it was from this play that many of the oldest institutionsin the country received their death-blow, and that Beaumarchais was atonce the herald and the pioneer of the approaching Revolution. 

Paris had scarcely cooled down after this excitement, when its attentionwas more agreeably attracted by the arrival of a king, Gustavus III. OfSweden. He had paid a visit to France in 1771, which had been cut short bythe sudden death of his father, necessitating his immediate return to hisown country to take possession of his throne; but the brief acquaintancewhich Marie Antoinette had then made with him had inspired her with agreat admiration of his chivalrous character; and in the preceding year, hearing that he was contemplating a tour in Southern Europe, she hadwritten to him to express a hope that he would repeat his visit toVersailles, promising him "such a reception as was due to an ancient allyof France;[5]" and adding that "she should personally have great pleasurein testifying to him how greatly she valued his friendship. "

Her mention of the ancient alliance between the two countries, which, indeed, had subsisted ever since the days of Francis I. , was very welcometo Gustavus, since the object of his journey was purely political, and hedesired to negotiate a fresh treaty. But those matters he, of course, arranged with the ministers. The queen was only concerned in theentertainments due from royal hosts to so distinguished a guest. Most ofthem were of the ordinary character, there being a sort of establishedroutine of festivity for such occasions. And it may be taken as a proofthat the court had abated somewhat of its alarm at Beaumarchais's playthat "The Marriage of Figaro" was allowed to be acted on one of the king'svisits to the theatre. She also gave him an entertainment of more thanusual splendor at the Trianon, at which all the ladies present, and theinvitations were very numerous, were required to be dressed in white, while all the walks and shrubberies of the garden were illuminated, sothat the whole scene presented a spectacle which he described in one ofhis letters as "a complete fairy-land; a sight worthy of the ElysianFields themselves. [6]" But, as usual, the queen herself was the chiefornament of the whole, as she moved graciously among her guests, layingaside the character of queen to assume that of the cordial hostess; andnot even taking her place at the banquet, but devoting herself wholly tothe pleasurable duty of doing honor to her guests. 

One of the displays was of a novel character, from which its inventors andpatrons expected scientific results of importance, which, though nearly acentury has since elapsed, have not yet been realized. In the precedingyear, Montgolfier had for the first time sent up a balloon, and the newinvention was now exhibited in the Court of Versailles: the queen allowedthe balloon to be called by her name; and, to the great admiration ofGustavus, who had a decided taste for matters which were in any wayconnected with practical science, the "Marie Antoinette" made a successfulvoyage to Chantilly. The date of another invention, if, indeed, itdeserves so respectable a title, is also fixed by this royal visit. Mesmerhad recently begun to astonish or bewilder the Parisians with his theoryof animal magnetism; and Gustavus spent some time in discussing thequestion with him, and seems for a moment to have flattered himself thathe comprehended his principles. But the only durable result which arosefrom his stay in France was the sincere regard and esteem which he and thequeen mutually conceived for each other. They established acorrespondence, in which Marie Antoinette repeatedly showed her eagernessto gratify his wishes and to attend to his recommendations; and when, at alater period, unexpected troubles fell on her and her husband, there wasno one whom their troubles inspired with greater eagerness to serve themthan Gustavus, whose last projects, before he fell by the hand of anassassin, were directed to their deliverance from the dangers which, though neither he nor they were as yet fully alive to their magnitude, were on the point of overwhelming them. 

CHAPTER XX. 

St. Cloud is purchased for the Queen. --Libelous Attacks on her. --Birth ofthe Duc de Normandie. --Joseph presses her to support his Views in the LowCountries. ---The Affair of the Necklace. --Share which the Cardinal deRohan had in it. --The Queen's Indignation at his Acquittal. --SubsequentCareer of the Cardinal. 

Marie Antoinette had long since completed her gardens at the Trianon, butthe gradual change in the arrangements of the court had made a number ofalterations requisite at Versailles, with which the difficulty of findingmoney rendered it desirable to proceed slowly. It was reckoned that itwould be necessary to give up the greater part of the palace to workmenfor ten years; and as the other palaces which the king possessed in theneighborhood of Paris were hardly suited for the permanent residence ofthe court, the queen proposed to her husband to obtain St. Cloud from theDuc d'Orléans, giving him in exchange La Muette, the Castle of Choisy, anda small adjacent forest. Such an arrangement would have produced aconsiderable saving by the reduction of the establishments kept up atthose places, at which the court only spent a few days in each year. Andas the duke was disposed to think that he should be a gainer by theexchange, it is not very easy to explain how it was that the originalproject was given up, and that St. Cloud was eventually sold to the crownfor a sum of money, Choisy and La Muette being also retained. 

St. Cloud was bought; and Marie Antoinette, still eager to prevent her ownacquisition from being too costly, proposed to the king that it should hebought in her name, and called her property; since an establishment forher would naturally lie framed on a more moderate scale than that of anypalace belonging to the king, which was held always to require theappointment of a governor and deputy-governors, with a corresponding staffof underlings, while she should only require a porter at the outer gate. The advantage of such a plan was so obvious that it was at once adopted. The porters and servants wore the queen's livery; and all notices of theregulations to be observed were signed "In the queen's name. [1]" Yet sobusy were her enemies at this time, that even this simple arrangement, devised solely for the benefit of the people who were intimately concernedin every thing that tended to diminish the royal expenditure, gave rise tonumberless cavils. Some affirmed that the issue of such notices in thename of the queen instead of in that of the king was an infringement onhis authority. One most able and influential counselor of the Parliament, Duval d'Esprémesnil, who in more than one discussion in subsequent yearsshowed that in general he fully appreciated the principles ofconstitutional government, but who at this time seems to have beenanimated by no other feeling than that of hatred for the existingministers, even went the length of affirming that there was "something notonly impolitic but immoral in the idea of any palace belonging to a queenof France. [2]" But when the arrangements had once been made, MarieAntoinette not unnaturally thought her honor concerned in not abandoningit in deference to clamor so absurd, as well as so disrespectful toherself; and St. Cloud, to which she had always been partial, continuedhers, and for the next five years divided her attention with the Trianon. 

But though she herself disregarded all such attacks with the calm dignitywhich belonged to her character, her friends were not free from seriousapprehensions as to the power of persistent detraction and calumny. It wasone of the penalties which the nation had to pay for the infamies whichhad stained the crown during the last three centuries, that the people hadlearned to think that nothing was too bad to say and to believe of theirkings; and Marie Antoinette seemed as yet a fairer mark than usual forslanderous attack, because her position was weaker than that of a King. [3]It depended on the life of her husband and of a single son, who wasalready beginning to show signs of weakness of constitution. It wastherefore with exceeding satisfaction that in the autumn of 1784 herfriends learned that she was again about to become a mother. They prayedwith inexpressible anxiety that the expected child should prove a son; andon the 27th of March, 1785, their prayers were granted. A son was born, whom his delighted father at once took in his arms, calling him "hislittle Norman, " and, saying "that the name alone would bring himhappiness, " created Duke of Normandy. No prophecy was ever so sadlyfalsified; no king's son had ever so miserable a lot; but no forebodingsof evil as yet disturbed his parents. Their delight was fully shared bythe body of the people; for the cabals against the queen were as yetconfined to the immediate precincts of the court, and had not descended toinfect the middle classes. It was with difficulty when, after herconfinement, she paid her visit to Paris to return thanks at Notre Dameand St. Geneviève, that the citizens could he prevented from unharnessingher horses and dragging her coach in triumph through the streets. [4] Andtheir exultation was fully shared by the better-intentioned class ofcourtiers, and by all Marie Antoinette's real friends, who felt assuredthat the birth of this second son had given her the security which hadhitherto been wanting to her position. 

Meanwhile, she was again led to interest herself greatly in foreignpolitics, though in truth she hardly regarded any thing in which herbrother's empire was interested as foreign, so deep was her convictionthat the interests of France and Austria were identical and inseparable, and so unwearied were her endeavors to make her husband's ministers seeall questions that concerned her brother's dominions with her eyes. Throughout the latter part of 1784, and the earlier months of 1785, Joseph, who was always restless in his ambition, was full of schemes ofaggrandizement which he desired to carry out through the favor andco-operation of France. At one moment he projected obtaining Bavaria inexchange for the Netherlands, at another he aimed at procuring the openingof the Scheldt by threatening the Dutch with instant war if they resisted. But, as all these schemes were eventually abandoned, they would hardlyrequire to be mentioned here, were it not for the proofs which hiscorrespondence with his sister affords of his increasing esteem for hercapacity, and his evident conviction of her growing influence in theFrench Government, and for the light which some of her answers to hisletters throw on her relations with the ministers, which had perhaps someshare in increasing the annoyance that the affair of "the necklace, " aswill be presently mentioned, caused her before the end of the year. Herdifficulties with Louis himself were the same as she had already describedto her brother on former occasions. "It was impossible to induce him totake a strong line, so as to speak resolutely to M. De Vergennes in herpresence, and equally so to prevent his changing his mind afterward;[5]"while she distrusted the good faith of the minister so much that, thoughshe resolved to speak to him strongly on the subject, she would not do sotill she could discuss the question with him "in the presence of the king, that he might not be able to disfigure or to exaggerate what she said. "Yet she did not always find her precautions effectual. Louis's judgmentwas always at the mercy of the last speaker. She assured her brother that"he had abundant reason to be contented with the king's personal feelingson the subject. When he received the emperor's letter, he spoke to herabout it in a way that delighted her. He regarded Joseph's demands asjust, and his motives as most reasonable. Yet--she blushed to own it evento her brother--after he had seen his minister, his tone was no longer thesame; he was embarrassed; he shunned the subject with her, and often foundsome new objection to weaken the effect of his previous admissions. "

At one time she even feared a rupture between the two countries. Vergenneswas urging the king to send an army of observation to the frontier; and, if it were sent, the proximity of such a force to the Austrian troops inthe Netherlands would, to her apprehension, be full of danger. There wassound political acuteness in her remark that the dispatch of an army ofobservation was not "in itself a declaration of war, but that when twoarmies are so near to one another an order to advance is very soonexecuted;" and, with a shrewd perception of the argument which was mostlikely to influence the humane disposition of her husband, she pressedupon him that "the delays and shuffling of his ministers might veryprobably involve him in war, in spite of his own intentions. " However, eventually the clouds which had caused her anxiety were dissipated; themediation of France had even some share in leading to a conclusion ofthese disputes in a manner in which Joseph himself acquiesced; and thegood understanding between the two crowns, on which, as Marie Antoinetteoften declared, her happiness greatly depended, was preserved, or, as shehoped, even strengthened, by the result of these negotiations. 

But on one occasion of real moment to the personal comfort and credit ofthe queen, Louis behaved with a clear good sense, and, what was equallyimportant, with a firmness which she gratefully acknowledged, [6] andcontrasted remarkably with the pusillanimous advice that had been given bymore than one of the ministers. That the affair in which he exhibitedthese qualities should for a moment have been regarded as one of politicalimportance, is another testimony to the diseased state of the public mindat the time; and that it should have been possible so to use it as toattach the slightest degree of discredit to the queen, is a proof asstrange as melancholy how greatly the secret intrigues of the basest cabalthat ever disgraced a court had succeeded in undermining her reputation, and poisoning the very hearts of the people against her. [7]

Boehmer, the court jeweler, had collected a large number of diamonds ofunusual size and brilliancy, which he had formed into a necklace, in thehope of selling it to the queen, whose fancy for such jewels had someyears before been very great. She had at one time spent sums on diamondornaments, large enough to provoke warm remonstrances from her mother, though certainly not excessive for her rank; and Louis, knowing herpartiality for them, had more than once made her costly gifts of the kind. But her taste for them had cooled; her children now engrossed far more ofher attention than her dress, and she was keenly alive to the distresswhich still prevailed in many parts of the kingdom, and to theembarrassments of the revenue, which the ingenuity of Calonne did notrelieve half so rapidly as his rashness encumbered it. Accordingly, herreply to Boehmer's application that she would purchase his necklace wasthat her jewel-case was sufficiently full, and that she had almost givenup wearing diamonds; and that if such a sum as he asked, which was nearlyseventy thousand pounds, were available, she should greatly prefer itsbeing spent on a ship for the nation, to replace the _Ville de Paris_, whose loss still rankled in her breast. 

The king, who thought that she must secretly wish for a jewel of suchunequalled splendor, offered to make her a present of the necklace, butshe adhered to her refusal. Boehmer was greatly disappointed; he hadexhausted his resources and his credit in collecting the stones in thehope of making a grand profit, and declared loudly to his patrons that heshould be ruined if the queen could not be induced to change her mind. Hiscomplaints were so unrestrained that they reached the ears of those whosaw in his despair a possibility of enriching themselves at his expense. There was in Paris at the time a Countess de la Mothe, who, as claimingdescent from a natural son of Henri II. , had added Valois to her name, andhad her claim to royal birth so far allowed that, as she was in verydestitute circumstances, she had obtained a small pension from the crown. Her pension and her pretensions had perhaps united to procure her the handof the Count de la Mothe, who had for some time been discreditably knownas one of the most worthless and dangerous adventurers who infested thecapital. But her marriage had been no restraint on a life of unconcealedprofligacy, and among her lovers she reckoned the Cardinal de Rohan, who, as we have already seen, was as little scrupulous or decent as herself. 

As, however, the cardinal's extravagance had left him with little means ofsupplying her necessities, Madame La Mothe conceived the idea of swindlingBoehmer out of his necklace, and of making de Rohan an accomplice in thefraud. The one thing which in the transaction is difficult to determine iswhether the cardinal was her willing and conscious assistant, or her dupe. That his capacity was of the very lowest order was notorious, but he was aman who had been bred in courts; he knew the manner in which princestransacted their business, and in which queens signed their names. He hadlong been acquainted with Marie Antoinette's figure and gestures andvoice; while, unhappily, there was nothing in his character which wasincompatible with his becoming an accomplice in any act of baseness. 

What followed was a drama of surprises. It was with as much astonishmentas indignation that Marie Antoinette learned that Boehmer believed thatshe had secretly bought the necklace, which openly and formally she hadrefused, and that he was looking to her for the payment of its price. Andabout a fortnight later it was like a thunder-clap that a summons cameupon the Cardinal de Rohan, who had just been performing mass before theking and queen, to appear before them in Louis's private cabinet, and thathe found himself subjected to an examination by Louis himself, whodemanded of him with great indignation an explanation of the circumstancesthat had led him to represent himself to Boehmer as authorized to buy anecklace for the queen. Terrified and confused, he gave an explanationwhich was half a confession; but which was too complicated to bethoroughly intelligible. He was ordered to retire into the next room andwrite out his statement. His written narrative proved more obscure thanhis spoken words. In spite of his prayers that he might be spared thedegradation of being arrested while still clad in his pontifical habits, he was at once sent to the Bastile. A day or two afterward Madame La Mothewas apprehended in the provinces, and Louis directed that a prosecutionshould be instantly commenced against all who had been concerned in thetransaction. 

For the queen's name had been forged. The cardinal did not deny that hehad represented himself to Boehmer as employed by her for the purchase ofthe jewel which, as he said, she secretly coveted, and for the payment ofits price by installments. But, as his justification, he produced a letterdesiring him to undertake the business, and signed "Marie Antoinette deFrance. " He declared that he had never suspected the genuineness of thisletter, though it was notorious that such an addition to their Christiannames was used by none but the sons and daughters of the reigningsovereign, and never by a queen. And eventually his whole story was foundto be that Madame La Mothe had induced him to believe that she was in thequeen's confidence, and also that the queen coveted the necklace and wasresolved to obtain it; but that she was unable at once to pay for it; andthat, being desirous to make amends to the cardinal for the neglect withwhich she had hitherto treated him, she had resolved on employing him tomake arrangements with Boehmer for the instant delivery of the ornament, and for her payment of the price by installments. 

This was strange enough to have excited the suspicions of most men. Whatfollowed was stranger still. Not content with forging the queen'shandwriting, Madame La Mothe had even, if one may say so, forged the queenherself. She had assured the cardinal that Marie Antoinette had consentedto grant him a secret interview; and at midnight, in the gardens ofVersailles, had introduced him to a woman of notoriously bad characternamed Oliva, who in height resembled the queen, and who, in a conferenceof half a minute, gave him a letter and a rose with the words, "You knowwhat this means. " She had hardly uttered the words when Madame La Motheinterrupted the pair with the warning the Countesses of Provence andArtois were approaching. The mock queen retired in haste. The cardinalpressed the rose to his heart; acted on the letter; and protested that hehad never doubted that he had seen the queen, and had been acting on hercommands in obtaining the necklace from Boehmer and delivering it toMadame La Mothe, though he now acknowledged that he had been imposed upon, and offered to pay the jeweler for his property. 

There were not wanting those who advised that this offer should beaccepted, and that the matter should be hushed up, rather than that aprince of the Church should be publicly disgraced by a prosecution forfraud. But Louis and Marie Antoinette both rightly judged that their dutyas sovereigns of the kingdom forbade them to compromise justice byscreening dishonesty. It was but two years before that a great noble, themost eloquent of all French orators, had singled out Marie Antoinette'slove of justice as one of her most conspicuous, as it was one of her mostnoble, qualities; and the words deserve especially to be remembered fromthe melancholy contrast which his subsequent conduct presents to thevoluntary tribute which he now paid to her excellence. In 1783, the youngCount de Mirabeau, pleading for the restitution of his conjugal rights, put the question to the judges at Aix before whom he was arguing, "Whichof you, if he desired to consecrate a living personification of justice, and to embellish it with all the charms of beauty, would not set up theaugust image of our queen?"

She and her husband might well have felt they were bound to act up to sucha eulogy. Some of their advisers also, and especially the Baron deBreteuil and the Abbé de Yermond, fortified their decision with theiradvice; being, in truth, greatly influenced by a reason which they forboreto mention, namely, by their suspicion that the untiring malice of thequeen's enemies would not have failed to represent that the suppression ofthe slightest particle of the truth could only have been dictated by aguilty consciousness which felt that it could not bear the light; and thatthe queen had forborne to bring the cardinal into court solely because sheknew that he was in a situation to prove facts which would deservedlydamage her reputation. 

It is impossible to doubt that the resolution which was adopted was theonly one consistent with either propriety or common sense. Howeverplausible may be the arguments which in this or that case may be adducedfor concealment, the common instinct of mankind, which rarely errs in suchmatters, always conceives a suspicion that it is dictated by secret anddiscreditable motives; and that he who screens manifest guilt fromexposure and punishment makes himself an accomplice in the wrong-doing, ifhe was not so before. But, though Louis judged rightly for his own and hisqueen's character in bringing those who were guilty of forgery and robberyto a public trial, the result inflicted an irremediable wound on one greatinstitution, furnishing an additional proof how incurably rotten the wholesystem of the Government must have been, when corruption without shame ordisguise was allowed to sway the highest judicial tribunal in the country. 

The Parliament of Paris, constantly endeavoring throughout its wholehistory to encroach upon the royal prerogative, had always founded itspretensions on its purity and disinterestedness. Since itsre-establishment at the beginning of the present reign, it had advancedits claim to the possession of those virtues more loudly than ever; yetnow, in the very first case which came before it in which a noble of thehighest rank was concerned, it was made apparent not only that it waswholly destitute of every quality which ought to belong to a judicialbench, of a regard for truth and justice, and even of a knowledge of thelaw; but that no one gave it credit for them, and that every one regardedthe decision to be given as one which would depend, not on the merits ofthe case, but on the interest which the culprits might be able to makewith the judges. [8]

The trial took place in May of the following year. We need not enter intoits details; the denials, the admissions, the mutual recriminations of thepersons accused. In the fate of the La Mothes and Mademoiselle Oliva noone professed to be concerned; but the friends of the cardinal werenumerous, rich, and powerful; and for months had been and still wereindefatigable in his cause. Some days before the trial, the attorney-general had become aware that nearly the whole of the Parliament had beengained by them; he even furnished the queen with a list of the names ofthose judges who had promised their verdict beforehand, and of the meansby which they had been won over. And on the decisive morning the cardinaland his friends made a theatrical display which was evidently intended tooverawe those members of the Parliament who were yet unconvinced, and toenlist the sympathies of the public in general. He himself appeared at thebar in a long violet cloak, the mourning robe of cardinals; and all thepassages leading to the hall of justice were lined by his partisans, alsoin deep mourning; and they were not solely his own relations, the noblesof the different branches of his family, the Soubises, the Rohans, theGuimenées; but though, as princes of the blood, the Condés were nearlyallied to the king and queen, they also were not ashamed to swell thecompany assembled, and to solicit the judges as they passed into the courtto disregard alike justice and their own oaths, and to acquit thecardinal, whatever the evidence might be which had been, or was to be, produced against him. They were only asking what they had already assuredthemselves of obtaining. The queen's signature was indeed declared to be aforgery, and the La Mothes, Mademoiselle Oliva, and a man named Retaux deVillette, who had been the actual writer of the forged letters, wereconvicted and sentenced to the punishment which the counsel for the crownhad demanded. But the cardinal was acquitted, as well as a notoriousjuggler and impostor of the day, called Cagliostro, who had apparentlybeen so entirely unconnected with the transaction that it is not easy tosee how he became included in the prosecution; and permission was given tothe cardinal to make his acquittal public in any manner and to any extentwhich he might desire. [9]

The subsequent history of the La Mothes was singular and characteristic. The countess, who had been sentenced to be flogged, branded, andimprisoned for life, after a time contrived, it is believed by the aid ofsome of the Rohan family, to escape from prison. She fled to London, wherefor some time she and her husband lived on the proceeds of the necklace, which they had broken up and sold piecemeal to jewelers in London andother cities; but they were soon reduced to great distress. After theRevolution had broken out in Paris, they tried to make money by publishinglibels on the queen, in which they are believed to have obtained the aidof some who in former times had been under great personal obligations toMarie Antoinette. But the scheme failed: they were overwhelmed with debt;writs were issued against them, and in trying to escape from the sheriff'sofficers, the countess fell from a window at the top of a house, andreceived injuries which proved fatal. 

A most accomplished writer of the present day, who has devoted much careand ability to the examination of the case, has pronounced an opinion thatthe cardinal was innocent of dishonesty, [10] and limits his offense tothat of insulting the queen by the mere suspicion that she could place herconfidence in such an unworthy agent as Madame La Mothe, or that hehimself could be allowed to recover her favor by such means as he hademployed. But his absolute ignorance of the countess's schemes is notentirely consistent with the admitted fact that, when he was arrested, hisfirst act was to send orders to his secretary to burn all the letterswhich he had received from her on the subject; and unquestionably neitherLouis nor Marie Antoinette doubted his full complicity in the conspiracy. Louis at once deprived him of his office of grand almoner, and banishedhim from the court, declaring that "he knew too well the usages of thecourt to have believed that Madame La Mothe had really been admitted tothe queen's presence and intrusted with such a commission. [11]" And MarieAntoinette gave open expression to her indignation at the acquittal "of anintriguer who had sought to ruin her, or to procure money for himself, byabusing her name and forging her signature, " adding, with undeniabletruth, that still more to be pitied than herself was a "nation which hadfor its supreme tribunal a body of men who consulted nothing but theirpassions; and of whom some were full of corruption, and others wereinspired with a boldness which always vented itself in opposition to thosewho were clothed with lawful authority. [12]"

But her magnanimity and her sincere affection for the whole people werenever more manifest than now even in her first moments of indignation. Even while writing to Madame de Polignac that she is "bathed in tears ofgrief and despair, " and that she can "hope for nothing good whenperverseness is so busy in seeking means to chill her very soul, " she yetadds that "she shall triumph over her enemies by doing more good thanever, and that it will be easier for them to afflict her than to drive herto avenging herself on them. [13]" And she uses the same language to hersister Christine, even while expressing still more strongly herindignation at being "sacrificed to a perjured priest and a shamelessintriguer. " She demands her sister's "pity, as one who had never deservedsuch injurious treatment;[14] but who had only recollected that she wasthe daughter of Maria Teresa--to fulfill her mother's exhortations, alwaysto show herself French to the very bottom of her heart;" but she concludesby repeating the declaration that "nothing shall tempt her to any conductunworthy of herself, and that the only revenge that she will take shall heto redouble her acts of kindness. "

It is pleasing to be able to close so odious a subject by the statementthat the disgrace which the cardinal had thus brought upon himself may besupposed in some respects to have served as a lesson to him, and that hisconduct in the latter days of his life was such as to do no discredit tothe noble race from which he sprung. 

A great part of his diocese as Bishop of Strasburg lay on the German sideof the Rhine; and thither, [15] when the French Revolution began to assumethe blood-thirsty character which has made it a warning to all futureages, he was fortunate to escape in safety from the fury of the assassinswho ruled France. And though he was no longer rich, his less fortunatecountrymen, and especially his clerical brethren, found in him a liberalprotector and supporter. [16] He even levied a body of troops to re-enforcethe royalist army. But, when the First Consul wrung from the Pope aconcordat of which he disapproved, he resigned his bishopric, and shortlyafterward died at Ettenheim, [17] where, had he remained but a short timelonger, he, like the Duke d'Enghien, might have found that a residence ina foreign land was no protection against the ever-suspicious enmity ofBonaparte. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The King visits Cherbourg. --Rarity of Royal Journeys. --The PrincessChristine visits the Queen--Hostility of the Duc d'Orléans to the Queen. --Libels on her. --She is called Madame Deficit. --She has a Second Daughter, who dies. --Ill Health of the Dauphin. --Unskillfulness and Extravagance ofCalonne's System of Finance. --Distress of the Kingdom. --He assembles theNotables. --They oppose his Plans. --Letters of Marie Antoinette on theSubject. --Her Ideas of the English Parliament. --Dismissal of Calonne. --Character of Archbishop Loménie de Brienne. --Obstinacy of Necker. --TheArchbishop is appointed Minister. --The Distress increases. --The Notablesare dissolved. --Violent Opposition of the Parliament--Resemblance of theFrench Revolution to the English Rebellion of 1642. --Arrest ofd'Esprémesnil and Montsabert. 

It was owing to Marie Antoinette's influence that Louis himself in thefollowing year began to enter on a line of conduct which, if circumstanceshad not prevented him from persevering in it, might have tended, moreperhaps than any thing else that he could have done, to make him alsopopular with the main body of the people. The emperor, while atVersailles, had strongly pressed upon him that it was his duty, as king ofthe nation, to make himself personally acquainted with every part of hiskingdom, to visit the agricultural districts, the manufacturing towns, thefortresses, arsenals, and harbors of the country. Joseph himself hadpracticed what he preached. No corner of his dominions was unknown to him;and it is plain that there can be no nation which must not be benefited byits sovereign thus obtaining a personal knowledge of all the variousinterests and resources of his subjects. But such personal investigationswere not yet understood to be a part of a monarch's duties. Louis'scontemporary, our own sovereign, George III. , than whom, if rectitude ofintention and benevolence of heart be the principal standards by whichprinces should be judged, no one ever better deserved to be called thefather of his country, scarcely ever went a hundred miles from Windsor, and never once visited even those Midland Counties which before the end ofhis reign had begun to give undeniable tokens of the contribution whichtheir industry was to furnish to the growing greatness of his empire; andthe last two kings of France, though in the course of their long reignsthey had once or twice visited their armies while waging war on theFlemish or German frontier, had never seen their western or southernprovinces. 

But now Marie Antoinette suggested to her husband that it was time that heshould extend his travels, which, except when he had gone to Rheims forhis coronation, had never yet carried him beyond Compiègne in onedirection and Fontainebleau in another; and, as of all the departments ofGovernment, that which was concerned with the marine of the nationinterested her most (we fear that she was secretly looking forward to arenewal of war with England), she persuaded him to select for the objectof his first visit the fort of Cherbourg in Normandy, where those greatworks had been recently begun which have since been constantly augmentedand improved, till they have made it a worthy rival to our own harbors onthe opposite side of the Channel. He was received in all the towns throughwhich he passed with real joy. The Normans had never seen their king sinceHenry IV. Had made their province his battle-field; and the queen, whowould gladly have accompanied him, had it not been that such a journeyundertaken by both would have resembled a state procession, and thereforehave been tedious and comparatively useless, exulted in the receptionwhich he had met with, and began to plan other expeditions of the samekind for him, feeling assured that his presence would be equally welcomedin other provinces--at Bourdeaux, at Lyons, or at Toulon. And a series ofsuch visits would undoubtedly have been calculated to strengthen theattachment of the people everywhere to the royal authority; which, already, to some far-seeing judges, seemed likely soon to need all there-enforcement which it could obtain in any quarter. 

In the summer of 1786 she had a visit from her sister Christine, thePrincess of Teschen, who, with her husband, had been joint governor ofHungary, and since the death of her uncle, Charles of Lorraine, had beenremoved to the Netherlands. She had never seen her sister since her ownmarriage, and the month which they spent together at Versailles may bealmost described as the last month of perfect enjoyment that MarieAntoinette ever knew; for troubles were thickening fast around theGovernment, and were being taken wicked advantage of by her enemies, atthe head of whom the Duc d'Orléans now began openly to range himself. Hewas a man notorious, as has been already seen, for every kind of infamy;and though he well knew the disapproval with which Marie Antoinetteregarded his way of life and his character, it is believed that he had hadthe insolence to approach her with the language of gallantry; that he hadbeen rejected with merited indignation; and that he ever afterwardregarded her noble disdain as a provocation which it should be the chiefobject of his life to revenge. In fact, on one occasion he did not scrupleto avow his resentment at the way in which, as he said, she had treatedhim; though he did not mention the reason. [1]

Calumny was the only weapon which could be employed against her; but inthat he and his partisans had long been adept. Every old libel and pretextfor detraction was diligently revived. The old nickname of "The Austrian"was repeated with pertinacity as spiteful as causeless; even the king'saunts lending their aid to swell the clamor on that ground, and oftensaying, with all the malice of their inveterate jealousy, that it was notto be expected that she should have the same feelings as their father orLouis XIV. , since she was not of their blood, though it was plain that thesame remark would have applied to every Queen of France since Anne ofBrittany. Even the embarrassments of the revenue were imputed to her; andshe, who had curtailed her private expenses, even those which seemedalmost necessary to her position, that she might minister more largely tothe necessities of the poor--who had declined to buy jewels that the moneymight be applied to the service of the State--was now held up to thepopulace as being by her extravagance the prime cause of the nationaldistress. Pamphlets and caricatures gave her a new nickname of "MadameDeficit;" and such an impression to her disfavor was thus made on theminds of the lower classes, that a painter, who had just finished anengaging portrait of her surrounded by her children, feared to send it tothe exhibition, lest it should be made a pretext for insult and violence. Her unpopularity did not, indeed, last long at this time, but wassuperseded, as we shall presently see, by fresh feelings of gratitude forfresh labors of charity; nevertheless, the outcry now raised left its seedbehind it, to grow hereafter into a more enduring harvest of distrust andhatred. 

She had troubles, too, of another kind which touched her more nearly. Asecond daughter, Sophie[2], had been born to her in the summer of 1786;but she was a sickly child, and died, before she was a year old, of one ofthe illnesses to which children are subject, and for some months themother mourned bitterly over her "little angel, " as she called her. Hereldest boy, too, was getting rapidly and visibly weaker in health: hisspine seemed to diseased, Marie Antoinette's only hope of saving himrested on the fact that his father had also been delicate at the same age. Luckily his brother gave her no cause for uneasiness; as she wrote to theemperor[3]--"he had all that his elder wanted; he was a thorough peasant'schild, tall, stout, and ruddy. [4]" She had also another comfort, which, asher troubles thickened, became more and more precious to her, in the warmaffection that had sprung up between her and her sister-in-law, thePrincess Elizabeth. A letter[5] has been preserved in which the princessdescribes the death of the little Sophie to one of her friends, which itis impossible to read without being struck by the sincerity of thesympathy with which she enters into the grief of the bereaved mother. Inthese moments of anguish she showed herself indeed a true sister, and, thetwo clinging to one another the more the greater their dangers anddistresses became, a true sister she continued to the end. 

Meanwhile the embarrassments of the Government were daily assuming a moreformidable appearance. Calonne had for some time endeavored to meet thedeficiency of the revenue by raising fresh loans, till he had completelyexhausted the national credit; and at last had been forced to admit thatthe scheme originally propounded by Turgot, and subsequently in a moremodified degree by Necker, of abolishing the exemptions from taxationwhich were enjoyed by the nobles--the privileged classes, as they wereoften called--was the only expedient to save the nation from the disgraceand ruin of total bankruptcy. But, as it seemed probable that the nobleswould resist such a measure, and that their resistance would prove toostrong for him, as it had already been found to be for his predecessors, he proposed to the king to revive an old assembly which had been known bythe title of the Notables; trusting that, if he succeeded in obtaining thesanction of that body to his plans, the nobles would hardly venture toinsist on maintaining their privileges in defiance of the recordedjudgment of so respectable a council. His hopes were disappointed. Hemight fairly have reckoned on obtaining their concurrence, since it wasthe unquestioned prerogative of the king to nominate all the members; but, even when he was most deliberate and resolute, his rashness andcarelessness were incurable. He took no pains whatever to select membersfavorable to his views; and the consequence was that, in March, 1787, inthe very first month of the session of the Notables, the whole bodyprotested against one of the taxes which he desired to impose; and hisenemies at once urged the king to dismiss him, basing their recommendationon the practice of England, where, as they affirmed, a minister who foundhimself in a minority on an important question immediately retired fromoffice. 

Marie Antoinette, who, as we have seen, had been a diligent reader ofHume, had also been led to compare the proceedings of the refractoryNotables with the conduct of our English parliamentary parties, and to anEnglish reader some of her comments can not fail to be as interesting asthey are curious. The Duchess de Polignac was drinking the waters at Bath, which at that time was a favorite resort of French valetudinarians, and, while she was still in that most beautiful of English cities, the queenkept up an occasional correspondence with her. We have two letters whichMarie Antoinette wrote to her in April; one on the 9th, the very day onwhich Calonne was dismissed; the second, two days latter; and even thepassages which do not relate to politics have their interest as specimensof the writer's character, and of the sincere frankness with which shelaid aside her rank and believed in the possibility of a friendship ofcomplete equality. 

"April 9th, 1787. 

"I thank you, my dear heart, for your letter, which has done me good. Iwas anxious about you. It is true, then, that you have not suffered muchfrom your journey. Take care of yourself, I insist on it, I beg of you;and be sure and derive benefit from the waters, else I should repent ofthe privation I have inflicted on myself without your health beingbenefited. When you are near I feel how much I love you; and I feel itmuch more when you are far away. I am greatly taken up with you and yours, and you would be very ungrateful if you did not love me, for I can notchange toward you. 

"Where you are you can at least enjoy the comfort of never hearing ofbusiness. Although you are in the country of an Upper and a Lower House, you can stop your ears and let people talk. But here it is a noise thatdeafens one in spite of all I can do. The words 'opposition' and 'motions'are established here as in the English Parliament, with this difference, that in London, when people go into opposition, they begin by denudingthemselves of the favors of the king; instead of which, here numbersoppose all the wise and beneficent views of the most virtuous of masters, and still keep all he has given them. It may be a cleverer way ofmanaging, but it is not so gentleman-like. The time of illusion is past, and we are tasting cruel experience. We are paying dearly to-day for ourzeal and enthusiasm for the American war. The voice of honest men isstifled by members and cabals. Men disregard principles to bind themselvesto words, and to multiply attacks on individuals. The seditious will dragthe State to its ruin rather than renounce their intrigues. "

And in her second letter she specifies some of the Opposition by name; oneof whom, as will be seen hereafter, contributed greatly to her subsequentmiseries.... "The repugnance which you know that I have always had tointerfering in business is today put cruelly to the proof; and you wouldbe as tired as I am of all that goes on. I have already spoken to you ofour Upper and Lower House, [6] and of all the absurdities which take placethere, and of the nonsense which is talked. To be loaded with benefits bythe king, like M. De Beauvau, to join the Opposition, and to surrendernone of them, is what is called having spirit and courage. It is, intruth, the courage of infamy. I am wholly surrounded with folks who haverevolted from him. A duke, [7] a great maker of motions, a man who hasalways a tear in his eye when he speaks, is one of the number. M. De LaFayette always founds the opinions he expresses on what is done atPhiladelphia.... Even bishops and archbishops belong to the Opposition, and a great many of the clergy are the very soul of the cabal. You mayjudge, after this, of all the resources which they employ to overturn theplans of the king and his ministers. "

Calonne, however, as has already been intimated, had been dismissed fromoffice before this last letter was written. There had been a trial ofstrength between him and his enemies; which he, believing that he had wonthe confidence of Louis himself, reckoned on turning to his own advantage, by inducing the king to dismiss those of his opponents who were in office. To his astonishment, he found that Louis preferred dispensing with his ownservices, and the general voice was probably correct when it, affirmedthat it was the queen who had induced him to come to that decision. 

Loménie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, was again a candidate for thevacant post, and De Vermond was as diligent as on the previous occasion[8]in laboring to return the obligations under which that prelate hadformerly laid him, by extolling his abilities and virtues to the queen, and recommending him as a worthy successor to Calonne, whom she had nevertrusted or liked. In reality, the archbishop was wholly destitute ofeither abilities or virtues. He was notorious both for open profligacy andfor avowed infidelity, so much so that Louis had refused to transfer himto the diocese of Paris, on the ground that "at least the archbishop ofthe metropolis ought to believe in God. [9]" But Marie Antoinette wasignorant of his character, and believed De Vermond's assurance that theappointment of so high an ecclesiastic would propitiate the clergy, whoseopposition, as many of her letters prove, she thought speciallyformidable, and for whose support she knew her husband to be nervouslyanxious. Some of Calonne's colleagues strongly urged the king tore-appoint Necker, whose recall would have been highly popular with thenation. But Necker had recently given Louis personal offense by publishinga reply to some of Calonne's statements, in defiance of the king's expressprohibition, and had been banished from Paris for the act; and the queen, recollecting how he had formerly refused to withdraw his resignation ather entreaty, felt that she had no reason to expect any greatconsideration for the opinions or wishes of either herself or the kingfrom one so conceited and self-willed, who would be likely to attributehis re-appointment, not to the king's voluntary choice, but to hisnecessities: she therefore strongly pressed that the archbishop should bepreferred. In an unhappy moment she prevailed;[10] and on the 1st of May, 1787, Loménie de Brienne was installed in office with the title of Chiefof the Council of Finance. 

A more unhappy choice could not possibly have been made. The new ministerwas soon seen to be as devoid of information and ability as he was knownto be of honesty. He had a certain gravity of outward demeanor whichimposed upon many, and he had also the address to lead the conversation topoints which, his hearers understood still less than himself; dilating onfinance and the money market even to the ladies of the court, who had hadsome share in persuading the queen of his fitness for office. [11] But hisdisposition was in reality as rash as that of Calonne; and it was acurious proof of his temerity, as well as of his ignorance of the feelingof parties in Paris, that though he knew the Notables to be friendly tohim, as indeed they would have been to any one who might have supersededCalonne, he dismissed them before the end of the month. And the languageheld on their dissolution both by the ministers and by the President ofthe Notables, and which was cheerfully accepted by the people, isremarkable from the contrast which it affords to the feelings which swayedthe national council exactly two years afterward. Some measures ofretrenchment which the Notables had recommended had been adopted; somereductions had been made in the royal households; some costly ceremonieshad been abolished; and one or two imposts, which had pressed with greatseverity on the poorer classes, had been extinguished or modified. And notonly did M. Lamoignon, the Keeper of the Seals, in the speech in which hedismissed them, venture to affirm that these reductions would be found tohave effected all that was needed to restore universal prosperity to thekingdom; but the President of the Assembly, in his reply, thanked God "forhaving caused him to be born in such an age, under such a government, andfor having made him the subject of a king whom he was constrained tolove, " and the thanksgiving was re-echoed by the whole Assembly. But thiscontentment did not last long. The embarrassments of the Treasury were tooserious to be dissipated by soft speeches. The Notables were hardlydissolved before the archbishop proposed a new loan of an enormous amount;and, as he might have foreseen, their dissolution revived the pretensionsof the Parliament. The queen's description of the rise of a Frenchopposition at once received a practical commentary. The debates in theParliament became warmer than they had ever been since the days of theFronde: the citizens, sharing in the excitement, thronged the palace ofthe Parliament, expressing their approval or disapproval of the differentspeakers by disorderly and unprecedented clamor; the great majorityhooting down the minister and his supporters, and cheering those who spokeagainst him. The Duc d'Orléans, by open bribes, gained over many of thecouncilors to oppose the court in every thing. The registration of severalof the edicts which the minister had sent down was refused; and one memberof the Orleanist party even demanded the convocation of the States-general, formerly and constitutionally the great council of the nation, but which had never been assembled since the time of Richelieu. 

The archbishop was sometimes angry, and sometimes terrified, and as weakin his anger as in his terror. He persuaded the king to hold a bed ofjustice to compel the registration of the edicts. When the Parliamentprotested, he banished it to Troyes. In less than a month he becamealarmed at his own vigor, and recalled it. Encouraged by hispusillanimity, and more secure than ever of the support of the citizenswho had been thrown into consternation by his demand of a second loan, nearly[12] six times as large as the first, it became more audacious anddefiant than ever, D'Orléans openly placing himself at the head of themalcontents. Loménie persuaded the king to banish the duke, and to arrestone or two of his most vehement partisans; and again in a few weeksrepented of this act of decision also, released the prisoners, andrecalled the duke. 

As a matter of course, the Parliament grew bolder still. Every measurewhich the minister proposed was rejected; and under the guidance of one oftheir members, Duval d'Esprémesnil, the councilors at last proceeded sofar as to take the initiative in new legislation into their own hands. Inthe first week in May, 1788, they passed a series of resolutions affirmingthat to be the law which indeed ought to have been so, but which hadcertainly never been regarded as such at any period of French history. Onedeclared that magistrates were irremovable, except in cases of misconduct;another, that the individual liberty and property of every citizen wereinviolable; others insisted on the necessity of convoking the States-general as the only assembly entitled to impose taxes; and the councilorshoped to secure the royal acceptance of these resolutions by some previousvotes which asserted that, of those laws which were the very foundation ofthe Constitution, the first was that which assured the "crown to thereigning house and to its descendants in the male line, in the order ofprimogeniture. [13]"

But Louis, or rather his rash minister, was not to be so conciliated; anda scene ensued which is the first of the striking parallels which thisperiod in France affords to the events which had taken place in England acentury and a half before. As in 1642 Charles I. Had attempted to arrestmembers of the English Parliament in the very House of Commons, so thearchbishop now persuaded Louis to send down the captain of the guard, theMarquis d'Agoust, to the palace of the Parliament, to seize D'Esprémesnil, and another councilor named Montsabert, who had been one of his foremostsupporters in the recent discussions. They behaved with admirable dignity. Marie Antoinette was not one to betray her husband's counsels, asHenrietta Maria had betrayed those of Charles. D'Esprémesnil and hisfriend, wholly taken by surprise, had had no warning of what was designed, no time to withdraw, nor in all probability would they have done so in anycase. When M. D'Agoust entered the council hall and demanded hisprisoners, there was a great uproar. The whole Assembly made common causewith their two brethren who were thus threatened. "We are alld'Esprémesnils and Montsaberts, " was their unanimous cry; while the tumultat the doors, where a vast multitude was collected, many of whom had armsin their hands and seemed prepared to use them, was more formidable still. But D'Agoust, though courteous in the discharge of his duty, was intrepidand firm; and the two members voluntarily surrendered themselves andretired in custody, while the archbishop was so elated with his triumphthat a few days afterwards he induced the king to venture on anotherimitation of the history of England, though now it was not Charles, butthe more tyrannical Cromwell, whose conduct was copied. Before the end ofthe month the Governor of Paris entered the palace of the Parliament, seized all the registers and documents of every kind, locked the doors, and closed them with the king's seal; and a royal edict was issuedsuspending all the parliaments both in the capital and the provinces. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Formidable Riots take place in some Provinces. --The Archbishop invitesNecker to join his Ministry. --Letter of Marie Antoinette describing herInterview with the Archbishop, and her Views. --Necker refuses. --The Queensends Messages to Necker. --The Archbishop resigns, and Necker becomesMinister. --The Queen's View of his Character. --General Rejoicing. --Defectsin Necker's Character. --He recalls the Parliament. --Riots in Paris. --Severe Winter. --General Distress. --Charities of the King and Queen. --Gratitude of the Citizens. --The Princes are concerned in the Libelspublished against the Queen. --Preparations for the Meeting of the States-general. --Long Disuse of that Assembly. --Need of Reform. --Vices Of the OldFeudal System. --Necker's Blunders in the Arrangements for the Meeting ofthe States. --An Edict of the King concedes the Chief Demands of theCommons. --Views of the Queen. 

The whole kingdom was thrown into great and dangerous excitement by thesetransactions. Little as were the benefits which the people had everderived from the conduct of the Parliament, their opposition to thearchbishop, who had already had time to make himself generally hated anddespised, caused the councilors to be very generally regarded as championsof liberty; and in the most distant provinces, in Béarn, in Isère, and inBrittany, public meetings (a thing hitherto unknown in the history of thenation) were held, remonstrances were drawn up, confederacies were formed, and oaths were administered by which those who took them bound themselvesnever to surrender what they affirmed to be the ancient privileges of thenation. 

The archbishop became alarmed; a little, perhaps, for the nation and theking, but far more for his own place, which he had already contrived torender profitable to himself by the preferments which it had enabled himto engross. And, in the hope of saving it, he now entreated Necker to jointhe Government, proposing to yield up the management of the finances tohim, and to retain only the post of prime minister. 

A letter from the queen to Mercy shows that she acquiesced in the scheme. Her disapproval of Necker's past conduct was outweighed by her sense ofthe need which the State had of his financial talents; though, for reasonswhich she explains, she was unwilling wholly to sacrifice the archbishop;and the letter has a further interest as displaying some of thedifficulties which arose from the peculiar disposition of the king, whileevery one was daily more and more learning to look upon her as the moreimportant person in the Government. On the 19th of August, 1783, shewrites to Mercy, [1] whom the archbishop had employed as his agent toconciliate the stubborn Swiss Banker:

"The archbishop came to me this morning, immediately after he had seenyou, to report to me the conversation which he had had with you. I spoketo him very frankly, and was touched by what he said. He is at this momentwith the king, to try and get him to decide; but I very much fear that M. Necker will not accept while the archbishop remains. The animosity of thepublic against him is pushed so far that M. Necker will be afraid of beingcompromised, and, indeed, perhaps it might injure his credit; but, at thesame time, what is to be done? In truth and conscience we can notsacrifice a man who has made for as all these sacrifices of hisreputation, of his position in the world, perhaps even of his life; for Ifear they would kill him. There is yet M. Foulon, if M. Necker refusesabsolutely. [2] But I suspect him of being a very dishonest man; andconfidence would not be established with him for comptroller. I fear, too, that the public is pressing us to take a part much more humiliating forthe ministers, and much more vexatious for ourselves, inasmuch as we shallhave done nothing of our own will. I am very unhappy. I will close myletter after I know the result of this evening's conference. I greatlyfear the archbishop will be forced to retire altogether, and then what manare we to take to place at the head of the whole? For we must have one, especially with M. Necker. He must have a bridle; and the person who isabove me[3] is not able to be such; and I, whatever people may say, andwhatever happens, am never any thing but second; and, in spite of theconfidence which the first has in me, he often makes me feel it.... Thearchbishop has just gone. The king is very unwilling; and could only bebrought to make up his mind by a promise that the person[4] should only besounded; and that no positive engagement should be made. "

Necker refused. The next day Mercy reported to the queen that, though theexcitement was great, it confined itself to denunciations of thearchbishop and of the keeper of the seals; and that "the name of the queenhad never once been mentioned;" and on the 22d, Marie Antoinette, [5] froma conviction of the greatness of the emergency, determined to see Neckerherself; and employed the embassador and De Vermond to let him know thather own wish for his restoration to the direction of the finances wassincere and earnest, and to promise him that the archbishop should notinterfere in that department in any way whatever. Two days later, [6] shewrote again to mention that the king had vanquished his repugnance toNecker, and had come wholly over to her opinion. "Time pressed, and it wasmore essential than ever that Necker should accept;" and on the 25th shewrites a final letter to report to Mercy that the archbishop has resigned, and that she has just summoned Necker to come to her the next morning. Though she felt that she had done what was both right and indispensable, she was not without misgivings. "If, " she writes, in a strain of anxiousdespondency very foreign to her usual tone, and which shows how deeply shefelt the importance of the crisis, and of every step that might be taken--"if he will but undertake the task, it is the best thing that can be done;but I tremble (excuse my weakness) at the fact that it is I who havebrought him back. It is my fate to bring misfortune, and, if infernalmachinations should cause him once more to fail, or if he should lower theauthority of the king, they will hate me still more. "

In one point of view she need not have trembled at being known to havecaused Necker's re-appointment, since it is plain that no other nominationwas possible. Vergennes had died a few months before, and the wholekingdom did not supply a single statesman of reputation except Necker. Norcould any choice have for the moment been more universally popular. Thecitizens illuminated Paris; the mob burned the archbishop in effigy; andthe leading merchants and bankers showed their approval in a far morepractical way. The funds rose; loans to any amount were freely offered tothe Treasury; the national credit revived; as if the solvency orinsolvency of the nation depended on a single man, and him a foreigner. 

Yet, if regarded in any point of view except that of a financier, he wasextremely unfit to be the minister at such a crisis; and the queen'sacuteness had, in the extract from her letter which has been, quotedabove, correctly pointed out the danger to be apprehended, namely, that hemight lower the authority of the king. [7] It was, in fact, to his uniformand persistent degradation of the king's authority that the greater part, if not the whole, of the evils which ensued may be clearly traced, and thecause that led him to adopt this fatal system was thoroughly visible toone gifted with such intuitive penetration into character as MarieAntoinette. For he had two great defects or weaknesses; an overweeningvanity, which, as it is valued applause above every thing, led him toregard the popularity which they might win for him as the natural motiveand the surest test of his actions; and an abstract belief in humanperfection and in the submission of all classes to strict reason, whichcould only proceed from a total ignorance of mankind. [8] Yet, greatly asfinancial skill was needed, if the kingdom was to be saved from thebankruptcy which seemed to be imminent, it was plain that a faculty fororganization and legislation was no less indispensable if the vessel ofthe State was to be steered safely along the course on which it wasentering; for the archbishop's last act had been to induce the king topromise to convoke the States-general. The 1st of May of the ensuing yearwas fixed for their meeting; and the arrangements for and the managementof an assembly, which, as not having met for nearly two hundred years, could not fail to present many of the features of an entire novelty, werea task which would have severely tested the most statesman-like capacity. 

But, unhappily, Necker's very first acts showed him equally void ofresolution and of sagacity. He was not only unable to estimate theprobable conduct of the people in future, but he showed himself incapableof profiting by the experience of the past; and, in spite of theinsubordinate spirit which the Parliament had at all times displayed, heat once recalled them in deference to the clamor of the Parisian citizens, and allowed them to enter Paris in a triumphal procession, as if his veryobject had been to parade their victory over the king's authority. Theirreturn was the signal for a renewal of riots, which assumed a moreformidable character than ever. The police, and even the guardhouses, wereattacked in open day, and the Government had reason to suspect that themoney which was employed in fomenting the tumults was supplied by the Ducd'Orléans. A fierce mob traversed the streets at night, terrifying thepeaceable inhabitants with shouts of triumph over the king as having beencompelled to recall the Parliament against his will; while those who weresupposed to be adverse to the pretensions of the councilors were insultedin the streets, and branded as Royalists, the first time in the history ofthe nation that ever that name had been used as a term of reproach. 

Yet, presently the whole body of citizens, with their habitual impulsivefacility of temper, again, for a while, became Royalists. The winter wasone of unprecedented severity. By the beginning of December the Seine wasfrozen over, and the whole adjacent country was buried in deep snow. Wolves from the neighboring forests, desperate with hunger, were said tohave made their way into the suburbs, and to have attacked people in thestreets. Food of every kind became scarce, and of the poorer classes manywere believed to have died of actual starvation. Necker, as head of theGovernment, made energetic and judicious efforts to relieve the universaldistress, forming magazines in different districts, facilitating the meansof transport, finding employment for vast numbers of laborers andartisans, and purchasing large quantities of grain in foreign countries;and, not only were Louis and Marie Antoinette conspicuous for theunstinting liberality with which they devoted their own funds to thesupply of the necessities of the destitute, but the queen, in many casesof unusual or pressing suffering that were reported to her in Versaillesand the neighboring villages, sent trustworthy persons to investigatethem, and in numerous instances went herself to the cottages, makingpersonal inquiries into the condition of the occupants, and showing notonly a feeling heart, but a considerate and active kindness, which doubledthe value of her benefactions by the gracious, thoughtful manner in whichthey were bestowed. 

She would willingly have done the good she did in secret, partly from herconstant feeling that charity was not charity if it were boasted of, partly from a fear that those ready to misconstrue all her acts would findpretexts for evil and calumny even in her bounty. One of her good deedsstruck Necker as of so remarkable a character that he pressed her to allowhim to make it known. "Be sure, on the contrary, " she replied, "that younever mention it. What good could it do? they would not believe you;[9]"but in this she was mistaken. Her charities were too widely spread toescape the knowledge even of those who did not profit by them; and theyhad their reward, though it was but a short-lived one. Though the majorityof her acts of personal kindness were performed in Versailles rather thanin Paris, the Parisians were as vehement in their gratitude as theVersaillese; and it found a somewhat fantastic vent in the erection ofpyramids and obelisks of snow in different quarters of the city, allbearing inscriptions testifying the citizens' sense of her benevolence. One, which far exceeded all its fellows in size--the chief beauty of worksof that sort--since it was fifteen feet high, and each of the four faceswas twelve feet wide at the base, was decorated with a medallion of theroyal pair, and bore a poetical inscription commemorating the cause of itserection:

 "Reine, dont la beauté surpasse les appas Près d'un roi bienfaisant occupe ici la place. Si ce monument frêle est de neige et de glace, Nos coeurs pour toi ne le sont pas. De ce monument sans exemple, Couple auguste, l'aspect bien doux pur votre coeur Sans doute vous plaira plus qu'un palais, qu'un temple Que vous élèverait un peuple adulateur. [10]"

Neither the queen's feelings nor her conduct had been in any way altered;but six months later the same populace who raised this monument andapplauded these verses were, with ferocious and obscene threats, clamoringfor her blood. And there is hardly any thing more strange or more grievousin the history of the nation, hardly any greater proof of that incurablelevity which was one great cause of the long series of miseries which soonfell upon it, than that the impressions of gratitude which were so vividat the moment, and so constantly revived by the queen's untiringbenevolence, could yet be so easily effaced by the acts of demagogues andlibelers, whom the people thoroughly despised even while sufferingthemselves to be led by them. How great a part in these libels was borneby those who were bound by every tie of blood to the king to be hiswarmest supporters, we have a remarkable proof in an Edict of Councilwhich was issued during the ministry of the archbishop, and which deprivedthe palaces of the Count de Provence, the Count d'Artois, and the Ducd'Orléans of their usual exemption from the investigation of the syndicsof the library, as those officers were called whose duty it was to searchall suspected places for libelous or seditious pamphlets; the reasonpublicly given for this edict being that the dwellings of these threeprinces were a perfect arsenal for the issue of publications contrary tothe laws, to morality, and to religion. [11]

With the return of spring, the severity of the distress began to passaway. But, even while it lasted, it scarcely diverted the attention of themiddle classes from the preparations for the approaching meeting of theStates-general, from which the whole people, with few exceptions, promisedthemselves great advantages, though comparatively few had formed anyprecise notion of the benefits which they expected, or of the mode inwhich they were to be attained. The States-general had been originallyestablished in the same age which saw the organization of our ownParliament, with very nearly the same powers, though the members had moreof the narrower character of delegates of their constituents than was thecase in England, where they were more wisely regarded as representativesof the entire nation. [12] And it was an acknowledged principle of theirconstitution that they could neither propose any measure nor ask for theredress of any grievance which was not expressly mentioned in theinstructions with which their constituents furnished them at the time oftheir election. 

In England, the two Houses of Parliament, by a vigilant and systematicperseverance, had gradually extorted from the sovereign a great andprogressive enlargement of their original powers, till they had almostengrossed the entire legislative authority in the kingdom. But in France, a variety of circumstances had prevented the States-general from arrivingat a similar development. And, consequently, as in human affairs verylittle is stationary, their authority had steadily diminished, instead ofincreasing, till they had become so powerless and utterly insignificantthat, since the year 1615, they had never once been convened. Not only hadthey been wholly disused, but they seemed to have been wholly forgotten. During the last two reigns no one had ever mentioned their name; much lesshad any wish been expressed for their resuscitation, till the financialdifficulties of the Government, and the general and growing discontent ofthe great majority of the nation, with which, since the death of Turgot, every successive minister had been manifestly incompetent to deal, had, aswe have seen, led some ardent reformers to demand their restoration, asthe one expedient which had not been tried, and which, therefore, had thisin its favor, that it was not condemned by previous failure. 

That great reforms were indispensable was admitted in every quarter. Therewas no country in Europe where the feudal system had received so littlemodification. [13] Every law seemed to have been made, and every custom tohave been established for the exclusive benefit of the nobles. They wereeven exempted from many of the taxes, an exemption which was the moreintolerable from the vast number of persons who were included in the list. Practically it may be said that there were two classes of nobles--the oldhistoric houses, as they were sometimes called, such as the Grammonts orMontmorencies, which were not numerous, and many of which had greatlydecayed in wealth and influence; and an inferior class whose nobility wasderived from their possession of office under the crown in any part of thekingdom. Even tax-gatherers and surveyors, if appointed by royal warrant, could claim the rank; and new offices were continually being created andsold which conferred the same title. Those so ennobled were not reckonedthe equals of the higher class. They could not even be received at courtuntil their patents were four hundred years old, but they had a right tovote as nobles at elections to any representative body. Those whosepatents were twenty-four years old could be elected as representatives;and from the moment of their creation they all enjoyed great exemptions;so that, as the lowest estimate reckoned their numbers at a hundredthousand, it is a matter for some wonder how the taxes to which they didnot contribute produced any thing worth collecting. It was, of course, manifest that the exemptions enormously increased the burden to be borneby the classes which did not enjoy such privileges. 

But, heavy as the grievance of these exemptions was, it was as nothingwhen compared with the feudal rights claimed by the greater nobles. Thepeasants on their estates were forced to grind their corn at the lord'smill, to press their grapes at his wine-press, paying for such actwhatever price he might think fit to exact, and often having their cropswholly wasted or spoiled by the delays which such a system engendered. Thegame-laws forbade them to weed their fields lest they should disturb theyoung partridges or leverets; to manure the soil with any thing whichmight injure their flavor; or even to mow or reap till the grass or cornwas no longer required as shelter for the young coveys. Some of the rightsof seigniory, as it was called, were such as can hardly be mentioned inthis more decorous age; some were so ridiculous that it is inconceivablehow their very absurdity had not led to their abolition. In the marshydistricts of Brittany, one right enjoyed by the great nobles was "thesilence of the frogs, [14]" which, whenever the lady was confined, boundthe peasants to spend their days and nights in beating the swamps withlong poles to save her from being disturbed by their inharmoniouscroaking. And if this or any other feudal right was dispensed with, it wasonly commuted for a money payment, which was little less burdensome. 

The powers exercised by the crown were more intolerable still. Thesovereign was absolute master of the liberties of his subjects. Withoutalleging the commission of any crime, he could issue warrants--lettersunder seal, as they were called--which consigned the person named in themto imprisonment, which was often perpetual. The unhappy prisoner had nopower of appeal. No judge could inquire into his case, much less releasehim. The arrests were often made with such secrecy and rapidity that hisnearest relations knew not what had become of him, but he was cut off fromthe outer world, for the rest of his life, as completely as if he had atonce been handed over to the executioner. [15]

It was impossible but that such customs should produce general discontent, and a resolute demand for a complete reformation of the system. And one ofthe problems which the minister had to determine was, how to organize theStates-general so that they should be disposed to promote such measures asreform as should be adequate without being excessive; as should give dueprotection to the middle and lower classes without depriving the nobles ofthat dignity and authority which were not only desirable for themselves, but useful to their dependents; and, lastly, such as should carefullypreserve the rightful prerogatives of the crown, while putting an end tothose arbitrary powers, the existence of which was incompatible with thevery name of freedom. 

In making the necessary arrangements, the long disuse of the Assembly wasa circumstance greatly in favor of the Government, if Necker had had skillto avail himself of it, since it wholly freed him from the obligation ofbeing guided by former precedents. Those arrangements were long and warmlydebated in the king's council. Though the records of former sessions hadbeen so carelessly preserved that little was known of their proceedings, it seemed to be established that the representatives of the Commons hadusually amounted to about four-tenths of the whole body, those of theclergy and of the nobles being each about three-tenths; and that they hadalmost invariably deliberated and voted in separate chambers; and theprinces and the chief nobles presented memorials to the king, in whichthey almost unanimously recommended an adherence to these ancient forms;while, with patriotic prudence, they sought to obviate all jealousy oftheir own pretensions or views which might be entertained or feigned inany quarter, by announcing their willingness to abandon all the exclusiveprivileges and exemptions which they had hitherto possessed, and whichwere notoriously one chief cause of the generally prevailing discontent. 

But the party which had originated the clamor for the States-general, now, encouraged by their success, put forward two fresh demands; the first, that the number of the representatives of the Commons should equal that ofboth the other orders put together, which they called "the duplication ofthe Third Estate;" the second, that the three orders should meet and voteas one united body in one chamber; the two proposition taken togetherbeing manifestly calculated and designed to throw the whole power into thehands of the Commons. 

Necker had great doubts about the propriety and safety of the firstproposal, and no doubt at all of the danger of the second. His ownjudgment was that the wisest plan would be to order the clergy and noblesto unite in an Upper Chamber, so as in some degree to resemble the BritishHouse of Lords; while the Third Estate, in a Lower Chamber, would be atolerably faithful copy of our House of Commons. But he could never bringhimself to risk his popularity by opposing what he regarded as the opinionof the masses. He was alarmed by the political clubs which were springingup in Paris; one, whose president was the Duc d'Orléans, assuming thesignificant and menacing title of Les Enragés;[16] and by the vast numberof pamphlets which were circulated both in the capital and the chief townsof the provinces by thousands, [17] every writer of which put himselfforward as a legislator, [18] and of which the vast majority advocated whatthey called the rights of the Third Estate, in most violent language; and, finally, he adopted the course which is a great favorite with vain andweak men, and which he probably represented to himself as a compromisebetween unqualified concession and unyielding resistance, though, everyone possessed of the slightest penetration could see that it practicallysurrendered both points: he advised the king to issue his edict that thenumber of representatives to be returned to the States-general should betwelve hundred, half of whom were to be returned by the Commons, a quarterby the clergy, and a quarter by the nobles;[19] and to postpone thedecision as to the number of the chambers till the Assembly should meet, when he proposed to allow the States themselves to determine it; trusting, against all probability, that, after having thus given the Commons thepower to enforce their own views, he should be able to persuade them toabandon the same in deference to his judgment. 

Louis, as a matter of course, adopted his advice; and, after severaldifferent towns--Blois, Tours, Cambrai, and Compiègne among them--had beenproposed as the place of meeting, he himself decided in favor ofVersailles, [20] as that which would afford him the best hunting while thesession lasted. The queen in her heart disapproved of every one of theseresolutions. She saw that Necker had, as she had foreboded, sacrificed theking's authority by his advice on the two first questions; and sheperceived more clearly than any one the danger of fixing the States-general so near to Paris that the turbulent population of the city shouldbe able to overawe the members. She pressed these considerations earnestlyon the king, [21] but it was characteristic of the course which sheprescribed to herself from, the beginning, and from which she neverswerved, that when her advice was overruled she invariably defended thecourse which had been taken. Her language, when any one spoke to hereither of her own opinions and wishes, or of the feelings with which thedifferent classes of the nation regarded her, was invariably the same. "You are not to think of me for a moment. All that I desire of you is totake care that the respect which is due to the king shall not beweakened;[22]" and it was only her most intimate friends who knew howunwise she thought the different decisions that had been adopted, or howdeep were her forebodings of evil. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Reveillon Riot. --Opening of the States-general. --The Queen is insultedby the Partisans of the Duc d'Orléans. --Discussions as to the Number ofChambers. --Career and Character of Mirabeau. --Necker rejects his Support. --He determines to revenge himself. --Death of the Dauphin. 

The meeting of the States-general, as has been already seen, was fixed forthe 4th of May, 1789; and, as if it were fated that the bloody characterof the period now to be inaugurated should be displayed from the veryoutset, the elections for the city of Paris, which were only held in thepreceding week, were stained with a riot so formidable as to be commonlyspoken of in the records of the time as an insurrection. [1]

One of the candidates for the representation of the Third Estate was apaper-maker of the name of Reveillon, a man eminent for his charity andgeneral liberality, but one who was believed to regard the views of theextreme reformers with disfavor. He was so popular with his own workmen, who were very numerous, and with their friends, who knew his characterfrom them, that he was generally expected to succeed. The opposite party, who had candidates of their own, and had the support of the purse of theDuc d'Orléans, were determined that he should not; and no way seemed sosure as to murder him. Bands of ferocious-looking ruffians were brought infrom the country districts, armed with heavy bludgeons, and, as wasafterward learned, well supplied with money; and on the morning of the28th of April news was brought to the Baron de Besenval, the commander ofthe Royal Guards, that a mob of several thousand men had collected in thestreets, who had read a mock sentence, professing to have been passed bythe Third Estate, which condemned Reveillon to be hanged, after which theyhad burned him in effigy, and then attacked his house, which they weresacking and destroying. They even ventured to attack the first company ofsoldiers whom De Besenval sent to the rescue; and it was not till hedispatched a battalion with a couple of field-pieces to the spot that theplunderers were expelled from the house and the riot was quelled. Nearlyfive hundred of the mob were killed, but when the Parliament proceeded toset on foot a judicial inquiry into the cause of the tumult, Neckerprevailed on the secretary of state to suppress the investigation, as hefeared to exasperate D'Orléans further by giving publicity to hismachinations, which he did not yet suspect either the extent or theobject. [2]

A momentary tranquility was, however, restored at Paris; and all eyes wereturned from the capital to Versailles, where the first few days of Maywere devoted to the receptions of the States-general by the king andqueen, ceremonies which might have had a good effect, since the bitterestadversaries of the court were favorably impressed by the grace andaffability of the queen; but which many shrewd judges afterward believedto have had a contrary influence, from the offense taken by therepresentatives of the Commons at some of the details of the ancientetiquette, which on so solemn an occasion was revived in all its statelystrictness. The dignitaries of the Church wore their most sumptuous robes. The Nobles glittered with silk and gold lace; jeweled clasps fastenedplumes of feathers in their hats; orders glittered on their breasts; andmany a precious stone sparkled in the hilts of their swords. Therepresentatives of the Commons were allowed neither feathers, norembroidery, nor swords; but were forced to content themselves with plainblack cloaks, and an unadorned homeliness of attire, which seemed as ifintended to exclude all idea of their being the equals of those otherorders of which they had for a moment become the colleagues. And, in asimilar spirit it was arranged that, after the folding-doors of the saloonin which the sovereigns were awaiting them were thrown wide open to admitthe representatives of the higher orders, the Commons were let in througha side door. And though in the eyes of persons habituated to theceremonious niceties of court life these distinctions seemed matters ofcourse, and, as such, unworthy of notice, it can hardly be wondered at ifthey were galling to men accustomed only to the simpler manners of aprovincial town; and who, proud of their new position and deeply impressedwith its importance, fancied they saw in them a settled intention todegrade both them and their constituents by thus stamping them with abadge of inferiority before all the spectators. 

The opening of the States-general was fixed for the 5th of May, and on theday before, which was Sunday, a solemn mass was performed at the principalchurch in Versailles, that of Notre Dame; after which the congregationproceeded to another church, that of St. Louis, to hear a sermon from theBishop of Nancy. It was a stately procession that moved from one church tothe other, and it was afterward remembered as the very last in which theroyal pair appeared before their subjects with the undiminishedmagnificence of ancient ceremony. First, after a splendid escort oftroops, came the members of the States in their several orders; then theking marched by himself; the queen followed; and behind her came theprinces and princesses of the royal family of the blood, the officers ofstate and of the household, and companies of the Body-guard brought up therear. The acclamations of the spectators were loud as the deputies of theStates, and especially as the representatives of the Commons, passed on;loud, too, as the king; moved forward, bearing himself with unusualdignity; but, when the queen advanced, though still the main body of thepeople cheered with sincere respect, a gang of ruffians, among whom wereseveral women, [3] shouted out "Long live the Duke of Orléans!" in her ear, with so menacing an accent that, she nearly fainted with terror. By astrong mastery over herself she shook off the agitation, which was onlyperceived by her immediate attendants; but the disloyal feeling thus showntoward her at the outset was a sad omen of the spirit in which one partyat least was prepared to view the measures of the Government; and, so faras she was concerned, of the degree in which her enemies had succeeded inpoisoning the minds of the people against her, as the person whoseresistance to their meditated encroachments on the royal authority waslikely to prove the most formidable. 

It was a significant hint, too, of the projects already formed by theworthless prince whose adherents these ruffians proclaimed themselves. TheDuc d'Orléans conceived himself to have lately received a freshprovocation, and an additional motive for revenge. His eldest son, the Ducde Chartres, [4] was now a boy of sixteen, and he had proposed to the kingto give him Madame Royale in marriage; an idea which the queen, who heldhis character in deserved abhorrence, had rejected with very decided marksof displeasure. He was also stimulated by views of personal ambition. Thehistory of England had been recently studied by many persons in Francebesides the king and queen; and there were not wanting advisers to pointout to the duke that the revolution which had taken place in Englandexactly a century before had owed its success to the dethronement of thereigning sovereign and the substitution of another member of the royalfamily in his place. As William of Orange was, after the king's ownchildren, the next heir to James II. , so was the Duc d'Orléans now thenext heir, after the king's children and brothers, to Louis XVI. ; and forthe next five months there can be no doubt that he and his partisans, whonumbered in their body some of the most influential members of the States-general, kept constantly in view the hope of placing him on the thronefrom which they were to depose his cousin. 

The next day the States were formally opened by Louis in person. The placeof meeting was a spacious hall which, two years before, had been used forthe meeting of the Notables. It had been the scene of many a splendidspectacle in times past, but had never before witnessed so imposing ormomentous a ceremony. The town itself had not risen into notice till thememory of the preceding States-general had almost passed away. And now, after all the deputies had ranged themselves to receive their sovereign, the representatives of the clergy on the right of the throne, the Nobleson the left, the Commons in denser masses at the bottom of the hall;[5] asthe king, accompanied by the queen, leading two of her children[6] by thehand, and attended by all the princes of the royal family and of theblood, by the dukes and peers of the kingdom, the ministers and greatofficers of state, entered and took his seat on the throne, the mostunimpassioned spectator must have felt that he was beholding a scene atonce magnificent and solemn; and one, from long desuetude, as novel as ifit had been wholly unprecedented, such as might well inaugurate a newpolicy or a new constitution. 

Could those who beheld it as spectators, could those who bore a part inthe solemnity, have looked into futurity; could they have divined that noother hall would ever again see that virtuous and beneficent kingsurrounded with that pomp, or received with that reverential homage whichwas now paid to him as as unquestioned right; nay, that the end, of whichthis day was the beginning, scarcely one single person of all those nowpresent, whether men in the flower of their strength, women in the prideof their beauty, or even children in their infantine innocence and grace, would live to behold; but that sovereigns and subjects were destined, almost without exception, to perish with circumstances of unutterable, unimaginable horror and misery, as the direct consequence of this day'spageant; we may well believe that the most sanguine of those who nowgreeted it with eager hope and exultation would rather have averted hiseyes from the ill-omened spectacle, and would have preferred to bear theworst evils of which he was anticipating the abolition, to bringing on hiscountry the calamities which were about to fall upon it. 

A large state arm-chair, a little lower than the throne, had been setbeside it for the queen; the princes and princesses were ranged on eachside on a row of chairs without arms; and, when all had taken theirplaces, the king opened the session with a short speech, leaving the realbusiness to be unfolded at greater length by his ministers. In order tofeel assured of the proper emphasis and expression, he had rehearsed hisspeech frequently to the queen; and, as he now delivered it with unusualdignity and gracefulness, it was received with frequent acclamations, though some of those who were watching all that passed with the greatestanxiety fancied that one or two compliments to the queen which itcontained met with a colder response; while, at its close, therepresentatives of the Third Estate gave an indication of their feelingtoward the other orders, and provoked a display on their part whichpromised little cordiality to their deliberations. The king, who haduncovered himself while speaking, on resuming his seat replaced his hat. The Nobles, according to the ancient etiquette, replaced theirs; and manyof the Commons at once asserted their equality with them by also coveringthemselves. Such an assumption was a breach of all established custom. TheNobles were indignant, and with angry shouts demanded the removal of theCommons' hats. They were met with louder clamor by the Commons, and in amoment the whole hall was in an uproar, which was only allayed by thepresence of mind of Louis himself, who, as if oppressed by the heat, laidaside his own hat, when, as a matter of course, the Nobles followed hisexample. The deputies of the Commons did the same, and peace was restored. 

The king's speech was followed by another short one from the keeper of theseals, which received but little attention; and by one of prodigiouslength from Necker, which was equally injudicious and unacceptable to hishearers, both in what it said and in what it omitted. He never mentionedthe question of constitutional reform. He said nothing of what theCommons, at least, thought still more important--the number of chambers inwhich the members were to meet; and, though he dilated at the most profuselength on the condition of the finances, and on his own success inre-establishing public credit, they were by no means pleased to hear himassert that success had removed any absolute necessity for their meetingat all, and that they had only been called together in fulfillment of theking's promise, that so the sovereign might establish a better harmonybetween the different parts of the Constitution. 

Before any business could be proceeded with, it was necessary for themembers to have the writs of their elections properly certified andregistered, for which they were to meet on the following day. We need nothere detail the artifices and assumptions by which the members of theThird Estate put forward pretensions which were designed to make themmasters of the whole Assembly; nor is it necessary to unfold at length thecombination of audacity and craft, aided by the culpable weakness ofNecker, by which they ultimately carried the point they contended for, providing that the three orders should deliberate and vote together as oneunited body in one chamber. Emboldened by their success, they evenproceeded to a step which probably not one among them had originallycontemplated; and, as if one of their principal objects had been to disownthe authority of the king by which they had been called together, theyrepudiated the title of States-general, and invented for themselves a newname, that of "The National Assembly, " which, as it had never been heardof before, seemed to mark that they owed their existence to the nation, and not to the sovereign. 

But the discussions that took place before all these points were settled, presented, besides the importance of the conclusion which was adopted, another feature of powerful interest, since it was in them that themembers first heard the voice of the Count de Mirabeau, who, more than anyother deputy, was supposed during the ensuing year to be able to sway thewhole Assembly, and to hold the destinies of the nation in his hands. 

Necker's daughter, the celebrated Baroness de Staël, wife of the Swedishembassador, who was present at the opening of the States, which, as herfather's daughter, she regarded with exulting confidence as the body oflegislators who were to regenerate the nation, remarked, as the longprocession passed before her eyes, that of the six hundred deputies of theCommons[7], the Count de Mirabeau alone bore a name which was previouslyknown; and he was manifestly out of his place as a representative of theCommons. His history was a strange one. He was the eldest son of aProvençal noble, of Italian origin, great wealth, and a ferociouseccentricity of character, which made him one of the worst possibleinstructors for a youth of brilliant talents, unbridled passions, and adisposition equally impetuous in its pursuit of good and of evil. Evenbefore he arrived at manhood he had become notorious for every kind ofprofligacy; while his father, in an almost equal degree, provoked thecensure of those who interested themselves in the career of a youth ofundeniable ability, by punishments of such severity as wore the appearanceof vengeance rather than of fatherly correction. In six or seven years heobtained no fewer than fifteen warrants, or letters under seal, for theimprisonment of his son in different jails or fortresses, while the youngman seemed to take a wanton pleasure in showing how completely all effortsfor his reformation were thrown away. Though unusually ugly (he himselfcompared his face to that of a tiger who had had the small-pox), he wasirresistible among women. While one of the youngest subalterns in thearmy, he made love, rarely without success, to the mistresses or wives ofhis superior officers, and fought duel after duel with those who tookoffense at his gallantries, From one castle in which he was imprisoned hewas aided to escape by the wife of an officer of the garrison, whoaccompanied his flight. From another he was delivered by the love of alady of the highest rank, the Marchioness de Monnier, whom he had met atthe governor's table. 

When, after some years of misery, the marchioness terminated them bysuicide, he seduced a nun of exquisite beauty to leave her convent for hissake; and as France was no longer a safe residence for them, he fled toFrederick of Prussia, who, equally glad to welcome him as a Frenchman, agenius, and a profligate, received him for a while into high favor. But hewas penniless; and Frederick was never liberal of his money. Debt soondrove him from Prussia, and he retired to England, where he madeacquaintance with Fox, Fitzpatrick, and other men of mark in the politicalcircles of the day. He was at all times and amidst all his excesses bothobservant and studious; and while witnessing in person the strife ofparties in this country, he learned to appreciate the excellencies of ourConstitution, both in its theory and in its practical working. Butpresently debt drove him from London as it had driven him from Berlin;and, after taking refuge for a short time in Holland and Switzerland, hewas hesitating whither next to betake himself, when, hearing of theelections for the States-general, he resolved to offer himself as acandidate; and returned to Provence to seek the suffrages of the Nobles ofhis own county. 

Unluckily, his character was too well known in his native district; andthe Nobles, unwilling to countenance the ambition of one who had obtainedso evil a notoriety, rejected him. Full of indignation, he turned to theThird Estate, offering himself as a representative of the Commons. In hisspeeches to the citizens of Aix and Marseilles--for he canvassed bothtowns--he inveighed against Necker and the Government with an eloquencewhich electrified his audience, who had never before been addressed in thelanguage of independence. He was returned for both towns, and hastened toVersailles, eager to avenge on the Nobles, the body which, as he felt, hehad a right to have represented, the affront which had driven him, againsthis will, to seek the votes of a class with which he had scarcely afeeling in common; for in the whole Assembly there was no man less of ademocrat in his heart, or prouder of his ancestry and aristocraticprivileges. 

He differed from most of his colleagues, inasmuch as he, from the first, had distinct views of the policy desirable for the nation, which heconceived to be the establishment of a limited constitutional monarchy, such as he had seen in England. [8] But no man in the whole Assembly wasmore inconsistent, as he was ever changing his views, or at least hisconduct and language, at the dictates of interest or wounded pride;sometimes, as it might seem, in the mere wantonness of genius, as if hewished to show that he could lead the Assembly with equal ease to take acourse, or to retrace its steps--that it rested with him alone alike to door to undo. The only object from which he never departed was that ofmaking all parties feel and bow to his influence. And it is this veryinconsistency which so especially connects his career for the rest of hislife with the fortunes of the queen, since, while he misunderstood hercharacter, and feared her power with the king and ministers as likely tobe exerted in opposition to his own views, he was the most ferocious andmost foul of her enemies: when he saw that she was willing to accept hisaid, and when he therefore began to conceive a hope of making her usefulto himself in the prosecution of his designs, no man was louder in herpraise, nor, it must be admitted, more energetic or more judicious in theadvice which he gave her. 

His language on the first occasion on which he made his voice heard in theAssembly was eminently characteristic of him, so manifestly was itdirected to the attainment of his own object--that of making himselfnecessary to the court, and obtaining either office or some pension whichmight enable him to live, since his own resources had long been exhaustedby his extravagance. D'Espresménil had strongly advocated the doctrinethat the meeting of the three orders in separate chambers was afundamental principle of the monarchy; and Mirabeau, in opposition to him, moved an address to the king, which represented the Third Estate asdesirous to ally itself with the throne, so as to enable it to resist thepretensions of the clergy and the nobles; and, as this speech of hisproduced no overture from the minister, in the middle of June he made adirect offer to Necker to support the Government, if Necker had any planat all which was in the least reasonable;[9] and he gave proof of hissincerity by vigorously opposing some proposals of the extreme reformers. But, with incredible folly, Necker rejected his support, treating hisarguments to his face as insignificant, and affirming that their viewswere irreconcilable, since Mirabeau wished to govern by policy, while hehimself preferred morality. 

He at once resolved to revenge himself on the minister who had thusslighted him, [10] and he was not long in finding an opportunity. On the23d of June, after the States had assumed their new form, and Louis at aroyal sitting had announced the reforms he had resolved to grant, andwhich were so complete that the most extreme reformers admitted that theycould have wished for nothing more, except that they should themselveshave taken them, and that the king should not have given them, Mirabeautook the lead in throwing down a defiance to his sovereign; refusing toconsent to the adjournment of the Assembly, as was natural on thewithdrawal of the king, and declaring that they, the members of theCommons, would not quit the hall unless they were expelled by bayonets. 

But, violently as Versailles and Paris were agitated throughout May andJune, Marie Antoinette took no part in the discussion which thesequestions excited. She had a still graver trouble at home. Her eldest son, the dauphin, whose birth had been greeted so enthusiastically by allclasses, had, as we have seen, long been sickly. Since the beginning ofthe year his health had been growing worse, and on the 4th of June hedied; and, though his bereaved mother bore up bravely under his loss, shefelt it deeply, and for a time was almost incapacitated from turning herattention to any other subject. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Troops are brought up from the Frontier. --The Assembly petitions the Kingto withdraw them. --He refuses. --He dismisses Necker. ---The Baron deBreteuil is appointed Prime Minister. --Terrible Riots in Paris. --TheTri-color Flag is adopted. --Storming of the Bastile and Murder of theGovernor. --The Count d'Artois and other Princes fly from the Kingdom. --TheKing recalls Necker. --Withdraws the Soldiers and visits Paris. --Formationof the National Guard. -Insolence of La Fayette and Bailly. --Madame deTourzel becomes Governess of the Royal Children--Letters of MarieAntoinette on their Character, and on her own Views of Education. 

But even so solemn, a grief as that for a dead child she was not sufferedto indulge long. Even for such a purpose royalty is not always allowed therespite which would be conceded to those in a more moderate station; andaffairs in Paris began to assume so menacing a character that she wasforced to rouse herself to support her husband. Demagogues in Parisexcited the lower classes of the citizens to formidable tumults. Thetroops were tampered with; they mutinied; and when the Assembly soviolated its duty as to take the mutineers under its protection, and tointercede with the king for their pardon, Louis, or, as we should probablysay, Necker, did not venture to refuse, though it was plain that thecondign punishment of such an offense was indispensable to the maintenanceof discipline for the future. And Louis felt the humiliation so deeplythat some of those about him, the Count d'Artois taking the lead in thatparty, were able to induce him to bring up from the frontier some Germanand Swiss regiments, which, as not having been exposed to the contagion ofthe capital, were free from the prevailing taint of disloyalty. But Louiswas incapable of carrying out any plan resolutely. He selected thecommander with judgment, placing the troops under the orders of a veteranof the Seven Years' War, the old Marshal de Broglie, who, though more thanseventy years of age, gladly brought once more his tried skill and valorto the service of his sovereign. But the king, even while intrusting himwith this command, disarmed him at the same moment by a strict order toavoid all bloodshed and violence; though nothing could be more obviousthan that such outbreaks as the marshal was likely to be called on tosuppress could not be quelled by gentle means. 

The Orleanists and Mirabeau probably knew nothing of this humane or ratherpusillanimous order, though most of the secrets of the court were betrayedto them; but Mirabeau saw in the arrival of the soldiers a freshopportunity of making the king feel the folly of the minister in rejectinghis advances; and in a speech of unusual power he thundered against thosewho had advised the bringing-up of troops, as he declared, to overawe theAssembly; though, in fact, nothing but their presence and active exertionscould prevent the Assembly from being overawed by the mob. But, undoubtedly, at this time his own first object was to use the populace ofParis to terrify the members into obedience to himself. In one of his endshe succeeded; he drove Necker from office. He carried the address which heproposed, to entreat the king to withdraw the troops; but Louis had forthe moment resolved on adopting bolder counsels than those of Necker. Hedeclined to comply with the petition, declaring that it was his duty tokeep in Paris a force sufficient to preserve the public tranquillity, though, if the Assembly were disquieted by their neighborhood, heexpressed his unwillingness to remove their session to some more distanttown. And at the same time he dismissed Necker from office, banishing himfrom France, but ordering him to keep his departure secret. 

The queen had evidently had great influence in bringing him to thisdecision; but how cordially she approved of all the concessions which theking had already made, and how clearly she saw that more still remained tobe done before the necessary reformation could be pronounced complete, theletter which on the evening of Necker's dismissal she wrote to Madame dePolignac convincingly proves. She had high ideas of the authority which aking was legitimately entitled to exercise; and to what she regarded asundue restrictions on it, injurious to his dignity, she would neverconsent. She probably regarded them as abstract questions which had butlittle bearing on the substantial welfare of the people in general; but ofall measures to increase the happiness of all classes, even of the verylowest, she was throughout the warmest advocate. 

"July 11th, 1789. 

"I can not sleep, my dear heart, without letting you know that M. Neckeris gone. MM. De Breteuil and de la Vauguyon will be summoned to thecouncil to-morrow. God grant that we may at last be able to do all thegood with which we are wholly occupied. The moment will be terrible; but Ihave courage, and, provided that the honest folks support us withoutexposing themselves needlessly, I think that I have vigor enough in myselfto impart some to others. But it is more than ever necessary to bear inmind that all classes of men, so long as they are honest, are equally oursubjects, and to know how to distinguish those who are right-thinking inevery district and in every rank. My God! if people could only believethat these are my real thoughts, perhaps they would love me a little. ButI must not think of myself. The glory of the king, that of his son, andthe happiness of this ungrateful nation, are all that I can, all that Iought to, wish for; for as for your friendship, my dear heart, I reckon onthat always... "

Such language and sentiments were worthy of a sovereign. That the feelingshere expressed were genuine and sincere, the whole life of the writer is astanding proof; and yet already fierce, wicked spirits, even of women (fornever was it more clearly seen than in France at this time how far, whenwomen are cruel, they exceed the worst of men in ferocity), were thirstingfor her blood. Already a woman in education and ability far above thelowest class, one whose energy afterward raised her to be, if not theavowed head, at least the moving spirit, of a numerous party (MadameRoland), was urging the public prosecution, or, if the nation were notripe for such a formal outrage, the secret assassination, of both king andqueen. [1] But, however benevolent and patriotic were the queen'sintentions, it became instantly evident that those who had counseled thedismissal of Necker had given their advice in entire ignorance of the holdwhich he had established on the affections of the Parisians; while the newprime minister, the Baron de Breteuil, whose previous office had connectedhim with the police, was, on that account, very unpopular with a classwhich is very numerous in all large cities. The populace of Paris brokeout at once in riots which amounted to insurrection. Thousands ofcitizens, not all of the lowest class, decorated with green cockades, thecolor of Necker's livery, and armed with every variety of weapon, paradedthe streets, bearing aloft busts of Necker and the Duc d'Orléans, withoutstopping, in their madness, to consider how incongruous a combination theywere presenting. The most ridiculous stories were circulated about thequeen: it was affirmed that she had caused the Hall of the Assembly to beundermined, that she might blow it up with gunpowder;[2] and, by way ofaverting or avenging so atrocious an act, the mob began to set fire tohouses in different quarters of the city. Growing bolder at the sight oftheir own violence, they broke open the prisons, and thus obtained are-enforcement of hundreds of desperadoes, ripe for any wickedness. Thetroops were paralyzed by Louis's imbecile order to avoid bloodshed, and inthe same proportion the rioters were encouraged by their inaction andevident helplessness. They attacked the great armory, and equippedthemselves with its contents, applying to the basest uses time-honoredweapons, monuments of ancient valor and patriotism. The spear with whichDunois had cleared his country of the British invaders; the sword withwhich the first Bourbon king had routed Egmont's cavalry at Ivry, weretorn down from the walls to arm the vilest of mankind for rapine andslaughter. They stormed the Hôtel de Ville, and got possession of themunicipal chest, containing three millions of francs; and now, more andmore intoxicated with their triumph, and with the evidence which all theseexploits afforded that the whole city was at their mercy, they proceededto give their riot a regular organization, by establishing a committee tosit in the Guildhall and direct their future proceedings. Lawless andferocious as was the main body of the rioters, there were shrewd heads toguide their fury; and the very first order issued by this committee wasmarked by such acute foresight, and such a skillful adaptation to therequirements of the moment and the humor of the people, that it remains inforce to this day. It was hardly strange that men in open insurrectionagainst the king's authority should turn their wrath against one of itsconspicuous emblems, consecrated though it was by usage of immemorialantiquity and by many a heroic achievement--the snow-white banner bearingthe golden lilies. But that glorious ensign could not be laid aside tillanother was substituted for it; and the colors of the city, red and blue, and white, the color of the army, were now blended together to form thetricolor flag which has since won for itself a wider renown than even thedeeds of Bayard or Turenne had shed upon the lilies, and with which, underevery form of government, the nation has permanently identified itself. 

They demanded more men, and a committee with three millions of francscould easily command recruits. They stormed the Hôtel des Invalides, wherethousands of muskets were kept fit for instant use; one division ofregular troops, whose commander, the Baron de Besenval, was a resoluteman, determined to do his duty, mutinying against his orders, and refusingto fire on the mob. They took possession of the city gates, and, thinkingthemselves now strong enough for any exploit, on the third day of theinsurrection, the 14th of July, they marched in overpowering force toattack the Bastile. 

In former times the Bastile had been the great fortress of the city; and, as such, it had been fortified with all the resources of the engineer'sart. Massive well-armed towers rose at numerous points above walls ofgreat height and solidity. A deep fosse surrounded it, and, when wellsupplied and garrisoned, it had been regarded with pride by the citizens, as a bulwark capable of defying the utmost efforts of a foreign enemy, andnot the less to be admired because they never expected it to be exposed tosuch a test; but as a warlike fortress it had long been disused. In recenttimes it had only been known as the State-prison, identified more than anyother with the worst acts of despotism and barbarity. As such it was nowas much detested as it had formerly been respected; and it had nothing butthe outward appearance of strength to resist an attack. Evidently themilitary authorities had never anticipated the possibility that the mobwould rise to such a height of audacity. But the rioters were nowencouraged by two days of unbroken success, and those who spurred them onwere well-informed as well as fearless. They knew that the castle was insuch a state that its apparent strength was its real weakness; that itsentire garrison consisted of little more than a hundred soldiers, most ofwhom were superannuated veterans, a force inadequate to man one-tenth ofthe defenses; and that the governor, De Launay, though personally brave, was a man devoid of presence of mind, and nervous under responsibility. 

Led by a brewer, named Santerre, who for the next three years bore aconspicuous part in all the worst deeds of ferocity and horror, theyassailed the gates in vast numbers. While the attention of the scantygarrison was fully occupied by this assault, another party scaled thewalls at a point where there was not even a sentinel to give the alarm, and let down one draw-bridge across the fosse, while another was loosened, as is believed, by traitors in the garrison itself. Swarming across thepassage thus opened to them, thousands of the assailants rushed in;murdered the governor, officers, and almost every one of the garrison; andwith a savage ferocity, as yet unexampled, though but a faint omen oftheir future crimes, they cut off the head and hands of De Launay andseveral of their chief victims, and, sticking them on pikes, bore them astrophies of their victory through the streets of the city. 

The news of what had been done came swiftly to Versailles, where itexcited feelings in the Assembly which, had the king or his advisers beencapable of availing themselves of it with skill and firmness, might haveled to a salutary change in the policy of that body; for the greater partof the deputies were thoroughly alarmed at the violence of Santerre andhis companions, and would in all probability have supported the king intaking strong measures for the restoration of order. But Louis could notbe roused, even by the murder of his own faithful servant, to employ forceto save those who might be similarly menaced. The only expedient whichoccurred to his mind was to concede all that the rioters required; and atmidday on the 15th he repaired to the Assembly, and announced that he hadordered the removal of the troops from Paris and from Versailles;declaring that he trusted himself to the Assembly, and wished to identifyhimself with the nation. The Assembly could hardly have avoided feelingthat it was a strange time to select for withdrawing the troops, when anarmed mob was in possession of the capital; but, as they had formerlyrequested that measure, they thought themselves bound now to applaudit, and, being for the moment touched by the compliment paid tothemselves, when he quit the Hall they unanimously rose and followed him, escorting him back to the palace with vehement cheers. A vast crowd filledthe outer courts, who caught the contagion, and shouted out a demand for asight of the whole royal family; and presently, when the queen brought outon the balcony her only remaining boy, whom the death of his brother hadraised to the rank of dauphin, and saluted them, with a graceful bow, thewhole mass burst out in one vociferous acclamation. 

Yet even in that moment of congratulation there were base and malignantspirits in the crowd, full of bitterness against the royal family, andespecially against the queen, whom they had evidently been taught toregard as the chief obstacle to the reforms which they desired. Herfaithful waiting-woman, Madame de Campan, had gone down into thecourt-yard and mingled with the crowd, to be the better able to judge oftheir real feelings. She could see that many were disguised; and onewoman, whose veil of black lace, with which she concealed her features, showed that she did not belong to the lowest class, seized her violentlyby the arm, calling her by her name, and bid her "go and tell her queennot to interfere any more in the Government, but to leave her husband andthe good States-general to work out the happiness of the people. " Othersshe heard uttering threats of vengeance against Madame de Polignac. Andone, while pouring forth "a thousand invectives" against both king andqueen, declared that it should soon be impossible to find even a fragmentof the throne on which they were now seated. 

Marie Antoinette was greatly alarmed, not for herself, but for herhusband; and, now that he had determined on withdrawing the soldiers fromthe capital, she earnestly entreated him to accompany them, taking the notunreasonable view that the violence of the Parisian mob would be to someextent quelled, and the well-intentioned portion of the Assembly wouldhave greater boldness to support their opinions, if the king were thusplaced out of the reach of danger from any fresh outbreak; and it wasgenerally understood that an attack on Versailles itself wasanticipated. [3] She felt so certain of the wisdom of such a course, and sosanguine of prevailing, that she packed up her diamonds, burned many ofher papers, and drew up a set of orders for the arrangement of the detailsof the journey. But on the morning of the 16th she was compelled to informMadame Campan that the plan was given up. Large portions of the Parisianmob, and among them one deputation of the fish-women, who in this, as wellas on more festive occasions, claimed equally to take the lead, had comeout to demand that the king should visit Paris; and the MinisterialCouncil thought it safer for him to comply with that petition than tothrow himself into the arms of the soldiers, a step which might notimprobably lead to a civil war. 

To the queen this seemed the most dangerous course of all. She knew thatboth at Versailles and at Paris the agents of the Duke of Orléans had beenscattering money with a lavish hand; and she scarcely doubted that eitheron his road, or in the city, her husband would be assassinated, or at theleast detained by the mob as a prisoner and a hostage. 

Had she not feared to increase his danger, she would have accompanied him;but at such a crisis it required more courage and fortitude to separateherself from him; and the most courageous part was ever that which wasmost natural to her. But, though she took no precautions for herself, shewas as thoughtful as ever for her friends; and, knowing how obnoxious theDuchess de Polignac was to the multitude, she insisted on her departingwith her family. The duchess fled, not unwillingly; and at the same timeothers also quit Versailles who had not the same plea of delicacy of sexto excuse their terrors, and who were bound by every principle of duty toremain by the king's side the more steadily the greater might be thedanger. The Prince de Condé, who certainly at one time had been a braveman, and had won an honorable name, worthy of his intrepid ancestor, inthe Seven Years' War; his brother, the Prince de Conti; the Countd'Artois, who, having always been the advocate of the most violentmeasures, was doubly bound to stand forward in defense of his king andbrother, all fled, setting the first example of that base emigration whicheventually left the king defenseless in the midst of his enemies. TheBaron de Breteuil and some of the ministers made similar provision fortheir own safety; though it may be said, as some extenuation of theirignoble flight, that they had no longer any official duties to detainthem, since the king had already dismissed them, and on the evening of the16th had written to Necker to beg him to return without delay and resumehis office, claiming his instant obedience as a proof of the attachmentand fidelity which he had promised when departing five days before. 

On the morning of the 17th, Louis set out for Paris in a single carriage, escorted by a very slender guard and accompanied by a party of thedeputies. He was fully alive to the danger he was incurring. He knew thatthreats had been openly uttered that he should not reach Paris alive;[4]and he had prepared for his journey as for death, burning his papers, taking the sacrament, and making arrangements for a regency. MarieAntoinette was almost hopeless of his safety. She sat with her children inher private room, shedding no tears, lest the knowledge of her griefshould increase the alarm of her attendants; but her carriages were keptharnessed, and she had prepared and learned by heart a short speech, withwhich, if the worst news which she apprehended should arrive, she intendedto repair to the Assembly, and claim its protection for the wife andchildren of their sovereign. [5] But often, as she rehearsed it, her voice, in spite of all her efforts, was broken by sobs, and her reiteratedexclamation, "They will never let him return!" but too truly expressed thedeep forebodings of her heart. 

They were not yet fated to be realized; the Insurrection Committee hadalready organized a force which they had entitled the National Guard, andof which they had conferred the command on the Marquis de La Fayette, Andat the gates of the city the king was met by him and the mayor, a mannamed Bailly, who had achieved a considerable reputation as amathematician and an astronomer, but who was thoroughly imbued with theleveling and irreligious doctrines of the school of the Encyclopedists. Nomen in Paris were less likely to treat their sovereign with due respect. 

Since his return from America, La Fayette had been living in retirement onhis estate, till at the recent election he had been returned to theStates-general as one of the representatives of the nobles for his nativeprovince of Auvergne. He had taken no part in the debates, being entirelydestitute of political abilities;[6] and he had apparently no verydistinct political views, but wavered between a desire for a republic, such, as that of which he had witnessed the establishment in America, anda feeling in favor of a limited monarchy such as he understood to exist inGreat Britain, though he had no accurate comprehension of its mostessential principles. But his ruling passion was a desire for popularity;and as he had always been vain of his unbending ill-manners as a proof ofhis liberal sentiments, [7] and as his vanity made him regard kings andqueens with a general dislike, as being of a rank superior to his own, helooked on the present occurrence as a favorable opportunity for gainingthe good-will of the mob, by showing marked disrespect to Louis. He wouldnot even pay him the ordinary compliment of appearing in uniform, butheaded his new troops in plain clothes; and even those were not such asbelonged to his rank, but were the ordinary dress of a plain citizen;while Bailly's address, as Louis entered the gates, was marked with themost studied and gratuitous insolence. "Sire, " said he, "I present to yourmajesty the keys of your good city of Paris. They are the same which werepresented to Henri IV. He had conquered his people: to-day the people haveconquered their king. "

Louis proceeded onward to the Hôtel de Ville, in a strange procession, headed by a numerous band of fish-women, always prominent, and recruitedat every step by a crowd of rough peasant-looking men, armed withbludgeons, scythes, and every variety of rustic weapons, evidently on thewatch for some opportunity to create a tumult, and seeking to provoke oneby raising from time to time vociferous shouts of "Vive la nation!" anduttering ferocious threats against any one who might chance to exclaim, "Vive le roi!" But they were disconcerted by the perfect calmness of theking, on whom danger to himself seemed the only thing incapable of makingan impression. On Bailly's insolent speech he had made no comment, remarking, in a whisper to his principal attendant, that he had betterappear not to have heard it. And now at the Hôtel de Ville his demeanorwas as unruffled as if every thing that had happened had been in perfectaccordance with his wishes. He made a short speech, in which he confirmedall the concessions and promises which he had previously made. He evenplaced in his hat a tricolor cockade, which the mayor had the effronteryto present to him, though it was the emblem of the revolt of his subjectsand of the defeat of his troops. And at last such an effect had hisfearless dignity on even the fiercest of his enemies, that when heafterward came out on the balcony to show himself to the crowd beneath, the whole mass raised the shout of "Vive le roi!" with as much enthusiasmas had ever greeted the most feared or the most beloved of hispredecessors. 

His return to the barrier resembled a triumphal procession. Yet, happy asit seemed that outrage had thus been averted and unanimity restored, theresult of the day can not, perhaps, be deemed entirely fortunate, since itprobably contributed to fix more deeply in the king's mind the belief thatconcession to clamor was the course most likely to be successful. Nor didthe queen, though for the moment her despondency was changed to thankfulexultation, at all conceal from herself that the perils which had beenescaped were certain to recur; and that vigilance and firmness wouldsurely again be called for to repel them--qualities which she could findin herself, but which she might well doubt her ability to impart toothers. [8]

Her own attention was for a moment occupied by the necessary work ofselecting a new governess for her children in the place of Madame dePolignac; and after some deliberation her choice fell on the Marchionessde Tourzel, a lady of the most spotless character, who seems to have beenin every respect well fitted for so important an office. As MarieAntoinette had scarcely any previous acquaintance with her, it was by hercharacter alone that she had been recommended to her; as was gracefullyexpressed in the brief speech with which Marie Antoinette delivered herlittle charges into her hands. "Madame, " said she, "I formerly intrustedmy children to friendship; to-day I intrust them to virtue;[9]" and, a dayor two afterward, to make easier the task which the marchioness had notundertaken without some unwillingness, she addressed her a letter in whichshe describes the character of her son, and her own principles and methodof education, with an impartiality and soundness of judgment which couldnot have been surpassed by one who had devoted her whole attention to thesubject:

"July 25th, 1789. 

"My son is four years and four months old, all but two days. I say nothingof his size nor of his general appearance; it is only necessary to seehim. His health has always been good, but even in his cradle we perceivedthat his nerves were very delicate.... This delicacy of his nerves is suchthat any noise to which he is not accustomed frightens him. For instance, he is afraid of dogs because he once heard one bark close to him; and Ihave never obliged him to see one, because I believe that, as his reasongrows stronger, his fears will pass away. Like all children who are strongand healthy, he is very giddy, very volatile, and violent in his passions;but he is a good child, tender, and even caressing, when his giddinessdoes not run away with him. He has a great sense of what is due tohimself, which, if he be well managed, one may some day turn to his good. Till he is entirely at his ease with any one, he can restrain himself, and even stifle his impatience and his inclination to anger, in order toappear gentle and amiable. He is admirably faithful when once he haspromised any thing, but he is very indiscreet; he is thoughtless inrepeating any thing that he has heard; and often, without in the leastintending to tell stories, he adds circumstances which his own imaginationhas put into his head. This is his greatest fault, and it is one for whichhe must be corrected. However, taken altogether, I say again, he is a goodchild; and by treating him with allowance, and at the same time withfirmness, which must be kept clear of severity, we shall always be able todo all that we can wish with him. But severity would revolt him, for hehas a great deal of resolution for his age. To give you an instance: fromhis very earliest childhood the word _pardon_ has always offended him. Hewill say and do all that you can wish when he is wrong, but as for theword _pardon_, he never pronounces it without tears and infinitedifficulty. 

"I have always accustomed my children to have great confidence in me, and, when they have done wrong, to tell me themselves; and then, when I scoldthem, this enables me to appear pained and afflicted at what they havedone rather than angry. I have accustomed them all to regard 'yes' or'no, ' once uttered by me, as irrevocable; but I always give them reasonsfor my decision, suitable to their ages, to prevent their thinking that mydecision comes from ill-humor. My son can not read, and he is very slow atlearning; but he is too giddy to apply. He has no pride in his heart, andI am very anxious that he should continue to feel so. Our children alwayslearn soon enough what they are. He is very fond of his sister, and has agood heart. Whenever any thing gives him pleasure, whether it be the goinganywhere, or that any one gives him any thing, his first movement alwaysis to ask that his sister may have the same. He is light-hearted bynature. It is necessary for his health that he should be a great deal inthe open air; and I think it is better to let him play and work in thegarden on the terrace, than to take him longer walks. The exercise whichchildren take in running about and playing in the open air is much morehealthy than forcing them to walk, which often makes their backsache. [10]"

Some of these last recommendations may seem to show that the governesswas, to some extent, regarded as a nurse as well as a teacher; and when wefind Marie Antoinette complaining of want of discretion in a child of fouryears old, it may perhaps be thought that she is expecting rather more ofsuch tender years than is often found in them; that she is inclined to beoverexacting rather than overindulgent; an error the more venial, since itis probable that the educators of princes are more likely to go astray inthe opposite direction. But it is impossible to avoid being struck withthe candor with which she judges her boy's character, and with thejudiciousness of her system of education; and equally impossible to resistthe conviction that a boy of good disposition, trained by such a mother, had every chance of becoming a blessing to his subjects, if fate had onlyallowed him to succeed to the throne which she had still a right to lookforward to for him as his assured inheritance. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Necker resumes Office. --Outrages in the Provinces. --Pusillanimity of theBody of the Nation. --Parties in the Assembly. --Views of theConstitutionalists or "Plain. "--Barnave makes Overtures to the Court. --TheQueen rejects them. --The Assembly abolishes all Privileges, August 4th. --Debates on the Veto. --An Attack on Versailles is threatened. --GreatScarcity in Paris. --The King sends his Plate to be melted down. --TheRegiment of Flanders is brought up to Versailles. --A Military Banquet isheld in the Opera-house. --October 5th, a Mob from Paris marches onVersailles. --Blunders of La Fayette--Ferocity of the Mob on the 5th. --Attack on the Palace on the 6th. --Danger and Heroism of the Queen. --TheRoyal Family remove to Paris. --Their Reception at the Barrier and at theHôtel de Ville. --Shabbiness of the Tuileries. --The King fixes hisResidence there. 

Necker had obeyed the king's summons the moment that he received it, andbefore the end of the month he returned to Versailles and resumed hisoffice. But, even before the king's dispatch reached him, Paris hadwitnessed terrible proofs that the tranquillity which the king's visit tothe capital was supposed to have re-established was but temporary. Thepopulace had broken out into fresh tumults, murdering some of Breteuil'scolleagues with circumstances of frightful barbarity; while intelligenceof similar disturbances in the provinces was constantly arriving. InNormandy, in Alsace, and in Provence, in the towns, and in the ruraldistricts, the towns-people and the peasants rose against their wealthierneighbors or their landlords, burning their houses, and commonly murderingthe owners with the most revolting barbarity. Some were torn into pieces;some were roasted alive; some had actually portions of their flesh cut offand eaten by their murderers in their own sight, before the blow was givenwhich terminated their agonies. Their sex did not save ladies from beingvictims of the same cruelties, nor did it prevent women from being actorsin them. 

Yet the horror of these scenes was scarcely stranger than thepusillanimity of those who endured them unresistingly; for there were notwanting instances of magistrates honest enough to detest, and courageousenough to chastise, such outrages; and wherever the effort was made itsucceeded so completely as to fix no slight criminality on those whosubmitted to them. In Dauphiny, the States of the province raised a smallguard, which quelled the first attempts to cause riots there, and hangedthe ringleaders. In Mâcon, a similar force, though not three hundredstrong, encountered a band of brigands, six thousand in number, andbrought back two hundred prisoners, the chiefs of whom were instantlyexecuted, and by their prompt punishment tranquillity was restored. Similar firmness would have saved other districts, which now allowedthemselves to be the victims of ravage and murder; as afterward it wouldhave preserved the whole country, even when the madness and wickedness ofsubsequent years were at their height; for in no part of the kingdom didthose who perpetrated or sympathized with the crimes which have made theRevolution a by-word, approach the number of those who loathed them, butwho had not the courage or foresight to withstand them. It seemed as if along course of misgovernment, and the example of the profligacy andimpiety set by the higher classes for many generations, had demoralizedthe entire people, some in their excesses discarding the ordinaryinstincts of human beings; while the bulk of the nation had lost even thatcourage which had once been among its most shining qualities, and had nolonger the manliness to resist outrages which they abhorred, even whentheir own safety was staked upon their repression. 

And similar weakness was exhibited in the Assembly itself; for, unquestionably, the party which at last prevailed was not that which wasoriginally the strongest. Like most assemblies of the kind, it was dividedinto three parties--the extreme Royalists, or "the Right;" the extremeReformers (who were subdivided into several sections), or "the Left;" andbetween them the moderate Constitutionalists, or "the Plain, " as they werecalled, from occupying seats in the middle of the hall, between the raisedbenches on either side. And to the last party belonged all the men mostdistinguished either for statesman-like perceptions or for eloquence, Mirabeau himself agreeing with them in all their leading principles, though he never formally enrolled himself in the ranks of any party. 

The majority of the Constitutionalists were as loyal to the king's personand dignity as the extreme Royalists; their most eloquent speaker, a younglawyer named Barnave, at the first opening of the States had even soughtto open a direct communication with the court, begging Madame deLamballe[1] to assure the queen of the wish of himself and all his friendsto maintain the king in the full enjoyment and exercise of what he calleda Constitutional authority, borrowing the idea and expression from theEnglish Government. But though Marie Antoinette had no objection to theking of his own accord renouncing portions of the power which had beenclaimed and exerted by his predecessors, she would not hear of the Statestaking upon themselves to impose such sacrifices on him, or to curtail hisauthority by any exercise of their own; and she rejected with somethinglike disdain the support of those whose alliance was only to be purchasedon such conditions. Barnave, like Mirabeau, felt insulted; determined torevenge himself, and for a while united himself to the fiercest of theRepublicans; while the Right, with incredible folly, often played into hishand, joining the Left, of which many members avowedly aimed at theabolition of royalty, and with none of whom they had one opinion orsentiment in common to defeat the Constitutionalists, with whom theypractically had but very slight differences. And thus, as with a basepusillanimity, many, both of the Right and of the Plain, fled from thecountry after the tumults of October, the mastery of the Assemblygradually fell into the hands of that party which contained by far fewermen of ability or honesty than either of the others, but which surpassedthem both in distinctness of object, and in unscrupulous resolution tocarry out its views. 

But the events of July, the mutiny of the troops, the successfulinsurrection of the mob, the destruction of the Bastile, and the visit ofLouis to Paris, had been a series of damaging blows to the Government; andas each successive exploit gave encouragement to the movement party, events proceeded with extreme rapidity. Necker, who returned to Versailleson the 27th of July, showed more clearly than ever his unfitness for thechief post in the administration at such a crisis, by devoting himselfsolely to financial arrangements, and omitting to take, on the part of thecrown, the initiative in any one of the reforms which the king hadpromised. Those he permitted to be intrusted to a committee of theAssembly; and the committee had scarcely met when the Assembly took thematter into its own hands; and in a strange panic, and at a singlesitting, swept away the privileges of both Nobles and clergy, those whoseemed personally most concerned in their maintenance being the foremostin urging their suppression. A member of the oldest nobility proposed theabolition of the privileges of the Nobles. A bishop moved the extinctionof tithes; Bretons, Burgundians, Provençals, renounced for their fellow-citizens the old distinctions and immunities to which each province hadhitherto clung with an unyielding if somewhat unreasoning attachment; andthe whole was crowned by the Archbishop of Paris proposing a celebrationof the _Te Deum_, as an expression of gratitude to God for having inspireda series of actions calculated to confer so much happiness on the nation. 

Though he could not avoid seeing the mischievous character of many of theresolutions thus tumultuously passed, and though his royal assent to themwas asked in language unceremonious and almost peremptory in its curtness, Louis could not bring himself, or perhaps did not venture, to refuse hissanction to them. He had laid down a rule for himself to refuse noconcession except such as on religious grounds his conscience might revoltfrom; and on the 18th he signified his formal acceptance of theresolutions, and of the title of "Restorer of French Liberty. " It was anact of great weakness, and was rewarded, as such acts generally are, byfurther encroachments on his authority. The progress of the Left was noteven arrested by a quarrel between some of its members (who, beingclergymen, were not inclined to be reduced to beggary by the extinction oftheir incomes), and Mirabeau, who, not unnaturally, bore the priestsespecial ill-will. Before the end of the month, the Assembly even deprivedthe king of the power of withholding his assent from measures which itmight pass, enacting that he should no longer possess an absolute "veto, "as it was called, and Necker, exhibiting on this question an incapacitymore glaring than even his former conduct had displayed, induced the kingto yield this point also; and to express his own preference for what itscontrivers called a suspensive veto--a power, that is, of withholding hisassent to any measure till it had been passed by two successiveAssemblies. The discussions on this most momentous point had been veryvehement in the Assembly itself; and, besides the greatness of theprinciple involved in the decision, they have a peculiar importance asshowing that Mirabeau had not the absolute power over the minds of themembers which he believed himself to possess; since he contended with allthe energy of his temper, and with irresistible force of argument, againsta vote which, as he declared, could only take the power from the king tovest it in the Assembly, and yet was wholly unable to carry more than asmall minority with him in his opposition. 

And this defeat may have had some share in prompting him to countenanceand aid, if indeed he was not the original contriver of, a plot which wasundoubtedly intended to produce a change in the whole frame-work of theGovernment. The harvest had been bad, and at the beginning of SeptemberParis was suffering under a scarcity almost as severe as had ever beenfelt in the depth of winter. The emergency was so great that the king sentall his plate to the Mint to be melted down, to procure money to purchasefood for the starving citizens; and many patriotic individuals, Neckerhimself being among the most munificent, gave their plate and jewels forthe same benevolent object. But relief procured from such sources wasunavoidably of too limited a character to last long. Though Neckerproposed and the Assembly voted taxes of prodigious amount, they could notat once be made available, and some of the lower classes were said to havedied of actual famine. In their distress the citizens looked to the king, and attributed their misery in a great degree to his ignorance of theirsituation, which was caused by his living at Versailles. They nicknamedhim the "Baker, " as if he could supply them with bread, and began toclamor for him at least to take up an occasional residence among them inin his capital. From raising a cry, the step was easy to organize a riotto compel him to do so. And to this object the partisans of the Duke ofOrleans, assisted, if not prompted, by Mirabeau, now began to applythemselves, hoping that the result would be the deposition of Louis andthe enthronement of the duke, who might be glad to take the great oratorfor his prime minister. 

So certain did the conspirators feel of success, that they took no painsto keep their machinations secret. As early as the middle of Septemberintelligence was received at Versailles that the Parisians would marchupon that town in force, on the 5th of October; and the Assembly wasgreatly alarmed, believing, not without reason, that the object of theintended attack was to overawe and overbear them. The magistrates of thetown were even more terrified, and besought the king to bring up at leastone regiment for their protection. And, prudent and reasonable as therequest was, the compliance with it furnished the agents of sedition withpretexts for further violence. 

A regiment, known as that of Flanders, was sent for from the frontiers, and speedily arrived at Versailles, when, according to their old andhospitable fashion, the Body-guard, [2] who regarded Versailles as theirhome, invited the officers, and with them the officers of the Swiss Guard, and those of the town militia also, to a banquet on the 1st of October. The opera-house, as had often been done in similar instances, was lent forthe occasion; and the boxes were filled with the chief ladies of the courtand of the town, and also with many members of the Assembly, asspectators. So enthusiastic were the acclamations that greeted the toastof the king's health, that, though Marie Antoinette had previously desiredthat the royal family should not appear to have any connection with theentertainment, the captain of the guard, the Count de Luxembourg, had nodifficulty in persuading her that it would but be a graceful recognitionof such spontaneous and sincere loyalty at such a time if she were tohonor the banquet with her presence, though but by the briefest visit. Louis, too, accepted the proposal with greater warmth than usual, and whenthe royal pair with their children--the queen, as was her custom, leadingone in each hand--descended from their apartments and walked through thebanquet-hall, the enthusiasm was redoubled. The spectators, among whomwere many members of the Assembly, caught the contagion. Loyal cheersresounded from every part of the theatre, and the feelings excited becameso fervid that some officers of the National Guard, who were among theguests, reversed their new tricolor cockade, and, displaying the whiteside outermost, seemed to have resumed the time-honored badge under whichthe army had reaped all its old glories. The band struck up a favorite airfrom one of the new operas, "Peut-on affliger ce qu'on aime?" which thosewho saw the anxiety which recent events had already stamped upon thequeen's majestic brow could hardly avoid applying to their royal mistress;and when it followed it up by Blondel's lamentation for Richard, "ORichard, O mon roi, l'univers t'abandonne, " the first notes of thewell-known song touched a chord in every heart, and the whole company, courtiers, ladies, soldiers, and deputies, were all carried away in aperfect delirium of loyal rapture. The whole company escorted the royalfamily back to their apartments; though it was remarked afterward thatsome of the soldiers, who on this occasion were the most vociferous intheir exultation, were, before the end of the same week, among the mostfurious threateners and assailants of the palace. 

But a demonstration such as this, in which the whole number of thesoldiers concerned did not exceed fifteen hundred men, could not deter theorganizers of the impending riot from carrying out their plan: if it didnot even aid them by the opportunities which it afforded for spreadingabroad exaggerated accounts of what had taken place, as an additionalproof of the settled hatred and contempt which the court entertained forthe people. Mirabeau had suggested that the best chance of success for aninsurrection in Paris lay in placing women at its head; and, in compliancewith his hint, at day-break on the appointed morning a woman of notoriousinfamy of character moved toward the chief market-place of Paris, beatinga drum, and calling on all who heard her to follow her. [3] She soongathered round her a troop of followers worthy of such a leader, market-women, fish-women, and men in women's clothes, whose deep voices, and thepower with which they brandished their weapons, betrayed their sex throughtheir disguise. 

One man, Maillard, who had been conspicuous as one of the fiercest of thestormers of the Bastile, disdained any concealment or dress but his own;they chose him for their leader, mingling with their cries for breadhorrid threats against the queen and the aristocrats. Their numbersincreased till they felt themselves strong enough to attack the Hôtel deVille. A detachment of the National Guard who were on duty offered them noresistance, pleading that they had received no orders from La Fayette; andthe rioters, now amounting to many thousands, having armed themselves fromthe store of muskets and swords which they found in the armory, passed onto the barrier and took the road to Versailles. 

The riot had lasted four hours, and the very last of the rioters hadalready passed through the gates before La Fayette reached the Hôtel deVille, though his office of Commander of the National Guard made thepreservation of tranquillity one of his most especial duties. He hadevidently feared to risk his popularity by resisting the mob, and even nowhe refused to act at all till be had received a written order from theMunicipal Council; and, when he had obtained that, he did not obey it; butpreferred complying with the demands of his own soldiers, who insisted onfollowing the rioters to Versailles, where they would exterminate theregiment of Flanders; bring the king back to Paris; and perhaps depose himand appoint a Regent. Yet even this open avowal of their treasonable viewsdid not deter their unworthy general from submitting to their dictates. Hehad indeed no desire for the success of their designs; for he had noconnection with the Duc d'Orléans, and no inclination to co-operate withMirabeau, who he knew was in the habit of speaking of him with contempt;but he had not firmness to resist their demand. His vanity, too, alwayshis most predominant feeling, was flattered by the desire they expressedto retain him as their commander, and at last he procured from themagistrates a fresh order, authorizing him to comply with the soldiers'clamor, and to lead them to Versailles. 

When before the magistrates he had professed an expectation that he shouldbe able to induce the king to comply with the wishes of the Assembly, anda determination to restrain the excesses of the mob; but the whole day hadbeen so wasted by his irresolution that when he at last put his regimentin motion it was seven o'clock in the evening--full four hours afterMaillard and his fish-women had reached Versailles. The news of theirapproach and of their designs had been brought to the palace by Monsieurde Chinon, the eldest son of the Duc de Richelieu, who, at great personalrisk, had disguised himself as an artisan, and had marched some way withthe crowd to learn their object. He reported that even the women andchildren were armed, that the great majority were drunk; that they werebeguiling the way with the most ferocious threats, and that they had beenjoined by a gang of men who gave themselves the name of "Coupe-têtes, " andboasted that they should have ample opportunity of proving their title toit. 

In addition to the warnings previously received, a rumor had reached thepalace on the preceding evening that the Duc d'Orléans had come down toVersailles in disguise, [4] a movement which could hardly have an innocentobject; but so little heed had been given to the intelligence, or, it mayperhaps be said, so little was it supposed that, if such an attack wasreally meditated, any warning would have been given, that Monsieur deChinon found the palace empty. Louis had gone to hunt in the Bois deMeudon; Marie Antoinette was at the Little Trianon. But messengers easilyfound them. The queen came in with speed from her garden, which she wasdestined never to behold again; the king hastened hack from his coverts;and by the time that they returned, the Count de St. Priest, the Ministerof the Household, had their carriages ready for them to retire toRambouillet, and he earnestly pressed the adoption of such a course. Louis, as usual, could not make up his mind. He sat in his chair, repeating that it was a moment to think seriously. "Rather, " said MarieAntoinette, "say that it is a time to act promptly. " He would gladly havehad her depart with her children, but she refused to leave him, declaringthat her place was by his side; that, as the daughter of Maria Teresa, shedid not fear death; and after a time he changed his mind and ceased towish even her to retire, clinging to his old conviction that conciliationwas always possible. He believed that he had won over even the worst ofthe mob, and that all danger was past. 

Versailles witnessed a strange scene that morning. The moment that the mobreached the town, they forced their way into the Assembly Hall, whereMaillard, as their spokesman, after terrifying the members with ferociousthreats against the whole body of the Nobles, demanded that the Assemblyshould send a deputation to the king to represent to him the distress ofthe people, and that a party of the women should accompany it. Louisconsented to receive them, and when they reached the palace, the women, disorderly and ferocious as they were, were so awed by the magnificenceand pomp which they beheld, and by the actual presence of the king andqueen, that they could only summon up a few modest and humble words ofpetition, and one, a young and pretty girl of seventeen, fainted with theexcitement. One of the princesses brought her a glass of water: sherecovered, and, as she knelt to kiss the king's hand, Louis kissed herhimself, and, transported by his affability, she and her companions quitthe apartment, uttering loud cheers for the king and queen. But this hadnot been the impression which their leaders had intended them to receive;and, when they reached the streets, their new-born loyalty so exasperatedtheir comrades that the soldiers had some difficulty in saving them fromtheir fury. 

Meanwhile, the mob increased every hour. They occupied the court-yard ofthe palace, roaring out ferocious threats, the most sanguinary of whichwere directed against the queen. The President of the Assembly moved thatthe members should adjourn and repair to the palace for the protection ofthe royal family, but Mirabeau resisted the proposal, and procured itsrejection; and when a large party of the members went, as individuals, toplace their services at the king's disposal, he mingled with the rioters, tampering with the soldiers, and urging them to espouse what he called thecause of the people. As it grew dark, the crowd grew more and moretumultuous and violent. The Body-guard, who were all gentlemen, werefaithful and fearless; but it began to be seen that none of the othertroops, not even the regiment of Flanders, could be trusted. Some of themeven fired on the Body-guard, and mortally wounded its commander, theMarquis de Savonières; while Louis, adhering to his unhappy policy ofconciliation even at such a moment, sent down orders to the officer whosucceeded to the command that the men were not to use their weapons, andthat all bloodshed was to be avoided. "Tell the king, " replied M. D'Huillier, "that his orders shall be obeyed; but that we shall all beassassinated. "

The mob grew fiercer when it became known that La Fayette and his regimentwere approaching. No one knew what course he might take, but theringleaders of the rioters resolved on a strenuous effort to render hisarrival useless by their previous success. Guns were fired, heavy blowswere dealt on the railings of the inner court-yard and on the gates; andthe danger seemed so imminent that the mob might force its way into thepalace, that the deputies themselves besought the king to delay no longer, but to retire to Rambouillet. He was still irresolute, and still trustingto his plan of conciliating by non-resistance. The queen, though moreearnest than ever that he should depart, still nobly adhered to her ownview of duty, and refused to leave him; but, hoping that he might changehis mind, she gave a written order to keep the carriages harnessed, and toprepare to force a passage for them if the life of the king should appearto be in danger; but, she added, they were not to be used if she alonewere threatened. 

At last, when it was nearly midnight, La Fayette arrived. With a singularperverseness of folly, at a time when every moment was of consequence, hehad halted his men a mile out of the town to make them a speech in praiseof himself and his own loyalty, and to administer to them an oath to befaithful to the nation, to the law, and to the king; an oath needless ifthey were inclined to keep it; useless, if they were not; and in the stateof feeling then common, mischievous in the order in which he ranged thepowers to which he required them to profess allegiance. At last he reachedthe palace. Leaving his men below, he ascended to the king's apartments, and, laying his hand on his heart, assured the king that he had no moreloyal servant than himself. Louis was not given to sarcasm: yet some ofthe bystanders fancied that there was a tone of irony in his voice when inreply he expressed his conviction of the marquis's sincerity; and perhapsLa Fayette thought so too, for he proceeded to harangue his majesty on hisfavorite subject of his own courage; describing the dangers which, as heaffirmed, he had incurred in the course of the day. After which hedescended into the court-yard to assure the soldiers that the king hadpromised to accede to their wishes; and then returned to the royalapartments to inform the king that contentment was restored, and that hehimself would be responsible for the tranquillity of the night. 

The royal family, exhausted with the fatigues of so terrible a day, retired to rest, the queen expressly enjoining her ladies to follow herexample. Fortunately they were too anxious for her safety to obey her, and, with their own attendants, kept watch in the room outside herbed-chamber. But La Fayette, in spite of the responsibility which he hadtaken upon himself, felt no such anxiety. He declared himself tired andsleepy; and, leaving the palace, went to a friend's house to ask for abed. [5] Yet he well knew that the crowd was still assembled around thepalace, and was increasing in violence. Though the night was stormy andwet, the rioters sought no shelter except such as was afforded by ahurried resort to the wine-shops in the neighborhood, where they inflamedtheir intoxication, and from which they soon returned to renew theirsavage clamor and threats, increasing the disorder by keeping up afrequent fire of their muskets. Throughout the night the Duc d'Orléans wasbriskly going to and fro, his emissaries scattering money among therioters, who seemed to have no definite purpose or plan, till, as daybegan to break, one of the gates leading into the Princes' Court was seento be open. It had been intrusted to some of La Fayette's soldiers, andcould not have been opened without treachery. The crowd poured in, uttering fiercer threats than ever, from the belief that their prey waswithin their reach. There was, in truth, nothing between them and thestaircase which led to the royal apartments except two gallant gentlemen, M. Des Huttes and M. Moreau, the sentries of the detachment of the Body-guard on duty, whose quarters were at the head of the staircase in asaloon opposite to the queen's chamber. But these brave men were worthy ofthe best days of the French army. The more formidable the mob, and thegreater the danger, the more imperative to their loyal hearts was the dutyto defend those whose safety was intrusted to their vigilance; and with sodauntless a front did they stand to their posts that for a moment theruffians recoiled and shrunk from attacking them, till D'Orléans himselfcame forward, waving to them with his hand a signal to force the way in, and pointing out to them which way to take. 

What, then, could two men effect against such a multitude? Des Huttesperished, pierced by a hundred pikes, and torn into pieces by his blood-thirsty assailants. Moreau, with equal valor, but with better fortune, backed up the stairs, fighting so desperately as he retreated that he gavehis comrades time to barricade the doors leading to the queen'sapartments, and to come to his assistance. As they drew him back, terriblywounded, into the guardroom, De Varicourt and Durepaire took his place. DeVaricourt was soon slain, but Durepaire, a man of prodigious strength andprowess, held the assassins at bay for some time, till he too fell, reduced to helplessness by a score of deep wounds; when he, in his turn, was replaced by Miomandre. His devotion and intrepidity equaled that ofhis comrades; he was eminently skillful also in the use of his weapons, and with his own hand he struck down many of his assailants, till he wasgradually forced back by numbers, when he placed his musket as a barrieracross the door-way, and thus still kept his enemies at bay, while heshouted to the queen's ladies, now separated from him by but a singlepartition, to save the queen, for "the tigers with whom he was strugglingwere aiming at her life. "

In the annals of the ancient chivalry of the nation it had been recordedas the most brilliant feat of Bayard, that, on a bridge of the Garigliano, he had for a while, with his single arm, stemmed the onset of two hundredSpaniards; and that glorious exploit of the model hero of the nation hadnever been more faithfully copied and more nobly rivaled than it was onthis morning of shame and danger by Miomandre and his intrepid comrades, as they successively stepped into the breach to fight against those whomhe truly called, not men, but tigers. It was but a brief moment before hetoo was struck down; but he had gained for the ladies a respite sufficientto enable them to secure the safety of their royal mistress. They rousedher from her bed, for her fatigue had been so great that she had hithertoslept soundly through the uproar, and hurried her off to the apartments ofthe king, who, having in been just similarly awakened, was coming to seekher; and in a few minutes the whole family was collected in hisantechamber; while the Body-guard occupied the queen's bedroom, and therioters, balked of their intended victim, were pillaging the differentrooms into which they had been able to make their way. Luckily, La Fayettewas still absent: he was having his hair dressed with great composure, while the mob, for whose contentment and orderly behavior he had vouched, was plundering the royal palace and seeking its owners to murder them; andin his absence the Marquis de Vaudreuil and a body of nobles took uponthemselves the office of defenders of the crown, and, going down to thecourt-yard, reproached the National Guard with their inaction at such amoment of danger, and with their manifest sympathy with the rioters. Atfirst, out of mere shame, the National Guard attempted to justifythemselves: "they had been told, " they said, "that the Body-guard were theaggressors; that they had attacked the people. " "Do you pretend tobelieve, " said the gallant marquis, "that two hundred men have been madenough to attack thirty thousand?" The argument was irresistible; theydeclared that if the Body-guard would assume the tricolor, they wouldstand by them as brothers. And, by a reaction not uncommon at such timesof excitement, the two regiments became reconciled in a moment. As notricolor cockades could be procured, they exchanged shakos, and, in manycases, arms. And presently, when the Coup-têtes, after mutilating thebodies of two of the Body-guard who had been killed on the previousevening, were preparing to murder two or three more who had fallen intotheir hands, the National Guard dashed to their rescue, shouting out, witha curious identification of their force with the old French army, that"they would save the Body-guard who saved them at Fontenoy, " and broughtthem off unhurt. 

Balked of their expected prey, the rioters grew more furious than ever; inuseless wrath they kept firing against the walls of the palace, andshouting out a demand for the queen to show herself. She, with herchildren, was still in the king's apartment, where the princesses, theministers, and a few courtiers were also assembled. Necker, in an agony ofterror and distress, sat with his face buried in his hands, unable tooffer any advice; La Fayette, who had just arrived, dwelt upon the dangerswhich he had run, though no one else knew what they were, and assured theking of the power which he still possessed to allay the tumult, if thereasonable demands of the people (as he called them) were granted. MarieAntoinette alone was undaunted and calm; or, at least, if in the depths ofher woman's heart she felt terror at the sanguinary and obscene threats ofher ruffianly enemies, she scorned to show it. When the firing began, M. De Luzerne, one of the ministers, had quietly placed himself between herand the window; but, while she thanked him for his devotion, she beggedhim to retire, saying, with her habitually gracious courtesy, that it washer place to be there, [6] not his, since the king could not afford to haveso faithful a servant endangered. And now, holding her little son anddaughter, one in each hand, she stepped out on the balcony, to confrontthose who were shouting for her blood. "No children!" was their cry. Sheled the dauphin and his sister back into the room, and, returning to thebalcony, stood before them alone, with her hands crossed and her eyeslooking up to heaven, as one who expected instant death, with a firmnessas far removed from defiance as from supplication. Even those ruthlessmiscreants were awed by her magnanimous fearlessness; not a shot wasfired; for a moment it seemed as if her enemies had become her partisans. Loud shouts of "Bravo!" and "Long live the queen!" were heard on allsides; and one ruffian, who raised his gun to take aim at her, had hisweapon beaten down by those who stood near him, and ran some risk of beinghimself sacrificed to their indignation. But this impulse of respect, likeother impulses of such a people, was short-lived, and presently themultitude began to raise a shout, which expressed the original purposewhich had led the majority to march upon Versailles. "To Paris!" was thecry, and again La Fayette volunteered his advice, urging the king tocomply with the request. By this time Louis had learned the value of themarquis's loyalty. But he had no alternative. It was evident that therioters had the power of compelling compliance with their demand. Andaccordingly he authorized the marquis to promise that he would remove hisfamily to Paris, and a few minutes afterward he himself went out on thebalcony with the queen, and himself announced his intention, with the viewof giving his act a greater appearance of being voluntarily resolved upon. 

Soon after midday he set out, accompanied by the queen, his brother theCount de Provence, his sister the Princess Elizabeth, and his children. Itwas a strange and shameful retinue that escorted the King of France to hiscapital. One party of the rioters, with Maillard and another ruffian namedJourdan, the chief of the Coupe-têtes, at their head, had started twohours before, bearing aloft in triumph the heads of the mangledBody-guards, and combining such hideous mockery with their barbarity thatthey halted at Sèvres to compel a barber to dress the hair on the lifelessskulls. And now the royal carriage was surrounded by a vast and confusedmedley; market-women and the rest of the female rabble, with drunken gangsof the ruffians who had stormed the palace in the morning, stillbrandishing their weapons, or bearing loaves of bread on their pike-heads, and singing out that they should all have enough of bread now, since theywere bringing the baker, the bakeress, and the baker's boy to Paris. [7]The only part of the procession that bore even a decent appearance was asmall escort of 'different regiments--the Guards, the National Guards, andthe Body-guards; many of the latter still bleeding from the wounds whichthey had received in the conflict and tumult of the morning. A train ofcarriages containing a deputation of the members of the Assembly alsofollowed; Mirabeau himself having just earned a motion that the Assemblywas inseparable from the king, and that wherever he was there must be theplace of meeting for the great council of the nation. Yet, in spite of theconfidence which their presence might have been expected to diffuse amongthe mob, and in spite of the hopes of coming plenty which the riotersthemselves announced, the royal party was not even yet safe from furtherattacks. Some ruffians stabbed at the royal carriage as it passed withtheir pikes, and several shots were fired at it, though fortunately theymissed their aim and no one was injured. [8]

To the queen the journey was more painful than to any one else. A fewweeks before she had congratulated Mademoiselle de Lamballe on not being amother--perhaps the bitterest exclamation that grief and anxiety everwrung from her lips; and now the keenest anxieties of a mother were indeedadded to those of a queen. The procession moved with painful slowness. Noprovisions had been taken in the carriage, and the little dauphin wassuffering from hunger and begging for some food. Tears, which her owndanger could not bring to her eyes, flowed plentifully as she witnessedthe suffering of her child. She could only beg him to bear his privationswith patience; and she had the reward of the pains she had always taken toinspire him with confident in her, in the fortitude with which, for therest of the day, he bore what to children of his age is probably theseverest hardship to which they can be exposed. [9]

So vast and disorderly was the procession that it was nine o'clock atnight before it reached Paris. Bailly again met the royal carriage at thebarrier, and, re-assuming the tone of coarse insult which he had adoptedon the king's previous visit, had the effrontery to describe the day sofull of horror to every one, and of humiliation and agony to those whom hewas addressing, as a glorious day. It was at such moments as these thatLouis's impassibility assumed the character of dignity. He disdained tonotice the mayor's insolence, and briefly answered that it was always withpleasure and with confidence that he found himself among the inhabitantsof his good city of Paris. He proceeded to the Hôtel de Ville, where thecouncil of civic magistrates was sitting; and where the presidentaddressed him in language which afforded a marked contrast to that of themayor, calling him "an adored father who had come to visit the place wherehe could meet with the greatest number of his children. " And it seemed asif Bailly himself had become in some degree ashamed of his insolence; fornow, when Louis desired him, in reply to the president's address, torepeat the answer which he had made to him at the barrier, he merely saidthat the king had come with pleasure among the Parisians. "The king, sir, "interrupted the queen, "added, 'and with confidence. '" "Gentlemen, " saidBailly, "you hear her majesty's words. You are happier in doing so than ifI myself had uttered them. " The whole company burst into one rapturouscheer, and at their request the king and queen showed themselves for a fewminutes at the windows, beneath which, late as the hour was, a vastmultitude was still collected, which received them with vociferous cheers. And then the royal family, quitting the Hotel, drove to the Tuileries, where their attendants had been hastily making such preparations as a fewhours allowed for their reception. 

Since the completion of the Palace at Versailles the Tuileries had beenalmost deserted. [10] The paint and gilding were tarnished, the curtainswere faded, many most necessary articles of furniture were altogetherwanting; and the whole was so shabby that it attracted the notice of eventhe little dauphin. "How bad, mamma, " said he, "every thing looks here. ""My boy, " she replied, "Louis XIV. Lived here comfortably enough. " Butthey had not yet decided on making it their permanent residence. LaFayette, who had tried to induce the king to promise to do so, had beendistinctly refused; and for some days Louis did not make up his mind. But, after a time, the fear, if he should propose to return, to Versailles, ofbeing met by an opposition on the part of the Assembly or the civicmagistrates, which he might be unable to surmount, or, if he should againsettle there, of his absence from the city furnishing a pretext for freshtumults, caused him to announce his intention of making Paris hisprincipal abode for the future. He gave orders for the removal of somefurniture and of the queen's library to the Tuileries; and, with somethingof the apathy of despair, began to reconcile himself to his new abode andhis changed position. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette on coming to the Tuileries. --Her Tact inwinning the Hearts of the Common People. --Mirabeau changes his Views. --Quarrel between La Fayette and the Duc d'Orléans. --Mirabeau desires tooffer his Services to the Queen. --Riots in Paris. --Murder of François. --The Assembly pass a Vote prohibiting any Member from taking Office. --TheEmigration. --Death of the Emperor Joseph II. --Investigation into the Riotsof October. --The Queen refuses to give Evidence. --Violent Proceedings inthe Assembly. --Execution of the Marquis de Favras. 

The comment made by Marie Antoinette on quitting Versailles was that "theywere undone; they were being dragged off, perhaps to death, which wasnever far removed from captive sovereigns;[1]" and such henceforward washer prevailing feeling. She may occasionally, prompted by her own innatecourage and sanguineness of disposition, have cherished a short-livedhope, founded on a consciousness of the king's and her own purity ofintention, or on a belief, which she never wholly discarded, in thenatural goodness of heart of the French people when not led astray bydemagogues; and of their impulsive levity of disposition, which seemed tomake no change of temper on their part impossible; but her general feelingwas one of humiliation for the past and despair for the future. Not onlydid the example of Charles I. , whose fate was ever before her eyes, fillher with dread for her husband's life (to her own danger she never gave athought), but she felt also that the cause and principle of royalty hadbeen degraded by the shameful scenes through which she had lately passed;and we shall fail to do justice to the patience, fortitude, and energy ofher conduct during the remainder of her life, if we allow ourselves toforget that these high qualities were maintained and exerted in spite ofthe most depressing circumstances and the most discouraging convictions;that she was struggling because it was her duty to struggle for herhusband's honor and her child's inheritance; but that she was never longsustained by that incentive which, with so many, is absolutelyindispensable to steady and useful exertion--the anticipation of eventualsuccess. 

A letter which the very next morning she wrote to Mercy, who fortunatelystill retained his old post as embassador, shows the courage with whichshe still caught at every circumstance which seemed in the least hopeful;and with what unfaltering tact she sought every opportunity of acting onthe impulsiveness which she regarded as one chief characteristic of theFrench people. 

"October 7th, 1789. 

"I am quite well. You may be easy about me. If we could only forget wherewe are and how we came here, we ought to be satisfied with the feelings ofthe people, especially this morning. I hope, if bread does not fall short, that many things will return to their proper order. I speak to the people, militia, fish-women, and all: all offer me their hands; I give them mine. In the Hôtel de Ville I was personally well received. The people thismorning begged us to remain here. I answered them, speaking for the king, who was by my side, that it depended on themselves whether we remained;that we desired nothing better; that all animosities must be laid aside;that the slightest renewal of bloodshed would make us flee, with horror. Those who were nearest to me swore that all that was over. I told thefish-women to go and tell others all that we had just said to oneanother. [2]"

And a day or two later, on the 10th, even while giving fuller expressionto her feelings of unhappiness, and of disgust at the events of the pastweek, as to which she assures Mercy that "no description could beexaggerated; on the contrary, that any account must fall far short of whatthe king and she had seen and experienced, " she yet repeats that "shehopes to bring back to a right feeling the honest and sound portion of thecitizens and people. Unhappily, however, " as she adds, "they are not themost numerous body. Still, with gentleness and unwearied patience, she mayhope that at least she shall succeed in doing away with the horribledistrust which occupies every mind, and which has dragged the king andherself into the gulf in which they are at present. " So keen at this timewas her feeling that one principal cause of their miseries was the unjustdistrust which the citizens in general conceived of the views and designsof the court, that she desires Mercy not to try to see her; and, while shedescribes the scantiness of the accommodation which her attendants had asyet been able to provide for her, so that Madame Royale had a bed in herdressing-room, and the little dauphin was in her own room, she findsadvantage in these arrangements, inconvenient as they were, since theyprevented any suspicion from arising that she was giving audiences whichshe desired to keep secret. 

She did not overrate the impression which she had made on the people; andher faithful attendant, Madame Campan, has preserved more minute detailsof the events of the 7th than she herself reported to the embassador. Shewas hardly dressed when a huge crowd collected on the terrace under herwindow, shouting for her to show herself; and, when she came forward, theybegan to accost her in a mingled tone of expostulation and menace. "Shemust drive away the courtiers who were the ruin of kings. She must lovethe inhabitants of her good city. " She replied "that she had always feltso toward them; she had loved them while at Versailles; she shouldcontinue to love them at Paris. " "Ah, " interrupted a virago, hardier thanher companions, "but on the 14th of July you would have besieged andbombarded the city; and on the 6th of October you wanted to flee to thefrontier. " She answered, in the gentlest tone, that "these were idlestories, which they were wrong to believe; tales like these were whatcaused at once the misery of the people and that of the best of kings. "Another woman addressed her in German. Marie Antoinette declared that "shedid not understand what she said; that she had become so completely Frenchthat she had forgotten her native language;" and the compliment to theircountry fairly vanquished them. They received it with shouts of "Bravo, "and with loud clapping of their hands. They begged the ribbons and flowersof her bonnet. She took them off with her own hand and distributed themamong them; and they divided the spoils with thankful exultation, smiling, waving their hands, and crying out, "Long live Marie Antoinette! Long liveour good queen![3]"

For a time it seemed as if the fortunes of the king and country were beingweighed in an uncertain balance. One day some circumstances seemed to holdout a prospect of the re-establishment of tranquillity, and of the returnof the masses to a better feeling. The next day these favorableappearances were more than counterbalanced by fresh evidences of theincreasing power of the factious and unscrupulous demagogues. It wasgreatly in favor of the crown that the triumph of the mob on the 6th ofOctober had led to violent quarrels between the Duc d'Orléans, La Fayette, and Mirabeau. La Fayette had charged the duke with having entered into aplot to assassinate him, and threatened to impeach him formally if he didnot at once quit the kingdom. [4] The duke trembled and consented, easilyprocuring from the ministers, who were glad to get rid of him, adiplomatic mission to England as a pretext for his departure; andMirabeau, who despised both the duke and the marquis, full of contempt forthe pusillanimity which the former had shown in the quarrel, abandoned allidea of placing him on his cousin's throne. "Make him my king!" heexclaimed; "I would not have him for my valet. "

Emboldened by his success with the duke, La Fayette, who had greatconfidence in his own address, next tried to win over or to get rid ofMirabeau himself. He proposed to obtain an embassy for him also. Thesuggestion of what was clearly an honorable exile in disguise was at oncedeclined. [5] He then offered him a large sum of money, for at that momenthe had the entire disposal of the civil list; but he found that thegreat orator was disinclined to connect himself with him in any way, muchmore to lay himself under any obligation to him. In fact, Mirabeau was atthis moment hoping to obtain a post in the home administration, where, ifhe could once succeed in procuring a footing, he had no doubt of soonobtaining the entire mastery; and the royal family was hardly settled atthe Tuileries before he applied to his friend, the Count de la Marck, whomhe rightly believed to enjoy the queen's good opinion, begging him toexpress to her his ardent wish to serve her. He even drew up a longmemorial on the existing state of affairs, indicating the line of conductwhich, in his opinion, the king ought to pursue; the leading feature ofwhich was an early departure from Paris to some city at no great distance, that he might be safe and free; while in the capital it was evident thathe was neither. And the step which he thus recommended at the outsetdeserves attention as being also that on which a year later he stillinsisted as the indispensable preliminary to whatever line of conductmight be decided on. 

But at this moment his advice never reached those for whom it wasintended. La Marck, with all his good-will both to his friend and to thecourt, could not venture to bring before the queen's notice the name ofone who, only a few days before, had denounced her in the foulest mannerin the Assembly for having appeared at the soldiers' banquet, and whom shewith her own eyes had beheld uniting with the assailants of the palace. Hethought it more politic, even for the eventual attainment of his friend'sobjects, to content himself for the time with giving the memorial andstating the views of the writer to the Count de Provence; and that princedeclared that it would be useless to bring it to the knowledge of eitherking or queen: "that the queen had not sufficient influence over herhusband to induce him to adopt such a plan;" and he even hinted that attimes Louis was disposed to be jealous of her appearing to influence him. 

But if these circumstances--the quarrel between the enemies of the court, and the conversion of one more able and formidable than either--were inthe king's favor, other events which took place in the same few weeks werefull of mischief and danger. Before the end of the month fresh riots brokeout in Paris. Bread, the supply of which Marie Antoinette, as we haveseen, rightly regarded as a matter of the first importance to thetranquillity of the city, continued scarce and dear; and the mob brokeopen the bakers' shops, and murdered one baker, a man named François, witha ferocity more terrible than they had even shown toward De Launay, or theguards at Versailles. They tore his body to pieces, and, having cut offhis head, compelled his wife to kiss the scarcely cold lips, and then lefther fainting on the pavement still covered with his blood. Even La Fayettewas horror-stricken at such brutality. It was the only occasion on whichhe did his duty during the whole progress of the Revolution. He came downwith a company of the National Guard, dispersed the rioters, seized theruffian who was bearing aloft, the head of the murdered man on a pole, andcaused him to be hanged the next day. And during the next few weeks hemore than once brought his soldiers to the support of the civil power, andinflicted summary punishment on gangs of miscreants, whose idea of reformwas a state of things which should afford impunity to crime. 

But in the next month the Assembly dealt a heavier blow on the king'sauthority than could be inflicted by the worst excesses of an informalmob--they passed a resolution prohibiting any of its members fromaccepting any office in the administration: it was an imitation of theself-denying ordinance into which Cromwell had tricked the EnglishParliament; and, though bearing an appearance of disinterestedness inclosing the access to official emoluments and honors against themselves, was in reality an injury to the king, as depriving him of his right toselect his ministers from the entire body of the nation; and to the nationitself, as preventing it from obtaining the services of those who might bepresumed to be its ablest citizens, as having been already selected as itsrepresentatives. 

But a far more irreparable injury than any that could be inflicted on thecourt by either populace or Assembly came from its friends. We have seenthat the Count d'Artois, with some nobles who had especial reason to fearthe enmity of the Parisians, had fled from the country in July; and nowtheir example was followed by a vast number of the higher classes, severalof them having hitherto been prominent as the leaders of the Moderate orConstitutional section of the Assembly--men who had no grounds forcomplaining that, except in one or two instances, at moments ofextraordinary excitement, their influence had been overborne, but who nowyielded to an infectious panic. Before the end of the year more than threehundred deputies had resigned their seats and quit the country; salvingover to themselves the dereliction of the duties which a few months beforethey had voluntarily sought, and their performance of which was now a moreimperative duty than ever, by denunciations of the crimes which had beencommitted, and which they had found themselves unable to prevent. They didnot see that their pusillanimous flight must lead to a continuance of suchatrocities, leaving, as it did, the undisputed sway in the Assembly tothose very men who had been the authors of the outrages of which theycomplained. They were, in fact, insuring the ruin of all that they mostwished to preserve; for, in the progress of the debates in the Assemblyduring the winter, many questions of the most vital importance weredecided by very small majorities, which their presence would have turnedinto minorities. The greater the danger was, the more irresistible theyought to have felt the obligation to stand to the last by the cause ofwhich they were the legitimate champions; and the final triumph of theJacobin party owed hardly more to the energy of its leaders than to thecowardly and inglorious flight of the princes and nobles who left thefield open without resistance to their wickedness and audacity. 

It was a melancholy winter that the queen now passed. So far as she wasable, she diverted her mind from political anxieties by devoting much ofher time to the education of her children. A little plot of ground wasrailed off in the garden of the Tuileries for the dauphin's[6] amusement;and one of her favorite relaxations was to watch him working at theflower-beds himself with his little hoe and rake; though, as if to markthat they were in fact prisoners, both she and he were followed whereverthey went by grenadiers of the city-guard, and were not allowed todispense with their attendance for a single moment. Marie Antoinette hadreason to complain that she was watched as a criminal[7]. Sad as she wasat heart, she was not allowed the comfort of privacy and retirement. Shewas forced to hold receptions for the nobles and chief citizens, and asthe court was now formally established at the Tuileries, she dined everyweek in public with the king; but she steadily resisted the entreaties ofsome of the ministers and courtiers to visit the theatres, thinking, withgreat justice, that an attendance at public spectacles of that characterwould have had an appearance of gayety, as unbecoming at such a period ofanxiety, as it was inconsistent with her feelings; and before the end ofthe winter she sustained a fresh affliction in the loss of her brother theemperor[8]; whose death bore with it the additional aggravation ofdepriving her of a counselor whose advice she valued, and of an ally onwhose active aid she believed that she could rely far more than she couldon that of their brother Leopold, who now succeeded to the imperialthrone. 

Not that Leopold can be charged with indifference to his sister's welfare. In the very week of his accession to the throne he wrote to her with greataffection, assuring her of his devotion to her interests, and expressinghis desire to correspond with her in the most unreserved confidence. Butthe same letter shows that as yet he knew but very little of her;[9] andthat he regarded the difficulties in which some of Joseph's recentmeasures had involved the Imperial Government as sufficiently serious toengross his attention. A few extracts from her reply are worth preserving, as proving how steadily in her conduct and language to every one sheadhered to her rule of concealing her husband's defects, and putting himforward as the first person on whose wishes and directions her own conductmost depend. It also shows what advances she was herself making in theperception of the true character of the crisis, so far as the objects ofthe few honest members who still remained in the Assembly were concerned, and the extent to which she was trying to reconcile herself to somecurtailment of her husband's former authority. 

Thanking him for the assurance of his friendship, she says: "Believe me, my dear brother, we shall always be worthy of it. I say we, because I donot separate the king from myself. He was touched by your letter, as I wasmyself, and bids me assure you of this. His heart is loyalty and honestyitself; and if ever again we become, I do not say what we have been, butat least what we ought to be, you may then depend on the entire fidelityof a good ally. 

"I do not say any thing to you of our actual position: it is too heart-rending. It ought to afflict every sovereign in the universe, and stillmore an affectionate relation like you. It is only time and patience thatcan bring back men's minds to a healthy state. It is a war of opinions, and one which is still far from being terminated. It is only the justiceof our cause and the feeling of a good conscience that can support us ... My most sincere wish is that you may never meet with ingratitude. My ownmelancholy experience proves to me that, of all evils, that is the mostterrible. "

Yet no indignation at the thanklessness of the Parisians could chill herconstant benevolence toward them; and amidst all the anxieties whichfilled her mind for herself, her husband, and her child, she founded anasylum for the education of a number of orphan daughters of old soldiers, and found time to give her careful attention to a code of regulations forits management. [10]

Meanwhile circumstances were gradually paving the way for her acceptingthe help of him who, during the earliest discussions of the Assembly, hadbeen, not so much through his own malice as through Necker's folly, herworst enemy. We have seen how, immediately after the attack on Versailles, Mirabeau had once more endeavored to find an opening through which toplace himself at her service. He alone, perhaps, of all men in thekingdom, perceived the reality and greatness of the danger whichthreatened even the lives of the sovereigns;[11] and, as amidst all theerrors into which his regard for his own interests, his vindictiveness, orhis caprice impelled him, he always preserved the perceptions andinstincts of a genuine statesman, many of the transactions of the winterincreased his conviction of the peril in which every interest in the wholekingdom was placed, if the headlong folly of the Assembly could not berestrained, and if even, proverbially difficult as such a course is, someof its acts could not be rescinded; while one transaction, which, morethan any other that had yet taken place, showed the greatness of thequeen's heart, much sharpened his eagerness to prove himself a worthyservant of so noble-minded a mistress. 

Some of the magistrates who still desired to discharge their duty hadinstituted an investigation into the conspiracy which had originated theattack on Versailles, and all its multiplied horrors. They had examined agreat body of witnesses, whose evidence left no doubt of the active parttaken in it by the Duc d'Orléans and his partisans, and by Mirabeau, whether he were to be included among that prince's adherents or not; butthey conceived it specially important to procure the testimony of thequeen herself. However, it was in vain that they applied to her for theslightest information. Appeals to her indignation, to her pride, and toher danger, were equally disregarded by her. No denunciation of those who, whatever had been their crimes, were still the subjects of her husband, could, in her eyes, be becoming to her as queen; and when those who hopedto make a tool of her to crush their political rivals urged that noevidence would be accepted as equally conclusive with hers, since no onehad seen so much of what had taken place, or had in so great a degreepreserved that coolness which was indispensable to a clear account of it, and to the identification of the guilty, her reply was a dignified andmagnanimous pardon of the outrages beneath which she had so nearlyperished. "I have seen every thing; I have known every thing; I haveforgotten every thing;" and Mirabeau, not unthankful for the protectionwhich her magnanimity thus throw around him, was eager to make atonementfor his past insults and injuries. 

And many of the recent events had convinced him that there was no time tolose. The vote of November, debarring him, in common with all othermembers of the Assembly, from office, was a severe blow to the mostimportant of his projects, so far as his own interests were concerned. Within a month it had been followed by another, proposed by the AbbéSiéyes, a busy priest who boasted that he had made himself master of thewhole science of politics, but who was in fact a mere slave of abstracttheories, the safety or even the practicability of which he was utterlyunable to estimate. On his motion, the Assembly, in a single evening, abolished all the ancient territorial divisions of the kingdom, and thevery names of the provinces; dividing the country anew into eighty-threedepartments, and coupling with this new arrangement a number of detailswhich were evidently calculated to wrest the whole executive authority ofthe kingdom from the crown and to vest it in the populace. At anothersitting, the whole property of the Church was confiscated. On anothernight, the Parliaments were abolished; and on a fourth, the party whichhad carried these measures made a still more direct and audacious attackon the royal prerogative, by passing a resolution which deprived the crownof all power of revising the sentences of the judicial tribunals, and ofpardoning or mitigating the punishment of those who might have beencondemned. And, if to bring home to the tender-hearted monarch the fulleffect of this last inroad upon his legitimate power, they at the sametime created a new crime to which they gave the name of treason againstthe nation, [12] without either defining it, or specifying the kind ofevidence which should he required to prove it; and they proceeded at onceto put it in force to procure the condemnation of a nobleman of decayedfortune, but of the highest character, the Marquis de Favras, in a mannerwhich showed that their real object was to strike terror into the wholeRoyalist party. The charges on which he was brought to trial were notmerely unfounded, but ridiculous. He was charged with designing to raisean army of thirty thousand men, with the object of carrying off the kingfrom Paris, of dissolving the Assembly by force, and putting La Fayetteand Bailly to death. The evidence with which it was pretended to supportthese charges broke down on every point, and its failure of itselfestablished the prisoner's innocence, even without the aid of his owndefense, which was lucid and eloquent. But the marquis was known to be aRoyalist in feeling, and, though very poor, to stand high in theconfidence of the princes. The demagogues collected mobs round thecourthouse to intimidate the judges, and the judges proved as base as theaccusers themselves. They professed, indeed, to fear not so much for theirown lives as for the public tranquillity, but they pronounced him guilty. One of them had even the effrontery to acknowledge his innocence to Favrashimself, and to affirm that his life was a necessary sacrifice to thepublic peace. 

No event since the attack on Versailles had caused Marie Antoinette equalanguish. It showed that attachment to the king and herself was in itselfregarded as an inexpiable crime, and her distress was greatly augmentedwhen, on the Sunday following the execution of the marquis, some of hisfriends brought to the table where, as usual, she was dining in publicwith the king, the widowed marchioness and her orphaned son in deepmourning, and presented them to their majesties. Their introducersevidently expected that the king, or at least the queen, by thedistinguished reception which she would accord to them, would mark theirsense of the merits of their late husband and father, and of the indignityof the sentence under which he had suffered. 

Marie Antoinette was sadly embarrassed and distressed: she was takenwholly by surprise; and it happened by a cruel perverseness of fortunethat Santerre, the brewer, whose ruffianly and ferocious enmity to thewhole royal family, and especially to herself, had been conspicuousthroughout the worst outrages of the past summer and autumn, was on thesame day on duty at the palace as commander of one of the battalions ofthe Parisian Guard, and was standing behind her chair when the marchionessand her son were introduced. Her embarrassment and all her feelings on theoccasion were described by herself in the course of the afternoon toMadame Campan. 

After the dinner was over, she went up to her attendant's room, sayingthat it was a relief to find herself where she could weep at her ease; forweep she must at the folly of the ultra-Royalists. "We can not but bedestroyed, " she continued, "when we are attacked by people who unite everykind of talent to every kind of wickedness; and when we are defended byfolks who are indeed very estimable, but who have no just notion of ourposition. They have now compromised me with both parties, in theirpresenting to me the widow and son of Favras. If I had been free to do asI would, I should have taken the child of a man who had just beensacrificed for us, and have placed him at table between the king andmyself; but surrounded as I was by the very murderers who had caused hisfather's death, I could not venture even to bestow a glance upon him. Yetthe Royalists will blame me for not having seemed to be interested in thepoor child; while the Revolutionists will be furious, thinking that thosewho presented him to me knew that it would please me. " And all that shecould venture to do she did. She knew that the marchioness was very poor, and she sent her by a trusty agent a few hundred louis, and with it a kindmessage, assuring the unhappy widow that she would always watch over herand her son's interests. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The King accepts the Constitution so far as it has been settled. --TheQueen makes a Speech to the Deputies. --She is well received at theTheatre. --Negotiations with Mirabeau. --The Queen's Views of the Positionof Affairs. --The Jacobin Club denounces Mirabeau. --Deputation ofAnacharsis Clootz. --Demolition of the Statue of Louis XIV. --Abolition ofTitles of Honor. --The Queen admits Mirabeau to an Audience. --HisAdmiration of her Courage and Talents. --Anniversary of the Capture of theBastile. --Fête of the Champ de Mars. --Presence of Mind of the Queen. 

What was probably as painful to Marie Antoinette as these occurrencesthemselves was the apathy with which the king regarded them. The Englishtraveler to whose journal we have more than once referred, and who, in thefirst week of the year, saw the royal pair waiting in the gardens of theTuileries, remarked that though the queen did not appear in good health, but showed melancholy and anxiety in her face, the king, on the otherhand, "was as plump as ease could render him. [1]" And in the course ofFebruary, in spite of all her remonstrances, Necker succeeded inpersuading him to go down to the Assembly, and to address the members in along speech, in which, though some of his expressions were clearlyintended as a reproof of the Assembly itself for the precipitation andviolence of some of its measures, he nevertheless declared his cordialassent to the new Constitution, so far as they had yet settled it, andpromised to co-operate in a spirit of affection and confidence in thelabors which still remained to be achieved. 

The greater part of the speech is believed to have been his owncomposition; and it is characteristic of the fidelity with which, on everyoccasion, Marie Antoinette adhered to her rule of strengthening herhusband's position by her own cordial and conspicuous support, that, strongly as she had objected to the step before it was taken, now that itwas decided on, she professed a decided approval of it; and when adeputation of the Assembly, which had been appointed to escort the kingwith honor back to the palace, solicited an audience of herself to paytheir respects, she assured the deputies that "she partook of all thesentiments of the king; that she united with all her heart and mind in themeasure which his love for his people had just dictated to him. " And then, bringing the dauphin forward, she added: "Behold my son. I shallunceasingly speak to him of the virtues of his most excellent father. Ishall teach him from the earliest age to cherish public liberty, and Ihope that he will be its firmest bulwark. "

For a moment the step seemed to have succeeded, though the proofs of itssuccess were still more strongly proofs of the utter want of sense thatmarked all the proceedings of the Assembly. As Louis had expressed hisassent to the Constitution so far as it was settled, it was proposed, as afitting compliment to him, that the Assembly and the whole body of thecitizens of Paris should take an oath of fidelity to the Constitutionwithout any such reservation. But in the course of the next few weeks theAssembly showed how little his reproof of its former precipitation andviolence had been heeded, since, among the first measures with which itproceeded to the completion of the Constitution, one deprived him of theright of deciding on peace and war, a power which all wise statesmenregard as inseparable from the executive government; another extinguishedthe right of primogeniture; and a third confiscated all the property ofthe monastic establishments. 

However, those who took the lead in the management of affairs (for Neckerand the ministers had long ceased to exert the slightest authority) wereblinded by their own fury to the absurdity and inconsistency of theirconduct. Their exultation was unbounded, and, adhering to the line ofconduct which she had marked out for herself, Marie Antoinette now yieldedto their entreaties that she would show herself to the citizens at thetheatre. Even in the days of her earliest popularity she had never met amore enthusiastic reception. The greater part of the house rose at herentrance, clapping their hands and cheering, and the disloyalty of a fewmalcontents only made her triumph more conspicuous, so roughly were theytreated by the rest of the audience. Marie Antoinette was herself touchedat the cordiality with which she was greeted, and saw in it another proofthat "the people and citizens were good at heart if left to themselves;but, " she added to the Princess de Lamballe, to whom she described thescene, "all this enthusiasm is but a gleam of light, a cry of consciencewhich weakness will soon stifle. [2]"

It is probably doing no injustice to Mirabeau to believe that the crimeswhich had made the greatest impression on the queen were not the eventswhich affected him the most strongly. But he was not only a statesman inintellect, but an aristocrat in every feeling of his heart. No man wasfonder of referring to his illustrious ancestors; or of claiming kindredwith men of old renown, such as the Admiral de Coligny, of whom he morethan once boasted in the Assembly as his cousin; and each blow dealt atthe consideration of the Nobles was an additional incentive to him to seekto arrest the progress of a revolution which had already gone far beyondhis wishes or his expectations. And as he was always energetic in thepursuit of his plans, he had, by some means or other, in spite of thediscouragement derived from the language and conduct of the Count deProvence, contrived to get information of his willingness to enlist in theRoyalist party conveyed to the queen. The Count de la Marck, who was stillhis chief confidant, was at Brussels at the beginning of the spring, whenhe received a letter from Mercy, begging him to return without delay toParis. He lost no time in obeying the summons, when he learned, to hisgreat delight, though his pleasure was alloyed by some misgiving, that theking and queen had resolved to avail themselves of Mirabeau's services, and that he himself was selected as the intermediate agent in thenegotiation. La Marck's misgiving, [3] as he frankly told the embassador atthe outset, was caused by the fear that Mirabeau had done more harm thanhe could repair; but he gladly undertook the commission, though itsdifficulty was increased by a stipulation which showed at once theweakness of the king, and the extraordinary difficulties which it placedin the way of his friends. The count was especially warned to keep allthat was passing a secret from Necker. He was startled, as he well mightbe, at such an injunction. But he did not think it became his position tostart a difficulty; and, as he was fully impressed with the importance ofnot losing time, the negotiation proceeded rapidly. He introduced Mirabeauto Mercy, and he himself was admitted to an interview with the queen, whenhe learned that her greatest objections to accepting Mirabeau's serviceswere of a personal nature, founded partly on the general badness of hischaracter, partly on the share he had borne in the events of the 5th and6th of October. By the count's own account, he went rather beyond thetruth in his endeavors to exculpate his friend on this point; and heprobably deceived himself when he believed that he had convinced the queenof his innocence. But both she and Louis, who was present at a part of theinterview, had evidently made up their minds to forget the past, if theycould trust his promises for the future. And the interview ended in thefurther conduct of the necessary arrangements being left by Louis to thequeen. 

In a subsequent conversation with the count, she explained her own viewsof the existing situation of affairs, describing them, indeed, accordingto her custom, as the ideas of the king, in a manner which shows how muchshe was willing that the king should abate of his old prerogatives, provided only that the concessions were made voluntarily by himself, andnot imposed by violent and illegal resolutions of the Assembly. Mirabeauhad drawn up an elaborate memorial for the consideration of the king, inwhich he pointed out in general terms his sense of the state of "utteranarchy" into which France had fallen, his shame and indignation atfeeling "that he himself had contributed to bring affairs into such a badstate. " and his "profound conviction of the necessity, in the interests ofthe whole nation, of re-establishing the legitimate authority of theking. [4]" And Marie Antoinette, commenting on this expression, assured LaMarck that "the king had no desire to recover the full extent of theauthority which he had formerly possessed; and that he was far fromthinking it necessary for his own personal happiness any more than for thewelfare of his people. [5]" And it seemed to the count that she placedunlimited confidence in Mirabeau's ability to re-establish her husband'spower on a sufficient and satisfactory basis; so full was herconversation, during the latter part of the interview, of the good whichshe expected to be again able to do, and of the warm affection with whichshe regarded the people. 

The benefits of this new alliance were not to be all on one side. Mirabeauwas overwhelmed with debt; and though his father had died in the precedingsummer, he had not yet entered into his inheritance, but was in a statelittle short of absolute destitution. From this condition he was to berelieved, and the arrangements for the discharge of his debts, and thesecuring to him the enjoyment of a sufficient though by no means excessiveincome, were intrusted to Marie Antoinette by the king, and by her to heralmoner, M. De Fontanges, who, when Loménie de Brienne was promoted to thearchbishopric of Sens, had succeeded him at Toulouse. The archbishop, whowas sincerely devoted to his royal mistress, carried out the necessaryarrangements with great skill, but they could not be managed with suchsecrecy as entirely to escape notice. Among the clubs which had been seton foot at the beginning of the previous year the most violent had beenthat known as the Breton Club, from being founded by some of the deputiesfrom the great province of Brittany; but, when the court removed to Paris, and the Assembly was established in a large building close to the gardenof the Tuileries, the Bretons obtained the use of an apartment in an oldconvent of Dominican or Jacobin friars (as they were called), the samewhich two centuries before had been the council-room of the League, andthey changed their own designation also, and called themselves theJacobins; and, canceling the rule which limited the right of membership todeputies, they now admitted every one who, by application for election, avowed his adherence to their principles. Their leaders at this time wereBarnave; a young noble named Alexander Lameth, whose mother, having beenleft in necessitous circumstances, owed to the bounty of the king andqueen the means of educating her children, a benefit which they repaidwith the most unremitting hostility to the whole royal family; and alawyer named Duport. Mirabeau was in the habit of ridiculing them as thetriumvirate; but they were crafty and unscrupulous men, skillful inprocuring information; and, having obtained intelligence of hisnegotiations with the court, they retaliated on him by hiring pamphleteersand journalists to attack him, and narratives of the treason of the Countde Mirabeau were hawked about the streets. 

To apply such language to the adherence of a French noble to the crown wasthe most open avowal of disloyalty on which the revolutionary party hadyet ventured; and in the next four weeks it received a practicaldevelopment in a series of measures, some of which were so ridiculous asonly to deserve notice from the additional evidence which they furnishedof the extreme folly of those who now had the lead in the Assembly, and ofthe strange excitement in which the whole nation, or at least the wholepopulation of Paris, must have been wrought up before they could mistaketheir acts for those of sagacity or patriotism; but others of which, though not less unwise, were of greater importance as being irrevocablesteps in the downward course of destruction along which the whole countrywas being dragged. 

The leaders of the revolutionary party had already selected two days inthe past year as especially memorable for the triumphs won over the crown:one was the 20th of June, on which, in the Tennis Court at Versailles, themembers of the Assembly had bound themselves to effect the regeneration ofthe kingdom; the other the 14th of July, on which, as they boasted, theyhad forever established freedom by the destruction of the Bastile; andthey determined this year to celebrate both these anniversaries in abecoming manner. Accordingly, on the 20th of June, a crack-brained memberof the Jacobin Club, a Prussian of noble birth, named Clootz, who, to showhis affinity with the philosophers of old, had assumed the name ofAnacharsis, hired a band of vagrants and idlers, and, dressing them up ina variety of costumes to represent Arabs, red Indians, Turks, Chinese, Laplanders, and other tribes, savage and civilized, led them into theAssembly as a deputation from all the nations of the earth to announce theresurrection of the whole world from slavery; and demanded permission forthem to attend the festival of the ensuing month, that each, on behalf ofhis country, might give in his adhesion to the principles of liberty asexpounded by the Assembly. The president of the day replied with anoration thanking M. Clootz for the honor done to France by such anembassy; and Alexander Lameth followed up the president's harangue byfresh praises of the deputation as holy pilgrims who had thrown off theshackles of superstition. Nor was he content with a barren panegyric. Hehad devised an appropriate sacrifice with which to commemorate suchexalted virtue. In the finest square of the city, the Place des Victoires, the Duke de la Feuillade had erected a statue of Louis XIV. To celebratehis royal master's triumphs, the pedestal of which was decorated withallegorical representations of the nations which had been conquered by theFrench marshals. It was generally regarded as the finest work of art inthe city, and as such it had long been an object of admiration and prideto the citizens. But M. Lameth, in his new-born enthusiasm, regarded itwith other eyes, and closed his speech by proposing that, as monuments ofdespotism and flattery could not fail to be shocking to so enlightened abody, the Assembly should order its instant demolition. His proposal wasreceived with enthusiastic cheers, and the noble monument was instantlyoverthrown in a fit of blind fury more resembling the orgies of drunkenBacchanals, or the thirst for desolation which had animated the Goths andHuns, than the conduct of the chosen legislators of a polite andaccomplished people. 

But even this was not all. The insult to the memory of a king who, littleas he deserved it, had a century before been the object of the unanimousadmiration of his subjects, was but a prelude to other resolutions of fargreater moment, as giving an indelible character to the future of thenation. A deputy, M. Lambel, whose very name was previously unknown to themajority of his colleagues, rose and made a speech of three lines, as ifthe proposal which it contained only required to be mentioned to commandinstant and universal assent "This day, " said he, "is the tomb of vanity. I demand the suppression of the titles of duke, count, marquis, viscount, baron, and knight. " La Fayette and Alexander Lameth's brother, Charles, supported the demand with almost equal brevity; a representative of one ofthe most ancient families in the kingdom, the Viscount Matthieu deMontmorency moved a prohibition of the use of armorial bearings; anothernoble, M. De St. Targeau, proposed that the use of names derived from theestates of the owners should be abolished. Every proposal was carried byacclamation. Louder and louder cheers followed each suggestion of a newabolition; a member who ventured to propose an amendment to one proposalwas hooted down; and in little more than an hour the whole series ofresolutions, which struck at once at the recollections and glories of thepast and at the dignity of the future, was made the law of the land. 

Every one of these attacks on the nobles was a fresh provocation toMirabeau, and increased his eagerness to complete his reconciliation withthe crown. He pronounced the abolition of titles a torch to kindle civilwar, and pressed more earnestly than ever for an interview with the queen, in which he might both learn her views and explain his own. MarieAntoinette had foreseen that she should be forced to admit him to herpresence, but there was nothing to which she felt a stronger repugnance. His profligate character excited a feeling of perfect disgust in her mind;but for the public good she overcame it, and, having in the course of Juneremoved to St. Cloud for change of air, on the 3d of July she, accompaniedby the king, received him in the garden of that palace. The account whichshe sent her brother of the interview shows with what a mixture offeelings she had been agitated. She speaks of herself as "shivering withhorror" as the moment drew near, and can not bring herself to describe himexcept as a "monster, " though, she admits that his language speedilyremoved her agitation, which, when he was first presented to her, hadnearly made her ill. "He seemed to be actuated by entire good faith, andto be altogether devoted to the king; and Louis was highly pleased withhim, so that they now thought every thing was safe. [6]"

She, on her part, had made an equally favorable impression on him. She hadadroitly flattered his high opinion of himself by saying that "if she hadbeen speaking to persons of a different class and character she shouldhave felt the necessity of being guarded in her language, but that indealing with a Mirabeau there could be no need of such caution;" and hetold his confidant, La Marck, that till he knew "the soul and thoughts ofthe daughter of Maria Teresa, and learned how fully he could reckon onthat august ally, he had seen nothing of the court but its weakness; butnow confidence had raised his courage, and gratitude had made theprosecution of his principles a duty;[7]" and in some subsequent lettershe speaks of every thing as depending on the queen, and describes in briefbut forcible language his appreciation of the dangers which surroundedher, and of the magnanimous courage with which he sees that she isprepared to confront them. "The king, " he says, "has but one man abouthim, and that is his wife. There is no safety for her but in thereestablishment of the royal authority. I love to believe that she wouldnot desire to preserve life without the crown. What I am quite certain ofis, that she will not preserve her life unless she preserves her crown. "

In his interview with her, as she reported it to the emperor, he hadrecommended, as the first step to be adopted by the king and herself, adeparture from Paris; and, in reference to that plan, which he at alltimes regarded as the foundation of every other, he tells La Marck: "Themoment will soon come when it will be necessary to try what can be done bya woman and a child on horseback. For her it is but the adoption of anhereditary mode of action. [8] But she must be prepared for it, and mustnot suppose that one can extricate one's self from an extraordinary crisisby mere chance or by the combinations of an ordinary man. "

The hopes with which the acquisition of such an ally inspired the queen atthis time nerved her to bear her part in the festival with which theAssembly had decided on celebrating the demolition of the Bastile. Thearrangements for it were of a gigantic character. Round the sides of theChamp de Mars a vast embankment was raised, so as to give the plain theappearance of an amphitheatre, and to afford accommodation to threehundred thousand spectators. At the entrance a magnificent arch of triumphwas erected. The centre was occupied by a grand altar; and on one side agorgeous pavilion was appropriated to the king, his family, and retinue, the members of the Assembly, and the municipal magistrates. They were allto be performers in the grand ceremony which was to be the distinguishingfeature of the day. The Constitution was scarcely more complete than ithad been when Louis signified his acceptance of it five months before; butnow, not only were he, the deputies, and municipal authorities of Paris toswear to its maintenance, but the same oath was to be taken by theNational Guard, and by a deputation from every regiment in the army; andit was to bind the soldiers throughout the kingdom to the new order ofthings that the ceremony was originally designed. [9]

As a spectacle few have been more successful, and perhaps none has everbeen so imposing. Before midnight on the 13th of July, the whole of thevast amphitheatre was filled with a dense crowd, in its gayest holidayattire--a marvelous and magnificent sight from its mere numbers; and earlythe next morning the heads of the procession began to defile under thearch at the entrance of the plain--La Fayette, at the head of the NationalGuard, leading the way. It was a curious proof of the king's weakness, andof the tenacity with which he clung to his policy of conciliation, that, in spite of his knowledge of the general's bitter animosity to hisauthority and to himself, and of his recent vote for the suppression ofall titles of honor, Louis had offered him the sword of the Constable ofFrance, a dignity which had been disused for many years; and it was anequally striking evidence of La Fayette's inveterate disloyalty that, gratifying as the succession to Duguesclin and Montmorency would have beento his vanity, he nevertheless refused the honor, and contented himselfwith the dignity which the enrollment of the detachments from thedifferent departments under his banner conferred on him, by giving him theappearance of being the commander-in-chief of the National Guardthroughout the kingdom. The National Guard was followed by regiment afterregiment, and deputation after deputation, of the regular army; and, toshow the subordination to the law which they were expected to acknowledgefor the future, their swords were all sheathed, while the deputies, themunicipal magistrates, and other peaceful citizens who bore a part in theprocession had their swords drawn. Sailors from the fleet, magistrates anddeputations from every department, and from every city or town ofimportance in the kingdom, followed; and after them came two hundredpriests, with Talleyrand, Bishop of Autun, in his episcopal vestments attheir head, their white robes somewhat uncanonically decorated withtricolor ribbons, who passed on into the centre of the plain and rangedthemselves on the steps of the altar. So vast was the procession that itwas half-past three in the afternoon before the detachment of Royal Guardswhich closed it took up their position. 

When at last all were in their places, Louis, accompanied by the queen andother members of his family, entered the royal pavilion. He was known bysight to the deputations from the most distant provinces, for he hadreviewed them in a body the day before, when several of them had beenseparately presented to him, toward whom he had for once laid aside hishabitual reserve, assuring them of his fatherly regard for all hissubjects with warmth and manifest sincerity. The queen, too, as she alwaysdid, had made a most favorable impression on those members whom she hadseen by her judicious and cordial affability. Louis wore no robes, butonly the ordinary dress of a French noble. Marie Antoinette was in fullevening costume, and her hair was dressed with a plume of tricolorfeathers. Yet even on this day, which was intended to be one of universaljoy and friendliness, evil signs were not wanting to show how powerfulwere the enemies of both king and queen; for no seat whatever had beenprovided for her, while by the aide of that constructed for the kinganother on very nearly the same level had been placed for the President ofthe Assembly. 

But these refinements of discourtesy were lost on the spectators. Theycheered the royal pair joyously the moment that they appeared. Before theshouts had died away, Bishop Talleyrand began the service of the mass;and, on its termination, administered the oath "of fidelity to the nation, the law, the king, and the Constitution as decreed by the Assembly andaccepted by the king. " La Fayette took the oath first in the name of thearmy. Talleyrand followed on behalf of the clergy. Bailly came next, asthe representative of the citizens of Paris. It was a stormy day; and whenthe moment arrived for the king to set the seal to the universalacceptance of the constitution by swearing to exert all his own power forits maintenance, the rain came down so heavily as to render it impossiblefor him to leave the shelter of his own pavilion. As it happened, themomentary disappointment gave a greater effect to his act. With more thanusual presence of mind, he advanced to the front of the pavilion, so as tobe seen by the whole of the assembled multitude, and took the oath with aloud voice and perfect dignity of manner. As he resumed his seat, the raincleared away, the sun burst through the clouds; and the queen, as if by asudden inspiration, brought forward the little dauphin, and, lifting himup in her arms, showed him to the people. Those whom the king's voicecould not reach saw the graceful action; and from every side of the plainone universal acclamation burst forth, which seemed to bear out MarieAntoinette's favorite assertion that the people were good at heart, andthat it was not without great perseverance in artifice and malignity thatthey could be excited to disloyalty and treason. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Great Tumults in the Provinces. --Mutiny in the Marquis de Bouillé's Army. --Disorder of the Assembly. --Difficulty of managing Mirabeau. --Mercy isremoved to The Hague. --Marie Antoinette sees constant Changes in theAspect of Affairs. --Marat denounces Her. --Attempts are made to assassinateHer. --Resignation of Mirabeau. --Misconduct of the Emigrant Princes. 

But men less blinded by the feverish excitement of revolutionaryenthusiasm would have seen but little in the state of France at this timeto regard as matter for exultation. Many of the recent measures of theAssembly, and especially the extinction of the old provinces, had createdgreat discontent in the rural districts. Formidable riots had broken outin many quarters, especially in the great southern cities, in some ofwhich the mob had rivaled the worst excesses of its Parisian brethren;massacring the magistrates, tearing their bodies into pieces, andterrifying the peaceable inhabitants by processions, in which the mangledremains of their victims formed the most conspicuous feature. At Brest andat Toulon the sailors showed that they fully shared the generaldissatisfaction; while in the army a formidable mutiny broke out among thetroops which were under the command of the Marquis de Bouillé, inLorraine. That, indeed, had a different object, since it had been excitedby Jacobin emissaries, who were aware that the marquis, the soldier who, of the whole French army at that time, enjoyed the highest reputation, wasfirmly attached to the king; though he was not one of the nobles who hadopposed all reform, nor had he hesitated to follow his royal master'sexample and to declare his acceptance of the new Constitution. Fortunatelyhe had subalterns worthy of him, and faithful to their oaths; and as hewas a man of great promptitude and decision, he, with their aid, quelledthe mutiny, though not without a sanguinary conflict, in which he himselflost above four hundred men, while the loss which he inflicted on themutineers was far heavier. But he had set a noble example, and had givenan undeniable proof of the possibility of quelling the most formidabletumults; and it may be said that his quarters were the only spot in allFrance which was not wholly given up to anarchy and disorder. 

For even the Assembly itself was a prey to tumult and violence. From thetime of its assuming that title admission had been given to every one whocould force his way into the chamber, whether he was a member or not; norwas any order preserved among those who thus obtained admission; but theywere allowed to express their opinion of every speaker and of every speechby friendly or unfriendly clamor: a practice which, as may well besupposed, materially influenced many votes. And presently attendance forthat purpose became a trade; some of the most violent deputies hiring aregularly appointed troop to take their station in the galleries, andpaying them daily wages to applaud or hiss in accordance with the signswhich they themselves made from the body of the hall. [1] And if thepopulace was thus the master of the Assembly while at Versailles, this wasfar more the case after its removal to Paris, where the number of the idleportion of the population furnished the Jacobins with far greater means ofintimidating their adversaries. 

It was remarkable that La Marck himself, as has been already intimated, did not fully share the hopes which the king and queen founded on theadhesion of Mirabeau. It was not only that on one point he had sounderviews than Mirabeau himself--doubting, as he did, whether the mischiefwhich his vehement friend had formerly done could now be undone by thesame person, merely because he had changed his mind--but he also feltdoubts of Mirabeau's steadiness in his new path, and feared lest eagernessfor popularity, or an innate levity of disposition, might still lead himastray. As he described him in a letter to Mercy, "he was sometimes verygreat and sometimes very little; he could be very useful, and he could bevery mischievous: in a word, he was often above, and sometimes greatlybelow, any other man. " At another time he speaks of him as "by turnsimprudent through excess of confidence, and lukewarm from distrust;" andthis estimate of the great demagogue, which was not very incorrect, shows, too, how high an opinion La Marck had formed of the queen's ability andforce of character, for he looks to her "to put a curb on hisinconstancy, [2]" trusting for that result not so much to her power offascination as to her clearness of view and resolution. 

And she herself was never so misled by her high estimate of Mirabeau'sabilities and influence as to think his judgment unerring. On thecontrary, her comment to Mercy on one of the earliest letters which headdressed to the king was that it was "full of madness from one end to theother, " and she asked "how he, or any one else, could expect that at sucha moment the king and she could be induced to provoke a civil war?"alluding, apparently, to his urgent advice that the royal family shouldleave Paris, a step of the necessity for which she was not yet convinced. Her hope evidently was that he would bring forward some motions in theAssembly which might at least arrest the progress of mischief, and perhapseven pave the way for the repair of some of the evil already done. 

On one point she partly agreed with him, but not wholly. He insisted onthe necessity of dismissing the ministers; but she, though thinking them, both as a body and individually, unequal to the crisis, saw greatdifficulty in replacing them, since the vote of the preceding winterforbade the king to select their successors from the members of theAssembly;[3] and she feared also lest, if he should dismiss them, theAssembly would carry out a plan which, as it seemed to her, it alreadyshowed great inclination to adopt, of managing every thing by means ofcommittees, and preventing the appointment of any new administration. Herview of the situation, and of the king's and her position, varied fromtime to time, as indeed their circumstances and the views of the Assemblyappeared to alter. In August she is in great distress, caused by adecision of the emperor to remove Mercy to the Hague. "I am, " she writesto the embassador, "in despair at your departure, especially at a momentwhen affairs are becoming every day more embarrassing and more painful, and when I have therefore the greater need of an attachment as sincere andenlightened as yours. But I feel that all the powers, under differentpretexts, will withdraw their ministers one after another. It isimpossible to leave them incessantly exposed to this disorder and license;but such is my destiny, and I am forced to endure the horror of it to thevery end. [4]" But a fortnight later she tells Madame de Polignac that "forsome days things have been wearing a better complexion. She can not feelvery sanguine, the mischievous folks having such an interest in pervertingevery thing, and in hindering every thing which, is reasonable, and suchmeans of doing so; but at the moment the number of ill-intentioned peopleis diminished, or at least the right-thinking of all classes and of allranks are more united ... You may depend upon it, " she adds, "thatmisfortunes have not diminished my resolution or my courage: I shall notlose any of that; they will only give me more prudence. [5]" Indeed, herown strength of mind, fortitude, and benevolence were the only things inFrance which were not constantly changing at this time; and she derivedone lesson from the continued vicissitudes to which she was exposed, which, if partly grievous, was also in part full of comfort andencouragement to so warm a heart. "It is in moments such as these that onelearns to know men, and to see who are truly attached to one, and who arenot. I gain every day fresh experiences in this point; sometimes cruel, sometimes pleasant; for I am continually finding that some people aretruly and sincerely attached to us, to whom I never gave a thought. "

Another of her old vexations was revived in the renewed jealousy ofAustrian influence with which the Jacobin leaders at this time inspiredthe mob, and which was so great that, when in the autumn Leopold sent theyoung Prince de Lichtenstein as his envoy to notify his accession, MarieAntoinette could only venture to give him a single audience; and, greatlyas she enjoyed the opportunity of gathering from him news of Vienna and ofthe old friends of the childhood of whom she still cherished anaffectionate recollection, she was yet forced to dismiss him after a fewminutes' conversation, and to beg him to accelerate his departure fromParis, lest even that short interview should be made a pretext for freshcalumnies. "The kindest thing that any Austrian of mark could do for her, "she told her brother, "was to keep away from Paris at present. [6]" Shewould gladly have seen the Assembly interest itself a little in thepolitics of the empire, where Leopold's own situation was full ofdifficulties; but the French had not yet come to consider themselves asjustified in interfering in the internal government of other countries. Asshe describes their feelings to the emperor, "They feel their ownindividual troubles, but those of their neighbors do not yet affect them;and the names of Liberty and Despotism are so deeply engraved in theirheads, even though they do not clearly define them, that they areeverlastingly passing from the love of the former to the dread of thelatter;" and then she adds a sketch of her own ideas and expectations, andof the objects which she conceives it her duty to keep in view, in whichit is affecting to see that her utter despair of any future happiness forthe king and herself in no degree weakens her desire to promote thehappiness of the very people who have caused her suffering. "Our task isto watch skillfully for the moment when men's heads have returned toproper ideas sufficiently to make them enjoy a reasonable and honestfreedom, such as the king has himself always desired for the happiness ofhis people; but far from that license and anarchy which have precipitatedthe fairest of kingdoms into all possible miseries. Our health continuesgood, but it would be better if we could only perceive the least gleam ofhappiness around us; as for ourselves, that is at an end forever, happenwhat will. I know that it is the duty of a king to suffer for others; andit is one which we are discharging thoroughly. "

She had indeed at this time sufferings to which it is characteristic ofher undaunted courage that she never makes the slightest allusion in herletters. Of all the Jacobin party, one of the most blood-thirsty was awretch named Marat. [7] At the very outset of the Revolution he hadestablished a newspaper to which he gave the name of _The People'sFriend_, and the staple topic of which was the desirableness of bloodshedand massacre. He had been exasperated at the receptions given to the royalfamily at the festival of July; and for some weeks afterward his effortswere directed to inflame the populace to a new riot, in which the king andqueen should be dragged into Paris from St. Cloud, as in 1789 they hadbeen dragged in from Versailles, and which should end in the murder of thequeen, the ministers, and several hundreds of other innocent persons; andhis denunciations very nearly bore a part of their intended fruit. Theroyal family had hardly returned to St. Cloud, when a man named Rotondowas apprehended in the inner garden, who confessed that he had made hisway into it with the express design of assassinating Marie Antoinette, adesign which was only balked by the fortunate accident of a heavy showerwhich prevented her from leaving the house; and a week or two afterward asecond plot was discovered, the contrivers of which designed to poisonher. Her attendants were greatly alarmed; and her physician furnishedMadame Campan with an antidote for such poisons as seemed most likely tobe employed. But Marie Antoinette herself cared little for suchprecautions. Assassination was not the end which she anticipated. On oneoccasion, when she found Madame Campan changing some powdered sugar which, it was suspected, might have been tampered with, she thanked her, andpraised M. Vicq-d'Azyr, the physician by whose instructions Madame Campanwas acting, but told her that she was giving herself needless trouble. "Depend upon it, " she added, "they will not employ a grain of poisonagainst me. The Brinvilliers[8] do not belong to this age; people now usecalumny, which is much more effectual for killing people; and it is bycalumny that they will work my destruction. [9] But even thus, if my deathonly secures the throne to my son, I shall willingly die. "

One of the measures which Mirabeau strongly urged, and as to which MarieAntoinette hesitated, balancing the difficulties to which it was notunlikely to give rise against the advantages which were more obvious, wasarranged without her intervention. Necker had but one panacea for all theills of a defective constitution or an ill-regulated government--there-establishment of the finances of the country; and, as public confidenceis indispensable to national credit, the troubles of the last year hadlargely increased the embarrassments of the Treasury. He was also butscantily endowed with personal courage. In the denunciations of Marat hehad not been spared, and by the beginning of September fear had sopredominated over every other feeling in his mind that he resolved to quita country which, as he was not one of her sons, seemed to him to have nosuch claim on his allegiance that he should imperil his life for her sake. But in carrying out his determination, he exhibited a strangeforgetfulness, not only of the respect due to his royal master as king, but also of all the ordinary rules of propriety; for he did not resign hisoffice into the hands of the sovereign from whom he had received it, buthe announced his retirement to the Assembly, sending the president of theweek a letter in which he attributed his reasons for the step partly tohis health, which he described as weak, and partly to the "mortalanxieties of his wife, as virtuous as she was dear to his heart. " It washardly to be wondered at that the members present were moved rather tolaughter than to sympathy by this sentimental effusion. They took nonotice of the letter, and passed to the order of the day; and certainly, if it afforded evidence of his amiable disposition, it supplied proof atleast equally strong of the weakness of his character, and of hisconsequent unfitness for any post of responsibility at such a time. 

It was more to his credit that he at the same time placed in the treasurya sum of two millions of francs to cover any incorrectness which might bediscovered or suspected in his accounts, and any loss which might besustained from the depreciation of the paper money lately issued under hisadministration, though not with his approbation. All the rest of hiscolleagues retired at the same time, except the foreign secretary, M. Montmorin. They had recently been attacked with great violence in theAssembly by a combination of the most extreme democrats and the mostextreme Royalists, the latter of whom accused them of having betrayed theroyal authority by unworthy accessions. But, though, in the division whichhad taken place they had been supported by a considerable majority, theyfeared a repetition of the attack, and resigned their offices; in somedegree undoubtedly weakening their royal master by their retirement, sincethose by whom he found himself compelled to replace them had still less ofhis confidence. Two--Duport de Tertre, Keeper of the Seals, and Duportail, Minister of War--were creatures of La Fayette, and the first mentioned wasnotoriously unfriendly to the queen. Two others--Lambert, the successor ofNecker, and Fleurieu, the Minister of Marine--were under the influence ofBarnave and the Jacobins. The only member of the new ministry who was inthe least degree acceptable to Louis was M. De Lessart, the Minister ofthe Interior; but he, though loyal in purpose, was of too moderate talentsfor his appointment to add any real strength to the royal cause. 

Marie Antoinette, however, paid but little attention to these ministerialchanges; she disregarded them--and her view was not unsound--as but thedisplacement of one set of weak men by another set equally weak; and shesaw, too, that the Assembly had established so complete a mastery over theGovernment, that even men of far greater ability and force of characterwould have been impotent for good. Her whole dependence was on Mirabeau;and his course at this time was so capricious and erratic that it oftencaused her more perplexity and alarm than pleasure or confidence. Heregarded himself as having a very difficult part to play. He could notconceal from himself that he was no longer able to lead the Assembly as hehad done at first, except when he was urging it along a road which itdesired to take. In spite of one of his most brilliant efforts ofeloquence, he had recently been defeated in an endeavor to preserve to theking the right of peace and war; and, to regain his ascendency, he morethan once in the course of the autumn supported measures to which the kingand queen had the greatest repugnance, and made speeches so inflammatorythat even his own friend, La Marck, was indignant at his language, andexpostulated with him with great earnestness. He justified himself byexplaining his view[10] that no man in the country could at present bringthe people back to reasonable notions; that they could only at this momentbe governed by flattering their prejudices; that the king must trust totime alone; and that his own sole prospect of being of use to the crownlay in his preservation of his popularity till the favorable moment shouldarrive, even if, to preserve that popularity, it were necessary for him attimes still to appear a supporter of revolutionary principles. It is notimpossible that the motives which he thus described did really influencehim; but it was not strange that Marie Antoinette should fail toappreciate such refined subtlety. She had looked forward to his taking abold, straightforward course in defense of Royalist principles; and shecould hardly believe in the honesty of a man who for any object whatevercould seem to disregard or to despise them. Her feelings may be shown bysome extracts from one of her letters to the emperor written just afterone of Mirabeau's most violent outbursts, apparently his speech in supportof a motion that the fleet should be ordered to hoist the tricolor flag. 

"October 22d, 1790. 

"We are again fallen back into chaos and all our old distrust. Mirabeauhad sent the king some notes, a little violent in language, but wellargued, on the necessity of preventing the usurpations of the Assembly ... When, on a question concerning the fleet, he delivered a speech suitedonly to a violent demagogue, enough to frighten all honest men. Here, again, all our hopes from that quarter are overthrown. The king isindignant, and I am in despair. He has written to one of his friends, inwhom I have great confidence, a man of courage and devoted to us, anexplanatory letter, which seems to me neither an explanation nor anexcuse. The man is a volcano which would set an empire on fire; and we areto trust to him to put out the conflagration which is devouring us. Hewill have a great deal to do before we can feel confidence in him again. La Marck defends Mirabeau, and maintains that if at times he breaks away, he is still in reality faithful to the monarchy ... The king will notbelieve this. He was greatly irritated yesterday. La Marck says that hehas no doubt that Mirabeau thought that he was acting well in speaking ashe did, to throw dust in the eyes of the Assembly, and so to obtaingreater credit when circumstances still more grave should arise. O my God!if we have committed faults, we have sadly expiated them. [11]"

And before the end of the year, the royal cause had fresh difficultiesthrown in its way by the perverse and selfish wrongheadedness of theemigrant princes, who were already evincing an inclination to pursueobjects of their own, and to disown all obedience to the king, on the pleathat he was no longer master of his policy or of his actions. They showedsuch open disregard of his remonstrances that, in December, as MarieAntoinette told the emperor, Louis had written both to the Count d'Artoisand to the King of Sardinia (in whose dominions the count was at thetime), that, if his brothers persisted in their designs, "he should becompelled to disavow them peremptorily, and summon all his subjects whowere still faithful to him to return to their obedience. She hoped, " shesaid, "that that would make them pause. It seemed certain to her that noone but those on the spot, no one but themselves, could judge what momentsand what circumstances were favorable for action, so as to put an end totheir own miseries and to those of France. And it will be then, " sheconcludes, "my dear brother, that I shall reckon on your friendship, andthat I shall address myself to you with the confidence with which I aminspired by the feelings of your heart, which are well known to me, and bythe good-will which you have shown us on all occasions. [12]"

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Louis and Marie Antoinette contemplate Foreign Intervention. --The Assemblypasses Laws to subordinate the Church to the Civil Power. --Insolence of LaFayette. --Marie Antoinette refuses to quit France by Herself. --TheJacobins and La Fayette try to revive the Story of the Necklace. --MarieAntoinette with her Family. --Flight from Paris is decided on. --The Queen'sPreparations and Views. --An Oath to observe the new EcclesiasticalConstitution is imposed on the Clergy. --The King's Aunts leave France. 

The last sentence of the letter just quoted points to a new hope which theking and she had begun to entertain of obtaining aid from foreign princes. As it can hardly have been suggested to them by any other advisers, we mayprobably attribute the origination of the idea to the queen, who wasnaturally inclined to rate the influence of the empire highly, and to relyon her brother's zeal to assist her confidently. And Louis caught at it, as the only means of extricating him from a religious difficulty which wascausing him great distress, and which appeared to him insurmountable byany means which he could command in his own country. As has been alreadyseen, he had had no hesitation in yielding up his own prerogatives, and inmaking any concessions or surrenders which the Assembly required, so longas they touched nothing but his own authority. He had even (which was afar greater sacrifice in his eyes) sanctioned the votes which had deprivedthe Church of its property; but, in the course of the autumn the Assemblypassed other measures also, which appeared to him absolutely inconsistentwith religion. They framed a new ecclesiastical constitution which notonly reduced the number of bishops (which, indeed, in France, as in allother Roman Catholic countries, had been unreasonably excessive), butwhich also vested the whole patronage of the Church in the municipalauthorities, and generally subordinated the Church to the civil law. Andhaving completed these arrangements, which to a conscientious RomanCatholic bore the character of sacrilege, they required the whole body ofthe clergy to accept them, and to take an oath to observe them faithfully. 

Louis was in a great strait. Many of the chief prelates appealed to himfor protection, which he thought his duty as a Christian man bound him toafford them. But the protection which they implored could only be given byrefusal of the royal assent to the bill. And he could not disguise fromhimself that such an exercise of his veto would furnish a pretext to hisenemies for more violent denunciations of himself and the queen than hadyet been heard. He had also, though his personal safety was at all timesvery slightly regarded by him, begun to feel himself a prisoner, at themercy of his enemies. La Fayette, as Commander-in-chief of the NationalGuard of Paris, had the protection of the royal palace intrusted to him;and he availed himself of this charge, not as the guardian of the royalfamily, but rather as their jailer, [1] placing his sentries so as to bespies and a restraint upon all their movements, and seeking everyopportunity to gain an ignoble popularity by an ostentatious disregard ofall their wishes, and of all courtesy, not to say decency, in his behaviorto them. [2] And these considerations led the king, not only to authorizethe Baron de Breteuil, who, as we have seen, had fled from the country inthe previous year, to treat with any foreign princes who might he willingto exert themselves in his cause, but even to write, with his own hand, tothe principal sovereigns, informing them that "in spite of his acceptanceof the Constitution, the factious portion of his subjects openlymanifested their intention of destroying the monarchy, " and suggesting theidea of "an armed congress of the principal powers of Europe, supported byan armed force, as the best measure to arrest the progress of factions, tore-establish order in France, and to prevent the evils which weredevouring his country from seizing on the other states of Europe. [3]"

The historians of the democratic party have denounced with great severitythe conduct of Louis in thus appealing to foreign aid, as a proof that, inspite of his acceptance of the Constitution, he was meditating a counter-revolution. The whole tenor of his and the queen's correspondence provesthat this charge is groundless; but it is equally certain that it was animpolitic step, one wholly opposed to every idea of Constitutionalprinciples, of which the very foundation must always be perfect freedomfrom foreign influence, and from foreign connection in the internalgovernment of the country. 

Fortunately, his secret was well kept, so that no knowledge of this stepreached the leaders of the popular party; and, however great may have beenthe queen's secret anxieties and fears, she kept them bravely to herself, displaying outwardly a serenity and a patience which won the admiration ofall those who, in foreign countries, were watching the course of events inFrance with interest. [4] When she wept, she wept by herself. Her onecomfort was that her children were always with her; and though the dauphincould only witness without understanding her grief, "remarking on oneoccasion, when in one of his childish books he met the expression 'ashappy as a queen, ' that all queens are not happy, for his mamma wept frommorning till night. " Her daughter was old enough to enter into hersorrows; and, as she writes to Madame de Polignac, mingles her own tearswith hers. She had also the society of her sister-in-law Elizabeth, whomshe had learned to love with an affection which could not be exceeded evenby that which she bore her own sister, and which was cordially returned. She tells Madame de Polignac that Elizabeth's calmness is one great reliefand support to them all; and Elizabeth can not find adequate words toexpress to one of her correspondents her admiration for the queen's "pietyand resignation, which alone enable her to bear up against troubles suchas no one before has ever known. "

But amidst all her grief she cherishes hope--hope that the people (the"good people, " as she invariably terms them) will return to their senses;and her other habitual feeling of benevolence, though she can now onlyexert it in forming projects for conferring further benefits on them whentranquillity should be restored. The feeling shows itself even in letterswhich have no reference to her own position. There had been discontent andsigns of insurrection in the Netherlands which Mercy's recent letters ledher to believe were passing away; and her congratulations to her brotheron this peaceful result dwell on the happiness "which it is to be able topardon one's subjects without shedding one drop of blood, of whichsovereigns are bound to be always careful. [5]"

Her brother, and many of her friends in France, were at this time pressingher to quit the country, professing to believe that if her enemies knewthat she was out of their reach, they would be less vehement in theirhostility to the king; but she felt that such a course would be bothunworthy of her, as timid and selfish, and in every way injurious ratherthan beneficial to her husband. It could not save his authority, which waswhat the Jacobins made it their first object to destroy; and it woulddeprive him of the support of her affection and advice, which heconstantly needed. 

"Pardon me, I beg of you, " she replied to Leopold, "if I continue toreject your advice to leave Paris. Consider that I do not belong tomyself. My duty is to remain where Providence has placed me, and to opposemy body, if the necessity should arise, to the knives of the assassins whowould fain reach the king. I should be unworthy of the name of our mother, which is as dear to you as to me, if danger could make me desert the kingand my children. [6]"

We have seen that Marie Antoinette dreaded calumny more than the knife orpoison of the assassin; and there could hardly have been a greater proofhow well founded her apprehensions were, and how unscrupulous her enemies, than is afforded by the fact that, in the latter part of this year, theyactually brought back Madame La Mothe to Paris with the purpose of makinga demand for a re-investigation of the whole story of the fraud on thejeweler--a pretense for reviving the libelous stories to the disparagementof the queen, the utter falsehood and absurdity of which had beendemonstrated to the satisfaction of the whole world four years before. Norwas it wholly a Jacobin plot. La Fayette himself was, to a certain extent, an accomplice in it. As commander of the National Guard of the city, itwas his duty to apprehend one who was an escaped convict; but instead ofdoing so he preferred identifying himself with her, and on one occasionhad what Mirabeau rightly called the inconceivable insolence to threatenthe queen with a divorce on the ground of unfaithfulness to her husband. She treated his insinuations with the dignity which became herself, andthe scorn which they and their utterers deserved; and he found that hisconduct had created such general disgust among all people who made theslightest pretense to decency, that he feared to lose his popularity if hedid not disconnect himself from the plotters. Accordingly, he separatedhimself from the lady, though he still forbore to arrest her, and for sometime confined himself to his old course of heaping on the royal familythese petty annoyances and insults, which he could inflict with impunitybecause they were unobserved except by his victims. It is remarkable, however, that Mirabeau, who held him in a contempt which, howeverdeserved, had in it some touch of rivalry and envy, believed that thequeen was not really so much the object of his animosity as the king. Inhis eyes "all the manoeuvres of La Fayette were so many attacks on thequeen; and his attacks on the queen were so many steps to bring him withinreach of the king. It was the king whom he really wanted to strike; and hesaw that the individual safety of one of the royal pair was as inseparablefrom that of the other as the king was from his crown. [7]" And thisopinion of Mirabeau is strongly corroborated by the Count de la Marck, who, a few weeks later, had occasion to go to Alsace, and who took greatpains to ascertain the general state of public feeling in the districtsthrough which he passed. During his absence he was in constantcorrespondence with those whom he had left behind, and he reports withgreat satisfaction that in no part of the country had he found the veryslightest ill-feeling toward the queen. It was in Paris alone that thedifferent libels against her were forged, and there alone that they foundacceptance; and, manifestly referring to the projected departure fromParis, he expresses his firm conviction that the moment that she is atliberty, and able to show herself in the provinces, she will win theconfidence of all classes. [8]

However greatly Mirabeau would, on other grounds, have preferred personalintercourse with the court, he thought that his power of usefulnessdepended so entirely on his connection with it being unsuspected, that hedid not think it prudent to solicit interviews with the queen. But he keptup a constant communication with the court, sometimes by notes andelaborate memorials, addressed indeed to Louis, but intended for MarieAntoinette's perusal and consideration; and sometimes by conversationswith La Marck, which the count was expected to repeat to her. But, in allthe counsels thus given, the thing most to be remarked is the high opinionwhich they invariably display of the queen's resolution and ability. Everything depends on her; it is from her alone that he wishes to receiveinstructions; it is her resolution that must supply the deficiencies ofall around her. When he urges that a line of conduct should be adoptedcalculated to render their majesties more popular; that they should showthemselves more in public; that they should walk in the most frequentedplaces; that they should visit the hospitals, the artisans' workshops, andmake themselves friends by acts of charity and generosity, it is to herthat he looks to carry out his suggestions, and to her affability andpresence of mind that he trusts for the success which is to result fromthem;[9] and La Marck is equally convinced that "her ability andresolution are equal to the conduct of affairs of the first importance. "

Meantime her health continued good. It showed her strength of mind thatshe never intermitted the recreations which contributed to her strength, about which she was especially anxious, that she might at all times beready to act on any emergency; but rode with Elizabeth with greatregularity in the Bois de Boulogne, even in the depth of the winter; and, while watching with her habitual vigilance of affection over the educationof her children, she found a pleasant relaxation for herself in providingthem with amusement also; often arranging parties, to which other childrenof the same age were invited, and finding amusement herself from watchingtheir gambols in the long corridor of the Tuileries, their blindman's-buffand hide-and-seek. [10]

The new year opened with grave plans for their extrication from theirtroubles--plans requiring the utmost forethought, ingenuity, and secrecyto bring them to a successful issue; and also with fresh injuries andinsults from the Assembly and the municipal authorities, which every weekmade the necessity of promptitude in carrying such plans out moremanifest. Mirabeau, as we have seen, had from the very first recommendedthat the king and his family should withdraw from Paris. In his eyes sucha step was the indispensable preliminary to all other measures; and someof the earliest of the queen's letters in 1791 show that the resolution toleave the turbulent city had at last been taken. But though what herecommended was to be done, it was not to be done as he recommended; yetthere was a manliness about the course of action which he proposed whichwould of itself have won the queen's preference, if she had not beenforced to consider not what was best and fittest, but what it was mosteasy to induce him on whom the final choice must impend, the king, toadopt. Mirabeau advised that the king should depart publicly, in open day, "like a king, " as he expressed himself, [11] and he affirmed his convictionthat it would in all probability be quite unnecessary to remove fartherthan Compiègne; but that the moment that it should be known that the kingwas out of Paris, petitions demanding the re-establishment of order wouldflock in from every quarter of the kingdom, and public opinion, which wasfor the most part royalist, would compel the Assembly to modify theConstitution which it had framed, or, if it should prove refractory, wouldsupport the king in dissolving it and convoking another. 

But this was too bold a step for Louis to decide on. He anticipated thatthe Assembly or the mob might endeavor to prevent such a movement byforce, which could only be repelled by force; and force he was resolvednever to employ. The only alternative was to flee secretly; and in thecourse of January, Mercy learns that that plan has been adopted, and thatCompiègne is not considered sufficiently distant from Paris, but that somefortified place will be selected; Valenciennes being the most likely, ashe himself imagined, since, if farther flight should become necessary, itwould be easy from thence to cross the frontier into the Belgian dominionsof the queen's brother. But if Valenciennes had ever been thought of, itwas rejected on that very account; for Louis had learned from Englishhistory that the withdrawal of James II. From his kingdom had been allegedas one reason for declaring the throne vacant; and he was resolved not togive his enemies any plea for passing a similar resolution with respect tohimself. Valenciennes was so celebrated as a frontier town, that the merefact of his fixing himself there might easily be represented as anevidence of his intention to quit the kingdom. But there was a small townof considerable strength named Montmédy, in the district under the commandof the Marquis de Bouillé, which afforded all the advantages ofValenciennes, and did not appear equally liable to the same objections. Montmédy, therefore, was fixed upon; and, in the very first week ofFebruary, Marie Antoinette announced the decision to Mercy; and began herown preparations by sending him a jewel-case full of those diamonds whichwere her private property. She explained to him at considerable length thereasons which had dictated the choice. The very smallness of Montmédy wasin itself a recommendation, since it would prevent any one from thinkingit likely to be selected as a refuge. It was also so near Luxembourg that, in the present temper of the nation, which regarded the Austrian powerwith "a panic fear, " any addition which M. De Bouillé might make to eitherthe garrison or to his supplies would seem only a wise precaution againstthe much-dreaded foreigner. Moreover, the troops in that district wereamong the most loyal and well-disposed in the whole army; and if the kingshould find it unsafe to remain long at Montmédy, he would have atrustworthy escort to retreat to Alsace. 

She also explained the reasons which had led them to decide on quittingParis secretly by night. If they started in the daytime, it would benecessary to have detachments of troops planted at different spots ontheir road to protect them. But M. De Bouillé could not rely on all hisown regiments for such a service, and still less on the National Guards inthe different towns; while to bring up fresh forces from distant quarterswould attract attention, and awaken suspicions beforehand which might befatal to the enterprise. Montmédy, therefore, had been decided on, and theplans were already so far settled that she could tell Mercy that theyshould take Madame de Tourzel with them, and travel in one singlecarriage, which they had never been seen to use before. 

Their preparations had even gone beyond these details, minute as theywere. The king was already collecting materials for a manifesto which hedesigned to publish the moment that he found himself safely out of Paris. It would explain the reasons for his flight; it would declare an amnestyto the people in general, to whom it would impute no worse fault than thatof being misled (none being excepted but the chief leaders of the disloyalfactions; the city of Paris, unless it should at once return to itsancient tranquillity; and any persons or bodies who might persist inremaining in arms). To the nation in general the manifesto would breathenothing but affection. The Parliaments would be re-established, but onlyas judicial tribunals, which should have no pretense to meddle with theaffairs of administration or finance. In short, the king and she haddetermined to take his declaration of the 23d of June[12] as the basis ofthe Constitution, with such modifications as subsequent circumstancesmight have suggested. Religion would be one of the matters placed in theforeground. 

So sanguine were they, or rather was she, of success, that she had eventaken into consideration the principles on which future ministries shouldbe constituted; and here for the first time she speaks of herself aschiefly concerned in planning the future arrangements. "In private weoccupy ourselves with discussing the very difficult choice which we shallhave to make of the persons whom we shall desire to call around us when weare at liberty. I think that it will be best to place a single man at thehead of affairs, as M. Maurepas was formerly; and if it be settled in thisway, the king would thus escape having to transact business with eachindividual minister separately, and affairs would proceed more uniformlyand more steadily. Tell me what you think of this idea. The fit man is noteasy to find, and the more I look for him, the greater inconveniences do Isee in all that occur to me. "

She proceeds to discuss foreign affairs, the probable views and futureconduct of almost every power in Europe--of Holland, Prussia, Spain, Sweden, England; still showing the lingering jealousy which sheentertained of the British Government, which she suspected of wishing todetach the chivalrous Gustavus from the alliance of France by the offer ofa subsidy. But she is sanguine that, "though some may he glad to see theinfluence of France diminished, no wise statesman in any country candesire her ruin or dismemberment. What is going on in France would be anexample too dangerous to other countries, if it were left unpunished. Their cause is the cause of all kings, and not a simple politicaldifficulty. [13]"

The whole letter is a most remarkable one, and fully bears out theeulogies which all who had an opportunity of judging pronounced on herability. But the most striking reflection which it suggests is with whatadmirable sagacity the whole of the arrangements for the flight of theroyal family had been concerted, and with what judgment the agents hadbeen chosen, since, though the enterprise was not attempted till more thanfour months after this letter was written, the secret was kept through thewhole of that time without the slightest hint of it having been given, orthe slightest suspicion of it having been conceived, by the most watchfulor the most malignant of the king's enemies. 

Yet during the winter and early spring the conduct of the Jacobin party inthe Assembly, and of the Parisian mob whom they were keeping in a constantstate of excitement, increased in violence; while one occurrence whichtook place was, in Mirabeau's opinion, especially calculated to prompt asuspicion of the king's intentions. Louis had at, last, and with extremereluctance, sanctioned, the bill which required the clergy to take an oathto comply with the new ecclesiastical arrangements, in the vain hope thatthe framers of it would be content with their triumph, and would forbearto enforce it by fixing any precise date for administering the oath. But, at the end of January, Barnave obtained from the Assembly a decree that itshould be taken within twenty-four hours, under the penalty of deprivationof all their preferments to all who should refuse it; the clerical membersof the Assembly were even threatened by the mob in the galleries withinstant death if they declined or even delayed to swear. And as very fewof any rank complied, the main body of the clergy was instantly strippedof all their appointments and reduced to beggary, and a large proportionof them fled at once from the kingdom. Those who took the oath, and who inconsequence were appointed to the offices thus vacated, were immediatelycondemned and denounced by the pope; and the consequence was that a greatnumber of their flocks fled with their old priests, not being able toreconcile to their consciences to stay and receive the sacrament and ritesof the Church from ministers under the ban of its head. 

Among those who thus fled were the king's two aunts, the PrincessesAdelaide and Victoire. Bigotry was their only virtue; and they determinedto seek shelter in Rome. Louis highly disapproved of the step, which, asMirabeau, [14] in a very elaborate and forcible memorial which he drew upand submitted to him, pointed out, might be very dangerous for the kingand queen as well as for themselves, since it could be easily representedby the evil-minded as a certain proof that they also were designing toflee. And he even recommended that Louis should formally notify to theAssembly that he disapproved of his aunts' journey, and should make it apretext for demanding a law which should give him the power of regulatingthe movements of the members of his family. 

The flight of the princesses, however, did not, as it turned out, causeany inconvenience to the king or queen, though it did endanger themselves;for, though they were furnished with passports, the municipal authoritiestried to stop them at Moret; and at Arnay-le-Duc the mob unharnessed theirhorses and detained them by force They appealed to the Assembly by letter;Alexander Lameth, on this occasion uniting with the most violent Jacobins, was not ashamed to move that orders should be dispatched to send them backto Paris: but the body of the Assembly had not yet descended to thebaseness of warring with women; and Mirabeau, who treated the proposal asridiculous, and overwhelmed the mover with his wit, had no difficulty inprocuring an order that the fugitives, "two princesses of advanced age andtimorous consciences, " as he called them, should be allowed to proceed ontheir journey. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Mob attacks the Castle at Vincennes. --La Fayette saves it. --He insultsthe Nobles who come to protect the King. --Perverseness of the Countd'Artois and the Emigrants. --Mirabeau dies. --General Sorrow for hisdeath. --He would probably not have been able to arrest the Revolution. --The Mob prevent the King from visiting St. Cloud. --The Assembly passes aVote to forbid him to go more than twenty Leagues from Paris. 

The mob, however, was more completely under Jacobin influence; and, at theend of February, Santerre collected his ruffians for a fresh tumult; theobject now being the destruction of the old castle of Vincennes, which forsome time had been almost unoccupied. La Fayette, whose object at thistime was apparently regulated by a desire to make all parties acknowledgehis influence, in a momentary fit of resolution marched a body of hisNational Guard down to save the old fortress, in which he succeeded, though not without much difficulty, and even some danger. He found he hadgreatly miscalculated his influence, not only over the populace, but overhis own soldiers. The rioters fired on him, wounding some of his staff;and at first many of the soldiers refused to act against the people. Hisofficers, however, full of indignation, easily quelled the spirit ofmutiny; and, when subordination was restored, proposed to the general tofollow up his success by marching at once back into the city and seizingthe Jacobin demagogues who had caused the riot. There was little doubtthat the great majority of the citizens, in their fear of Santerre and hisgang, would joyfully have supported him in such a measure; but LaFayette's resolution was never very consistent nor very durable. He becameterrified, not, indeed, so much at the risk to his life which he hadincurred, as at the symptom that to resist the mob might cost him hispopularity; and to appease those whom he might have offended, he proceededto insult the king. A report had got abroad, which was not improbably wellfounded, that Louis's life had been in danger, and that an assassin hadbeen detected while endeavoring to make his way into the Tuileries; andthe report had reached a number of nobles, among whom D'Esprémesnil, onceso vehement a leader of the Opposition in Parliament, was conspicuous, whoat once hastened to the palace to defend their sovereign. It was notstrange that he and Marie Antoinette should receive them graciously; theyhad not of late been used to such warm-hearted and prompt displays ofattachment. But the National Guards who were on duty were jealous of thecordial and honorable reception which those Nobles met with; they declaredthat to them alone belonged the task of defending the king; though theytook so little care to perform it that they had allowed a gang of drunkendesperadoes to get possession of the outer court of the palace, where theywere menacing all aristocrats with death. Louis became alarmed for thesafety of his friends, and begged them to lay aside their arms; and theyhad hardly done so when La Fayette arrived. He knew that the mob wasexasperated with him for his repression of their outrages in the morning, and that some of his soldiers had not been well pleased at being compelledto act against the rioters. So now, to recover their good-will, he handedover the weapons of the Nobles, which were only pistols, rapiers, anddaggers, to the National Guard; and after reproaching D'Esprémesnil andhis companions for interfering with the duties of his troops, he drovethem down the stairs, unarmed and defenseless as they were, among thedrunken and infuriated mob. They were hooted and ill-treated; but not onlydid he make no attempt to protect them, but the next day he offered them agratuitous insult by the publication of a general order, addressed to hisown National Guard, in which he stigmatized their conduct as indecent, their professed zeal as suspicious, and enjoined all the officials of thepalace to take care that such persons were not admitted in future. "Theking of the Constitution, " he said, "ought to be surrounded by nodefenders but the soldiers of liberty. "

Marie Antoinette had good reason to speak as she did the next week toMercy; though we can hardly fail to remark, as a singular proof of thestrength of her political prejudices, and of the degree in which sheallowed them to blind her to the objects and the worth of the few honestor able men whom the Assembly contained, that she still regards theConstitutionalists as only one degree less unfavorable to the king'slegitimate authority than the Jacobins. And we shall hereafter see that tothis mistaken estimate she adhered almost to the end. "Mischief, " shesays, "is making progress so rapid that there is reason to fear a speedyexplosion, which can not fail to be dangerous to us, if we ourselves donot guide it There is no middle way; either we must remain under the swordof the factions, and consequently be reduced to nothing, if they get theupper hand, or we must submit to be fettered under the despotism of menwho profess to be well-intentioned, but who always have done, and alwayswill do us harm. This is what is before us, and perhaps the moment isnearer than we think, if we can not ourselves take a decided line, or leadmen's opinions by our own vigor and energetic action. What I here say isnot dictated by any exaggerated notions, nor by any disgust at ourposition, nor by any restless desire to be doing something. I perfectlyfeel all the dangers and risks to which we are exposed at this moment. ButI see that all around us affairs are so full of terror that it is betterto perish in trying to save ourselves than to allow ourselves to beutterly crushed in a state of absolute inaction. [1]"

And she held the same language to her brother, the emperor, assuring himthat "the king and herself were both convinced of the necessity of actingwith prudence, but there were cases in which dilatoriness might ruin everything; and that the factious and disloyal were prosecuting their objectswith such celerity, aiming at nothing less than the utter subversion ofthe kingly power, that it would be extremely dangerous not to offer aresistance to their plans. [2]" And referring to her project of foreignaid, she reported to him that she had promises of assistance from bothSpain and Switzerland, if they could depend on the co-operation of theempire. 

And still the emigrant princes were adding to her perplexity by theirperverseness. She wrote herself to the Count d'Artois to expostulate withhim, and to entreat him "not to abandon himself to projects of which thesuccess, to say the least, was doubtful, and which would expose himself todanger without the possibility of serving the king. [3]" No description ofthe relative influence of the king and queen at this time can be soforcible as the fact that it was she who conducted all the correspondenceof the court, even with the king's brothers. But her remonstrances had noinfluence. We may not impute to the king's brothers any intention toinjure him; but unhappily they had both not only a mean idea of hiscapacity, but a very high one, much worse founded, of their own; and fullof self-confidence and self-conceit, they took their own line, perfectlyregardless of the suspicions to which their perverse and untractableconduct exposed the king, carrying their obstinacy so far that it was notwithout difficulty, that the emperor himself, though they were in hisdominions, was able to restrain their machinations. 

Meanwhile, the queen was steadily carrying on the necessary arrangementsfor flight. Money had to be provided, for which trustworthy agents werenegotiating in Switzerland and Holland, while some the emperor might beexpected to furnish. Mirabeau marked out for himself what he regarded as amost important share in the enterprise, undertaking to defend and justifytheir departure to the Assembly, and nothing doubting that he should beable to bring over the majority of the members to his view of thatsubject, as he had before prevailed upon them to sanction the journey ofthe princesses. But in the first days of April all the hopes of successwhich had been founded on his cooperation and support were suddenlyextinguished by his death. Though he had hardly entered upon middle age, aconstant course of excess had made him an old man before his time. In thelatter part of March he was attacked by an illness which his physicianssoon pronounced mortal, and on the 2d of April he died. He had borne theapproach of death with firmness, professing to regret it more for the sakeof his country than for his own. He was leaving behind him no one, as heaffirmed, who would he able to arrest the Revolution as he could havedone; and there can be no doubt that the great bulk of the nation didplace confidence in his power to offer effectual resistance to the designsof the Jacobins. The various parties in the State showed this feelingequally by the different manner in which they received the intelligence. The court and the Royalists openly lamented him. The Jacobins, thefollowers of Lameth, and the partisans of the Duke of Orleans, exhibitedthe most indecent exultation. [4] But the citizens of Paris mourned forhim, apparently, without reference to party views. They took no heed ofthe opposition with which he had of late often defeated the plots of theleaders whom they had followed to riot and treason. They cast aside allrecollection of the denunciations of him as a friend to the court withwhich the streets had lately rung. In their eyes he was thepersonification of the Revolution as a whole; to him, as they viewed hiscareer for the last two years, they owed the independence of the Assembly, the destruction of the Bastile, and of all other abuses; and through himthey doubted not still to obtain every thing that was necessary for thecompletion of their freedom. 

His remains were treated with honors never before paid to a subject. Helay in state; he had a public funeral. His body was laid in the greatChurch of St. Geneviève, which, the very day before, had been renamed thePantheon, and appropriated as a cemetery for such of her illustrious sonsas France might hereafter think worthy of the national gratitude. Yet, though his great confidant and panegyrist, M. Dumont, [5] has devoted anelaborate argument to prove that he had not overestimated his power toinfluence the future; and though the Russian embassador, M. Simolin, adiplomatist of extreme acuteness, seems to imply the same opinion by hispithy saying that "he ought to have lived two years longer, or died twoyears earlier, " we can hardly agree with them. La Marck, as has been seen, even when first opening the negotiation for his connection with the court, doubted whether he would be able to undo the mischief which he hadacquiesced in, measures not of reform nor of reconstruction, but of totalabolition and destruction, are in their very nature irrevocable andirremediable. The nobility was gone; he had not resisted its suppression. The Church was gone; he had himself been among the foremost of itsassailants. How, even if he had wished it, could he have undone theseacts? and if he could not, how, without those indispensable pillars andsupports, could any monarchy endure? That he was now fully alive to themagnitude of the dangers which encompassed both throne and people, andthat he would have labored vigorously to avert them, we may do him thejustice to believe. But it seems not so probable that he would havesucceeded, as that he would have added one more to the list of thesepoliticians who, having allowed their own selfish aims to carry thembeyond the limits of prudence and justice, have afterward found itimpossible to retrace their steps, but have learned to their shame andsorrow that their rashness has but led to the disappointment of theirhopes, the permanent downfall of their own reputations, and the ruin ofwhat they would gladly have defended and preserved. And, on the whole, itis well that from time to time such lessons should be impressed upon theworld. It is well that men of lofty genius and pure patriotism shouldlearn, equally with the most shallow empiric or the most self-seekingdemagogue, that false steps in politics can rarely be retraced; thatconcessions once made can seldom, if ever, be recalled, but are usuallythe stepping-stones to others still more extensive; that what it wouldhave been easy to preserve, it is commonly impossible to repair or torestore. 

He had been laid in the grave only a fortnight, when, as if on purpose toshow how utterly defenseless the king now was, the Jacobins excited themob and the assembly to inflict greater insults on him than had beenoffered even by the attack on Versailles, or by any previous vote. AsEaster, which was unusually late this year, approached, Louis becameanxious to spend a short time in tranquillity and holy meditation; and, since the tumultuousness of the city was not very favorable for such apurpose, he resolved to pass a fortnight at St. Cloud. But when he waspreparing to set out, a furious mob seized the horses and unharnessedthem; the National Guards united with the rioters, refusing to obey LaFayette's orders to clear the way for the royal carriage, and the king andqueen were compelled to dismount and to return to their apartments; while, a day or two afterward, the Assembly came to a vote which seemed as ifdesigned for an express sanction of this outrage, and which ordained thatthe king should not be permitted ever to move more than twenty leaguesfrom Paris. 

Of all the decrees which it had yet enacted, this, in some sense, may beregarded as the most monstrous. It was not only passing a penal sentenceon the royal family such as in no country or age any but convictedcriminals had even been subjected to, but it was an insult and an injuryto every part of the kingdom except the capital, which, by an intolerableassumption, it treated as if it were the whole of France. Joseph, as hasbeen seen, had wisely pointed out to his brother-in-law that it was one, and no unimportant part, of a sovereign's duty to visit the differentprovinces and chief cities of his kingdom, and Louis had in one instanceacted on his advice. We have seen how gladly he was received by thecitizens of Cherbourg, and what advantages they promised themselves fromhis having thus made himself personally acquainted with their situationand wants and prospects; and we can not doubt that other towns and citiesshared this feeling, nor that it was well founded, and that theacquisition by a king of a personal knowledge of the resources andcapabilities and interests of the great cities, of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, is a benefit to the whole community; but ofthis every province and every city but Paris was now to be deprived. Itwas to be an offense to visit Rouen, or Lyons, or Bordeaux; to examineRiquet's canal or Vauban's fortifications. The king was the only person inthe kingdom to whom liberty of movement was to be denied; and the peasantsof every province, and the citizens of every other town, were to berefused for a single day the presence of their sovereign, whom theParisians thus claimed a right to keep as a prisoner in their owndistrict. 

It is hardly strange that such open attacks on their liberty made a deeperimpression on the queen, and even on the phlegmatic disposition of theking, than any previous act of violence, or that it increased theireagerness to escape with as little delay as possible. Indeed, the queenregarded the public welfare as equally concerned with their own in theirsafe establishment in some town to which they should also be able toremove the Assembly, so that that body as well as themselves should beprotected from the fatal influence of the clubs of Paris, and of thepopulace which was under the dominion of the clubs. [6] Accordingly, on the20th of April, she writes to the emperor[7] that "the occurrence which hasjust taken place has confirmed them more than ever in their plans. Thevery guards who surrounded them are the persons who threaten them most. Their very lives are not safe; but they must appear to submit to everything till the moment comes when they can act; and in the mean time theircaptivity proves that none of their actions are done by their own accord. "And she urges her brother at once to move a strong body of troops towardsome of his fortresses on the Belgian frontier--Arlon, Vitron, or Mons--inorder to give M. De Bouillé a pretext for collecting troops and munitionsof war at Montmédy. "Send me an immediate answer on this point; let meknow, too, about the money; our position is frightful, and we mustabsolutely put an end to it next month. The king desires it even more thanI do. "

As May proceeds she presses on her preparations, and urges the emperor toaccelerate his, especially the movements of his troops; but the Countd'Artois and his followers are a terrible addition to her anxieties. Leopold had told her that the ancient minister, Calonne, always restlessand always unscrupulous, was now with the count, and was busily stirringhim up to undertake some enterprise or other;[8] and her reply shows howjustly she dreads the results of such an alliance. "The prince, the Countd'Artois, and all those whom they have about them, seem determined to bedoing something. They have no proper means of action, and they will ruinus, without our having the slightest connection with their plans. Theirindiscretion, and the men who are guiding them, will prevent ourcommunicating our secret to them till the very last moment. "

To Mercy she is even more explicit in her description of the imminence ofthe danger to which the king and she are now exposed than she had been toher brother. As the time for attempting to escape grew nearer, theembassador became the more painfully impressed with the danger of theattempt. Failure, as it seems to him, will be absolutely fatal. He asksher anxiously whether the necessity is such that it has becomeindispensable to risk such a result;[9] and she, in an answer ofconsiderable length and admirable clearness of expression and argument, explains her reasons for deciding that it is absolutely unavoidable: "Theonly alternative for us, especially since the 18th of April, [10] is eitherblindly to submit to all that the factions require, or to perish by thesword which is forever suspended over our heads. Believe me, I am notexaggerating the danger; you know that my notion used to be, as long as Icould cherish it, to trust to gentleness, to time, and to public opinion. But now all is changed, and we must either perish or take the only linewhich remains to us. We are far from shutting our eyes to the fact thatthis line also has its perils; but, if we must die, it will be at leastwith glory, and in having done all that we could for our duty, for honor, and for religion.... I believe that the provinces are less corrupted thanthe capital; but it is always Paris which gives the tone to the wholekingdom. We should greatly deceive ourselves if we fancied that the eventsof the 18th of April, horrible as they were, produced any excitement inthe provinces. The clubs and the affiliations lead France where theyplease; the right-thinking people, and those who are dissatisfied withwhat is taking place, either flee from the country or hide themselves, because they are not the stronger party, and because they have norallying-point. But when the king can show himself freely in a fortifiedplace, people will be astonished to see the number of dissatisfied peoplewho will then come forward, who, till that time, are groaning in silence;but the longer we delay, the less support we shall have.... 

"Let us resume. You ask two questions: 1st. Is it possible or useful towait? No; by the explanation of our position which I gave at the beginningof this letter, I have sufficiently proved the impossibility.... As to theusefulness, it could only be useful on the supposition that we could counton a new legislative body.... 2d. Admitting the necessity of actingpromptly, are we sure of means to escape; of a place to retreat to, and ofhaving a party strong enough to maintain itself for two months by its ownresources? I have answered this question several times. It is more thanprobable that the king, once escaped from here, and in a place of safety, will have, and will very soon find, a very strong party. The means ofescape depend on a flight the most immediate and the most secret. Thereare only four persons who are acquainted with our secret; and those whomwe mean to take with us will not know it till the very moment. None of ourown people will attend us; and at a distance of only thirty or thirty-fiveleagues we shall find some troops to protect our march, but not enough tocause us to be recognized till we reach the place of our destination. 

".... I can easily conceive the repugnance which, on political grounds, theemperor would feel to allowing his troops to enter France.... But if theirmovement is solicited by his brother-in-law, his ally, whose life, existence, and honor are in danger, I conceive the case is very different;and as to Brabant, that province will never be quiet till this country isbrought back to a different state. It is, then, for himself also that mybrother will be working in giving us this assistance, which is so much themore valuable to us, that his troops will serve as an example to ours, andwill even be able to restrain them. 

"And it is with this view that the person[11] of whom I spoke to you in myletter in cipher demands their employment for a time ... We can not delaylonger than the end of this month. By that time I hope we shall have adecisive answer from Spain. But till the very instant of our departure wemust do everything that is required of us, and even appear to go to meetthem. It is one way, perhaps the only one, to lull the mob to sleep and tosave our lives. "

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Plans for the Escape of the Royal Family. --Dangers of Discovery. --Resolution of the Queen. --The Royal Family leave the Palace. --They arerecognized at Ste. Menehould. --Are arrested at Varennes. --Tumult in theCity, and in the Assembly. --The King and Queen are brought back to Paris. 

Marie Antoinette, as we have seen, had been anxious that their departurefrom Paris should not be delayed beyond the end of May, and De Bouillé hadagreed with her; but enterprises of so complicated a character can rarelybe executed with the rapidity or punctuality that is desired, and it wasnot till the 20th of June that this movement, on which so much depended, was able to be put in execution. Often during the preceding weeks thequeen's heart sunk within her when she reflected on the danger ofdiscovery, whether from the acuteness of her enemies or the treachery ofpretended friends; and even more when she pondered on the character of theking himself, so singularly unfitted for an undertaking in which it wasnot the passive courage with which he was amply endowed, but daringresolution, promptitude, and presence of mind, which were requisite. Shewas cheered, however, by repeated letters from the emperor, showing thewarm and affectionate interest which he took in the result of theenterprise, and promising with evident sincerity "his own most cordialco-operation in all that could tend to her and her husband's success, when the time should come for him to show himself. "

But her main reliance was on herself; and all who were privy to theenterprise knew well that it was on her forethought and courage that itssuccess wholly depended. Those who were privy to it were very few; and itis a singular proof how few Frenchmen, even of the highest rank, could betrusted at this time, that of these few two were foreigners--a Swede, theCount de Fersen, whose name has been mentioned in earlier chapters of thisnarrative, and (an English writer may be proud to add) an Englishman, Mr. Craufurd. In such undertakings the simplest arrangements are the safest;and those devised by the queen and her advisers, the chief of whom were DeFersen and De Bouillé, were as simple as possible. The royal fugitiveswere to pass for a traveling party of foreigners. A passport signed by M. Montmorin, who still held the seals of the Foreign Department, wasprovided for Madame de Tourzel, who, assuming the name of Madame de Korff, a Russian baroness, professed to be returning to her own country with herfamily and her ordinary equipage. The dauphin and his sister weredescribed as her children, the queen as their governess; while the kinghimself, under the name of Durand, was to pass as their servant. Three ofthe old disbanded Body-guard, MM. De Valory, De Malden, and De Moustier, were to attend the party in the disguise of couriers; and, under thepretense of providing for the safe conveyance of a large sum of moneywhich was required for the payment of the troops, De Bouillé undertook topost a detachment of soldiers at each town between Châlons and Montmédy, through which the travelers were to pass. 

Some of the other arrangements were more difficult, as more likely to leadto a betrayal of the design. It was, of course, impossible to use anyroyal carriage, and no ordinary vehicle was large enough to hold such aparty. But in the preceding year De Fersen had had a carriage of unusualdimensions built for some friends in the South of Europe, so that he hadno difficulty now in procuring another of similar pattern from the samemaker; and Mr. Craufurd agreed to receive it into his stables, and at theproper hour to convey it outside the barrier. 

Yet in spite of the care displayed in these arrangements, and of theabsolute fidelity observed by all to whom the secret was intrusted, someof the inferior attendants about the court suspected what was inagitation. The queen herself, with some degree of imprudence, sent away alarge package to Brussels; one of her waiting-women discovered that sheand Madame Campan had spent an evening in packing up jewels, and sentwarning to Gouvion, an aid-de-camp of La Fayette, and to Bailly, themayor, that the queen at last was preparing to flee. Luckily Bailly hadreceived so many similar notices that he paid but little attention tothis; or perhaps he was already beginning to feel the repentance, which heafterward exhibited, at his former insolence to his sovereign, and was notunwilling to contribute to their safety by his inaction; while Gouvion wasnot anxious to reveal the source from which he had obtained hisintelligence. Still, though nothing precise was known, the attention ofmore than one person was awakened to the movements of the royal family, and especially that of La Fayette, who, alarmed lest his prisoners shouldescape him, redoubled his vigilance, driving down to the palace everynight, and often visiting them in their apartments to make himself certainof their presence. Six hundred of the National Guard were on duty at theTuileries, and sentinels were placed at the end of every passage and atthe foot of every staircase; but fortunately a small room, with a secretdoor which led into the queen's chamber, as it had been for some timeunoccupied, had escaped the observation of the officers on guard, and thatpassage therefore offered a prospect of their being able to reach thecourtyard without being perceived. [1]

On the morning of the day appointed for the great enterprise, all in thesecret were vividly excited except the queen. She alone preserved hercoolness. No one could have guessed from her demeanor that she was on thepoint of embarking in an undertaking on which, in her belief, her own lifeand the lives of all those dearest to her depended. The children, who knewnothing of what was going on, went to their usual occupations--the dauphinto his garden on the terrace, Madame Royale to her lessons; and MarieAntoinette herself, after giving some orders which were to be executed inthe course of the next day or two, went out riding with her sister-in-lawin the Bois de Boulogne. Her conversation throughout the day was light andcheerful. She jested with the officer on guard about the reports which sheunderstood to be in circulation about some intended flight of the king, and was relieved to find that he totally disbelieved them. She evenventured on the same jest with La Fayette himself, who replied, in hisusual surly fashion, that such a project was constantly talked of; buteven his rudeness could not discompose her. 

As the hour drew near she began to prepare her children. The princess wasold enough to be talked to reasonably, and she contented herself, therefore, with warning her to show no surprise at any thing that shemight see or hear. The dauphin was to be disguised as a girl, and it waswith great glee that he let the attendants dress him, saying that he sawthat they were going to act a play. The royal supper usually took placesoon after nine; at half-past ten the family separated for the night, andby eleven their attendants were all dismissed; and Marie Antoinette hadfixed that hour for departing, because, even if the sentinels should get aglimpse of them, they would be apt to confound them with the crowd whichusually quit the palace at that time. 

Accordingly, at eleven o'clock the Count de Fersen, dressed as a coachman, drove an ordinary job-carriage into the court-yard; and Marie Antoinette, who trusted nothing to others which she could do herself, conducted Madamede Tourzel and the children down-stairs, and seated them safely in thecarriage. But even her nerves nearly gave way when La Fayette's coach, brilliantly lighted, drove by, passing close to her as he proceeded to theinner court to ascertain from the guard that every thing was in its usualcondition. In an agony of fright she sheltered herself behind somepillars, and in a few minutes the marquis drove back, and she rejoined theking, who was awaiting her summons in his own apartment, while one of thedisguised Body-guards went for the Princess Elizabeth. Even the childrenwere inspired with their mother's courage. As the princess got into thecarriage she trod on the dauphin, who was lying in concealment at thebottom, and the brave boy spoke not a word; while Louis himself gave aremarkable proof how, in spite of the want of moral and politicalresolution which had brought such miseries on himself and his country, hecould yet preserve in the most critical moments his presence of mind andkind consideration for others. He was half way down-stairs when hereturned to his room. M. Valory, who was escorting him, was dismayed whenhe saw him turn back, and ventured to remind him how precious was everyinstant. "I know that, " replied the kind-hearted monarch; "but they willmurder my servant to-morrow for having aided my escape;" and, sitting downat his table, he wrote a few lines declaring that the man had acted underhis peremptory orders, and gave the note to him as a certificate toprotect him from accusation. When all the rest were seated, the queen tookher place. De Fersen drove them to the Porte St. Martin, where the greattraveling-carriage was waiting, and, having transferred them to it, andtaken a respectful leave of them, he fled at once to Brussels, which, morefortunate than those for whom he had risked his life, he reached insafety. 

For a hundred miles the royal fugitives proceeded rapidly and withoutinterruption. One of the supposed couriers was on the box, another rode bythe side of the carriage, and the third went on in advance to see that therelays were in readiness. Before midday they reached Châlons, the placewhere they were to be met by the first detachment of De Bouillé's troops;and, when the well-known uniforms met her eye, Marie Antoinette for thefirst time gave full expression to her feelings. "Thank God, we aresaved!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands; the fervor of her exclamationbearing undesigned testimony to the greatness of the fears which, out ofconsideration for others, she had hitherto kept to herself; but in truthout of this employment of the troops arose all their subsequent disasters. 

De Bouillé had been unwilling to send his detachments so far forward, pointing out that the notice which their arrival in the different townswas sure to attract would do more harm than their presence as a protectioncould do good. But his argument had been overruled by the king himself, who apprehended the greatest danger from the chance of being overtaken, and expected it, therefore, to increase with every hour of the journey. DeBouillé's fears, however, were found to be the best justified by theevent. In more than one town, even in the few hours that had elapsed sincethe arrival of the soldiers, there had been quarrels between them and thetowns-people; in others, which was still worse, the populace had madefriends with them and seduced them from their loyalty, so that theofficers in command had found it necessary to withdraw them altogether;and anxiety at their unexpected absence caused Louis more than once toshow himself at the carriage window. More than once he was recognized bypeople who knew him and kept his counsel; but Drouet, the postmaster atSte. Menehould, a town about one hundred and seventy miles from Paris, wasof a less loyal disposition. He had lately been in the capital, where hehad become infected with the Jacobin doctrines. He too saw the king'sface, and on comparing his somewhat striking features with the stamp onsome public documents which he chanced to have in his pocket, becameconvinced of his identity. He at once reported to the magistrates what hehad seen, and with their sanction rode forward to the next town, Clermont, hoping to be able to collect a force sufficient to stop the royal carriageon its arrival there. But the king traveled so fast that he had quitClermont before Drouet reached it, and he even arrived at Varennes beforehis pursuer. Had he quit that place also he would have been in safety, forjust beyond it De Bouillé had posted a strong division which would havebeen able to defy all resistance. But Varennes, a town on the Oise, was sosmall as to have no post-house, and by some mismanagement the royal partyhad not been informed at which end of the town they were to find therelay. The carriage halted while M. Valory was making the necessaryinquiries; and, while it was standing still, Drouet rode up and forbadethe postilions to proceed. He himself hastened on through the town, collected a few of the towns-people, and with their aid upset a cart ortwo on the bridge to block up the way; and, having thus made the roadimpassable, he roused the municipal authorities, for it was nearlymidnight, and then, returning to the royal carriage, he compelled theroyal family to dismount and follow him to the house of the mayor, a pettygrocer, whose name was Strausse. The magistrates sounded the tocsin: theNational Guard beat to arms: the king and queen were prisoners. 

How they were allowed to remain so is still, after all the explanationsthat have been given, incomprehensible. Two officers with sixty hussars, all well disposed and loyal, were in a side street of the town waiting fortheir arrival, of which they were not aware. Six of the troopers actuallypassed the travelers in the street as they were proceeding to the mayor'shouse, but no one, not even the queen, appealed to them for succor; orthey could have released them without an effort, for Drouet's whole partyconsisted of no more than eight unarmed men. And when, an hour afterward, the officers in command learned that the king was in the town in the handsof his enemies, instead of at once delivering him, they were seized with apanic: they would not take on themselves the responsibility of actingwithout express orders, but galloped back to De Bouillé to report thestate of affairs. In less than an hour three more detachments, amountingin all to above one hundred men, also reached the town; and theircommanders did make their way to the king, and asked his orders. He couldonly reply that he was a prisoner, and had no orders to give; and not oneof the officers had the sense to perceive that the fact of his announcinghimself a prisoner was in itself an order to deliver him. 

One word of command from Louis to clear the way for him at the sword'spoint would yet have been sufficient; but he had still the same invinciblerepugnance as ever to allow blood to be shed in his quarrel. He preferredpeaceful means, which could not but fail. With a dignity arising from hisentire personal fearlessness, he announced his name and rank, his reasonsfor quitting Paris and proceeding to Montmédy; declaring that he had nothought of quitting the kingdom, and demanded to be allowed to proceed onhis journey. While the queen, her fears for her children overpowering allother feelings, addressed herself with the most earnest entreaties to themayor's wife, declaring that their very lives would be in danger if theyshould be taken back to Paris, and imploring her to use her influence withher husband to allow them to proceed. Neither Strausse nor his wife wasill-disposed toward the king, but had not the courage to comply with therequest of the royal couple whom, after a little time, the mayor and hiswife could not have allowed to proceed, however much they might havewished it; for the tocsin had brought up numbers of the National Guard, who were all disloyal; while some of the soldiers began to show adisinclination to act against them. And so matters stood for some hours; acrowd of towns-people, peasants, National Guards, and dragoons throngingthe room; the king at times speaking quietly to his captors; the queenweeping, for the fatigue of the journey, and the fearful disappointment atbeing thus baffled at the last moment, after she had thought that alldanger was passed, had broken down even her nerves. At first she had triedto persuade Louis to act with resolution; but when, as usual, she failed, she gave way to despair, and sat silent, with touching, helpless sorrow, gazing on her children, who had fallen asleep. 

At seven o'clock on the morning of the 22d a single horseman rode into thetown. He was an aid-de-camp of La Fayette. On the morning of the 21st theexcitement had been great in Paris when it became known that the king hadfled. The mob rose in furious tumult. They forced their way into theTuileries, plundering the palace and destroying the furniture. Afruit-woman took possession of the queen's bed, as a stall to range hercherries on, saying that to-day it was the turn of the nation; and apicture of the king was torn down from the walls, and, after being stuckup in derision outside the gates for some time, was offered for sale tothe highest bidder. [2] In the Assembly the most violent language was used. An officer whose name has been preserved through the eminence which afterhis death was attained by his widow and his children, General Beauharnais, was the president; and as such, he announced that M. Bailly had reportedto him that the enemies of the nation had carried off the king. The wholeAssembly was roused to fury at the idea of his having escaped from theirpower. A decree was at once drawn up in form, commanding that Louis shouldbe seized wherever he could be found, and brought back to Paris. No onecould pretend that the Assembly had the slightest right to issue such anorder; but La Fayette, with the alacrity which he always displayed whenany insult was to be offered to the king or queen, at once sent it off byhis own aid-de-camp, M. Romeuf, with instructions to see that it wascarried out The order was now delivered to Strausse; the king, withscarcely an attempt at resistance, declared his willingness to obey it;and before eight o'clock he and his family, with their faithfulBody-guard, now in undisguised captivity, were traveling back to Paris. 

When was there ever a journey so miserable as that which now brought itssovereigns back to that disloyal and hostile city! The National Guard ofVarennes, and of other towns through which they passed, claimed a right toaccompany them; and as they were all infantry, the speed of the carriagewas limited to their walking pace. So slowly did the procession advance, that it was not till the fourth day that it reached the barrier; and, inmany places on the road, a mob had collected in expectation of theirarrival, and aggravated the misery of their situation by ferocious threatsaddressed to the queen, and even to the little dauphin. But at Châlonsthey were received with respect by the municipal authorities; the Hôtel deVille had been prepared for their reception: a supper had been provided. The queen was even entreated to allow some of the principal ladies of thecity to be presented to her; and, as the next day was the great RomanCatholic festival of the Fête Dieu, they were escorted with all honor tohear mass in the cathedral, before they resumed their journey. Even theNational Guard were not all hostile or insolent. At Épernay, though amenacing crowd surrounded the carriage as they dismounted, the commandingofficer took up the dauphin in his arms to carry him in safety to the doorof the hotel; comforting the queen at the same time with a loyal whisperwell suited to her feelings, "Despise this clamor, madame; there is a Godabove all. "

But, miserable as their journey was, soon after leaving Châlons it becamemore wretched still. They were no longer to be allowed the privilege ofsuffering and grieving by themselves. The Assembly had sent three of itsmembers to take charge of them, selecting, as might have been expected, two who were known as among their bitterest enemies--Barnave, and a mannamed Pétion; the third, M. Latour Maubourg, was a plain soldier, whomight be depended on for carrying out his orders with resolution. In onerespect those who made the choice were disappointed. Barnave, whosehostility to the king and queen had been chiefly dictated by personalfeelings, was entirely converted by the dignified resignation of thequeen, and from this day renounced his republicanism; and, though headhered to what were known as Constitutionalist views, was ever afterwarda zealous advocate of both the monarch and the monarchy. But Pétion tookevery opportunity of insulting Louis, haranguing him on the futureabolition of royalty, and reproaching him for many of his actions, and forwhat he believed to be his feelings and views for the future. 

It was the afternoon of the 25th when they came in sight of Paris. Sogreat had been Marie Antoinette's mental sufferings that in those few daysher hair had turned white; and fresh and studied humiliations were yet instore for her. The carriage was not allowed to take the shortest road, butwas conducted some miles round, that it might be led in triumph down theChamps Élysées, where a vast mob was waiting to feast their eyes on thespectacle, whose display of sullen ill-will had been bespoken by a noticeprohibiting any one from taking off his hat to the king, or uttering acheer. The National Guard were forbidden to present arms to him; and itseemed as if they interpreted this order as a prohibition also againstusing them in his defense; for, as the carriage approached the palace, agang of desperate ruffians, some of whom were recognized as among the mostferocious of the former assailants of Versailles, forced their way throughtheir ranks, pressed up against the carriage, and even mounted on thesteps. Barnave and Latour Maubourg, fearing that they intended to breakopen the doors, placed themselves against them; but they contentedthemselves with looking in at the window, and uttering sanguinary threats. Marie Antoinette became alarmed--not for herself, but for her children. They had so closed up every avenue of air that those within were nearlystifled, and the youngest, of course, suffered most. She let down a glass, and appealed to those who were crowding round: "For the love of God, " sheexclaimed, "retire; my children are choking!" "We will soon choke you, "was the only reply they vouchsafed to her. At last, however, La Fayettecame up with an armed escort, and they were driven off; but they stillfollowed the carriage up to the very gate of the palace with yells ofinsult. And it had a stranger follower still: behind the royal carriagecame an open cabriolet, in which sat Drouet, with a laurel crown on hishead, [3] as if the chief object of the procession wore to celebrate histriumph over his king. 

The mob was even hoping to add to its impressiveness by the slaughter ofsome immediate victims--not of the king and queen, for they believed themto be destined to public execution; but they were eager to massacre thefaithful Body-guards, who had been brought back, bound, on the box of thecarriage; and they would undoubtedly have carried out their bloody purposehad not the queen remembered them, and, as she was dismounting, entreatedBarnave and La Fayette to protect them. Though during the last three daysmany things had had their names altered, [4] the Tuileries had been spared. It was still in name a royal palace, but those who now entered it knew itfor their prison. The sun was setting, the emblem of the extinction oftheir royalty, as they ascended the stairs to find such rest as theymight, and to ponder in privacy for this one night over their fataldisappointment, and their still more fatal future. 

Yet, though their return was full of ignominy and wretchedness, thoughtheir home had become a prison, the only exit from which was to be thescaffold, still, if posthumous renown can compensate for miseries enduredin this life; if it be worth while to purchase, even by the most terribleand protracted sufferings, an undying, unfading memory of the mostadmirable virtues--of fidelity, of truth, of patience, of resignation, ofdisinterestedness, of fortitude, of all the qualities which most ennobleand sanctify the heart--it may be said, now that her agonies have longbeen terminated, and that she has been long at rest, that it was well forMarie Antoinette that she had failed to reach Montmédy, and that she hadthus fallen again, without having to reproach herself in any singleparticular, into the hands of her enemies. As a prisoner to the basest ofmankind, as victim to the most ferocious monsters that have ever disgracedhumanity, she has ever commanded, and she will never cease to command, thesympathy and admiration of every generous mind. But the case would havebeen widely different had Louis and she found the refuge which they soughtwith the loyal and brave De Bouillé. Their arrival in his camp could nothave failed to be a signal for civil war; and civil war, under suchcircumstances as those of France at that time, could have had but onetermination--their defeat, dethronement, and expulsion from the country. In a foreign land they might, indeed, have found security, but they wouldhave enjoyed but little happiness. Wherever he may be, the life of adeposed and exiled sovereign must be one of ceaseless mortification. Thegreatest of the Italian poets has well said that the recollection offormer happiness is the bitterest aggravation of present misery; and notonly to the fugitive monarch himself, but to those who still preservetheir fidelity to him, and to the foreign people to whom he is indebtedfor his asylum, the recollection of his former greatness will ever be athand to add still further bitterness to his present humiliation. The mostfriendly feeling his misfortunes can ever excite is a contemptuous pity, such as noble and proud minds must find it harder to endure than theutmost virulence of hatred and enmity. 

From such a fate, at least, Marie Antoinette was saved. During theremainder of her life her failure did indeed condemn her to a protractionof trial and agony such as no other woman has ever endured; but she alwaysprized honor far above life, and it also opened to her an immortality ofglory such as no other woman has ever achieved. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Marie Antoinette's Feelings on her Return. --She sees Hopes ofImprovement. --The 17th of July. --The Assembly inquire into the King'sConduct on leaving Paris. --They resolve that there is no Reason for takingProceedings. --Excitement in Foreign Countries. --The Assembly proceeds tocomplete the Constitution. --It declares all the Members Incapable ofElection to the New Assembly. --Letters of Marie Antoinette to the Emperorand to Mercy. --The Declaration of Pilnitz. --The King accepts theConstitution. --Insults offered to him at the Festival of the Champ deMars. --And to the Queen at the Theatre. --The First or Constituent Assemblyis dissolved. 

It was eminently characteristic of Marie Antoinette that her very firstact, the morning after her return, was to write to De Fersen, to informhim that she was safe and well in health; but though she had rousedherself for that effort of gratitude and courteous kindness, for some daysshe seemed stupefied by grief and disappointment, and unable to speak orthink for a single moment of any thing but the narrow chance which hadcrushed her hopes, and changed success, when it had seemed to be secured, into ruin; and, if ever she could for a moment drive the feeling from hermind, her enemies took care to force it back upon her every hour. Beforethey reached the Tuileries, La Fayette had obtained from the Assemblyauthority to place guards wherever he might think fit; and no jailer evertook more rigorous precautions for the safe-keeping of the most desperatecriminals than this man of noble birth, but most ignoble heart[1], nowpracticed toward his king and queen. Sentinels were placed along everypassage of the palace, and, that they might have their prisonersconstantly in sight, the door of every room was kept open day and night. The queen was not allowed even to close her bed-chamber, and a soldier wasplaced so as at all times to command a sight of the whole room; the onlymoment that the door was permitted to be shut being a short period eachmorning while she was dressing. 

But after a time she rallied, and even began again to think the future notwholly desperate. She always looked at the most promising side of affairs, and the first shock of the anguish felt at Varennes had scarcely passedaway, when, with irrepressible sanguineness, she began to look around herand search for some foundation on which to build fresh hopes. She eventhought that she had found it in the divisions which were becoming dailymore conspicuous in the Assembly itself. She had yet to learn that at suchtimes violence always overpowers moderation, and that the worse men are, the more certain are they to obtain the upper hand. 

The divisions among her enemies were indeed so furious as to justify atone time the expectation that one party would destroy the other. TheJacobins summoned a vast meeting, whose members they fixed beforehand at ahundred thousand citizens, to meet on Sunday, the 17th of July, topetition the Assembly to dethrone the king. On the appointed day, longbefore the hour fixed for the meeting, a fierce riot took place, thecauses and even the circumstances of which have never been clearlyascertained, but which soon became marked with scenes of extraordinaryviolence. La Fayette, who tried to crush it in the bud, was pelted andfired at. Bailly hung out the red flag, the token of martial law beingproclaimed, at the Hôtel de Ville, The mob pelted the National Guard. TheNational Guard, too much exasperated and alarmed to obey La Fayette'sorder to fire over the people's heads, at one volley shot down a hundredof the rioters. The Jacobin leaders fled in alarm. Robespierre, who hadbeen one of the chief organizers of the tumult, being also one of thebasest of cowards, was the most terrified of all, and fled for shelter tohis admirer, of congenial spirit, Madame Roland, whose protection heafterward repaid by sending her to the scaffold. The riot was quelled, andthe officers of the National Guard urged La Fayette to take advantage ofthe opportunity, and lead them on to close by force the club of theJacobins, and another of equal ferocity, known as the Cordeliers[2], lately founded by the fiercest of the Jacobins, Danton, and a butchernamed Legendre, who boasted of his ferocity as his only title to interferein the Government. If he had been honest in his professions of a desire tosave the monarchy, La Fayette would have adopted their advice, for it hadalready become plain to every one that the existence of these clubs wasincompatible with the preservation of the kingly authority; but hisimbecile love of popularity made him fear to offend even such a body ofmiscreants as the followers of Danton and Robespierre, and he professed tobelieve that he had given them a sufficient lesson, and had so convincedthem of his power to crush them that they would be grateful to him forsparing them, and learn to act with more moderation in future. 

The decision of the Assembly also on the question, of the king's conductin leaving Paris was not without its encouragement to one of the queen'sdisposition. She herself had been interrogated by commissioners appointedby the Assembly to inquire into the circumstances connected with thetransaction, and her statement has been preserved. With her habitualanxiety to conceal from others the king's incapacity and want ofresolution, she represented herself as acting wholly under his orders. "Ideclare, " said she, "that as the king desired to quit Paris with hischildren, it would have been unnatural for me to allow any thing toprevent me from accompanying him. During the last two years, I havesufficiently proved, on several occasions, that I should never leave him;and what in this instance determined me most was the assurance which Ifelt that he would never wish to quit the kingdom. If he had had such adesire, all my influence would have been exerted to dissuade him from sucha purpose[3]. " And she proceeded further to exculpate all theirattendants. She declared that Madame de Tourzel, who had been ill for someweeks, had never received her orders till the very day of the departure. She knew not whither she was going, and had taken no luggage, so that thequeen herself had been forced to lend her some clothes. The threeBody-guards were equally ignorant, and the waiting-women. Though it wastrue, she said, that the Count and Countess de Provence had gone toFlanders, they had only taken that course to avoid interfering with therelays which were required by the king, and had intended to rejoin him atMontmédy. The king's own statement tallied with hers in every respect, though it was naturally more explicit as to his motives and intentions;and his innocence of purpose was so irresistibly demonstrated, that, though Robespierre, in the most sanguinary speech which, he had ever yetuttered, demanded that he should be brought to trial, not concealing hisdesire that it should end in his condemnation; and though Pétion, and awretch named Buzot, a warm admirer and intimate friend of Madame Roland, demanded his deposition and the proclamation of a republic, Barnave had nodifficulty in carrying the Assembly with him in opposition to theirviolence; and it was finally resolved that nothing which had happenedfurnished grounds for taking proceedings against any member of the royalfamily. It was ordered at the same time that De Bouillé should be arrestedand impeached; but when he found that nothing could be effected for thedeliverance of the king, he had fled across the frontiers, and was safefrom their malice. 

Meanwhile, the unconstitutional and unprecedented violence which had beenoffered to the king naturally created the greatest excitement andindignation in all foreign countries. A month before the late expedition, the emperor had addressed a formal note to M. Montmorin, as Secretary ofState, declaring that he would regard any ill-treatment of his sister asan injury done to himself;[4] and now[5] the chivalrous Gustavus of Swedenproposed to address to the Assembly a joint letter of warning from all thesovereigns of Europe, to declare that they would all make common causewith the King of France if any attempt were made to offer him furtherviolence. But even the Austrian ministers regarded such a declaration asmore likely to aggravate than to diminish the dangers of those whom it wasdesigned to serve; and the queen herself preferred waiting for a time, tosee the result of the strife between the rival parties in the Assembly. 

The Assembly was at this time fully occupied with the completion of theConstitution, a work for which it had but little time left, since its ownduration had been fixed at two years, which would expire in September; andalso with the consideration of a question concerning the composition ofthe next Assembly which had been lately brought forward, and on which thequeen was unfortunately misled into using her influence to procure adecision which was undoubtedly, in its eventual consequences, asdisastrous to the king's fortunes as it was irreconcilable with commonsense. Robespierre brought forward a resolution that no members of theexisting Assembly should be eligible for a seat in that by which it was tobe replaced. It was in reality a resolution to exclude from the newAssembly not only every one who had any parliamentary or legislativeexperience, but also all the adherents or friends of the throne, and toplace the coming elections wholly in the power of the Jacobins. Robespierre was willing to be excluded himself from a conviction, that, with such an Assembly as would surely be returned, the Jacobin Club wouldpractically exercise all the power of the State. But the Constitutionalparty, who saw that it was aimed at them, opposed it with great vigor; andwould probably have been able to defeat it if the Royalist members whostill retained their seats would have consented to join them. Unhappilythe queen took the opposite view. With far more acuteness, penetration, and fertility of imagination than are usually given to women, or to meneither, she had still in some degree the defect common to her sex, ofbeing prone to confine her views to one side of a question; and tooverrule her reason by her feelings and prejudices. Though sheacknowledged the service which Barnave had rendered by defeating those whohad wished to bring the king and herself to trial, she, nevertheless, still regarded the Constitutionalists in general with deep distrust as theparty which desired to lower, and had lowered, the authority and dignityof the throne; and, viewing the whole Assembly with not unnaturalantipathy, she fancied that one composed wholly of new members could notpossibly be, more unfriendly to the king's person and government, andmight probably be far better disposed toward them. She easily brought theking to adopt her views, and exerted the whole of her influence to securethe passing of the decree, sending agents to canvass those deputies whowere opposed to it. With the Royalist members, the Extreme Right, hervoice was law, and, by the unnatural union of them and the Jacobins, theresolution was carried. 

It is the more singular that she should have been willing thus, as itwere, to proscribe the members of the present Assembly, because, in a veryremarkable letter which she wrote to her brother the emperor at the end ofJuly, she founds the hopes for the future, which she expresses with adegree of sanguineness which can hardly fail to be thought strange whenthe events of June are remembered, on the conduct of the Assembly itself. The letter is too long to quote at full length, but a few extracts from itwill help us in our task of forming a proper estimate of her character, from the unreserved exposition which it contains of her feelings, bothpast and present, with her views and hopes for the future, even while shekeenly appreciates the difficulties of the king's position; and from theunabated eagerness for the welfare of France which it displays in everyreflection and suggestion. That she still considers the imperial allianceof great importance to the welfare of both nations will surprise no one. The suspension of the royal authority which the Assembly had decreed onthe 26th of June had been removed on the decision that the king was not tobe proceeded against. Yet her first sentence shows that she was stillsubjected to cruel and lawless tyranny, which even hindered hercorrespondence with her own relations. A queen might have expected to beable to write in security to another sovereign; a sister to a brother; butLa Fayette and those in authority regarded the rights of neither royaltynor kindred. 

"A friend, my dear brother, has undertaken to convey this letter to you, for I myself have no means of giving you news of my health. I will notenter into details of what preceded our departure. You have already knownall the reasons for it. During the events which befell us on our journey, and in the situation in which we were immediately after our return toParis, I was profoundly distressed. After I recovered from the first shockof the agitation which they produced, I set myself to work to reflect onwhat I had seen; and I have endeavored to form a clear idea of what, inthe actual state of affairs, the king's interests are, and what theconduct is which they prescribe to me. My ideas have been formed by acombination of motives which I will proceed to explain to you. 

"... The situation of affairs here has greatly changed since our journey. The National Assembly was divided into a multitude of parties. Far fromorder being re-established, every day seemed to diminish the power of thelaw. The king, deprived of all authority, did not even see any possibilityof recovering it on the completion of the Constitution through theinfluence of the Assembly, since that body itself was every day losingmore the respect of the people. In short, it was impossible to see any endto disorder. 

"To-day, circumstances present much more hope. The men who have thegreatest influence in affairs are united together, and have openlydeclared for the preservation of the monarchy and the king, and for there-establishment of order. Since their union, the efforts of the seditioushave been defeated by a great superiority of strength. The Assembly hasacquired a consistency and an authority in every part of the kingdom, which it seems disposed to use to establish the observance of the laws andto put an end to the Revolution. At this moment the most moderate men, whohave never ceased to be opposed to revolutionary acts, are uniting, because they see in union the only prospect of enjoying in safety what theRevolution has left them, and of putting an end to the troubles of whichthey dread the continuance. In short, every thing seems at this moment tocontribute to put an end to the agitations and commotions to which Francehas been given over for the last two years. This termination of them, however, natural and possible as it is, will not give the Government thedegree of force and authority which I regard as necessary; but it willpreserve us from greater misfortunes; it will place us in a situation ofgreater tranquillity, and, when men's minds have recovered from theirpresent intoxication, perhaps they will see the usefulness of giving theroyal authority a greater range. 

"This, in the course which matters are now taking, is what one can foreseefor the future, and I compare this result with what we could promiseourselves from a line of conduct opposed to the wishes which the nationdisplays. In that ease I see an absolute impossibility of obtaining anything except by the employment of a superior force; and on this lastsupposition I will say nothing of the personal dangers which the king, myson, and I myself may have to encounter. But what could be theconsequences but some enterprise, the issue of which is uncertain, and theultimate result of which, whatever it might be, presents disasters such asone can not endure to contemplate? The army is in a bad state from want ofleaders and of subordination; but the kingdom is full of armed men, andtheir imagination is so inflamed that it is impossible to foresee whatthey might do, and the number of victims who might be sacrificed.... It isimpossible, when one sees what is going on here, to calculate what mightbe the effects of their despair. I only see, in the events which mightarise out of such an attempt, but very doubtful prospects of success, andthe certainty of great miseries for every one.... 

"If the Revolution should be terminated in the manner of which I havespoken, then it will be important that the king shall acquire, in a solidmanner, the confidence and consideration which alone can give a realstrength to the royal authority. No means are so well calculated toprocure them for him as the influence which we might have over one of yourresolutions[6] which would contribute to insure peace to France, and todispel disquietude, which are so much the more grievous for the wholeworld, that they are among the principal obstacles to the re-establishmentof public tranquillity. The share which in that way we should have in thetermination of these troubles would win over to us all men of moderatetemper, while the others, especially the chiefs of the Revolution, wouldattach themselves to us because of the sincere and efficacious inclinationwhich we should have shown to conduct matters to the end, which they allwish for. Your own interests seem to me also to have a place in thissystem of conduct. The National Assembly, before separating, will desire, in concert with the king, to determine the alliances to which France is tocontinue attached; and the power of Europe which shall be the first torecognize the Constitution, after it has been accepted by the king, willundoubtedly be the one with which the Assembly will be inclined to formthe closest alliance; and to these general views I might add the meanswhich I myself have to dispose men's minds to maintain this alliance--means which will be extremely strengthened, if you share my view of thepresent circumstances. 

"I can not doubt that the chiefs of the Revolution, who have supported theking in the last crisis, will be desirous to assure to him theconsideration and respect necessary to the exercise of his authority, andthat they will see in a close alliance of France with that power withwhich he is connected by ties of blood, a means of combining his dignitywith the interests of the nation, and in that way of consolidating andstrengthening a Constitution of which they all agree that the majesty ofthe king is one essential foundation. 

"I do not know if, independently of all other reasons, the king will notfind in that feeling and in the inclinations of the nation, when it hasrecovered its calmness, more deference, and a temper more favorable tohim, than he could expect from the majority of those Frenchmen who are atpresent out of the kingdom. [7]"

And a letter which she wrote to Mercy a fortnight later is perhaps evenmore worthy of attention, as supplying abundant proof, if proof wereneeded, of the good-will and good faith which were the leading principlesof herself and the king in all their dealings with the Assembly. Since herletter to her brother, matters had been proceeding rapidly. She had foundsome means of treating more directly than on any previous occasion, notonly with Barnave, but with the far more unscrupulous A. Lameth; and theAssembly had made such progress in completing the Constitution that it wason the point of submitting it to the king for his acceptance. We have seenin Marie Antoinette's letter to the emperor that she was convinced of thenecessity of Louis signifying that acceptance, and she adhered to thatview of the policy to be pursued, though the last touches given to theConstitution had rendered many of its articles far more unreasonable thanshe had anticipated, and though the great English statesman, Burke, whose"Reflections" of the preceding year had naturally caused him to beregarded as one of the ablest advisers on whom she could rely, forwardedto her an earnest exhortation to induce her husband to reject it. Heimplored her "to have nothing to do with traitors. " Using the argumentwhich, to one so sensitive for her honor as Marie Antoinette, was wellcalculated to exert an almost irresistible influence over her mind, hedeclared that "her resolution at this most critical moment was to decidewhether her glory was to be maintained, and her distresses to cease, orwhether" (and he begged pardon for ever mentioning such an alternative)"shame and affliction were to be her portion for the rest of her life;"and he declared that "if the king should accept the Constitution, bothking and queen were ruined forever. "

The great writer was, as in more than one other instance of his career, too earnest in his conviction that principles were at stake in the coursewhich he recommended, to consider whether that course were safe for thoseon whom he urged it, or even practicable. But Marie Antoinette, as one onwhose decision the very lives of her husband and her child might depend, felt bound to consider, in the first place, how far her adoption of theadvice thus tendered might endanger both; and, accordingly, whileexpressing to Mercy the full extent of her repugnance to the system ofgovernment, if indeed it deserved the name of a system, which the newConstitution had framed, she shows that her disapproval of it has in nodegree led her to change her mind on the practical question of the coursewhich the king should pursue. She justifies her decision to Mercy in amost elaborate letter, in which the whole position is surveyed withadmirable good sense. [8]

"Our position is this: We are now on the point of having the Constitutionbrought to us for acceptance. It is in itself so monstrous that it isimpossible that it should be long maintained. But, in the position inwhich we are, can we risk refusing it? No; and I will prove it to you. Iam not speaking of the personal dangers which we should run. We have fullyshown by the journey which we undertook two months ago that we do not takeour own safety into account when the public welfare is at stake. But thisConstitution is so intrinsically bad that it can only acquire consistencefrom any resistance which we might oppose to it. Our business, therefore, is to take a middle course, which may save our honor, and may put us insuch a position that the people may come back to us when once their eyesare opened, and they have become weary of the existing state of affairs. Ithink also that it is necessary that, when they have presented the act tothe king, he should keep it by him a few days; for he is not supposed toknow what it is till it has been presented to him in all legal form; andthat then he should summon the Commissioners before him, not to make anycomments, not to demand any alterations, which perhaps might not beadmitted, and which would be interpreted as an admission that he approvedof the basis, but to declare that his opinions are not changed; that, inhis declaration of the 20th of June, [9] he proved the absoluteimpossibility of governing under the new system, and that he is still ofthe same mind; but that, for the sake of the tranquillity of his country, he sacrifices himself; and that, as his people and the nation stake theirhappiness on his accepting it, he does not hesitate to signify thatacceptance; and that the sight of their happiness will speedily make himforget the cruel and bitter griefs which they have inflicted on him and onhis family. 

"But if we take this line we must adhere to it; and, above all things, wemust avoid any step which can create distrust, and we must move on, so tosay, always with the law in our hand. I promise you that this is the bestway to give them an early disgust at the Constitution. The mischief is, that for this we shall want an able and a trustworthy ministry.... Severalpeople urge us to reject the act, and the king's brothers press upon himevery day that it is indispensable to do so, and affirm that we shall besupported. By whom?" And she proceeds to examine the situation and policyof Spain, of the empire of England, and of Prussia, to prove that fromnone of them is there any hope of active aid, while to trust to theemigrants would be the worst expedient of all, because "we should thenfall into a new slavery worse than the first, since, while we shouldappear to be in some degree indebted to them, we should not be able toextricate ourselves from their toils. They already prove this when theyrefuse to listen to the persons who are in our confidence, on the pretextthat they do not trust them, while they seek to force us to give ourselvesup to M. De Calonne, who, I fear, in all that he does is guided by nothingbut his own ambition, his private enmities, and his habitual levity, thinking every thing he wishes not only possible, but already done. 

"... One circumstance worthy of remark is that in all these discussions onthe Constitution the people take no interest, and concern themselvessolely about their own affairs, limiting their wishes to having aConstitution and getting rid of the aristocrats... As to our acceptance ofthe Constitution, it is impossible for any thinking being to avoid seeingthat we are not free. But it is essential that we should not awaken asuspicion of our feelings in the monsters who surround us. Let me knowwhere the emperor's forces are and what is their present position. Inevery case the foreign powers can alone save us. The army is lost. Thereis no money. There is no bond, no curb which can restrain the populace, which is everywhere armed. Even the chiefs of the Revolution, when theywish to speak of order, are not listened to. This is the deplorablecondition in which we are placed. Add that we have not a single friend--that every one betrays us, some out of hatred, others out of weakness orambition. In short, I actually am reduced to dread the day when they willhave the appearance of giving us a kind of freedom. At least, in the stateof nullity in which we are at present, no one can reproach us.... You knowthe character of the person with whom I have to do. [10] At the lastmoment, when one seems to have convinced him, an argument, a word, willmake him change his mind before any one suspects it. This is the reasonwhy many expedients can not be even attempted. "

On the 21st she hears that the Charter will be presented at the end of theweek, and she repeats her fears that the conduct of the emigrants mayinvolve them in fresh troubles. "It is essential that the French, and mostespecially the brothers of the king, should keep in the background, andallow the foreign princes to act by themselves. But no entreaty, noargument from us will induce them to do so. The emperor must insist uponit. It is the only way in which he can serve us. You know yourself themischievous wrong-headedness and evil designs of the emigrants. Thecowards! after having abandoned us, they seek to make us expose ourselvesalone to danger, and serve nothing but their interests. I do not accusethe king's brothers; I believe their hearts and their intentions to bepure, but they are surrounded and guided by ambitious men who will ruinthem after having first ruined us. " ... On the 26th she hears that it willstill be a week before the Constitution is brought to the king. "It isimpossible, considering our position, that the king should refuse toaccept it. You may depend upon this being true, since I say it. You knowmy character sufficiently to be sure that it would incline me rather to anoble and bold course. We have no resource but in the foreign powers. Theymust come to our assistance; but it is the emperor who must put himself atthe head of every thing, and manage every thing.... I declare to you thatmatters are now come to such a state that it would be better to be king ofa single province than of a kingdom so abandoned and disordered as this. Ishall endeavor, if I can, to send the emperor information on all thesematters. But, in the mean time, do you tell him all that you considernecessary to prove to him that we have no longer any resource except inhim, and that our happiness, our existence, and that of my child depend onhim alone, and on his prudence and promptitude in action. [11]"

And, however she from time to time caught at momentary hopes arising fromother sources, the only one on which she placed any permanent reliancewere the affection and power of her brother; and that hope, in the courseof the winter, was cut from under her by his death. [12] Yet so correct washer judgment and appreciation of sound political principles, or, perhapswe might say, so keen was her sense of what was due to the independenceand dignity of France, in spite of its present disloyalty, that a reportthat the emperor and Prussia had, by implication, claimed a right todictate to France in matters of her internal government drew from her awarm remonstrance. As sovereign and brother she conceived that Leopold hada right to interfere to insure the safety of his own sister and of abrother sovereign; but she never desired him to interpose for any otherobject. From her childhood, as we have seen more than once, she hadlearned to regard the Prussian character and Prussian designs withabhorrence. And in a letter to Mercy of the 12th of September, afterexpressing an earnest hope that the emperor will not allow himself to beguided by "the cunning of Calonne, and the detestable policy of Prussia, "she adds, "It is said here that in the agreement signed at Pilnitz, [13]the two powers engage never to permit the new French Constitution to beestablished. There certainly are things which foreign powers have a rightto oppose, but, as to what concerns the internal laws of a country, everynation has a right to adopt those which suit it. They would be wrong, therefore, to intervene in such a matter; and all the world would see insuch an act a proof of the intrigues of the emigrants. [14]"

She proceeds to tell him that all is settled. The king had adopted theline which she had marked out for him in her former letter. TheConstitution had been presented to him on the 3d of September. He hadtaken a few days to consider it, not with the idea of proposing theslightest alteration, but in order to avoid the appearance of acting undercompulsion; and, on the same day on which she wrote to Mercy, he wasdrawing up a letter to the Assembly, to announce his intention of visitingthe Assembly to give it his royal assent in due form. But, though shewould not have had him act otherwise, she can not announce this apparenttermination of the contest without some natural expressions of grief andindignation. 

"At last the die is cast. All that we have now to do is to regulate thefuture progress and conduct of affairs as circumstances may permit. I onlywish that others would regulate their conduct by mine. But even in our owninner circle we have great difficulties and great conflicts. Pity me: Iassure you that it requires more courage to support the condition in whichI am placed than to encounter a pitched battle. And the more so that I donot deceive myself, and that I see nothing but misery in the want ofenergy shown by some, and the evil designs of others. My God! is itpossible that, endowed as I am with force of character, and feeling as Ido so thoroughly the blood which runs in my veins, I should yet bedestined to pass my days in such an age and with such men! But, for allthis, never believe that my courage is deserting me. Not for my own sake, but for the sake of my child, I will support myself, and I will fulfill tothe end my long and painful career, I can no longer see what I am writing. Farewell. [15]"

Tears, we may suppose, were blinding her eyes, in spite of all herfortitude. There was no exaggeration in her declaration to the EmpressCatherine of Russia, with whom at this time she was in frequentcommunication, that the "distrust which was shown by all around them was amoral and continual death, a thousand times worse than that physical deathwhich was a release from all miseries. [16]" And in the same letter sheexplains that to remove this distrust was one principal object which theking and she had in view in all their measures. Yet, in spite of all hisconcessions, the week was not to pass without fresh insults being offeredto the king, which shocked even his phlegmatic apathy. The letter which hesent to the Assembly to announce his compliance with its wishes was indeedreceived with acclamations which, if not sincere, were at least loud, andapparently unanimous; and, as if in reply to it, La Fayette proposed andcarried a motion that the Assembly should pass an act of amnesty for allpolitical offenses; and a magnificent festival was appointed to be held inthe Champ de Mars on the following Sunday, in celebration of the joyfulevent. But, after the first brief excitement had passed away, the Jacobinfaction recovered its ascendency, and contrived to make that veryfestival, which was designed to express the gratitude of the nation, anoccasion of further humiliation to the unhappy Louis. Every arrangementfor the day was discussed in a spirit of the bitterest disloyalty. Whenthe question was raised, which in any other Assembly that ever met in theworld would have been thought needless, what attitude the members were topreserve while the king was taking the prescribed oath to observe theConstitution, a hundred voices shouted out that they should all keep theirseats, and that the king should swear, standing and bare-headed; and whenone deputy of high reputation, M. Malouet, remonstrated against such avote, arguing that so to treat the chief of the State would be a greaterinsult to the nation than even to himself, a deputy from Brittany criedout that M. Malouet and those who thought with him might receive Louis ontheir knees, if they liked, but that the rest of the Assembly should beseated. 

And, in accordance with the feeling thus shown, every mark of respect wasstudiously withheld from the unhappy monarch, and every care was taken toshow him that every deputy considered himself his equal. Two chairsexactly similar were provided for him and for the president; and when, after taking the oath and affixing his signature to the act, the kingresumed his seat, the president, who, having to reply to him in a shortaddress, had at first risen for that purpose, on seeing that Louisretained his seat, sat down beside him, and finished his speech in thatposition. Louis felt the affront. He contained himself while in the hall, and while the members were conducting him back to the palace, which theypresently did amidst the music of military bands and the salutes ofartillery. But when his escort had left him, and he reached his ownapartments, his pride gave way. The queen with the dauphin had beenpresent in a box hastily fitted up for her, and had followed him back. Hefelt for her more than for himself. Bursting into tears, he said, "It isall over. You have seen my humiliation. Why did I ever bring you intoFrance for such degradation?" And the queen, while endeavoring to consolehim, turned to Madame de Campan, who has recorded the scene, and dismissedher from her attendance. [17] "Leave us, " she said, "leave us toourselves. " She could not bear that even that faithful servant shouldremain to be a witness to the despair and prostration of her sovereign. 

The very rejoicings were turned by the agents of the Jacobins intooccasions for further outrages. The whole city was illuminated, and thesovereigns yielded to the entreaties of the popular leaders, to drivethrough the streets and the Champs Élysées to see the illumination. Thepopulace, who believed the Revolution at an end and their freedom secured, cheered them heartily as they passed; but at every cry of "Vive le roi, " astentorian voice, close to the royal carriage, shouted out, "Not so: Vivela nation!" and the queen, though it was plain that the ruffian had beenhired thus to outrage them, almost fainted with terror at his ferocity. Afew days afterward, the insults were renewed even more pointedly. Theroyal family went in state to the opera, where, before their arrival, theJacobins had packed the pit with a gang of their own hirelings, whoseunpowdered hair made them conspicuous objects. [18] The opera was one ofGrétry's, "Les Événements Imprévus, " in which one of the duets containsthe line "Ah, comme j'aime ma maïtresse. " Madame Dugazon, a popular singerof the day, as she uttered the words, bowed toward the royal box, andinstantly the whole pit was in a fury. "No mistress for us! no master!Liberty!" The whole house was in an uproar. The king's partisans andadherents replied with loyal cheers, "Vive le roi! Vive la reine!" The pitroared out, "No master! no queen!" and the Jacobins even proceeded to actsof violence toward all who refused to join in their cry. Blows werestruck, and it became necessary to send for a company of the Guard torestore order. 

Yet when, on the last day of the month, the king visited the Assembly[19]to declare its dissolution, the president addressed him in terms of themost loyal gratitude, affirming that by his acceptance of theConstitution, he had earned the blessings of all future generations; andwhen he quitted the hall, the populace escorted the royal carriage back tothe palace with vociferous cheers. Though, in the eyes of impartialobservers, this display of returning good-will was more thancounterbalanced when, as the members of the Assembly came out, some of theRoyalists and Constitutionalists were hooted, and some of the fiercestJacobins were greeted with still more enthusiastic acclamations. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Composition of the New Assembly. --Rise of the Girondins, --Their Corruptionand Eventual Fate. --Vergniaud's Motions against the King. --FavorableReception of the King at the Assembly, and at the Opera. --Changes in theMinistry. --The King's and Queen's Language to M. Bertrand de Moleville. --The Count de Narbonne. --Pétion is elected Mayor of Paris. --Scarcity ofMoney, and Great Hardships of the Royal Family. --Presents arrive fromTippoo Sahib. --The Dauphin. --The Assembly passes Decrees against thePriests and the Emigrants. --Misconduct of the Emigrants. --Louis refuseshis Assent to the Decrees. --He issues a Circular condemning Emigration. 

The new Assembly met on the 1st of October, and its composition affordedthe Royalists, or even the Constitutionalists, the party that desired tostand by the Constitution which had just been ratified, very littleprospect of a re-establishment of tranquillity. The mischievous effect ofthe vote which excluded members of the last Assembly from election wasseen in the very lists of those who had been returned. In the whole numberthere were scarcely a dozen members of noble or gentle birth; the numberof ecclesiastics was equally small; while property was as littlerepresented as the nobility or the Church. It was reckoned that of thewhole body scarcely fifty possessed two thousand francs a year. Thegeneral youth of the members was as conspicuous as their poverty; half ofthem had hardly attained middle age; a great many were little more thanboys. The Jacobins themselves, who, before the elections, had reckoned onswaying their decisions by terror, could hardly have anticipated a resultwhich would place the entire body so wholly at their mercy. 

But what was still move ominous of evil was the rise of a new party, knownas that of the Girondins, from the circumstance of some of its mostinfluential members coming from the Gironde, one of the departments whichthe late Assembly had carved out of the old province of Gascony. It wasnot absolutely a new party, since the foundations of it had been laid, during the last two months of the old Assembly, by Pétion and a low-bornpamphleteer named Brissot, who, as editor of a newspaper to which he gavethe name of _Le Patriote Français_, rivaled the most blood-thirsty of theJacobins in exciting the worst passions of the populace. But Pétion andBrissot had only sown the seeds. The opening of the new Assembly at oncegave it growth and vigor, when the deputies from the Gironde plunged intothe arena of debate, and showed an undeniable superiority in eloquence toevery other party. The chiefs, Vergniaud, Gensonné, and Gaudet, werelawyers who had never obtained any practice. Isnard, the first man to makean open profession of atheism in the Assembly, was the son of a perfumerin Provence. They were adventurers as utterly without principle as withoutresources. And their first thought appears to have been to make money ofthe king's difficulties, and to sell themselves to him. They applied tothe Minister of the Interior, M. De Lessart, proposing to place the wholeof their influence at the service of the Government, on condition of hissecuring each of them a pension of six thousand francs a month. [1] M. DeLessart would not have objected to buy them, but he thought the pricewhich they set upon themselves too high; and as they adhered to theirdemand, the negotiation went off, and they resolved to revenge themselveson his royal master with all the malice of disappointed rapacity. 

As none of them had any force of character, they fell under the influenceof the wife of one of their number, a small manufacturer, named Roland, the same who, as we have already seen, was the first to raise the cry ofblood in France, and to recommend the assassination of the king and queenwhile they were still in fancied security at Versailles. Under thedirection of this fierce woman, whose ferocity was rendered moreformidable by her undoubted talents, the Girondins began an internecinewar with the king, who had refused them the wages which they had asked. They planned and carried out the sanguinary attacks on the palace in thesummer of the next year. They brought Louis to the scaffold by theunanimity of their votes. Yet it would have been more fortunate forthemselves as well as for him had they been less exorbitant in theirdemands, and had they connected themselves with the Government as theydesired. For though they succeeded in their treason, though Madame Rolandsaw the accomplishment of her wish in the murder of the king and queen, their success was equally fatal to themselves. Almost all of them perishedon the same scaffold to which they had consigned their virtuoussovereigns, meeting a fate in one respect worse even than theirs, from theinfamy of the names which they have left behind them. 

Yet for a few days it seemed as if their malignity would miss its aim. They did not wait a single day before displaying it; but, at thepreliminary meeting of the Assembly, before it was opened for the dispatchof business, Vergniaud proposed to declare it illegal to speak of the kingas his majesty, or to address him as "sire;" while another deputy, namedCouthon, who at first belonged to the same party, though he afterwardjoined the Jacobins, carried a motion that, when Louis came to open theAssembly, the president should occupy the place of honor, and the secondseat should be allotted to the sovereign. 

Still, for a moment it seemed as if they had overshot their mark, and asif the more loyal party would be able to withstand and defeat them. TheAssembly itself was compelled to repeal its recent votes, since Louis, whom indignation for once inspired with greater firmness than he usuallydisplayed, refused to open the new Assembly in person unless he were to bereceived with the honors to which his rank entitled him. The offensiveresolutions were canceled; and, when he had therefore opened the sessionin a dignified and conciliatory speech which was chiefly of his owncomposition, the president, M. Pastoret, a member of the Constitutionalparty, replied in a language which was not only respectful, butaffectionate. The Constitution, he said, had given the king friends inthose who were formerly only styled his subjects. The Assembly and thenation felt the need of his love. As the Constitution had rendered him thegreatest monarch in the world, so his attachment to it would place himamong the kings most beloved by their people. 

And it seemed as if the Parisians in general shared to the full the loyalsentiments uttered by M. Pastoret. Writing the same week to her brother, Marie Antoinette, with a confidence which could only spring from a sincereattachment to the whole nation, reiterated her old opinion that "the goodcitizens and good people had always in their hearts been friendly to theking and herself;[2]" and expressed her belief that since the acceptanceof the Constitution the people "had again learned to trust them. " She was"far from giving herself up to a blind confidence. She knew that thedisaffected had not abandoned their treasonable purposes; but, as the kingand she herself were resolved to unite themselves in sincere good faith tothe people, it was impossible but that, when their real feelings wereknown, the bulk of the people should return to them. The mischief was thatthe well-meaning knew not how to act in concert. "

It did seem as if she were correct in her estimate of the feelings of thecitizens, when, in the evening of the day on which Louis had opened theAssembly, the whole royal family, including the two children, went to theopera; and, as if with express design to ratify the loyal language of thepresident of the Assembly, the whole audience greeted them with a mostenthusiastic reception. More than once they interrupted the performancewith loud cheers for both king and queen; and as the pleasure of childrenis always an attractive sight, they sympathized especially with thedelight of the little dauphin, their future king, as they all then thoughthim, who, being new to such a spectacle, only took his eyes off the stageto imitate the gestures of the actors to his mother, and draw herattention to them. 

In more than one of her letters the queen had vehemently deplored the wantof a stronger ministry than of late had been in the king's service. It wasa natural complaint, though in fact the ability or want of abilitydisplayed by the ministers was a matter of but slight practicalimportance, so completely had the Assembly engrossed the whole power ofthe State; but in the course of the autumn some changes were made, one ofwhich for a time certainly added to the comfort of the sovereigns. M. Montmorin retired; M. De Lessart was transferred to his office; and M. Bertrand de Moleville, who was entirely new to official life, became theminister of marine. The whole kingdom did not contain a man more attachedto the king and queen. But he combined statesman-like prudence with hisloyalty; and his conduct before he took office elicited a very remarkableproof of the singleness of mind and purpose with which the king and queenhad accepted the Constitution. M. Bertrand had previously refused office, and was very unwilling to take it now; and he frankly told Louis that hecould not hope to be of any real service to him unless he knew the planswhich the king might have formed with respect to the Constitution, and theline of conduct which he desired his ministers to observe on the subject;and Louis told him distinctly that though "he was far from regarding theConstitution as a masterpiece, and though he thought it easy to reform itadvantageously in many particulars, yet he had sworn to observe it as itwas, and that he was bound to be, and resolved to be, strictly faithful tohis oath; the more so because it seemed to him that the most exactobservance of the Constitution was the surest method to lead the nation tounderstand it in all its bearings; when the people themselves wouldperceive the character of the changes in it which it was desirable tomake. "

M. Bertrand expressed his warm approval of the wisdom of such a policy, but thought it so important to know how far the queen coincided in herhusband's sentiments that he ventured to put the question to his majesty. The king assured him that he had been speaking her sentiments as well ashis own, and that he should hear them from her own lips; and accordinglythe queen immediately granted the new minister an audience, in which, after expressing, with her habitual grace and kindness, her feeling that, by accepting office at such a time, he was laying both the king andherself under a personal obligation, she added, "The king has explained toyou his intentions with respect to the Constitution; do not you think thatthe only plan for him to follow is to be faithful to his oath?""Undoubtedly, madame. " "Well, you may depend upon it that nothing willmake us change. Have courage, M. Bertrand; I hope that, with patience, firmness, and consistency, all is not yet lost. [3]"

Nor was M. Bertrand the only one of the ministers who received proofs ofthe resolution of the queen to adhere steadily to the Constitution. Therewas also a new minister of war, the Count de Narbonne, as firmly attachedto the persons of the sovereigns as M. Bertrand himself, though inpolitical principle more inclined to the views of the Constitutionaliststhan to those of the extreme Royalists. He was likewise a man ofconsiderable capacity, eloquent and fertile in resources; but he wasambitious and somewhat vain; and he was so elated at the approvalexpressed by the Assembly of a report on the military resources of thekingdom which he laid before it soon after his appointment, that heobtained an audience of the queen, the object of which was to convince herthat the only means of saving the State was to confer on a man of talent, energy, sagacity, and activity, who enjoyed the confidence of the Assemblyand of the nation, the post of prime minister; and he admitted that heintended to designate himself by this description. Marie Antoinette, though fully aware of the desirableness of having a single man of abilityand firmness at the head of the administration, was for a moment surprisedout of her habitual courtesy. She could not forbear a smile, and in plainterms asked him "if he were crazy. [4]" But she proceeded with her usualkindness to explain to him the impracticability of the scheme which he hadsuggested, and the foundation of her argument was an explanation that suchan appointment would be a violation of the Constitution, which forbade theking to create any new ministerial office. And the count deserves to haveit mentioned to his honor that the rebuff which he had received in nodegree cooled his attachment to the king and queen, or the zeal with whichhe labored for their service. 

We have no information how far the new minister coincided in a step whichthe queen took in the course of November, and which is commonly ascribedto her judgment alone. Before its dissolution, the late Assembly hadbroken up the National Guard of Paris into separate legions, and hadsuppressed the appointment of commander-in-chief of the forces; and LaFayette, whom this measure had left without employment, feeling keenly thediminution of his importance, and instigated by the restlessness common tomen of moderate capacity, conceived the hope of succeeding Bailly in themayoralty of Paris, which that magistrate was on the point of resigning. 

It had become a post of great consequence, since the extent to which theauthority of the crown had been pared away tended to make the mayor theabsolute dictator of the capital; and consequently the Jacobins wereanxious to secure the office for one of the extreme Revolutionary party, and set up Pétion as a rival candidate. The election belonged to thecitizens, and, as in the city the two parties possessed almost equalstrength, it was soon seen that the court, which had by no means lost itsinfluence among the tradesmen and shop-keepers, had the power of decidingthe contest in favor of the candidate for whom it should pronounce, MarieAntoinette declared for Pétion. She knew him to be a Jacobin, [5] but hewas so devoid of any reputation for ability that she did not fear him. Nor, except that he had behaved with boorish disrespect and ill-mannersduring their melancholy return from Varennes, had she any reason forsuspecting him of any special enmity to the king. 

But La Fayette, though always loud in his professions of loyalty, hadnever lost an opportunity of offering personal insults to both the kingand herself. It was to his shameful neglect (to put his conduct in themost favorable light) that she justly attributed the danger to which shehad been exposed at Versailles, and the compulsion which had been put uponthe king to take up his residence in Paris; and, not to mention a constantseries of petty insults which he had heaped on both Louis and herself, andon the Royalists as a body, he had given unmistakable proofs of hispersonal animosity toward the king by his conduct on the 21st of June, andby the indecent rigor with which he treated them both after their returnfrom Varennes. Even when he was loudest in the profession of his desireand power to influence the Assembly in the king's favor, one of his ownfriends had told him to his face that he was insincere, [6] and that Louiscould not and ought not to trust his promises; and every part of hisconduct toward the royal pair was stamped with duplicity as well as withill-will. It was not strange, therefore, indeed it was fully consistentwith the honest openness of Marie Antoinette's own character, that sheshould prefer an open enemy to a pretended friend. She even believed what, from the very commencement of the Revolution, many had suspected, that LaFayette cherished views of personal ambition, and aimed at reviving theold authority of a Maire du Palais over a Roi Fainéant[7]. She thereforedirected her friends to throw their weight into the scale in favor ofPétion, who was accordingly elected by a great majority, while themarquis, greatly chagrined, retired for a time to his estate in Auvergne. 

The victory, however, was an unfortunate one for the court. It contributedto increase the confidence of its enemies; and, as their instinct showedthem that it was from the resolution of the queen that they had the mostformidable opposition to dread, it was against her that, from their firstentrance into the Assembly, Vergniaud and his friends specially exertedthemselves; Vergniaud openly contending that the inviolability of thesovereign, which was an article of the new Constitution, applied only tothe king himself, and in no degree to his consort; while in the Jacobinand Cordelier Clubs the coarsest libels were poured forth against her withunremitting perseverance to stimulate and justify the most obscene andferocious threats. The coarsest ruffians in a street quarrel never usedfouler language of one another than these men of education applied to thepure-minded and magnanimous lady whose sole offense was that she was thewife of their kind-hearted king. 

And, in addition to this daily increase of their danger which suchdenunciations could not fail to augment, the royal family were nowsuffering inconveniences which even those whose measures had caused themhad never designed. They were in the most painful want of money. Theagitation of the last two years had rendered the treasury bankrupt. Thepaper money, which now composed almost the whole circulation of thecountry, was valueless. While, as it was in this paper money (assignats, as the notes were called, as being professedly secured by assignments onthe royal domains and on the ecclesiastical property which had beenconfiscated), that the king's civil list was paid, at the latter end ofeach month it was not uncommon for him and the queen to be absolutelydestitute. It was with great reluctance that they accepted loans fromtheir loyal adherents, because they saw no prospect of being able to repaythem; but had they not availed themselves of this resource, they would attimes have wanted absolute necessaries. [8]

The royal couple still kept their health, the king's apathy being in thisrespect as beneficial as the queen's courage: they still rode a great dealwhen the weather was favorable; and on one occasion, at the beginning of1792, the queen, with her sister-in-law and her daughter, went again tothe theatre. The opera was the same which had been performed at the visitin October; but this time the Jacobins had not been forewarned so as topack the house, and Madame du Gazon's duet was received with enthusiasm. Again, as she sung "Ah, que j'aime ma maîtresse!" she bowed to the royalbox, and the audience cheered. As if in reply to one verse, "Il faut lesrendre heureux, " "Oui, oui!" with lively unanimity, came from all parts ofthe house, and the singers were compelled to repeat the duet four times. "It is a queer nation this of ours, " says the Princess Elizabeth, inrelating the scene to one of her correspondents, "but we must allow thatit has very charming moments. [9]"

A somewhat curious episode to divert their minds from these domesticanxieties was presented by an embassy from the brave and intriguing Sultanof Mysore, the celebrated Tippoo Sahib, who sought to engage Louis to lendhim six thousand French troops, with whose aid he trusted to break downthe ascendency which England was rapidly establishing in India. Tippoobacked his request, in the Oriental fashion, by presents, though not suchas, in the opinion of M. Bertrand, were quite worthy of the giver or ofthe receiver. To the king he sent some diamonds, but they were yellow, ill-cut, and ill-set; and the rest of the offering was composed of a fewpieces of embroidered silk, striped cloth, and cambric: while the queen'spresent consisted of nothing more valuable than a few bottles of perfumeof no very exquisite quality, and a few boxes of powdered scents, pastils, and matches. The king and queen gave nearly the whole present to M. Bertrand for his grandchildren, the queen only reserving a bottle of attarof rose and a couple of pieces of cambric; and that chiefly to afford apretext for seeing M. Bertrand once or twice, without his reception beingimputed to a desire to promote some Austrian intrigue; for the Jacobinshad lately revived the clamor against Austrian influence with greatervehemence than ever. 

As M. Bertrand had grandchildren, he could well appreciate the pleasure ofthe queen at an incident which closed one of his audiences. While he wasthus receiving her commands, the little dauphin, "beautiful as an angel, "as the minister describes him, was capering about the room in highdelight, brandishing a wooden sword, a new toy which had just been givenhim. An attendant called him to go to supper; and he bounded toward thedoor. "How is this, my boy?" said Marie Antoinette, calling him back; "areyou going off without making M. Bertrand a bow?" "Oh, mamma, " said thelittle prince, still skipping about, and smiling, "that is because I knowwell that M. Bertrand is one of our friends.... Good-evening, M. Bertrand. " "Is not he a nice child?[10]" said the queen, after he had leftthe room. "He is very happy to be so young. He does not feel what wesuffer, and his gayety does us good. " Alas! that which was now perhaps heronly pleasure--the contemplation of her child's opening grace andamiability--before long became even an addition to her affliction, as theprobabilities increased that the madness of the people and the wickednessof their leaders would deprive him of the inheritance, to preserve whichto him was the principal object of all her cares and exertions. 

But these moments of gratification were becoming fewer as time went on. Each month, each week brought fresh and increasing anxieties to engrossall her thoughts. As the Girondin leaders began to feel their strength, the votes of the Assembly became more violent. One day it passed a freshdecree against the priests, depriving all who refused to take the oath tothe new ecclesiastical constitution of the stipends for which their formerpreferments had been commuted, placing them under strict supervision, anddeclaring them liable to instant banishment if they should venture toexercise their functions in private. Another day it vented its wrath uponthe emigrants, summoning the Count de Provence by name to return at onceto France; and, with respect to the rest of the body, now very numerous, declaring their conduct in being assembled on the frontier of the kingdomin a state of readiness for war in itself an act of treason; andcondemning to death and confiscation of their estates all who should failto return to their native land before a stated day. 

But in these decrees the advocates of violence had for the moment gone toofar--they had outrun the feelings of the nation. The emigrants, indeed, neither deserved nor found sympathy in any quarter. The main body of themwas at this time settled at Coblentz, where their conduct was such that itis hard to say whether it were more offensive to their country, moreinjurious to their king, or more discreditable to themselves. They couldnot even act in harmony. The king's two brothers established rival courts, with a mistress at the head of each. Madame de Balbi still ruled the Countde Provence; Madame de Polastron was the presiding genius of the coterieof the Count d'Artois. The two ladies, regarding each other with bitterjealousy, agitated the whole town with their rivalries and wranglings, andagreed in nothing but in their endeavors to excite some foreign sovereignor other to make war upon their native land. It was in vain that Louishimself first entreated them, and, when he found his entreaties weredisregarded, commanded his brothers to return. They positively refusedobedience to his order, telling him, in language which can only becharacterized as that of studied insult, that he was writing undercoercion; that his letter did not express his real views, and that "theirhonor, their duty, even their affection for him, alike forbade them toobey him. [11]" The queen could not command, but she wrote to them morethan one letter of most earnest entreaty, and, as the princes founded partof their hopes on the co-operation of the Northern sovereigns, she wrotealso to the empress and to Gustavus, pressing both, and especially theKing of Sweden, [12] to restrain them; but they were too headstrong andfull of their own projects to listen to her entreaties any more than tothe king's commands, and did not even take the trouble to conceal theirnegotiations with foreign powers, nor their object, which could be nothingbut war. 

It was impossible that such conduct steadily pursued by the king's ownbrothers could be any thing but most pernicious to his cause. It could notfail to excite suspicions of his own good faith. It supplied the Jacobinswith pretexts for putting fresh restraints on his authority; and itfrightened even the Constitutionalists, since it was plain that civil warmust ensue, with, very probably, the addition of foreign war also, ifthese machinations of the emigrants were not suppressed. 

Still, these sweeping proscriptions of entire classes were not yet to thetaste of the nation. Petitions from the country, and even one from thedepartment of the Seine, were presented to Louis, begging him to refusehis assent to the decree against the priests; and the feeling which theyrepresented was so strong, and the reputation of some of the petitionersstood so high for ability and influence, that the ministers believed thathe could safely refuse his sanction to both the votes. Even without theiradvice he would have rejected the decree against the priests, as oneabsolutely incompatible with his reverence for religion and its ministers;and his conduct on this subject supplies one more striking parallel to thehistory of the great English rebellion; since there can hardly be a moreprecise resemblance between events occurring in different ages anddifferent countries than is afforded by the resistance made by Charles tothe last vote of the London Parliament against the bishops, and thisresistance of Louis to the will of the Assembly on behalf of the priests, and by the fatal effect which, in each case, their conscientious andcourageous determination had upon the fortunes of the two sovereigns. 

Louis therefore put his veto on both the decrees, with the exception ofthat clause in the act against the emigrants which summoned his brothersto return to the kingdom. But, that no one might pretend to fancy that heeither approved of the conduct of the emigrants or sympathized with theirprinciples or designs, he issued a circular letter to the governors of thedifferent sea-ports, in which he remonstrated most earnestly with thesailors, numbers of whom, as it was reported in Paris, were preparing tofollow their example. He pointed out in it that those who thus desertedtheir country mistook their duty to that country, to him as their king, and to themselves; that the present aspect of the nation, desirous toreturn to order and to submission to the law, removed every pretext forsuch conduct. He set before them his own example, and bid them remain attheir posts, as he was remaining at his; and, in language more impressivethan that of command, he exhorted them not to turn a deaf ear to hisprayers; and at the same time he addressed letters to the electors ofTrèves and Mayence, and to the other petty German princes whoseterritories, bordering on the Rhine, were the principal resort of theemigrants, requiring them to cease to give them shelter, and announcingthat if they should refuse to remove them from their dominions he shouldconsider their refusal a sufficient ground for war; while, to show that hedid not intend this menace to be a dead letter, he soon afterwardannounced to the Assembly that he had ordered a powerful army of a hundredand fifty thousand men to be moved toward the frontier, under the commandof Marshal Luckner, Marshal Rochambeau, and General La Fayette, and heinvited the members to vote a levy of fifty thousand more men to raise theforce of the nation to its full complement. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Death of Leopold. --Murder of Gustavus of Sweden. --Violence of Vergniaud. --The Ministers resign. --A Girondin Ministry is appointed. --Character ofDumouriez. --Origin of the Name Sans-culottes. --Union of Different Partiesagainst the Queen. --War is declared against the Empire. --Operations in theNetherlands. --Unskillfulness of La Fayette. --The King falls into a Stateof Torpor. --Fresh Libels on the Queen. --Barnave's Advice. --Dumouriez hasan Audience of the Queen. --Dissolution of the Constitutional Guard. --formation of a Camp near Paris. --Louis adheres to his Refusal to assent tothe Decree against the Priests. --Dumouriez resigns his Office, and takescommand of the Army. 

War of some kind--foreign war, civil war, or both combined--hadapparently become inevitable; and Marie Antoinette deceived herself if shethought that the armed congress of sovereigns, for which she was above allthings anxious, could lead to any other result. In any ease, a congressmust have produced one consequence which she deprecated as much as anyother, a waste of time, while, as she truly said, her enemies never wasteda moment. Nor, with the very different views of the policy to be pursued, which the emperor and the King of Prussia entertained (Frederick being anadvocate of an armed intervention in the affairs of France, which Leopoldopposed as impracticable, and, if practicable, impolitic), was it easy tosee how a congress could have brought those monarchs to agree on anyunited system of action. But all projects of that kind necessarily fell tothe ground in consequence of the death of the emperor, which took place, after a very short illness, on the 1st of March, 1792; and before the endof the same month the royal family lost another warm friend in Gustavus ofSweden, who was assassinated in the very midst of preparations which heconfidently hoped might contribute to deliver his brother sovereign fromhis troubles. 

Marie Antoinette spoke truly when she said that the enemies of the crownnever lost time. The very prospect of war increased the divisions of theAssembly, since the Jacobins were undisguisedly averse to it. Not one oftheir body had any reputation for skill in arms, so that in the event ofwar it was evident that the chief commands, both in army and navy, must beconferred on persons unconnected with them; while the Girondins, though, as far as was yet known, equally destitute of members possessed of anymilitary ability, looked on war as favorable to their designs, whatevermight be the issue of a campaign. They were above all things eager for thedestruction of the monarchy, and they reckoned that if the French armywere victorious, its success would disable those who were most willing andmight be most able to support the throne; while, if the enemy shouldprevail, it would be easy to represent their triumph as the fruit of themismanagement, if not of the treachery, of the king's generals andministers; and the opposition of these two parties was at this time sonotorious that the queen thought it favorable to the king, since eachwould be eager to preserve him as a possible ally against its adversaries. It is for her husband's and her child's safety that she expresses anxiety, never for her own. With respect to herself her uniform language is that offearlessness. She does not for a moment conceal from her correspondentsher sense of the dangers which surround her. She has not only openhostility to fear, but treachery, which is far worse; and she declaresthat "a perpetual imprisonment in a solitary tower on the sea-shore wouldbe a less cruel fate than that which she daily endures from the wickednessof her enemies and the weakness of her friends. Every thing menaces aninevitable catastrophe; but she is prepared for every thing. She haslearned from her mother not to fear death. That may as well come to-day asto-morrow. She only fears for her dear children, and for those she loves;and high among those whom she loves she places her sister-in-lawElizabeth, who is always an angel aiding her to support her sorrows, andwho, with her poor, dear children, never quits her. [1]"

A long continuance of sorrows and fears, such as had now for nearly threeyears pressed upon the writer of this letter, would so wear away and breakdown ordinary souls that, when a crisis came, they would be found whollyunequal to grapple with it; and we may therefore the better form some ideaof the strength of mind and almost superhuman fortitude of this admirablequeen, if, from time to time, we fix our attention on these notexaggerated complaints, for indeed the misfortunes that elicited themadmit of no exaggeration; and then remember that, after so long a periodof such uninterrupted suffering, her spirit was so far from being broken, that, as increasing dangers and horrors thickened around her, her courageseemed to increase also. Her faithful attendant, Madame de Campan, hasremarked that her troubles had not even affected her temper; that no oneever saw her out of humor. In every respect, to the very last, she showedherself superior to the utmost malice of her enemies. 

The news of the death of Leopold, whose son and successor, Francis, wasbut three-and-twenty years of age, gave fresh encouragement to hissister's enemies. The intelligence had hardly reached Paris when Vergniaudbegan to prepare the way for a fresh assault on the crown by adenunciation of the ministers, while the Jacobins and Cordeliers made anopen attack upon another club which the Constitutionalists had latelyformed under the name of Les Feuillants, holding its meetings in a conventof the Monks of St. Bernard, [2] and closed it by main force. Thoughseveral soldiers, and La Fayette among them, were members of theFeuillants, they made no resistance; they only applied to Pétion, as mayorof the city, for protection; and that worthy magistrate refused them aid, telling them that though the law forbade them to be attacked, the voice ofthe people was against them, and to that voice he was bound to listen. 

The ministers fell before Vergniaud, and the unhappy king had no resourcebut to choose their successors from the party which had triumphed overthem. The absurd law by which the last Assembly had excluded its membersfrom office was still in force, so that the orator himself and hiscolleagues could obtain no personal promotion; but they were able tonominate the new ministers, who, with but one exception, were all menequally devoid of ability and reputation, and therefore were the betterfitted to be the tools of those to whom they owed their preferment. Thenames of three were Lacoste, Degraves, and Duranton, of whom nothingbeyond their names is known. A fourth was Roland, who was indeed known, though not for any abilities of his own, but as the husband of the womanwho, as has been already mentioned, was the first person in the wholenation to raise the cry for the murder of the king and queen, and whosefierce thirst for blood so predominated over every other feeling that afew weeks afterward she even began to urge the assassination of the onlyone among her husband's colleagues who was possessed of the slightestability because his views did not altogether coincide with her own. 

General Dumouriez, whom she thus honored by singling him out for herespecial hatred, was an exception to his colleagues in several points. Hewas a man of middle age, who enjoyed a good reputation, not only formilitary skill, but also for diplomatic sagacity and address, earned asfar back as the latter years of the preceding reign; and he was so farfrom being originally imbued with revolutionary principles that, when, inthe summer of 1789, a mutinous spirit first appeared among the troops inParis, he volunteered to place his services at the king's disposal, recommending measures of vigor and resolution, which, if they had beenadopted, might have quelled the spirit of rebellion, and have changed thewhole subsequent history of the nation. But as Necker had rejectedMirabeau a few weeks before, so he also rejected Dumouriez; and discontentat the treatment which he received from the minister, and which seemed toprove that active employment, of which he was desirous, could only beobtained through some other influence, drove the general into the ranks ofthe Revolutionary party. He now accepted the post of foreign secretary inthe new ministry; but the connection with the enemies of the monarchy wasuncongenial to his taste; and, after a short time, the frequentintercourse with Louis, which was the necessary consequence of hisappointment, and the conviction of the king's perfect honesty andpatriotism which this intercourse forced upon him, revived his oldfeelings of loyalty, and, so long as he remained in office, he honestlyendeavored to avert the evils which he foresaw, and to give the advice andto support the policy by which, in his honest belief, it was alonepossible for Louis to preserve his authority. 

Dumouriez was a gentleman in birth and manners; but his colleagues had solittle of either the habits or appearance of decent society that theattendants on the royal family gave them the name of the Sans-culottes;and this name, meant originally to describe the absence of the ordinarycourt dress, without which no previous ministers had ever ventured toappear in the presence of royalty, was presently adopted as a distinctivetitle by the whole body of the extreme revolutionists, who knew the valueof a name under which to bind their followers together. [3]

The attacks on the ministry were accompanied with more direct attacks onthe king and queen themselves than had ever been ventured on in the formerAssembly. By this time the system of espial and treachery by which theywere surrounded had become so systematic that they could not even send amessenger to their nephew, the emperor, except under a feigned name;[4]and the Baron de Breteuil, who announced his mission to Francis, reportedto him at the same time that the chiefs of the Assembly were proposing topass votes suspending the "king from his functions, and to separate thequeen from him on the ground that an impeachment was to be presentedagainst both, as having solicited the late emperor to form a confederacyamong the great powers of Europe in favor of the royal prerogative. " Thequeen was, in fact, now, as always, more the object of their hatred thanher husband, and toward the end of March a reconciliation of all herenemies took place, that the attack upon her might be combined with astrength that should insure its success. The Marquis de Condorcet, a manof some eminence in philosophy, as the word had been understood since thereign of the Encyclopedists, and closely connected with the Girondins, though not formally enrolled in their party, gave a supper, at which theDuc d'Orléans formally reconciled himself to La Fayette; and both, incompany with Brissot and the Abbé Siéyes, who of late had scarcely beenheard of, drew up an indictment against the queen. [5] Their malignity evenwent the length of resolving to separate the dauphin from his mother, onthe plea of providing for his education; but the means which the Girondinstook to secure their triumph for the moment defeated them. La Fayette didnot keep the secret. One of his friends gave information to the king ofthe plot that was in contemplation, and the next day theConstitutionalists mustered in the Assembly in such strength that neitherGirondins nor Jacobins dared bring forward the infamous proposal. 

But Louis and Marie Antoinette reasonably regarded the attack on them asonly postponed, not as defeated or abandoned. They began to prepare forthe worst. They burned most of their papers, and removed into the custodyof friends whom they could trust those which they regarded as too valuableto destroy; and at the same time they sent notice to their partisans tocease writing to them. They could neither venture to send nor to receiveletters. They believed that at this time the plan of their enemies was toterrify them into repeating their attempt to escape; an attempt of whichthe espial and treachery with which they were surrounded would haveinsured the failure, but which would have given the Jacobins a pretext fortheir trial and condemnation. But this scheme they could themselves defeatby remaining at their posts. Patience and courage was their only possibledefense, and with those qualities they were richly endowed. 

A vital difference of principle distinguished the old from the newministry: the former had wished to preserve, the majority of the latterwere resolved to destroy, the throne; and the means by which each soughtto attain its end were as diametrically opposite as the ends themselves. Bertrand and De Lessart, the ministers who, in the late administration, had enjoyed most of the king and queen's confidence, had been studious topreserve peace, believing that policy to be absolutely essential for thesafety of Louis himself. Because they entertained the same opinion, thenew ministers were eager for war; and, unhappily Dumouriez, in spite ofhis desire to uphold the throne, was animated by the same feeling. His owntalents and tastes were warlike, and his office enabled him to gratifythem in this instance. For the conciliatory tone which De Lessart hademployed toward the Imperial Government, he now substituted a language notonly imperious, but menacing. Prince Kaunitz, who still presided over theadministration at Vienna, attached though he was to the system of policywhich he had inaugurated under Maria Teresa, could not avoid replying in asimilar strain, until at last, on the 20th of April, Louis, sorely againsthis will, was compelled to announce to the Assembly that all his effortsfor the preservation of peace had failed, and to propose an instantdeclaration of war. 

The declaration was voted with enthusiasm; but for some time it broughtnothing but disaster. The campaign was opened in the Netherlands, wherethe Austrians, taken by surprise, were so weak in numbers that it seemedcertain that they would be driven from the country without difficulty ordelay. Marshal Beaulieu, their commander-in-chief, had scarcely twentythousand men, while the Count de Narbonne had left the French army in sogood a condition that Degraves, his successor, was able to send a hundredand thirty thousand men against him; and Dumouriez furnished him with aplan for an invasion of the Netherlands, which, if properly carried out, would have made the French masters of the whole country in a few days. Butthe largest division of the army, to which the execution of the mostimportant portions of the intended operations was intrusted, had beenplaced under the command of La Fayette, who proved equally devoid ofresolution and of skill. Some of his regiments showed a disorderly andinsubordinate temper. One battalion first mutinied and murdered some ofits officers, and then disgraced itself by cowardice in the field. Anotherdisplayed an almost equal want of courage; and La Fayette, disheartenedand perplexed, though the number of his troops still more than doubledthose opposed to him, retreated into France, and remained there in a stateof complete inactivity. 

But, as has been said before, disaster was almost as favorable to thepolitical views of the Girondins as success, while it added to the dangersof the sovereigns by encouraging the Jacobins, who were elated at thefailure of a general so hateful to them as La Fayette. They now adopted aparty emblem, a red cap; and the Duc d'Orléans and his son, the Duc deChartres, [6] assumed it, and with studied insult paraded in it up and downthe gardens of the palace, under the queen's windows; and if the twofactions did not formally coalesce, they both proceeded with greaterboldness than ever toward their desired object, not greatly differing asto the means by which it was to be attained. 

The palace was now indeed a scene of misery. The king's apathy wasdegenerating into despair. At one time he was so utterly prostrated thathe remained for ten days absolutely silent, never uttering a word exceptto name his throws when playing at backgammon with Elizabeth. At last thequeen roused him from his torpor, throwing herself at his feet, andmingling caresses with her expostulations; entreating him to remember whathe owed to his family, and reminding him that, if they must perish, it wasbetter at least to perish with honor, and be king to the last, than towait passively till assassins should come and murder them in their ownrooms. She herself was in a condition in which nothing but her indomitablecourage prevented her from utterly breaking down. Sleep had deserted her. By day she rarely ventured out-of-doors. Riding she had given up, and shefeared to walk in the garden of the Tuileries, even in the little portionmarked off for the dauphin's playground, lest she should expose herself tothe coarse insults which, the basest of hirelings were ever on the watchto offer her. [7] She could not even venture to go openly to mass atEaster, but was forced to arrange for one of her chaplains to perform theservice for her before daylight. Balked of their wish to offer herpersonal insults, her enemies redoubled their diligence in inventing andspreading libels. The demagogues of the Palais Royal revived the storiesof her subservience to the interests of Austria, and even sent lettersforged in her name to different members of the Assembly, inviting them toprivate conferences with her in the apartments of Madame de Lamballe. Butshe treated all such attacks with lofty disdain, and was even greatlyannoyed when she learned that the chief of the police, with the king'ssanction, had bought up a life of Madame La Mothe, in which that infamouswoman pretended to give a true account of the affair of her necklace, andhad had it burned in the manufactory of Sèvres. She thought, with somereason, that to take a step which seemed to show a dread of such attackswas the surest way to encourage more of them, and that apparentindifference to them was the only line of action consistent with herinnocence or with her dignity. 

The increasing dangers of her position moved the pity of some who had oncebeen her enemies, and sharpened their desire to serve her. Barnave, whoprobably overrated his present influence[8] in many letters pressed hisadvice upon her; of which the substance was that she should lay aside herdistrust of the Constitutionalist party, and, with the king, throw herselfwholly on the Constitution, to which the nation was profoundly attached. He even admitted that it was not without defects; but held out a hopethat, with the aid of the Royalists, he and his friends might be able toamend them, and in time to re-invest the throne with all necessarysplendor. And the queen was so touched by his evident earnestness that shegranted him an audience, and assured him of her esteem and confidence. Barnave was partly correct in his judgment, but he overlooked oneall-essential circumstance. There is no doubt that he spoke truly when hedeclared that the nation in general was attached to the Constitution; buthe failed to give sufficient weight to the consideration that the Jacobinsand Girondins were agreed in seeking to overthrow it, and that for thatobject they were acting with a concert and an energy to which he and hisparty were strangers. 

Dumouriez too was equally earnest in his desire to serve the king and her, with far greater power to be useful than Barnave. He too was admitted toan audience, of which he has left us an account which, while it shows bothhis notions of the state of the country and of the rival parties, and alsohis own sincerity, is no less characteristic of the queen herself. Admitted to her presence, he found her, as he describes the interview, looking very red, walking up and down the room with impetuous strides, inan agitation which presaged a stormy discussion. The different eventswhich had taken place since the king in the preceding autumn had ratifiedthe Constitution, the furious language held in, and the violent measurescarried by, the Assembly, had evidently changed her belief in thepossibility of attempting, even for a short time, to carry on theGovernment under the conditions imposed by that act. She came toward himwith an air which was at once majestic and yet showed irritation, andsaid:

"You, sir, are all-powerful at this moment; but it is only by the favor ofthe people, which soon breaks its idols to pieces. Your existence dependson your conduct. You are said to have great talents. You must see thatneither the king nor I can endure all these novelties nor theConstitution. I tell you this frankly. Now choose your side. "

To this fervid apostrophe Dumouriez replied in a tone which he intended tocombine a sorrowful tenderness with loyal respect:

"Madame, " said he, "I am overwhelmed with the painful confidence whichyour majesty has reposed in me. I will not betray it; but I am placedbetween the king and the nation, and I belong to my country. Permit me torepresent to you that the safety of the king, of yourself, and of youraugust children is bound up with the Constitution, as well as is there-establishment of the king's legitimate authority. You are bothsurrounded with enemies who are sacrificing you to their own interests. "The unfortunate queen, shocked as well as surprised at this opposition toher views, replied, raising her voice, "That will not last; take care ofyourself. " "Madame, " replied he, in his turn, "I am more than fifty yearsold. My life has been passed in countless dangers, and when I took officeI reflected deeply that its responsibility was not the greatest of itsperils. " "This was alone wanting, " cried out the queen, with an accent ofindignant grief, and as if astonished herself at her own vehemence. 

"This alone was wanting to calumniate me! You seem to suppose that I amcapable of causing you to be assassinated!" and she burst into tears. Dumouriez was as agitated as she was. "God forbid, " he replied, "that Ishould do you such an injustice!" And he added some flattering expressionsof attachment, such as he thought calculated to soothe a mind so proud, yet so crushed. And presently she calmed herself, and came up to him, putting her hand on his arm; and he resumed: "Believe me, madame, I haveno object in deceiving you; I abhor anarchy and crime as much as you do. Believe me, I have experience; I am better placed than your majesty forjudging of events. This is not a short-lived popular movement, as you seemto think. It is the almost unanimous insurrection of a great nationagainst inveterate abuses. There are great factions which fan this flame. In all factions there are many scoundrels and many madmen. In theRevolution I see nothing but the king and the entire nation. Every thingwhich tends to separate them tends to their mutual ruin: I am laboring asmuch as I can to reunite them. It is for you to help me. If I am anobstacle to your designs, and if you persist in thinking so, tell me so. And I will at once send in my resignation to the king, and will retireinto a corner to grieve over the fate of my country and of you. " And heconcludes his narrative by expressing his belief that he had regained thequeen's confidence by his frank explanation of his views, while he himselfin his turn was evidently fascinated by the affability with which, after abrief further conversation, she dismissed him. [9] Though, if we may trustMadame de Campan, Marie Antoinette was not as satisfied as she had seemedto be, but declared that it was not possible for her to place confidencein his protestations when she recollected his former language and acts, and the party with which he was even now acting. 

Madame de Campan probably gives a more correct report of the queen'sfeelings than the general himself, whom the consciousness of his ownintegrity of purpose very probably misled into believing that he hadconvinced her of it. But, though, if Marie Antoinette did listen to hisprofessions and advice with some degree of mistrust, she undoubtedly didhim less than justice: she can hardly be blamed for indulging such afeeling, when it is remembered in what an atmosphere of treachery she hadlived for the last three years. Undoubtedly Dumouriez, though not athorough-going Royalist like M. Bertrand, was not only in intention anhonest and friendly counselor, but was by far the ablest adviser who hadhad access to her since the death of Mirabeau, and in one respect was amore judicious and trustworthy adviser than even that brilliant andfertile statesman; since he did not fall into the error of miscalculatingwhat was practical, or of overrating his own influence with the Assemblyor the nation. 

Yet, had the king and queen adopted his views ever so unreservedly, it maywell be doubted whether they would have averted or even deferred the fatewhich awaited them. The leaders of the two parties, before whose unionthey fell, had as little attachment to the new Constitution as the queen. The moment that they obtained the undisputed ascendency, they trampled itunderfoot in every one of its provisions. Constitution or no Constitution, they were determined to overthrow the throne and to destroy those to whomit belonged; and to men animated with such a resolution it signifiedlittle what pretext might be afforded them by any actions of theirdestined victims. The wolf never yet wanted a plea for devouring the lamb. 

One of the first fruits of the union between the Jacobins and theGirondins was the preparation of an insurrection. The Assembly did notmove fast enough for them. It might be still useful as an auxiliary, butthe lead in the movement the clubs assumed to themselves. Their first carewas to deprive the king of all means of resistance, and with this view toget rid of the Constitutional Guard, the commander of which was still thegallant Duke de Brissac, a noble-minded and faithful adherent of Louisamidst all his distresses. But it was not easy to find any ground fordisbanding a force which was too small to be formidable to any buttraitors; and the pretext which was put forward was so preposterous thatit could excite no feeling but that of amusement, if the object aimed atwere not too serious and shocking for laughter. At Easter the dauphin hadpresented the mess of the regiment with a cake, one of the ornaments ofwhich was a small white flag taken from among his own toys. Pétion nowissued orders to search the officers' quarters for this child's flag, and, when it was found, one of the Jacobin members was not ashamed to produceit to the Assembly as a proof that the court was meditating a counter-revolution and a massacre of the patriots, and to propose the instantdissolution of the Guard. The motion was carried, though some of theConstitutionalist party had the honesty to oppose it, as one which couldhave only regicide for its object; and Louis did not dare refuse it hisassent. 

He was now wholly disarmed. To render his defeat in the impending strugglemore certain, one of the ministers, Servan, himself proposed a levy oftwenty thousand fresh soldiers, to be stationed permanently at Paris, andthis motion also was passed. Again Louis could not venture to withhold hissanction from the bill, though he comforted himself by dismissing themover, with two of his colleagues, Roland and Clavière. Roland's dismissalhad indeed become indispensable, since, on the preceding day, he had hadthe audacity to write him an insolent letter, composed by his ferociouswife, which in express terms threatened him with death "if he did not givesatisfaction to the Revolution. [10]" Nor was Madame Roland inclined to besatisfied with the murder of the king and queen. As has been alreadymentioned, she at the same time urged upon her submissive husband theassassination of Dumouriez, who, having intelligence of her enmity, beganin self-defense to connect himself with the Jacobins. On the dismissal ofRoland and the others, he had exchanged the foreign port-folio for that ofwar, and was practically the prime minister, being in fact the only onewhom Louis admitted to any degree of confidence; but this arrangementlasted less than a single week. Louis had yielded to and adopted hisadvice on every point but one. He had sanctioned the dismissal of theConstitutional Guard, and the formation of the new body of troops, which, no one doubted, was intended to be used against himself; but he was asfirmly convinced as ever that his religious duty bound him to refuse hisassent to the decree against the priests, and he refused to do a violenceto his conscience, and to commit what he regarded as a sin. But this verydecree was the one which Dumouriez regarded as the most dangerous one forhim to reject, as being that which the Assembly was most firmly resolvedto make law; and, as his most vigorous remonstrances failed to shake theking's resolution on this point, he resigned his post as a minister, andrepaired to the Flemish frontier to take the command of the army, whichgreatly needed an able leader. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

The Insurrection of June 20th. 

Both Jacobins and Girondins felt that the departure of Dumouriez fromParis had removed a formidable obstacle from their path, and they at oncebegan to hurry forward the preparations for their meditated insurrection. The general gave in his resignation on the 15th of June, and the 20th wasfixed for an attack on the palace, by which its contrivers designed toeffect the overthrow of the throne, if not the destruction of the entireroyal family. It was organized with unusual deliberation. The meetings ofconspirators were attended not only by the Girondin leaders, to whomMadame Roland had recently added a new recruit, a young barrister from theSouth, named Barbaroux, remarkable for his personal beauty, and, as wassoon seen, for a pitiless hardness of heart, and energetic delight indeeds of cruelty that, even in that blood-thirsty company, was equaled byfew; with them met all those as yet most notorious for ferocity--Dantonand Legendre, the founders of the Cordeliers; Marat, daily, in his obsceneand blasphemous newspaper, clamoring for wholesale bloodshed; Santerre, odious as the sanguinary leader of the very first outbreaks of theRevolution; Rotondo, already, as we have seen, detected in attempting toassassinate the queen; and Pétion, who thus repaid her preference of himto La Fayette, which had placed him in the mayoralty, whose duties he wasnow betraying. Some, too, bore a part in the foul conspiracy as partisansof the Duc d'Orléans, who were generally understood to have instructionsto be lavish of their master's gold, the vile prince hoping that theresult of the outbreak would be the assassination of his cousin, and hisown elevation to the vacant throne. In their speeches they gave Louis thename of Monsieur Veto, in allusion to the still legal exercise of hisprerogative, by which he had sought to protect the priests; while thequeen was called Madame Veto, though in fact she had finally joinedDumouriez in urging her husband to give his royal assent to the decreeagainst them, not, as thinking it on any pretense justifiable, but asbelieving, with the general, in the impossibility of maintaining itsrejection. Yet nothing could more completely prove the absolute innocenceand unimpeachable good faith of both king and queen than the act of hisenemies in giving them this nickname; so clear an evidence was it thatthey could allege nothing more odious against them than the possession byLouis, in a most modified degree, of a prerogative which, without anymodification at all, has in every country been at all times regarded asindispensable to, and inseparable from, royalty; and the exercise of itfor the defense of a body of men of whom none could deny the entireharmlessness. 

On the night of the 19th the appointed leaders of the different bands intowhich the insurgents were to be divided separated; the watch-word, "Destruction to the palace, " was given out; and all Paris waited inanxious terror for the events of the morrow. Louis was as well aware asany of the citizens of the intended attack, and prepared for it as fordeath. On the afternoon of the 19th he wrote to his confessor to desirehim to come to him at once. "He had never, " he said, "had such need of hisconsolations. He had done with this world, and his thoughts were now fixedon Heaven alone. Great calamities were announced for the morrow; but hefelt that he had courage to meet them. " And after the holy man had lefthim, as he gazed on the setting sun he once more gave utterance to hisforebodings. "Who can tell, " said he, "whether it be not the last that Ishall ever see?" The Royalists felt his danger almost as keenly ashimself, but were powerless to prevent it by any means of their own. TheDuke de Liancourt, who had some title to be listened to by theRevolutionary party, since no one had been more zealous in promoting themost violent measures of the first Assembly, pressed earnestly on Pétionthat his duty as mayor bound him to call out the National Guards, and soprevent the intended outbreak, but was answered by sarcasms and insults;while Vergniaud, from the tribune of the Assembly itself, dared to derideall who apprehended danger. 

On the morning of the 20th, daylight had scarcely dawned when twentythousand men, the greater part of whom were armed with some weapon orother--muskets, pikes, hatchets, crowbars, and even spits from thecook-shops forming part of their equipment--assembled on the place wherethe Bastile had stood. Santerre was already there on horseback as theirappointed leader; and, when all were collected and marshaled in threedivisions, they began their march. One division had for its chief theMarquis de St. Huruge, an intimate friend and adherent of the Ducd'Orléans; at the head of another, a woman of notorious infamy, known asLa Belle Liégeoise, clad in male attire, rode astride upon a cannon;while, as it advanced, the crowd was every moment swelled by vast bodiesof recruits, among whom were numbers of women, whose imprecations inferocity and foulness surpassed even the foulest threats of the men. 

The ostensible object of the procession was to present petitions to theking and the Assembly on the dismissal of Roland and his colleagues fromthe administration, and on the refusal of the royal assent to the decreeagainst the priests. The real design of those who had organized it wasmore truthfully shown by the banners and emblems borne aloft in the ranks. "Beware the Lamp, [1]" was the inscription on one. "Death to Veto and hiswife, " was read upon another. A gang of butchers carried a calf's heart onthe point of a pike, with "The Heart of an Aristocrat" for a motto. A bandof crossing-sweepers, or of men who professed to be such, though thefineness of their linen was inconsistent with the rags which were theiroutward garments, had for their standard a pair of ragged breeches, withthe inscription, "Tremble, tyrants; here are the Sans-culottes. " One gangof ruffians carried a model of a guillotine. Another bore aloft aminiature gallows with an effigy of the queen herself hanging from it. Sogreat was the crowd that it was nearly three in the afternoon before thehead of it reached the Assembly, where its approach had raised a debate onthe propriety of receiving any petition at all which was to be presentedin so menacing a guise; M. Roederer, the procurator-syndic, or chief legalofficer of the department of Paris, recommending its rejection, on theground that such a procession was illegal, not only because of its avowedobject of forcing its way to the king, but also because it was likely tolead into acts of violence even if it had not premeditated them. 

His arguments were earnestly supported by the constitutionalists, andopposed and ridiculed by Vergniaud. But before the discussion was over, the rioters, who had now reached the hall, took the decision into theirown hands, forced open the door, and put forward a spokesman to read whatthey called a petition, but which was in truth a sanguinary denunciationof those whom it proclaimed the enemies of the nation, and of whom itdemanded that "the land should be purged. " Insolent and ferocious as itwas, it, however, coincided with the feelings of the Girondins, who werenow the masters of the Assembly. One orator carried a motion that thepetitioners should receive what were called the honors of the Assembly;or, in other words, should be allowed to enter the hall with their armsand defile before them. They poured in with exulting uproar. Songs, halfblood-thirsty and half obscene, gestures indicative some of murder, someof debauchery, cries of "Vive la nation!" interspersed with inarticulateyells, were the sounds, the guillotine and the queen upon the gallows werethe sights, which were thought in character with the legislature of apeople which still claimed to be regarded as the pattern of civilizationby all Europe. Evening approached before the last of the rabble had passedthrough the hall; and by that time the leading ranks were in front of theTuileries. 

There were but scanty means of resisting them. A few companies of theNational Guard formed the whole protection of the palace; and with themthe agents of Orleans and the Girondins had been briskly tampering all themorning. Many had been seduced. A few remained firm in their loyalty; butthose on whom the royal family had the best reason to rely were a band ofgentlemen, with the veteran Marshal de Noailles at their head, who hadrepaired to the Tuileries in the morning to furnish to their sovereignsuch defense as could be found in their loyal and devoted gallantry. Someof them besides the old marshal, the Count d'Hervilly, who had commandedthe cavalry of the Constitutional Guard, and M. D'Acloque, an officer ofthe National Guard, brought military experience to aid their valor, andmade such arrangements as the time and character of the building renderedpracticable to keep the rioters at bay. But the utmost bravery of such ahandful of men, for they were no more, and even the more solid resistanceof iron gates and barriers, were unavailing against the thousands thatassailed them. Exasperated at finding the gates closed against them, therioters began to beat upon them with sledge-hammers. Presently they werejoined by Sergent and Panis, two of the municipal magistrates, who orderedthe sentinels to open the gates to the sovereign people. The sentinelsfled; the gates were opened or broken down; the mob seized one of thecannons which stood in the Place du Carrousel, carried it up the stairs ofthe palace, and planted it against the door of the royal apartments; and, while they shouted out a demand that the king should show himself, theybegan to batter the door as before they had battered the gates, andthreatened, if it should not yield to their hatchets, to blow it down withcannon-shot. 

Fear of personal danger was not one of the king's weaknesses. The hatchetsbeat down the outer door, and, as it fell, he came forth from the roombehind, and with unruffled countenance accosted the ruffians who werepouring through it. His sister, the Princess Elizabeth, was at his side. He had charged those around him to keep the queen back; and she, knowinghow special an object of the popular hatred and fury she was, with afortitude beyond that which defies death, remained out of sight lest sheshould add to his danger. For a moment the mob, respecting, in spite ofthemselves, the calm heroism with which they were confronted, paused intheir onset; but those in front were pushed on by those behind, and pikeswere leveled and blows were aimed at both the king and the princess, whomthey mistook for the queen. At first there were but one or two attendantsat the king's side, but they were faithful and brave men. One struck downa ruffian who was lifting his weapon to aim a blow at Louis himself. Apike was even leveled at his sister, when her equerry, M. Bousquet, toofar off to bring her the aid of his right hand, called out, "Spare theprincess. " Delicate as were her frame and features, Elizabeth was worthyof her blood, and as dauntless as the rest. She turned to her preserveralmost reproachfully: "Why did you undeceive him? it might have saved thequeen. " But after a few seconds, Acloque with some grenadiers of theNational Guard on whom he could still rely, hastened up by a backstaircase to defend his sovereign; and, with the aid of some of thegentlemen who had come with the Marshal de Noailles, drew the king backinto a recess formed by a window; and raised a rampart of benches in frontof him, and one still more trustworthy of their own bodies. They wouldgladly have attacked the rioters and driven them back, but were restrainedby Louis himself. "Put up your swords, " said he; "this crowd is excitedrather than wicked. " And he addressed those who had forced their way intothe room with words of condescending conciliation. They replied withthreats and imprecations; and sought to force their way onward, pressingback by their mere numbers and weight the small group of loyal championswho by this time had gathered in front of him. 

So great was the uproar that presently a report reached the main body ofthe insurgents, who were still in the garden beneath, that Louis had beenkilled; and they mingled shouts of triumph with cheers for Orleans astheir new king, and demanded that the heads of the king and queen shouldbe thrown down to them from the windows; but no actual injury wasinflicted on Louis, though he owed his safety more to his own calmnessthan even to the devotion of his guards. One ruffian threatened him withinstant death if he did not at once grant every prayer contained in theirpetition. He replied, as composedly as if he had been on his throne atVersailles, that the present was not the time for making such a demand, nor was this the way in which to make it. The dignity of the answer seemedto imply a contempt for the threateners, and the mob grew more uproarious. "Fear not, sire, " said one of Acloque's grenadiers, "we are around you. "The king took the man's hand and placed it on his heart, which was beatingmore calmly than that of the soldier himself. "Judge yourself, " said he, "if I fear. " Legendre, the butcher, raised his pike as if to strike him, while he reproached him as a traitor and the enemy of his country. "I amnot, and never have been aught but the sincerest friend of my people, " wasthe gentle but fearless answer. "If it be so, put on this red cap, " andthe butcher thrust one into his hand on the end of his pike, prepared, asLouis believed, to plunge the weapon itself into his breast if he refused. The king put it on, and so little regarded it that he forgot to remove itagain, as he afterward repented that he had not done, thinking that hisconduct in allowing it to remain on his head bore too strong a resemblanceto fear or to an unworthy compromise of his dignity. 

But still the uproar increased, and above it rose loud cries for thequeen, till at last she also came forward. As yet, from the motives thathave already been mentioned, she had consented to remain out of sight; buteach explosion of the mob increased her unwillingness to keep back. Itwas, she felt, her duty to be always at the king's side; if need be, todie with him; to stand aloof was infamy; and at last, as the demands forher appearance increased, even those around her confessed that it might besafer for her to show herself. The door was thrown open, and, leadingforth her children, from whom she refused to part, and accompanied byMadame de Tourzel, Madame de Lamballe, and others of her ladies, the mosttimid of whom seemed as if inspired by her example, Marie Antoinetteadvanced and took her place by the side of her husband, and, with headerect and color heightened by the sight of her enemies, faced themdisdainfully. As lions in their utmost rage have recoiled before a man whohas looked them steadily in the face, so did even those miscreants quailbefore their pure and high-minded queen. At first it seemed as if herbitterest enemies were to be found among her own sex. The men were for amoment silenced; but a young girl, whose appearance was not that of thelowest class, came forward and abused her in coarse and furious language, especially reviling her as "the Austrian. " The queen, astonished atfinding such animosity in one apparently tender and gentle, condescendedto expostulate with her. "Why do you hate me? I have never injured you. ""You have not injured me, but it is you who cause the misery of thenation. " "Poor child, " replied Marie Antoinette, "they have deceived you. I am the wife of your king, the mother of your dauphin, who will be yourking. I am a Frenchwoman in every feeling of my heart. I shall never againsee Austria. I can only be happy or unhappy in France, and I was happywhen you loved me. " The girl was melted by her patience and gentleness. She burst into tears of shame, and begged pardon for her previous conduct. "I did not know you, " she said; "I see now that you are good. [2]" Anotherasked her, "How old is your girl?" "She is old enough, " replied the queen, "to feel acutely such scenes as these. " But, while these briefconversations were going on, the crowd kept pressing forward. One officerhad drawn a table in front of the queen as she advanced, so as to screenher from actual contact with any of the rioters, but more than one of themstretched across it as if to reach her. One fellow demanded that sheshould put a red cap, which he threw to her, on the head of the dauphin, and, as she saw the king wearing one, she consented; but it was too largeand fell down the child's face, almost stifling him with its thickness. Santerre himself reached across and removed it, and, leaning with hishands on the table, which shook beneath his vehemence, addressed her withwhat he meant for courtesy. "Princess, " said he, "do not fear. The Frenchpeople do not wish to slay you. I promise this in their name. " MarieAntoinette had long ago declared that her heart had become French; it wastoo much so for her to allow such a man's claim to be the spokesman of thenation. "It is not by such as you, " she replied, with lofty scorn; "it isnot by such as you that I judge of the French people, but by brave menlike these;" and she pointed to the gentlemen who were standing round heras her champions, and to the faithful grenadiers. The well-timed andwell-deserved compliment roused them to still greater enthusiasm, butalready the danger was passing away. 

The Assembly had seen with indifference the departure of the mob to attackthe Tuileries, and had proceeded with its ordinary business as if nothingwere likely to happen which could call for its interference. But when theuproar within the palace became audible in the hall, the Count de Dumas, one of the very few men of noble birth who had been returned to thissecond Assembly, with a few other deputies of the better class, hastenedto see what was taking place, and, quickly returning, reported the king'simminent danger to their colleagues. Dumas gave such offense by theboldness of his language that some of the Jacobins threatened him withviolence, but he refused to be silenced; and his firmness prevailed, asfirmness nearly always did prevail in an Assembly where, though there weremany fierce and vehement blusterers, there were very few men of realcourage. In compliance with his vehement demand for instant action, adeputation of members was sent to take measures for the king's safety; andthen, at last, Pétion, who had carefully kept aloof while there seemed tobe a chance of the king being murdered, now that he could no longer hopefor such a consummation, repaired to the palace and presented himselfbefore him. To him he had the effrontery to declare that he had only justbecome apprised of his situation. From the Assembly, at a later hour inthe evening, he claimed the credit of having organized the riot. But Louiswould not condescend to pretend to believe him. "It was extraordinary, " hereplied, "that Pétion should not have earlier known what had lasted solong. " Even he could not but be for a moment abashed at the king'sunwonted expression of indignation. But he soon recovered himself, andwith unequaled impudence turned and thanked the crowd for the moderationand dignity with which they had exercised the right of petition, and bidthem "finish the day in similar conformity with the law, and retire totheir homes. " They obeyed. The interference of the deputies had convincedtheir leaders that they could not succeed in their purpose now. Santerre, whose softer mood, such as it had been, had soon passed away, mutteredwith a deep oath that they had missed their blow, but must try it againhereafter. For the present he led off his brigands; the palace and gardenswere restored to quiet, though the traces of the assault to which they hadbeen exposed could not easily be effaced; and Louis and his family wereleft in tranquillity to thank God for their escape, but to forebode alsothat similar trials were in store for them, all of which, it was notlikely, would have so innocent a termination. [3]

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Feelings of Marie Antoinette. --Different Plans are formed for her Escape. --She hopes for Aid from Austria and Prussia. --La Fayette comes to Paris. --His Mismanagement. --An Attempt is made to assassinate the Queen. --TheMotion of Bishop Lamourette. --The Feast of the Federation. --La Fayetteproposes a Plan for the King's Escape. --Bertrand proposes Another. --Bothare rejected by the Queen. 

We can do little more than guess at the feelings of Marie Antoinette aftersuch a day of horrors. She could scarcely venture to write a letter, lestit should fall into hands for which it was not intended, and bemisinterpreted so as to be mischievous to herself and to hercorrespondents. And two brief notes--one on the 4th of July to Mercy, andone written a day or two later to the Landgravine of Hesse-Darmstadt--areall that, so far as we know, proceeded from her pen in the sad periodbetween the two attacks on the palace. Brief as they are, they arecharacteristic as showing her unshaken resolution to perform her duty toher family, and proving at the same time how absolutely free she was fromany delusion as to the certain event of the struggle in which she wasengaged. No courage was ever more entirely founded on high and virtuousprinciple, for no one was ever less sustained by hope. To Mercy she says:

"July 4th, 1792. 

"You know the occurrences of the 20th of June. Our position becomes everyday more critical. There is nothing but violence and rage on one side, weakness and inactivity on the other. We can reckon neither on theNational Guard nor on the army. We do not know whether to remain in Paris, or to throw ourselves into some other place. It is more than time for thepowers to speak out boldly. The 14th of July and the days which willfollow it may become days of general mourning for France, and of regret tothe powers who will have been too slow in explaining themselves. All islost if the factions are not arrested in their wickedness by fear ofimpending chastisement. They are resolved on a republic at all risks. Toarrive at that, they have determined to assassinate the king. It would benecessary that any manifesto[1] should make the National Assembly andParis responsible for his life and the lives of his family. 

"In spite of all these dangers, we will not change our resolution. You maydepend on this as much as I depend on your attachment. It is a pleasure tome to believe that you allow me a share of the attachment which bound youto my mother. And this is a moment to give me a great proof of it, insaving me and mine, if there be still time. [2]"

The letter to the landgravine was one of reply to a proposal which thatprincess, who had long been one of her most attached friends, had latelymade to her, that she should allow her brother, Prince George ofDarmstadt, to carry out a plan by which, as he conceived, he could conveythe queen and her children safely out of Paris; the enterprise being, asboth he and his sister flattered themselves, greatly facilitated by thecircumstance that the prince's person was wholly unknown in the Frenchcapital. 

"July, 1792. [3]

"Your friendship and your anxiety for me have touched my very inmost soul. The person[4] who is about to return to you will explain the reasons whichhave detained him so long. He will also tell you that at present I do notdare to receive him in my own apartment. Yet it would have been verypleasant to talk to him about you, to whom I am so tenderly attached. No, my princess, while I feel all the kindness of your offers, I can notaccept them. I am vowed for life to my duties, and to those belovedpersons whose misfortunes I share, and who, whatever people may say ofthem, deserve to be regarded with interest by all the world for thecourage with which they support their position. The bearer of this letterwill be able to give you a detailed account of what is going on atpresent, and of the spirit of this place where we are living. I hear thathe has seen much, and has formed very correct ideas. May all that we arenow doing and suffering one day make our children happy! This is the onlywish that I allow myself. Farewell, my princess; they have taken from meevery thing except my heart, which will always remain constant in its lovefor you. Be sure of this; the loss of your love would be an evil which Icould not endure. I embrace you tenderly. A thousand compliments to allyours. I am prouder than ever of having been born a German. "

In her mention of the 14th of July as likely to bring fresh dangers, sheis alluding to the announcement of an intention of the Jacobins to hold afresh festival to commemorate the destruction of the Bastile on theanniversary of that exploit; a celebration which she had ample reason toexpect would furnish occasion for some fresh tumult and outrage. And wemay remark that in one of these letters she rests her whole hope onforeign assistance; while in the other, she rejects foreign aid to escapefrom her almost hopeless position. But the key to her feeling in bothcases is one and the same. Above all things she was a devoted, faithfulwife and mother. To herself and her own safety she never gave a thought. Her first duty, she rightly judged, was to the king, and she looked tosuch a manifesto as she desired Austria and Prussia to issue, backed bythe movements of a powerful army, as the measure which afforded the bestprospect of saving her husband, who could hardly be trusted to savehimself; while, for the very same reason, she refused to fly without him, even though flight might have saved her children, her son and heir, aswell as herself, because it would have increased her husband's danger. Ineach case her decision was that of a brave and devoted wife, not perhapsin both instances judicious; for when Prussia did mingle in the contest, as it did in the first week in July, it evidently increased the perils ofLouis, if indeed they were capable of aggravation, by giving the Jacobinsa plea for raising the cry "that the country was in danger. " But in thesecond case, in her refusal to flee, and to leave her husband by himselfto confront the existing and impending dangers, she judged rightly andworthily of herself; and the only circumstance that has prevented her fromreceiving the credit due for her refusal to avail herself of PrinceGeorge's offer is that throughout the whole period of the Revolution heracts of disinterestedness and heroism are so incessant that single deedsof the kind are lost in the contemplation of her entire career during thislong period of trial. 

It was the peculiar ill-fortune of Louis that more than once the veryefforts made by people who desired to assist him increased his perils. Theevents of the 20th of June had shocked and alarmed even La Fayette. Fromthe beginning of the Revolution he had vacillated between a desire for arepublic and for a limited monarchy on something like the English pattern, without being able to decide which to prefer. He had shown himself willingto court a base popularity with the mob by heaping uncalled-for insults onthe king and queen. But though he had coquetted with the ultra-revolutionists, and allowed them to make a tool of him, he had not nervefor the villainies which it was now clear that they meditated. He had notaste for bloodshed; and, though gifted with but little acuteness, he sawthat the success of the Jacobins and Girondins would lead neither to arepublic nor to a limited monarchy, but to anarchy; and he had discernmentenough to dread that. He therefore now sincerely desired to save theking's life, and even what remained of his authority, especially if hecould so order matters that their preservation should be seen to be hisown work. He was conscious also that he could reckon on many allies in anyeffort which he might make for the prevention of further outrages. Themore respectable portion of the Parisians viewed the recent outrages withdisgust, sharpened by personal alarm. The dominion of Santerre and hisgangs of destitute desperadoes was manifestly fraught with destruction tothemselves as well as to the king. The greater part of the army under hiscommand shared these feelings, and would gladly have followed him to Paristo crush the revolutionary clubs, and to inflict condign punishment on theauthors and chief agents in the late insurrection. If he had but had theskill to avail himself of this favorable state of feeling, there can belittle doubt that it was in his power at this moment to have establishedthe king in the full exercise of all the authority vested in him by theConstitution, or even to have induced the Assembly to enlarge thatauthority. He so mismanaged matters that he only increased the king'sdanger, and brought general contempt and imminent danger on himselflikewise. His enemies had more than once accused him of wishing to copyCromwell. His friends had boasted that he would emulate Monk. But if hewas too scrupulous for the audacious wickedness of the one, he provedhimself equally devoid of the well-calculating shrewdness of the other. If, subsequently, he had any reason to congratulate himself on the resultof his conduct, it was that, like the stork in the fable, after be hadthrust his head into the mouth of the wolf, he was allowed to draw it outagain in safety. 

Louis's enemies had abundantly shown that they did not lack boldness. Ifthey were to be defeated, it could only be by action as bold as their own. Unhappily, La Fayette's courage had usually found vent rather inblustering words than in stout deeds; and those were the only weapons hecould bring himself to employ now. He resolved to remonstrate with theAssembly; but instead of bringing up his army, or even a detachment, toback his remonstrance, he came to Paris with a single aid-de-camp, and, onthe 28th of June, presented himself at the bar of the Assembly anddemanded an audience. A fortnight before he had written a letter to thepresident, in which he had denounced alike the Jacobin leaders of theclubs and the Girondin ministers, and had called on the Assembly tosuppress the clubs; a letter which had produced no effect except to unitethe two parties against whom it was aimed more closely together, and alsoto give them a warning of his hostility to them, which, till he was in aposition to show it by deeds, it would have been wiser to have avoided. 

He now repeated by word of mouth the statements and arguments which he hadpreviously advanced in writing, with the addition of a denunciation of therecent insurrection and its authors, whom, he insisted, the Assembly wasbound instantly to prosecute. His speech was not ill received; for theConstitutionalists, who knew what he designed to say, had mustered in fullforce, and had packed the galleries beforehand with hired clappers; andmany even of the Deputies who did not belong to that party cheered him, soobvious to all but the most desperate was the danger to the whole State, if Santerre and his brigands should be allowed to become its masters. Butthey cared little for a barren indignation which had no more effectualweapon than reproaches. He had said enough to exasperate, but had not doneenough to intimidate; while those whom he denounced had greater boldnessand presence of mind than he, and had the forces on which they relied forsupport at hand and available. They instantly turned the latter onhimself, and in their turn denounced him for having left his army withoutleave. He was frightened, or at least perplexed, by such a charge. He madeno reply, but seemed like one stupefied; and it was only through theeloquence of one of his friends, M. Ramond, that he was saved from theimpeachment with which Guadet and Vergniaud openly threatened him forquitting the army without leave. 

Ramond's oratory succeeded in carrying through the Assembly a motion inhis favor, and several companies of the National Guard and a vastmultitude of the citizens showed their sympathy with his views byescorting him with acclamations to his hotel. But neither their evidentinclination to support him, nor even the danger with which he himself hadbeen threatened, could give him resolution and firmness in action. For amoment he made a demonstration as if he were prepared to secure thesuccess of his designs by force. He proposed that the king should the nextmorning review Acloque's companies of the National Guard, after which hehimself would harangue them on their duty to the king and Constitution. But the Girondins persuaded Pétion to exert his authority, as mayor, toprohibit the review. La Fayette was weak enough to submit to theprohibition; and, quickened, it is said, by intelligence that Pétion waspreparing to arrest him, the next day retired in haste from Paris andrejoined the army. 

He had done the king nothing but harm. He had shown to all the world thatthough the Royalists and Constitutionalists might still be numerically thestronger party, for all purposes of action they were by far the weaker. Hehad encouraged those whom he had intended to daunt, and strengthened thosewhom he had hoped to crush; and they, in consequence, proceeded in theirtreasons with greater boldness and openness than ever. Marie Antoinette, as we have seen, had expressed her belief that they designed toassassinate Louis, and she now employed herself, as she had done oncebefore, in quilting him a waistcoat of thickness sufficient to resist adagger or a bullet; though so incessant was the watch which was set on alltheir movements that it was with the greatest difficulty that she couldfind an opportunity of trying it on him. But it was not the king, but sheherself, who was the victim whom the traitors proposed to take off in sucha manner; and in the second week of July a man was detected at the foot ofthe staircase leading to her apartments, disguised as a grenadier, andsufficiently equipped with murderous weapons. He was seized by the guard, who had previous warning of his design; but was instantly rescued by agang of ruffians like himself, who were on the watch to take advantage ofthe confusion which might be expected to arise from the accomplishment ofhis crime. 

Meanwhile the Assembly wavered, hesitated, and did nothing; the Girondinsand Jacobins were fertile in devising plots, and active in carrying themout. One day, as if seized with a panic at some report of the strength ofthe Austrian and Prussian armies, the Assembly again passed a votedeclaring the country in danger; on another, roused by a letter which aMadame Gouges, a daughter of a fashionable dress-maker, a lady of morenotoriety than reputation, but who cultivated a character for philosophy, took upon herself to write to them, and still more by a curiouslysentimental speech of the Bishop of Lyons, with the appropriate name ofLamourette, [5] the members bound themselves to have for the future but oneheart and one sentiment; and for some minutes Jacobins, Girondins, Constitutionalists, and Royalists were rushing to and fro across the floorof the hall in a frenzy of mutual benevolence, embracing and kissing oneanother, and swearing an eternal friendship. They even sent a message toLouis to beg him to come and witness this new harmony. He came at once. With his disposition, it was not strange that he yielded to the illusionof the strange spectacle which he beheld. He shed tears of joy, declaredthe complete agreement of his sentiments with theirs, and predicted thattheir union would save France. They escorted him back to the Tuilerieswith cheers, and the very same evening, after a stormy debate, which was aremarkable commentary on the affection which they had just vowed to oneanother, they set him at defiance, insulting him by annulling some decreesto which he had given his assent, and passing a vote of confidence inPétion as mayor. 

The Feast of the Federation, as it was called, passed off quietly. Theking again recognized the Constitution before the altar erected in theChamp de Mars, and, as he drove back to the palace, the populaceaccompanied him the whole way, never ceasing their acclamations of "Viventle roi et la reine![6]" till they had dismounted and returned to theirapartments. Such a close of the day had been expected by no one. LaFayette, who seems at last to have become really anxious to save the livesof the king and queen, and to have been seriously convinced that they werein danger, had now formally opened a communication with the court. Heconcerted his plans with Marshal Luckner, and had learned so much wisdomfrom his recent failure that he now placed no reliance on any thing but adisplay of superior force. He accordingly proposed to Louis to bring up abattalion of picked men from his and the marshal's armies to escort him tothe Champ de Mars; and, judging that, even if the feast should pass offwithout any fresh danger, the king could never be considered permanentlysafe while he remained in Paris, he recommended that on the next day, Louis, still under the protection of the same troops, should announce tothe Assembly his departure for Compiègne, and should at once quit thecapital for that town, to which trusty officers would in the mean timehave brought up other divisions of the army in sufficient strength to setall disaffected and seditious spirits at defiance. 

The plan was at all events well conceived, but it was declined. Louis didnot apparently distrust the marquis's good faith, but he doubted hisability to carry out an enterprise requiring an energy and decision ofwhich no part of La Fayette's career had given any indication; while thequeen distrusted his loyalty even more than his capacity. One of thosewith whom she took counsel expressed his opinion of the marquis's realobject by saying that he might save the monarch, but not the monarchy; andshe replied that his head was still full of republican notions which hehad brought from America, and refused to place the slightest confidence inhim. We may suspect that she did not do him entire justice, and may ratherbelieve, with Louis, that he was now acting in good faith; but, with arecollection of all that she had suffered at his hands, we can not wonderat her continued distrust of him. [A7]

But his was not the only plan proposed for the escape of the royal family. Bertrand de Moleville, though no longer Louis's minister, retained hisundiminished confidence, and he had found a place which he regarded asadmirably suited for a temporary retreat--the Castle of Gaillon, near theleft bank of the Seine, in Normandy, the people of which province werealmost universally loyal. It was within the twenty leagues from Pariswhich the Assembly had fixed for the limit of the royal journeys; whileyet, in case of the worst, it was likewise within easy distance of thecoast. An able engineer officer had pronounced it to be thoroughlydefensible; and the Count d'Hervilly, with other officers of provedcourage and presence of mind, undertook the arrangement of all themilitary measures necessary for the safe escort of the entire royalfamily, which they themselves were willing to conduct, with the aid ofsome detachments of the Swiss Guards; while the necessary funds wereprovided by the loyal devotion of the Duke de Liancourt, who placed amillion of francs at his sovereign's disposal, and of one or two othernobles who came forward with almost equally lavish offerings. Louiscertainly at first regarded the plan with favor, and, in the opinion of M. Bertrand, it would not have been difficult to induce him to adopt it, ifthe queen could have been brought over to a similar view. 

Unhappily several motives combined to disincline her to it. Theinsurrection which the Girondins[8] were preparing had originally beenfixed for the 29th of July; but, a few days before, M. Bertrand learnedthat it had been postponed till the 10th of August. This gave him time tomature his arrangements, all of which, as he reckoned, could be completedin time for the king to leave Paris on the evening of the 8th. But beforethat day arrived news had reached the court that the Duke of Brunswick, the Prussian commander-in-chief, had put his army in motion, and that hewas not likely to meet any obstacle sufficient to prevent him frommarching at once on Paris; a measure which, to quote the language of M. Bertrand, "the queen was too anxious to see accomplished to hesitate atbelieving in its execution. [9]" And at the same time some of the Jacobinleaders--Danton, Pétion, and Santerre--had opened communications with theGovernment, and had undertaken for a large bribe to prevent the threatenedoutbreak. The money had been paid to them, and Marie Antoinette more thanonce boasted to her attendants that they were now safe, as having gainedover Danton; placing the firmer reliance on this mode of extricationbecause it coincided with her belief that the mutual jealousy of the twoparties would dispose one of them at least eventually to embrace the causeof the king, as their beat ally against the other. The result seems toshow that the Jacobins only took the bribe the more effectually to lulltheir destined victims into a false security. 

A third consideration, and that apparently not the weakest, was MarieAntoinette's rooted dislike of the Constitutionalist party. In their rantsthe Duc de Liancourt had taken his seat in the first Assembly; though, ashe assured M. Bertrand, the king himself was aware that his object in sodoing had been to serve his majesty in the most effectual manner; and hewas also the statesman whose advice had mainly contributed to induce theking to visit Paris after the destruction of the Bastile, a step which shehad always regarded as the forerunner and cause of some of the mostirremediable encroachments of the Revolutionists. Even the duke's presentdevotion to the king's cause could not entirely efface from her mind theimpression that he was not in his heart friendly to the royal authority. She urged these arguments on the king. The last probably weighed with himbut little: the two former he felt as strongly as the queen herself; andhe delayed his decision, sending word to M. Bertrand that he had resolvedto defer his departure "till the last extremity. [10]" His faithful servantwas in amazement. "When, " he exclaimed, "was the last extremity to belooked for, if it had not already come?" But his astonishment was turnedto absolute despair when the next day M. Montmorin informed him that theproject had been entirely given up, the queen herself remarking "that M. Bertrand overlooked the circumstance that he was throwing them altogetherinto the hands of the Constitutionalists. "

She has been commonly blamed for this decision, as that which was thechief cause of all the subsequent calamities which overwhelmed her and thewhole family. Yet it is not difficult to understand the motives whichinfluenced her, and it is impossible to refrain from regarding them withsympathy. She was now at the decisive moment of a crisis which might wellperplex the clearest head. There could be no doubt that the cominginsurrection would be the turning-point of the long conflict which had nowlasted three years; and it was a conflict in which her husband's thronewas certainly at stake, perhaps even his and her own life. They had indeedbeen so for three years; and throughout the whole contest her view hadconstantly been that honor was still dearer than life; and honor sheidentified with the preservation of her husband's crown, her children'sinheritance. Mirabeau had said that she would not care to save her life ifshe could not save the crown also; and, though she can not have decidedwithout a terrible conflict of feeling, her decision was now in conformitywith Mirabeau's judgment of her. In the preceding year the journey toVarennes had been treated by the Republicans as a plea for pronouncing thedeposition of the king; and, though they were defeated then, they wereundoubtedly stronger in the new Assembly. On the other hand, she suspectedthat they themselves had some misgivings as to the chance of a secondattack on the palace being more successful than the former one had proved;and that the openness with which the preparations for it were announcedwas intended to terrify Louis and herself into a second flight; and shemight not unreasonably infer that what their enemies desired was not thewisest course for them to adopt. To fly would evidently be to leave thewhole field in both the Assembly and the city open to their enemies. Itmight save their lives, but it would almost to a certainty forfeit thecrown. To stay and face the coming danger might indeed lose both, but itmight also save both; and she determined rather to risk all, both crownand life, in the endeavor to save all, rather than to save the one by thedeliberate sacrifice of the other. It was a gallant and unselfishdetermination: if in one point of view it was unwise, it was at leastbecoming her lofty lineage, and consistent with her heroic character. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Preparation for a New Insurrection. --Barbaroux brings up a Gang fromMarseilles. --The King's last Levee. --The Assembly rejects a Motion for theImpeachment of La Fayette. --It removes some Regiments from Paris. --Preparations of the Court for Defense. --The 10th of August. --The City isin Insurrection. --Murder of Mandat. --Louis reviews the Guards. --He takesRefuge with the Assembly. --Massacre of the Swiss Guards. --Sack of theTuileries. --Discussions in the Assembly. --The Royal Authority issuspended. 

The die was cast. Nothing was left but to wait, with such patience asmight be, for the coming explosion, which was sure not to be longdeferred. Madame de Staël has said that there never can be a conspiracy, in the proper sense of the word, in Paris; and that if there could be one, it would be superfluous, since every one at all times follows themajority, and no one ever keeps a secret. But on this occasion the chiefmovers of sedition studiously discarded all appearance of concealment. Vergniaud, Guadet, and Gensonné wrote the king a letter couched in termsof the most insolent defiance, and signed with all their names, in whichthey openly announced to him that an insurrection was organized whichshould be abandoned if he replaced Roland and his colleagues in theministry, but which should surely break on the palace and overwhelm it ifhe refused. And Barbaroux, who had promised Madame Roland to bring up fromMarseilles and other towns in the south a band of men capable of anyatrocity, had collected a gang of five hundred miscreants, the refuse ofthe galleys and the jails, and paraded them in triumph through thestreets, which their arrival was destined and intended to deluge withblood. 

And yet Louis, or, to speak more correctly, Marie Antoinette, for it waswith her that every decision rested, preferred to face the impendingstruggle in Paris. She still believed that the king had many friends inwhose devotion and gallantry he could confide to the very death. OnSunday, the 5th of August, the very last Sunday which he was ever tobehold as the acknowledged sovereign of the land, his levee was attendedby a more than usually numerous and brilliant company; though the gayetyappropriate to such a scene was on this occasion clouded over by theanxiety for their royal master and mistress which sobered every one'sdemeanor, and spread a gloom over every countenance. And three days laterboth the Assembly and the National Guard displayed feelings which, to sosanguine a temper as hers, seemed to show a disposition to make a stoutresistance to the further progress of disorder. The Assembly, by amajority of more than two to one, rejected a motion made by Vergniaud forthe impeachment of La Fayette for his conduct in June; and when the mobfell upon those who had voted against it, as they came out of the hall, the National Guard came promptly to their rescue, and inflicted severechastisement on the foremost of the rioters. 

The vote of the Assembly may be said to have been the last it ever gavefor any object but the promotion of anarchy. It more than neutralized itseffect the very next day, when it passed a decree for the immediateremoval of three regiments of the line which were quartered in Paris. Iteven at first included in its resolution the Swiss Guards also; but wassubsequently compelled to withdraw that clause, since an old treaty withSwitzerland expressly secured to the republic the right of alwaysfurnishing a regiment for the honorable service of guarding the palace. And at the same time, as if to punish the National Guard for its conducton the previous day, another vote broke up the staff of that force;cashiered its finest companies, the grenadiers and the mounted troopers, on the plea that such distinctions were inconsistent with equality; andfilled up the vacancies with men who were the very dregs of the city, manyof whom were, in fact, secret agents of the Jacobins, by whose aid theyhoped to spread disaffection through the entire force. 

The afternoon of the 9th was passed in anxious preparation by both theconspirators and those whom they were about to attack. The king and queenwere not destitute of faithful adherents, whom their very danger onlyrendered the more zealous to place all their strength, their valor, and, as they truly foreboded, their lives, at the disposal of their honored andthreatened sovereigns. The veteran Marshal de Mailly, one of those gallantnobles whose devoted loyalty had been so scandalously insulted by LaFayette[1] in the spring of the preceding year, though now eighty years ofage, hastened to the defense of his royal master and mistress, and broughtwith him a chivalrous phalanx of above a hundred gentlemen, all animatedwith the same self-sacrificing heroism, as his own, to fight, or, if needshould be, to die for their king and queen, though they had no arms buttheir swords. It seemed fortunate, too, that the command of the NationalGuard for the day fell by rotation to an officer named Mandat, a man ofhigh professional skill, intrepid courage, and unshaken in his zeal forthe royal cause, though in former days the constitutionalists had reckonedhim among their adherents. His brigade numbered about two thousand fourhundred men, on most of whom he could thoroughly rely. And it was noslight proof of his force of character and energy, as well as of hisaddress, that, as the National Guard could not be employed out of theroutine of their regular duty without a special authorisation from thecivil power, he contrived to extort from Pétion, as mayor of the city, aformal authority to augment his brigade for the special occasion, and, ifforce should be used against him, to repel it by force. 

The Swiss Guard of about a thousand men were all trustworthy; and therewas also a small body of heavy cavalry of the gendarmery who had provedtrue enough to resist all the seductions of the conspirators. There werelikewise a few cannon. In all, nearly four thousand men could be musteredfor the defense of the palace; a force, if well equipped and well led, notinadequate to the task of holding it out for some time against any numberof undisciplined assailants. But they were not well armed. They werenearly destitute of ammunition, and Mandat's most vehement entreaties andremonstrances could not wring out from Pétion an order for a supply ofcartridges, though, as he told him, several companies had not four roundsleft, some had only one; and though it was notorious that the police hadserved out ammunition to the Marseillese, who had no claim to a singlebullet. Still less were they well led; for at such a crisis every thingdepended on the king's example, and Louis was utterly wanting to himself. 

As night approached, the agitation in the palace, and still more in thecity, grew more and more intense. It was a brilliant and a warm night. Byten o'clock the mob began to cluster in the streets, many only curious andanxious from uncertain fear; those in the secret hastening toward thepoint of rendezvous. The rioters also had cannon, and by eleven theirartillery-men had taken charge of their guns. The conspirators had gotpossession of all the churches; and as the hour of midnight struck, asingle cannon-shot gave the signal, and from every steeple and tower inthe city the fatal tocsin began to peal. The insurrection was begun. 

Pétion, who, from some motive which is not very intelligible, wished tosave appearances, and who, though in fact he had been eager in promotingthe insurrection, pretended innocence of all complicity in it even to theAssembly, whom he was aware that he was not deceiving, on the first soundof the bells repaired to the Hôtel de Ville. He found, as indeed he wasaware that he should find, a strange addition to the Municipal Council. The majority of the sections of the city had declared themselves ininsurrection; had passed resolutions that they would no longer obey theexisting magistrates; and had appointed a body of commissioners tooverbear them, trusting in the cowardice of the majority, and in thewilling acquiescence and co-operation of Danton and the other members ofthe party of violence. The commissioners seized on a room in the Hôtel bythe side of the regular council-room, and their first measures were markedwith a cunning and unscrupulousness which largely contributed to thesuccess of their more active comrades in the streets. Even Pétion himselfwas not wicked enough or resolute enough for them. The authority whichMandat had wrung from him on the previous morning was, in their eyes, aproof of unpardonable weakness. He might be terrified into issuing someother order which might disconcert or at least impede their plans; andaccordingly they put him under a kind of honorable arrest, and sent him tohis own house under the guard of an armed force, which was instructed toallow no one access to him; and at the same time they sent an order in hisname to Mandat to repair to the Hôtel de Ville, to concert with them themeasures necessary for the safety of the city. 

Had he acted on his own judgment, Mandat would have disregarded thesummons; but M. Roederer urged upon him that he was bound to comply withan order brought in the name of the mayor. Accordingly he repaired to theHôtel de Ville, and gave to the Municipal Council so distinct an accountof his measures, and of his reason for taking them, that, though Dantonand some of his more factious colleagues reproached him for exhibitingwhat they called a needless distrust of the people, the majority of theCouncil approved of his conduct, and dismissed him to return to hisduties. But as he quit their chamber, he was dragged before the otherbody, the Commissioners of the Sections, [2] and subjected to anotherexamination, which, as a matter of course, they conducted with every kindof insult and violence. The Municipal Council sent down a deputation toremonstrate with them; they rose on the Council and expelled them fromtheir own council-chamber by main force, and then sent off Mandat toprison, whither, a few minutes later, they dispatched a gang of assassinsto murder him. 

The news of his death soon reached the Tuileries, where it struck a chilleven into the firm heart of the queen, [3] who had deservedly placed greatreliance on his fidelity and resolution. She had now to trust to the valorand loyalty of the troops themselves, though thus deprived of theircommander; and, as a last hope, she persuaded the king to go down andreview them, hoping that his presence might animate the faithful, andperhaps fix the waverers. Louis consented, as he would have consented toany course that was recommended to him; but on such occasions more dependson the grace and spirit with which a thing is done than on the act itself, and grace and spirit were now less than ever to be looked for in theunhappy Louis. He visited first the courts of the palace, and theCarrousel, and then the gardens, at whose different entrances strongdetachments of troops were stationed. When he first appeared he wasgreeted by one general cheer of "Vive le roi!" But as he passed along theranks the unanimity and loyalty began to disappear. Even of thoseregiments which were still true to him the cheers were faint, as if halfsuppressed by alarm; while many companies mingled shouts for "the nation"with those for himself, and individual soldiers murmured audibly, "Downwith the Veto!" or, "Long live the Sans-culottes!" secure that theirofficers would not venture to reprove, much less to chastise them. TheSwiss Guard alone showed enthusiasm in their loyalty and resolution intheir demeanor. 

But when he reached the artillery, on whom perhaps most depended, many ofthe gunners made no secret of their disaffection. Some even quit theirranks to offer him personal insults, doubling their fists in his face, andshouting out the coarsest threats which the Revolution had yet taughtthem. Both cheers and insults the hapless king received with almost equalapathy. The despair which was in his heart was shown in his dress, whichhad no military character or decoration, but was a suit of plain violetsuch as was never worn by kings of France but on occasions of mourning. Itwas to no purpose that the queen put a sword into his hand, and exhortedhim to take the command of the troops himself, and to show himself readyto fight in person for his crown. It was only once or twice that he couldeven be brought to utter a few words of acknowledgment to those whotreated him with respect, of expostulation to those who insulted andthreatened him; and presently, pale, and, as it seemed, exhausted withthat slight effort, he returned to his apartments. 

The queen was almost in despair. She told Madame de Campan that all waslost; that the king had shown no energy; that such a review as that haddone harm rather than good. All that could now be done was for her to showherself not wanting to the occasion, nor to him. Her courage rose with theimminence of the danger. Those who beheld her, as with dilating eyes andheightened color she listened to the unceasing tumult, and, repressingevery appearance of alarm, strove with unabated energy to rouse herhusband, and to fortify the good disposition of the loyal friends aroundher, have described in terms of enthusiastic admiration the majesticdignity of her demeanor at this trying moment. She had need of all herpresence of mind; for even among those who were most faithful to herdissensions were springing up. At the first alarm Marshal de Mailly andhis company of gallant nobles and gentlemen had hastened to her side; butthe National Guards were jealous of them. It seemed as if they expected tobe allowed to remain nearest to the royal person; and the soldiersdisdained to yield the post of honor to men who were not in uniform, andwhom, as they were mostly in court dress, they even disliked asaristocrats. They besought the queen to dismiss them. "Never!" shereplied; and, trusting rather that the example of their self-sacrificingdevotion might stimulate those who thus complained, and full of that royalmagnanimity which feels that it confers honor on those whom it trusts, andthat it has a right to look for the loyalty of its servants even to thedeath, she added, "They will serve with you, and share your dangers. Theywill fight with you in the van, in the rear, where you will. They willshow you how men can die for their king. "

But meanwhile the insurgents were rapidly approaching the palace, andalready the tramp of the leading column might be heard. The tocsin hadcontinued its ominous sound throughout the night, and at six in themorning the main body of the insurgents, twenty thousand strong, and wellarmed--for the new council had opened to them the stores of the arsenal--began their march under the command of Santerre. As they advanced theywere joined by the Marseillese, who had been quartered in a barrack nearthe Hall of the Cordeliers, and their numbers were further swelled bythousands of the populace. Soon after eight they reached the Carrousel, forced the gates, and pressed on to the royal court, the National Guardand Swiss falling back before them to the entrance to the royalapartments, where the more confined space seemed to afford a betterprospect of making an effectual resistance. 

But already the palace was deserted by those who were the intended objectsof the attack. Roederer, and one or two of the municipal magistrates, inwhom the indignity with which the new commissioners of the sections hadtreated them had excited a feeling of personal indignation, had beenactively endeavoring to rouse the National Guards to an energeticresistance; but they had wholly failed. Those who listened to them mostfavorably would only promise to defend themselves if attacked, while someof the artillery-men drew the charges from their guns and extinguishedtheir matches. Roederer, whom the strange vicissitudes of the crisis hadfor the moment rendered the king's chief adviser, though there seems noreason to doubt his good faith, was not a man of that fiery courage whichhopes against hope, and can stimulate waverers by its example. He saw thatif the rioters should succeed in storming the palace, and should find theking and his family there, the moment that made them masters of theirpersons would be the last of their lives and of the monarchy. He returnedinto the palace to represent to Louis the utter hopelessness of making anydefense, and to recommend him, as his sole resource, to claim theprotection of the Assembly. The queen, who, to use her own words, wouldhave preferred being nailed to the walls of the palace to seeking a refugewhich she deemed degrading, pointed to the soldiers, and showed by hergestures that they were the only protectors whom it became them to lookto. Roederer assured her that they could not he relied on. She seemedunconvinced. He almost forgot his respect in his earnestness. "If yourefuse, madame, you will be guilty of the blood of the king, of your twochildren; you will destroy yourself, and every soul within the palace. "While she was still hesitating between her feeling of shame and heranxiety for those dearest to her, the king gave the word. "Let us go, "said he. "Let us give this last proof of our devotion to theConstitution. " The princess spoke. "Could Roederer answer for the king'slife?" He affirmed that he would answer for it with his own. The queenrepeated the question. "Madame, " he replied, "we will answer for dying atyour side--that is all that we can promise. " "Let us go, " said Louis, andmoved toward the door. Even at the last moment, one officer, M. Boscari, commander of a battalion of the National Guard, known as that of LesFilles St. Thomas, whose loyalty no disaster had ever been able to shake, implored him to change his mind. His men, united to the Swiss, would beable, he said, to cut a way for the royal family to the Rouen road; theinsurgents were all on the other side of the city, and nothing couldresist him. But again, as on all previous occasions, Louis rejected thebrave advice. He pleaded the risk to which he should expose those dearestto him, and led them to almost certain death in committing them to theAssembly. Some of De Mailly's gentlemen gathered round him to accompanyhim; but such an escort seemed to Roederer likely to provoke additionalanimosity, and at his entreaty Louis trusted himself to a company of hisfaithful Swiss and to a detachment of the National Guard, who formedthemselves into an escort to conduct him to the Assembly, whose halllooked into one side of the palace garden. 

The minister for foreign affairs walked at his side. The queen leaned onthe arm of M. Dubouchage, the minister of marine, and with the other handled the dauphin. The Princess Elizabeth and the princess royal followedwith another minister. And thus, with the Princess de Lamballe, Madame deTourzel, and one or two other ministers and attendants, the royal familyleft the palace of their ancestors, which only one of them was ever tobehold again. As they quit the saloon, moved down the stairs, and crossedthe garden, their every step was one toward a downfall and a destructionwhich could never be retraced. Marie Antoinette felt it to be so, and, asshe reached the foot of the staircase, cast restless and anxious glancesaround, looking perhaps even then for any prospect of succor or ofeffectual resistance which might present itself. One of the Swissmisunderstood her, and with rude fidelity endeavored to encourage her. "Fear nothing, madame, " said he, "your majesty is surrounded by honestcitizens. " She laid her hand on her heart. "I do fear nothing, " and passedon without another word. 

As they crossed the garden the king broke the silence. "How unusuallyearly, " he remarked, "the leaves fall this year!" To those who heard him, the bareness which he remarked seemed an omen of the fate which awaitedhimself, about to be stripped of his royal dignity; perhaps even, likesome superfluous crowder of the grove, to fall beneath the axe. TheAssembly had already been deliberating whether it should invite him totake refuge with them when they heard that he was approaching. It wasinstantly voted that a deputation should be sent to meet him, which, aftera few words of respectful salutation, fell in behind. A vast crowd wascollected outside the doors of the hall. They hooted the king, and, stillmore bitterly, the queen, as they advanced. "Down with Veto!" was thechief cry; but mingled with it were still more unmanly insults, invokingmore especially death on all the women. But the Guards kept the mob at adistance, though when they reached the hall the Jacobins made an effort todeprive them of that protection. They declared that it was illegal forsoldiers to enter the hall, as indeed it was; yet without them the princesmust at the last moment have been exposed to all the fury of the mob. Atthis critical moment Roederer showed both fidelity and presence of mind. He implored the deputies to suspend the law which forbade the entrance ofthe troops, and, while the Jacobins were reviling him and his proposal, hepretended to suppose that it had been agreed to, and led forward adetachment of soldiers who cleared the way. One grenadier look up thedauphin in his arms and carried him in; and, although the pressure of thecrowd was extreme, at last the whole family were placed within the hall insuch safety as the Assembly was able or disposed to afford them. 

Louis bore himself not without dignity. His words were few but calm. "I amcome here to prevent a great crime. I think I can not be better placed, nor more safely, gentlemen, than among you. " The president, who happenedto be Vergniaud, while appearing to desire to give him confidence, yetavoided uttering a single word, except the simple address of "sire, " whichshould be a recognition of the royal dignity, if indeed his speech was nota studied disavowal of it. Louis might reckon, he said, on the firmness ofthe National Assembly: its members had sworn to die in support of therights of the people and of the constituted authorities: and then, on theplea that the Assembly must continue its deliberations, and that the lawforbade them to be conducted in the presence of the sovereign, he assignedhim and his family a little box behind the president's chair, which wasusually set apart for the reporters of the debates. A Jacobin deputyproposed their removal into one of the committee-rooms, with the idea, ashe afterward boasted, that it would be easy there to admit a band ofassassins to murder them all; but Vergniaud and his party divined hisobject and overruled him. It might seem that the Girondins, though theyhad been the original promoters and chief organizers of the insurrection, were as yet disposed to be content with the overthrow of the throne, andhad not arrived at the hardihood which can not be sated without murder;and it is a remarkable instance of the rapidity with which unprincipledmen sink deeper and deeper into iniquity, that they who now exertedthemselves successfully to save the life of Louis, five months afterwardwere as unanimous as the most ferocious Jacobins in destroying him. 

One object of Louis in abandoning his palace had been to save the lives ofthe National Guards and of the Swiss, by withdrawing them from what heregarded as an unequal combat with the infuriated multitude; and of theNational Guard the greater part did escape, drawing off silently in smalldetachments, when the sovereign whom it had been their duty to defend, seemed no longer to require their service. But the Swiss remained bravelyat their posts around the royal staircase, though, as they abstained fromprovoking the rioters by any active opposition, which now seemed to haveno object, they hoped that they might escape attack. But the mob andSanterre were bent on their destruction. Some of the insurgents tried toprovoke them by threats. Some endeavored to tamper with them to deserttheir allegiance. But an accidental interruption suddenly terminated theirbrief period of inaction. In the confusion a pistol went off, and theSwiss fancied it was meant as a signal for an assault upon them. Thinkingthat the time was come to defend their own lives, they leveled theirmuskets and fired: they charged down the steps, driving the insurgentsbefore them like sheep; they cleared the inner or royal court, forcedtheir way into the Carrousel, recovered the cannon which were posted inthe large square, and were so completely victorious that, had there beenany superior officer at hand to direct their movements, they might evennow have checked the insurrection. 

There might even have been some hope had not Louis himself actuallyinterfered to check their exertions. Hearing what they had accomplished, the gallant D'Hervilly made his way to them, and called on them to followhim to the rescue of the king. They hesitated, unwilling to leave theirwounded comrades to the mercy of their enemies; but their hesitation wasbrief, for it was put an end to by the wounded men themselves, who bidthem hasten forward; their duty, they told them, was to save the king; forthemselves, they could but die where they lay. [4] There were still plentyof gallant spirits to do their duty to the king, if he could but have beenpersuaded to take a right view of his duty to himself and to them. 

The Swiss gladly obeyed D'Hervilly's summons. Forming in close order, andas steady as on parade, they marched through the garden, one battalionmoving toward the end opposite to the palace, where there was adraw-bridge which it was essential to secure; the other followingD'Hervilly to the Assembly hall. Nothing could resist their advance: theyforced their way up the stairs; and in a few moments a young officer, M. De Salis, at the head of a small detachment, sword in hand, entered thechamber. Some of the deputies shrieked and fled, while others, more calm, reminded him that armed men were forbidden to enter the hall, and orderedhim to retire. He refused, and sent his subaltern to the king for orders. But Louis still held to his strange policy of non-resistance. Even theterrible scenes of the morning, and the deliberate attack of an armed mobupon his palace, had failed to eradicate his unwillingness to authorizehis own Guards to fight in his behalf, or to convince him that when histhrone (perhaps even his life and the lives of all his family) was atstake, it was nobler to struggle for victory, and, if defeated, to diewith arms in his hands, than tamely to sit still and be stripped of hiskingly dignity by brigands and traitors. Could he but have summoned energyto put himself at the head of his faithful Guards, as we may be sure thathis brave wife urged him to do; could he have even sent them oneencouraging order, one cheering word, there still might have been hope;for they had already proved that no number of Santerre's ruffians couldstand before them. [5] But Louis could not even now bring himself to act;he could only suffer. His command to the officer, the last he ever issued, was for the whole battalion to lay down their arms, to evacuate thepalace, and to retire to their barracks. He would not, he said, that suchbrave men should die. They knew that in fact he was consigning them todeath without honor; but they were loyal to the last. They obeyed, thoughtheir obedience to the first part of the order rendered the last partimpracticable. They laid down their arms, and were at once made prisoners;and the fate of prisoners in such hands as those of their captors wascertain. A small handful, consisting, it is said, of fourteen men, escapedthrough the courage of one or two friends, who presently brought themplain clothes to exchange for their uniforms, but before night all therest were massacred. 

Not more fortunate were their comrades of the other battalion, except infalling by a more soldier-like death. Though no longer supported by thedetachment under D'Hervilly, they succeeded in forcing their way to thedraw-bridge. It was held by a strong detachment of the National Guard, whoought to have received them as comrades, but who had now caught thecontagion of successful treason, and fired on them as they advanced. Butthe gallant Swiss, in spite of their diminished numbers still invincible, charged through them, forced their way across the bridge into the PlaceLouis XV. , and there formed themselves into square, resolved to sell theirlives dearly. It was all that was left to them to do. The mountedgendarmery, too, came up and turned against them. Hemmed in on all sides, they fell one after another; Louis, who had refused to let them die forhim, having only given their death the additional pang that it had been ofno service to him. 

The retreat of the king had left the Tuileries at the mercy of therioters. Furious to find that he had escaped them, they wreaked their rageon the lifeless furniture, breaking, hewing, and destroying in every waythat wantonness or malice could devise. Different articles which hadbelonged to the queen were the especial objects of their wrath. Crowds ofthe vilest women arrayed themselves in her dresses, or defiled her bed. Her looking-glasses were broken, with imprecations, because they hadreflected her features. Her footmen were pursued and slaughtered becausethey had been wont to obey her. Nor were the monsters who slew themcontented with murder. They tore the dead bodies into pieces; devoured thestill bleeding fragments, or deliberately lighted fire and cooked them;or, hoisting the severed limbs on pikes, carried them in fiendish triumphthrough the streets. 

And while these horrors were going on in the palace, the tumult in theAssembly was scarcely less furious. The majority of the members--all, indeed, except the Girondins and Jacobins, who were secure in theiralliance with the ringleaders--were panic-stricken. Many fled, but therest sat still, and in terrified helplessness voted whatever resolutionsthe fiercest of the king's enemies chose to propose. It was an ominouspreliminary to their deliberations that they admitted a deputation fromthe commissioners of the sections into the hall, where Guadet, to whomVergniaud had surrendered the president's chair, thanked them for theirzeal, and assured them that the Assembly regarded them as virtuouscitizens only anxious for the restoration of peace and order. They wereeven formally recognized as the Municipal Council; and then, on the motionof Vergniaud, the Assembly passed a series of resolutions, ordering thesuspension of Louis from all authority; his confinement in the LuxembourgPalace; the dismissal and impeachment of his ministers; the re-appointmentof Roland and those of his colleagues whom he had dismissed, and theimmediate election of a National Convention. A large pecuniary reward waseven voted for the Marseillese, and for similar gangs from one or twoother departments which had been brought up to Paris to take a part in theinsurrection. 

Yet so deeply seated were hope and confidence in the queen's heart, sosanguine was her trust that out of the mutual enmity of the populace andthe Assembly safety would still be wrought for the king and the monarchy, that even while the din of battle was raging outside the hall, and insidedeputy after deputy was rising to heap insults on the king and on herself, or to second Vergniaud's resolutions for his formal degradation, she couldstill believe that the tide was about to turn in her favor. While theuproar was at its height she turned to D'Hervilly, who still kept hispost, faithful and fearless, at his master's side. "Well, M. D'Hervilly, "said she, with an air, as M. Bertrand, who tells the story, describes it, of the most perfect security, "did we not do well not to leave Paris?" "Ipray God, " said the brave noble, "that your majesty may be able to ask methe same question in six months' time. [6]" His foreboding was truer thanher hopes. In less than six months she was a desolate, imprisoned widow, helplessly awaiting her own fate from her husband's murderers. 

All these resolutions of Vergniaud, all the ribald abuse with whichdifferent members supported them, the unhappy sovereigns were condemned tohear in the narrow box to which they had been removed. They bore theinsults, the queen with her habitual dignity, the king with his inveterateapathy; Louis even speaking occasionally with apparent cheerfulness tosome of the deputies. The constant interruptions protracted thediscussions through the entire day. It was half-past three in the morningbefore the Assembly adjourned, when the king and his family were removedto the adjacent Convent of the Feuillants, where four wretched cells hadbeen hastily furnished with camp-beds, and a few other necessaries of thecoarsest description. So little was any attempt made to disguise the factthat they were prisoners, that their own domestic servants were notallowed the next day to attend them till they had received a formal ticketof admittance from the president. Yet even in this extremity of distressMarie Antoinette thought of others rather than of herself; and when atlast her faithful attendant, Madame de Campan, obtained access to her, herfirst words expressed how greatly her own sorrows were aggravated by thethought that she had involved in them those loyal friends whose attachmentmerited a very different recompense. [7]

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Indignities to which the Royal Family are subjected. --They are removed tothe Temple. --Divisions in the Assembly. --Flight of La Fayette. --Advance ofthe Prussians. --Lady Sutherland supplies the Dauphin with Clothes. --Modeof Life in the Temple. --The Massacres of September. --The Death of thePrincess de Lamballe. --Insults are heaped on the King and Queen. --TheTrial of the King. --His Last Interview with his Family. --His Death. 

From the 11th of August the life of Marie Antoinette is almost a blank tous. We may be even thankful that it is so, and that we are spared thedetails, in all their accumulated miseries, of a series of events whichare a disgrace to human nature. For month after month the gentle, benevolent king, whom no sovereign ever exceeded in love for his people, or in the exercise of every private virtue; the equally pure-minded, charitable, and patriotic queen, who, to the somewhat passive excellencesof her husband added fascinating graces and lofty energies of which he wasunhappily destitute, were subjected to the most disgusting indignities, tothe tyranny of the vilest monsters who ever usurped authority over anation, and to the daily insults of the meanest of their former subjects, who thought to make a merit with their new masters of their brutality tothose whose birthright had been the submission and reverence of all aroundthem. 

Vergniaud's motion had only extended to the suspension of the king fromhis functions till the meeting of the Convention; but no one could doubtthat that suspension would never be taken off, and that Louis was in factdethroned. Marie Antoinette never deceived herself on the point, and, retaining the opinion as to the fate of deposed monarchs which she hadexpressed three years before, pronounced that all was over with them. "Mypoor children, " said she, apostrophizing the little dauphin and hissister, "it is cruel to give up the hope of transmitting to you so noblean inheritance, and to have to say that all is at an end with ourselves;"and, lest any one else should have any doubt on the subject, the Assemblyno longer headed its decrees with any royal title, but published them inthe name of the nation. In one point the resolutions of the 10th wereslightly departed from. The municipal authorities reported that theLuxembourg had so many outlets and subterranean passages, that it would bedifficult to prevent the escape of a prisoner from that palace; andaccordingly the destination of the royal family was changed to the Temple. Thither, after having been compelled to spend two more days in theAssembly, listening to the denunciations and threats of their enemies, whom even the knowledge that they were wholly in their power failed topacify, they were conveyed on the 13th; and they never quit it till theywere dragged forth to die. 

The Temple had been, as its name imported, the fortress and palace of theKnights Templars, and, having been erected by them in the palmy days oftheir wealth and magnificence, contained spacious apartments, andextensive gardens protected from intrusion by a lofty wall, whichsurrounded the whole. It was not, unfit for, nor unaccustomed to, thereception of princes; for the Count d'Artois had fitted up a portion of itfor himself whenever he visited the capital. And to his apartments thosewho had the custody of the king and queen at first conducted them. But thenew Municipal Council, whom the recent events had made the real masters ofParis, considered those rooms too comfortable or too honorable a lodgingfor any prisoners, however royal; and the same night, before they couldretire to rest, and while Louis was still occupying himself indistributing the different apartments among the members of his family andthe few attendants who were allowed to share his captivity, an order wassent down to remove them all into a small dilapidated tower which had beenused as a lodging for some of the count's footmen, but whose bad walls andbroken windows rendered it unfit for even the servants of a prince. Besides their meanness and ruinous condition, the number of the rooms itcontained was so scanty, that for the first few days the only room thatcould be found for the Princess Elizabeth was an old, disused kitchen; andeven after that was remedied, she was forced to share her new chamber, though it was both small and dark, with her niece, Madame Royale; whilethe dauphin's bed was placed by the side of the queen's, in one which wasbut little large. [1] And the dungeon-like appearance of the entire placeimpressed the whole family with the idea that it was not intended thatthey should remain there long, but that an early death was preparing forthem. 

Even this distress was speedily aggravated by a fresh severity. Four daysafterward an order was sent down which commanded the removal of all theirattendants, with the exception of one or two menial servants. Madame deTourzel, the governess of the royal children, was driven away with thecoarsest insults. The Princess de Lamballe, that most faithful andaffectionate friend of the queen, was rudely torn from her embrace by themunicipal officers; and, though no offense was even imputed to her, wasdragged off to a prison, where she was soon to pay the forfeit of herloyalty with her blood. 

From this time forth the king and queen were completely cut off from theouter world. They were treated with a rigor which in happier countries isnot even experienced by convicted criminals. They were forbidden toreceive letters or newspapers; and presently they were deprived of pens, ink, and paper; though they would neither have desired to write norreceive letters which would have been read by their jailers, and couldonly have exposed their correspondents to danger. After a few days theywere even deprived of the attendance of all their servants but two[2]--afaithful valet named Cléry (fidelity such as his may well immortalize hisname), to whom we are indebted for the greater part of the scantyknowledge which we possess of the fate of the captive princes as long asLouis himself was permitted to live; and Turgy, a cook, who, by an act offaithful boldness, had obtained a surreptitious entrance into the Temple, and whose services seemed to have escaped notice, though at a later periodthey proved of no trivial importance. 

Had they but known what was passing in the Assembly, Marie Antoinettewould in all probability have still found matter for some comfort and hopein the fierce mutual strife of the Jacobins and Girondins, which for someweeks kept the Assembly in a constant state of agitation; and she wouldhave found even greater encouragement in the dissatisfaction which in manydepartments the people expressed at the late events; and in the conduct ofLa Fayette's army, which at first cordially approved of and supported thetown-council and magistrates of Sedan, who arrested and threw into prisonthe commissioners whom the Assembly had sent to announce the suspension ofthe royal authority. But the intelligence of that demonstration in theirfavor never reached them, nor that of its suppression a few days later;when La Fayette, who, as on a former occasion, had committed himself tomeasures beyond his strength to carry out, was forced to fly from thecountry, and by a strange violation of military law was thrown into anAustrian prison. Nor again, when for a moment the Duke of Brunswickappeared likely to realize the hopes on which Marie Antoinette had builtso confidently, and by the capture of Longwy seemed to have opened tohimself the road to Paris, did any tidings of his achievement come to theears of those who had felt such deep interest in his operations. After atime the ingenuity of Cléry found a mode of obtaining for them some littleknowledge of what was passing outside, by contriving that some of hisfriends should send criers to cry an abstract of the news contained in thedaily journals under his windows, which he in his turn faithfully reportedto them while employed in such menial offices about their persons as tookoff the attention of their guards, who day and night maintained anunceasing espial on all their actions and even words. 

From the very first they had to endure strange privations for princes. They had not a sufficient supply of clothes; the little dauphin, inparticular, would have been wholly unprovided, had not the Englishembassadress, Lady Sutherland, whose son was of a similar age and size, sent in a stock of such as she thought might be wanted. But as thegarments thus received wore out, and as all means of replacing them wererefused, the queen and princess were reduced to ply their own needlesdiligently to mend the clothes of the whole family, that they might notappear to their jailers, or to the occupants of the surrounding houses, who from their windows could command a view of the garden in which theytook their daily walks, absolutely ragged. 

Such enforced occupation must indeed in some degree have been welcome as arelief from thought, which their unbroken solitude left them but too muchleisure to indulge. Cléry has given us an account of the manner in whichtheir day was parceled out. [3] The king rose at six, and Cléry, afterdressing his hair, descended to the queen's chamber, which was on thestory below, to perform the same service for her and for the rest of thefamily. And the hour so spent brought with it some slight comfort, as hecould avail himself of that opportunity to mention any thing that he mighthave learned of what was passing out-of-doors, or to receive anyinstructions which they might desire to give him. At nine they breakfastedin the king's room. At ten they came down-stairs again to the queen'sapartments, where Louis occupied himself in giving the dauphin lessons ingeography, while Marie Antoinette busied herself in a corresponding mannerwith Madame Royale. But, in whatever room they were, their guards werealways present; and when, at one o'clock, they went down-stairs to walk inthe garden, they were still accompanied by soldiers: the only member ofthe family who was not exposed to their ceaseless vigilance being thelittle dauphin, who was allowed to run up and down and play at ball withCléry, without a soldier thinking it necessary to watch all his movementsor listen to all his childish exclamations. At two dinner was served, andregularly at that hour the odious Santerre, with two other ruffians of thesame stamp, whom he called his aids-de-camp, visited them to make sure oftheir presence and to inspect their rooms; and Cléry remarked that thequeen never broke her disdainful silence to him, though Louis often spoketo him, generally to receive some answer of brutal insult. After dinner, Louis and Marie Antoinette would play piquet or backgammon; as, while theywere thus engaged, the vigilance of their keepers relaxed, and the noiseof shuffling the cards or rattling the dice afforded them opportunities ofsaying a few words in whispers to one another, which at other times wouldhave been overheard. In the evening the queen and the Princess Elizabethread aloud, the books chosen being chiefly works of history, or themasterpieces of Corneille and Racine, as being most suitable to form theminds and tastes of the children; and sometimes Louis himself would seekto divert them from their sorrows by asking the children riddles, andfinding some amusement in their attempts to solve them. At bed-time thequeen herself made the dauphin say his prayers, teaching him especiallythe duty of praying for others, for the Princess de Lamballe, and forMadame de Tourzel, his governess; though even those petitions the poor boywas compelled to utter in whispers, lest, if they were repeated to theMunicipal Council, he should bring ruin on those whom he regarded asfriends. At ten the family separated for the night, a sentinel making hisbed across the door of each of their chambers, to prevent the possibilityof any escape. 

In this way they passed a fortnight, when the monotony of their lives wasfearfully disturbed. The Jacobins had established their ascendency. Theyhad created a Revolutionary Tribunal, which at once began its course ofwholesale condemnation, sending almost every one who was brought before itto the scaffold with merely a form of trial; the guillotine being erected, as it was said, _en permanence_, that the deaths of the victims mightnever be delayed for want of means to execute them; while, that asuccession of victims might never be wanting, Danton, in his new characterof Minister of Justice, instituted a search of every house for arms orpapers, or any thing which might afford evidence or even suggest asuspicion that the owners disliked or feared the new authorities. 

But it was not enough to strike terror into all the peaceful citizens. TheGirondins had always been objects of jealous rivalry to the Jacobins. Fanatical and relentless as they were in their cruelty, they had recentlygiven proofs that they disapproved of the furious blood-thirstiness thatwas beginning to decimate the city, and they had carried the Assembly withthem in a vote for the dissolution of the new Municipal Council. At thesame time, intelligence of the Prussian successes readied the capital, intelligence which, it seemed possible, might animate the Royalists tosome fresh effort; and, lest they should find means of reconcilingthemselves to Vergniaud and his party, the Jacobins and Cordeliersresolved to give both a lesson by a deed of blood which should striketerror into them. We may spare ourselves the pain of relating the horrorsof the September massacre, when, for more than four days, gangs of menworse than devils, and of women unsexed by profligacy and cruelty tillthey had become worse even than the men, gave themselves up to the work ofindiscriminate slaughter, deluging the streets with blood, and where theycould spare time, aggravating the pangs of death by superfluous tortures. It will be sufficient for our purpose to record the fate of one of themost innocent of all the victims, who owed her death to the fact that shehad long been the queen's most chosen friend, and whose murder was gloatedover with special ferocity by the monsters who perpetrated it, as enablingthem to inflict an additional pang on her wretched friend and mistress. 

Madame de Lamballe, as we have seen, had accompanied the queen to theTemple on the first day of her captivity, and had subsequently beenremoved to one of the city prisons known as La Force. It was on theprisoners in the different places of confinement that the work of deathwas to be done: and she had been specially marked out for slaughter, notsolely because she was beloved by Marie Antoinette, but also, it wasunderstood, because, as she was very rich, and sister-in-law to the Ducd'Orléans, that detestable prince desired to add her inheritance to hisOWD already vast riches. She was dragged before Hébert, one of the foulestof the Jacobin crew, who had taken his seat at the gate of the prison topreside over the trials, as they were called, of the prisoners in LaForce. "Swear, " said he, "devotion to liberty and to the nation, andhatred to the king and queen, and you shall live. " "I will take the firstoath, " she replied, "but the second never; it is not in my heart. The kingand queen I have ever loved and honored. " Almost before she had finishedspeaking she was pushed into the gate-way. One ruffian struck her frombehind with his sabre. She fell. They tore her into pieces. A letter ofthe queen's fell from her hair, in which she had hidden it. The sight ofit redoubled the assassins' fury. They stuck her head on a pike, andcarried it in triumph to the Palais Royal to display it to D'Orléans, whowas feasting with some of the companions of his daily orgies, and thenproceeded to the Temple to brandish it before the eyes of the queen. 

It was about three o'clock. [4] Dinner had just been removed, and the kingand queen were sitting down to play backgammon, when horrid shouts wereheard in the street. One of the soldiers on guard in the room, who had notyet laid aside every feeling of humanity, closed the window and even drewthe curtain. Another of different temper insisted that Louis should cometo the window and show himself. As the uproar increased, the queen rosefrom her seat, and the king asked what was the matter. "Well, " said theman, "since you wish to know, they want to show you the head of Madame deLamballe. " No event that had yet occurred had struck the queen with suchanguish. The uproar increased. Those who bore the head had wished even toforce the doors, and bring their trophy, still bleeding, into the veryroom where the royal family were, and were only prevented by a compromisewhich permitted them to parade it round their tower in triumph. As theshouts died away, Pétion's secretary arrived with a small sum of moneywhich had been issued for the king's use. He noticed that the queen stoodall the time that he was in the room, and fancied she assumed thatattitude out of respect to the mayor. She had never stirred since she hadheard of the princess's death, but had stood rooted, as it were, to theground, stupefied and speechless with horror and anguish. It was longbefore she could be restored; and all through the night the rest of theprincesses, if at least they could have slept, was broken by her sobs, which never ceased. 

As time passed on, the prospects of the unhappy prisoners became stillmore gloomy. On the 21st of September the Convention met, and its firstact was to abolish royalty and declare the government a republic, and anofficer was instantly sent to make proclamation of the event under theTemple walls; and, as if the establishment of a republic authorized anincrease of insolence on the part of the guards of the prisoners, theinsults to which they were subjected grew more frequent and more gross. Sentences both menacing and indecent were written on the walls where theymust catch their eye: the soldiers puffed their tobacco-smoke in thequeen's face as she passed, or placed their seats in the passages so muchin her way that she could hardly avoid stumbling over their legs as shewent down to the garden. Sometimes they even assailed her with directabuse, calling her the assassin of the people, who in their turn wouldassassinate her. More than once the whole family had to submit to apersonal search, and to empty their pockets, when the officers who madethe search carried off whatever they chose to term suspicious, especiallytheir knives and scissors, so that, when at work, the queen and princesswere forced to bite off the threads with their teeth. And amidst all thismisery no one ever heard Marie Antoinette utter a word to lament her ownfate, or to ask pity for herself. She mourned over her husband's fall; shepitied Elizabeth, to whom malice itself could not impute a share in thewrongs of which Danton and Vergniaud had taught the people to complain. Most of all did she bewail the ruined prospects of her son; and more thanonce she brought tears into Cléry's eyes by the earnest tenderness withwhich she implored him to provide for the safety of the noble child afterhis parents should have been destroyed. 

The insults increased, each being an additional omen of the future. Themost painful injuries were reserved for the queen. Toward the end ofOctober the dauphin was removed from her apartment to that of the king, that she might thus be deprived of the comfort of ministering to his dailywants. But Louis himself was not spared. One day an order came down todeprive him of his sword; on another he was stripped of his differentdecorations and orders of knighthood. The system of espial, too, wascarried out with increased severity. Their linen, when it came hack fromthe washer-woman, and even their washing-bills, were held to the fire tosee if any invisible ink had been employed to communicate with them. Theirloaves and biscuits were cut asunder lest they should contain notes. Theend was approaching. A week or two later the king was removed to anothertower, and was only permitted to see his family during a certain portionof the day. At last it was determined to bring him to trial. On the 11thof December he was suddenly informed that he was to be brought before theConvention; and from that day forth he was cut off from all intercoursewith his family, even his wife being forbidden to see or hear from him. The barbarous restriction afforded him one more opportunity of showing hisamiable unselfishness and fortitude. The regulation had been made by theMunicipal Council, not by the Assembly; and its inhuman and unprecedentedseverity, coupled with a jealousy of the Council, as seeking to usurp thewhole authority of the State, induced the Assembly to rescind it, and togrant permission, for Louis to have the dauphin and his sister with him. Yet, lest these innocent children should prove messengers of conspiracybetween him and the queen and Elizabeth, it was ordered at the same timethat, so long as they were allowed to visit him, they should be separatedfrom their mother and their aunt; and Louis, though never in greater needof comfort, thought it so much better for the children themselves thatthey should be with the queen, that for their sakes he renounced theirsociety, and allowed the decree of the Council to be carried out in allits pitiless cruelty. 

And, again, we may spare ourselves from dwelling on the details of what, in hideous mockery, was called the king's trial, though it was in fact amere ceremonious prelude to his murder, which had been determined onbefore it began. Deep as is the disgrace with which it has forever coveredthe nation which tolerated such an abomination, it was relieved by someincidents which did honor to the country and to human nature. Themurderers of Louis, in their ignoble pedantry, wearied the ear withappeals to the examples of the ancient Romans, of Decius[5] and of Brutus. But no Roman ever gave a nobler proof of contempt of danger, and devotionto duty, than was afforded by the intrepid lawyers, Malesherbes, De Séze, and Tronchet, who voluntarily undertook the king's defense, though Louishimself warned them that their utmost efforts would be fruitless, andwould only bring destruction on themselves without saving him. One member, too, of the Convention, Lanjuinais, though originally he had been a memberof the Breton Club, and had latterly been generally regarded as connectedwith the Girondins, made more than one eloquent effort in the king'sbehalf, provoking the Jacobins and Girondins to their very wildest fury byhis contemptuous defiance of their menaces. And even when the verdict wasbeing given; when Jacobins, Girondins, and Cordeliers, Robespierre, Vergniaud, Danton, and the infamous Duc d'Orléans were vying with oneanother in the eagerness with which they pushed forward to record theirvotes of condemnation; and when a mob of hired ruffians, who thronged thehall, were cheering every vote for death, and holding daggers to thethroat of every one from whom they apprehended a contrary judgment; onenoble of frail body, but of a spirit worthy of his birth and rank, theMarquis de Villette, laughed in the faces of his threateners, looked theassassins in the face, and told them that he would not obey their orders, and that they dared not kill him; and with a loud voice pronounced a voteof acquittal. 

But no courage or devotion of a few honest men could save Louis. One voteby an immense majority pronounced him guilty; a second refused all appealto the people; a third, by a majority of fifty voices, condemned him todeath. And on the morning of the 20th of January, 1793, Louis was rousedfrom his bed to hear his sentence, and to learn that it was to be carriedout the next day. 

While the trial lasted, the queen and those with her had been kept inalmost absolute ignorance of what was taking place. They never, however, doubted what the result would be, [6] so that it was scarcely a shock tothem when they heard the news-men crying the sentence under their windows--the only mercy that was shown to either the prisoner who was to die, orto those who were to survive him, being that they were allowed once moreto meet on earth. At eight in the evening the queen, his children, and hissister were to be allowed to visit him. He prepared for the interview withastonishing calmness, making the arrangements so deliberately that, whenhe noticed that Cléry had placed a bottle of iced water on the table, hebid him change it, lest, if the queen should require any, the chill shouldprove injurious to her health. Even that last interview was not allowed topass wholly without witnesses, since the Municipal Council refused, evenon such an occasion, to relax their regulation that their guards werenever to lose sight-of the king; and all that was permitted was that hemight retire with his family into an inner room which had a glass door, sothat, though what passed must be seen, their last words might not beoverheard. His daughter, Madame Royale, now a girl of fourteen, and oldenough, as her mother had said a few months before, to realize the miseryof the scenes which she daily saw around her, has left us an account ofthe interview, necessarily a brief one, for the queen and princess weretoo wretched to say much. Louis wept when he announced to them how shortwas the time which he had to live, but his tears were those of pity forthe desolation of those he loved, and not of fear for himself. He waseven, in some sense, a willing victim, for, as he told them, it had beenproposed to save him by appealing to the primary Assemblies of the nation;but he had refused his consent to a step which must throw the wholecountry into confusion, and might be the cause of civil war. He wouldrather die than risk the bringing of such calamities on his people. Heeven sought to comfort the queen by making some excuses for the monsterswho had condemned him; and his last words to his family were an entreatyto forgive them; to his son, an injunction never to seek to revenge hisdeath, even, if some change of fortune should enable him to do so. 

The queen said nothing, but sat clinging to him in speechless agony. Atlast he begged them to retire, that he might seek rest to prepare himselffor the morrow; and then she spoke, to beg that at least they might meetagain the next morning. "Yes, " said he, "at eight o'clock. " "Why not atseven?" asked she. "Well, then, at seven. " But, after she had left him hedetermined to avoid this second meeting, not so much because he feared itsunnerving himself, but because he felt that the second parting must be tooterrible for her. 

When she returned to her own chamber she had scarcely strength left toplace the dauphin in his bed. She threw herself, dressed as she was, onher own bed, where her sister-in-law and daughter heard her, as the littleprincess describes her state, "shivering with cold and grief the wholenight long. [7]"

Even if she could have slept, her rest would soon have been disturbed bythe movement of troops, the beating of the drums, and the heavy roll ofthe cannon passing through the street. For the miscreants who bore sway inthe city knew well that the crime which they were about to commit wasviewed with horror by the great majority of the nation, and even of theParisians, and to the last moment were afraid of a rescue. But no onecould interpose between Louis and his doom; and the next intelligence ofhim that reached his wife, who was waiting the whole morning in painfulanxiety for the summons to see him once more, was that he had perishedbeneath the fatal guillotine, and that she was a widow. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Queen is refused Leave to see Cléry. --Madame Royale is taken Ill. --Plans are formed for the Queen's Escape by MM. Jarjayes, Toulan, and bythe Baron de Batz. --Marie Antoinette refuses to leave her Son. --Illness ofthe young King. --Overthrow of the Girondins. --Insanity of the WomanTison. --Kindness of the Queen to her. --Her Son is taken from her, andintrusted to Simon. --His Ill-treatment. --The Queen is removed to theConciergerie. --She is tried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. --She iscondemned. --Her last Letter to the Princess Elizabeth. --Her Death andCharacter. 

Shouts in the streets announced to her and those around her that all wasover. All the morning she had alarmed the princesses by the speechless, tearless stupor into which she seemed plunged; but at last she rousedherself, and begged to see Cléry, who had been with Louis till he left theTemple, and who, therefore, she hoped, might have some last message forher, some last words of affection, some parting gift. And so indeed hehad;[1] for the last act of Louis had been to give that faithful servanthis seal for the dauphin, and his ring for the queen, with a little packetcontaining portions of her hair and those of his children which he hadbeen in the habit of wearing. And he had bid him tell them all--"thequeen, his dear children, and his sister--that he had promised to see themthat morning, but that he had desired to save them the pain of so cruel aseparation. How much, " he continued, "does it cost me to go withoutreceiving their last embraces! You must bear to them my last farewell. "

But even the poor consolation of receiving these sad tokens of unchangedaffection was refused to her. The Council refused Cléry admittance to her, and seized the little trinkets and the packet of hair. The king's lastwords never reached her. But a few days afterward, Toulan, one of thecommissioners of the Council, who sympathized with her bereavement, foundmeans to send her the ring and seal. [2] Her sister and her daughter werethe more anxious that she should see Cléry, from the hope thatconversation with him might bring on a flood of tears, which would havegiven her some relief. But her own fortitude was her best support. Miserable as she was, hopeless as she was, it was characteristic of hermagnanimous courage that she did not long give way to womanlylamentations. She recollected that she had still duties to perform to theliving, to her daughter and sister, and, above all, to her son, now herking, whom, if some happier change of fortune, when the nation should haverecovered from its present madness, should replace him on his father'sthrone, it must be her care to render worthy of such a restoration. Shebegan to apply herself diligently to the work of giving him lessons suchas his father had given him, mingling them with the constant references tothat father's example, which she never ceased to hold up to him, dwellingwith the emphatic exaggeration of lasting affection on his gentleness, hisbenevolence, his love for his subjects; qualities which, in truth, he hadpossessed in sufficient abundance, had he but been gifted with the courageand firmness indispensable to secure to his people the benefits he wishedthem to enjoy. 

She had too, for a time, another occupation. The princess royal was, asshe had said not long before, of an age to feel keenly the miseries of herparents, and the agitation into which she had been thrown had its naturaleffect upon her health. Her own language on the subject affords a strikingproof how well Marie Antoinette had succeeded in imbuing her with her ownforgetfulness of self. As she has recorded the occurrence in her journal, "Fortunately her affliction increased her illness to so serious a degreeas to cause a favorable diversion to her mother's despair. [3]"

Youth, however, and a strong constitution prevailed, and the littleprincess recovered; while other matters also for a time claimed a largeshare of her mother's attention. For herself, Marie Antoinette felt, asshe well might feel, that, come what would, happiness and she were foreverparted; and the death to which she never doubted that her enemies destinedher could hardly have been anticipated by her as any thing but a relief, if she had thought only of her own feelings. But, again, she had others tothink of besides herself--of her children. And she presently learned thatothers were thinking of her, and were willing (it should rather be saidwere eager and proud) to encounter any danger, if they might only have thehappiness and honor of securing and saving her whom they still regarded astheir queen. Two had long been attached to the royal household: the wifeof M. De Jarjayes, a gentleman of ancient family in Dauphiné, had been oneof Marie Antoinette's waiting-women, and he himself, since the fatalexpedition to Varennes, had been employed by Louis on several secretmissions. From the moment that his royal master was brought before theConvention he had despaired of his life, and had, therefore, bent all histhoughts on the preservation of the queen. M. Turgy, the second, was in ahumbler rank of life. He was, as we have seen, one of the officers of thekitchen; but in the household of a king of France even the cooks hadpretensions to gentle blood. A third was a man named Toulan, who hadoriginally been a music-seller in Paris, but had subsequently obtainedemployment under the Municipal Council, and was now a commissioner, withduties which brought him into constant contact with the imprisoned queen. Either he had never in his heart been her enemy, or he had been convertedby the dignified fortitude with which she bore her miseries, and by theirresistible fascination which even in prison she still exercised over allwhose hearts had not been hardened by fanatical wickedness against everymanly or honest feeling; he won the queen's confidence by the most welcomeservice, which has been already mentioned, of conveying to her herhusband's seal and ring. She gave him a letter to recommend him to theconfidence of Jarjayes; and their combined ingenuity devised a plan forthe escape of the whole family. It was in their favor that a man, who camedaily to look to the lamps, usually brought with him his two sons, whonearly matched the size of the royal children. And Jarjayes and Toulan, aided by another of the municipal commissioners, named Lepitre, who hadalso learned to abhor the indignities practiced on fallen royalty, hadprepared full suits of male attire for the queen and princess, with redscarfs and sashes as were worn by the different commissioners, of whomthere were too many for all of them to be known to the sentinels; and alsoclothes for the two children, ill-fitting and shabby, to resemble thedress of the lamp-lighter's boys. Passports, too, by the aid of Lepitre, whose duties lay in the department which issued them, were provided forthe whole family; and after careful discussion of the arrangements to beadopted when once the prisoners were clear of the Temple, it was settledthat they should take the road to Normandy in three cabriolets, whichwould be less likely to attract notice than any larger and less ordinarycarriage. 

The end of February or the beginning of March was fixed for the attempt;but before that time the Government and the people had become greatlydisquieted by the operations of the German armies, which were about toreceive the powerful assistance of England. Prussia had gained decidedadvantages on the Rhine. An Austrian army, under the Archduke Charles, wasmaking formidable progress in the Netherlands. Rumors, also, which soonproved to be well founded, of an approaching insurrection in the westerndepartments of France, reached the capital. The vigilance with which theroyal prisoners were watched was increased. Information, too, though of noprecise character, that they had obtained means of communicating withtheir partisans who were at liberty, was conveyed to the magistrates. Andat last Jarjayes and Toulan were forced to abandon the idea of effectingthe escape of the whole family, though they were still confident that theycould accomplish that of the queen, which they regarded as the mostimportant, since it was plain that it was she who was in the mostimmediate danger. Elizabeth, as disinterested as herself, besought her toembrace their offers, and to let her and the children, as being lessobnoxious to the Jacobins, take their chance of some subsequent means ofescape, or perhaps even mercy. 

But such a flight was forbidden alike by Marie Antoinette's sense of dutyand by her sense of honor, if indeed the two were ever separated in hermind. Honor forbade her to desert her companions in misery, whose dangermight even be increased by the rage of her jailers, exasperated at herescape. Duty to her boy forbade it still more emphatically. As hisguardian, she ought not to leave him; as his mother, she could not. Andher renunciation of the whole design was conveyed to M. Jarjayes in aletter which did honor alike to both by the noble gratitude which itexpressed, and which was long cherished by his heirs as one of their mostprecious possessions, till it was destroyed, with many another valuablerecord, when Paris a second time fell under the rule of wretches scarcelyless detestable than the Jacobins whom they imitated. [4] It was written bystealth, with a pencil; but no difficulties or hurry, as no acuteness ofdisappointment or depth of distress, could rob Marie Antoinette of herdesire to confer pleasure on others, or of her inimitable gracefulness ofexpression. Thus she wrote:

"We have had a pleasant dream, that is all. I have gained much by stillfinding, on this occasion, a new proof of your entire devotion to me. Myconfidence in you is boundless. And on all occasions you will always findstrength of mind and courage in me. But the interest of my son is my soleguide; and, whatever happiness I might find in being out of this place, Ican not consent to separate myself from him. In what remains, I thoroughlyrecognize your attachment to me in all that you said to me yesterday. Relyupon it that I feel the kindness and the force of your arguments as far asmy own interest is concerned, and that I feel that the opportunity can notrecur. But I could enjoy nothing if I were to leave my children; and thisidea prevents me from even regretting my decision. [5]"

And to Toulan she said that "her sole desire was to be reunited to herhusband whenever Heaven should decide that her life was no longernecessary to her children. " He was greatly afflicted, but he could nolonger be of use to her. Her last commission to him was to convey to hereldest brother-in-law, the Count de Provence, her husband's ring and seal, that they might be in safer custody than her own, and that she or her sonmight reclaim them, if either should ever be at liberty. She gave Toulanalso, as a memorial of her gratitude, a small gold box, one of the fewtrinkets which she still possessed, and which, unhappily, proved a fatalpresent. In the summer of the next year it was found in his possession, its history was ascertained, and he was sent to the scaffold for the soleoffense of having and valuing a relic of his murdered sovereign. 

Nor was this the only plan formed for the queen's rescue. The Baron deBatz was a noble of the purest blood in France, seneschal of the Duchy ofAlbret, and bound by ancient ties of hereditary friendship to the king, asthe heir of Henry IV. , whose most intimate confidence had been enjoyed byhis ancestor. He was still animated by all the antique feelings ofchivalrous loyalty, and from the first breaking-out of the troubles of theRevolution he had brought to the service of his sovereign the mostabsolute devotion, which was rendered doubly useful by an inexhaustiblefertility of resource, and a presence of mind that nothing could daunt orperplex. On the fatal 21st of January, he had even formed a project ofrescuing Louis on his way to the scaffold, which failed, partly from thetimidity of some on whose co-operation he had reckoned, and partly, it issaid, from the reluctance of Louis himself to countenance an enterprisewhich, whatever might be its result, must tend to fierce conflict andbloodshed. Since his sovereign's death he had bent all the energies of hismind to contrive the escape of the queen, and he had so far succeeded thathe had enlisted in her cause two men whose posts enabled them to give musteffectual resistance: Michonis, who, like Toulan, was one of thecommissioners of the Council; and Cortey, a captain of the National Guard, whose company was one of those most frequently on duty at the Temple. Itseemed as if all that was necessary to be done was to select a night forthe escape when the chief outlets of the Temple should be guarded byCortey's men; and De Batz, who was at home in every thing that requiredmanoeuvre or contrivance, had provided dresses to disguise the persons ofthe whole family while in the Temple, and passports and conveyances tosecure their escape the moment they were outside the gates. Every thingseemed to promise success, when at the last moment secret intelligencethat some plan or other was in agitation was conveyed to the Council. Itwas not sufficient to enable them to know whom they were to guard againstor to arrest, but it was enough to lead them to send down to the Templeanother commissioner whose turn of duty did not require his presencethere, but whose ferocious surliness of temper pointed him out as one noteasily to be either tricked or overborne. He was a cobbler, named Simon, the very same to whose cruel superintendence the little king was presentlyintrusted. 

He came down the very evening that every thing was arranged for the escapeof the hapless family. De Batz saw that all was over if he staid, andhesitated for a moment whether he should blow out his brains, and try toaccomplish the queen's deliverance by force; but a little reflectionshowed him that the noise of fire-arms would bring up a crowd of enemiesbeyond his ability to overpower, and it soon appeared that it would taxall his resources to secure his own escape. He achieved that, hoping stillto find some other opportunity of being useful to his royal mistress; butnone offered. The Assembly did him the honor to set a price on his head;and at last he thought himself fortunate in being able to save himself. Those who had co-operated with him had worse fortune. Those in authorityhad no proofs on which to condemn them; but in those days suspicion was asufficient death-warrant. Michonis and Cortey were suspected, and in thecourse of the next year a belief that they had at least sympathized withthe queen's sorrows sent them both to the scaffold. 

With the failure of De Batz every project of escape was abandoned; and afew weeks later the queen congratulated herself that she had refused toflee without her boy, since in the course of May he was seized withillness which for some days threatened to assume a dangerous character. With a brutality which, even in such monsters as the Jacobin rulers of thecity, seems almost inconceivable, they refused to allow him the attendanceof M. Brunier, the physician who had had the charge of his infancy. Itwould be a breach of the principles of equality, they said, if anyprisoner were permitted to consult any but the prison doctor. But theprison doctor was a man of sense and humanity, as well as of professionalskill. He of his own accord sought the advice of Brunier; and the poorchild recovered, to be reserved for a fate which, even in the next fewweeks, was so foreshadowed, that his own mother must almost have begun todoubt whether his restoration to health had been a blessing to her or tohimself. 

The spring was marked by important events. Had one so high-minded beencapable of exulting in the misfortunes of even her worst enemies, MarieAntoinette might have triumphed in the knowledge that the murderers of herhusband were already beginning that work of mutual destruction which inlittle more than a year sent almost every one of them to the same scaffoldon which he had perished. The jealousies which from the first had set theJacobins and Girondins at variance had reached a height at which theycould only be extinguished by the annihilation of one party or the other. They had been partners in crime, and so far were equal in infamy; but theJacobins were the fiercer and the readier ruffians; and, after nearly twomonths of vehement debates in the Convention, in which Robespierredenounced the whole body of the Girondin leaders as plotters of treasonagainst the State, and Vergniaud in reply reviled Robespierre as a coward, the Jacobins worked up the mob to rise in their support. The Convention, which hitherto had been divided in something like equality between the twofactions, yielded to the terror of a new insurrection, and on the 2d ofJune ordered the arrest of the Girondin leaders. A very few escaped thesearch made for them by the officers--Roland, to commit suicide;Barbaroux, to attempt it; Pétion and Buzot reached the forests to bedevoured by congenial wolves. Lanjuinais, [6] whom the decree of theConvention had identified with them, but who, even in the moments of thegreatest excitement, had kept himself clear of their wickedness andcrimes, was the only one of the whole body who completely eluded the rageof his enemies. The rest, with Madame Roland, the first prompter of deedsof blood, languished in their well-deserved prisons till the close ofautumn, when they all perished on the same scaffold to which they had senttheir innocent sovereign. [7]

But it may be that Marie Antoinette never learned their fall; though thatif she had, pity would at least have mingled with, if it had notpredominated over, her natural exultation, she gave a striking proof inher conduct toward one from whom she had suffered great and constantindignities. From the time that her own attendants were dismissed, theonly person appointed to assist Cléry in his duties were a man and womannamed Tison, chosen for that task on account of their surly and brutaltempers, in which the wife exceeded her husband. Both, and especially thewoman, had taken a fiendish pleasure in heaping gratuitous insults on thewhole family; but at last the dignity and resignation of the queenawakened remorse in the woman's heart, which presently worked upon her tosuch a degree that she became mad. In the first days of her frenzy sheraved up and down the courtyard declaring herself guilty of the queen'smurder. She threw herself at Marie Antoinette's feet, imploring herpardon; and Marie Antoinette not only raised her up with her own hand, andspoke gentle words of forgiveness and consolation to her, but, after shehad been removed to a hospital, showed a kind interest in her condition, and amidst all her own troubles found time to write a note to express heranxiety that the invalid should have proper attention. [8]

But very soon a fresh blow was struck at the hapless queen which made herindifferent to all else that could happen, and even to her own fate, ofwhich it may be regarded as the precursor. At ten o'clock on the 3d ofJuly, when the little king was sleeping calmly, his mother having hung ashawl in front of his bed to screen his eyes from the light of the candleby which she and Elizabeth were mending their clothes, the door of theirchamber was violently thrown open, and six commissioners entered toannounce to the queen that the Convention had ordered the removal of herboy, that he might he committed to the care of a tutor--the tutor namedbeing the cobbler, Simon, whose savageness of disposition was sufficientlyattested by the fact of his having been chosen on the recommendation ofMarat. At this unexpected blow, Marie Antoinette's fortitude andresignation at last gave way. She wept, she remonstrated, she humbledherself to entreat mercy. She threw her arms around her child, anddeclared that force itself should not tear him from her. The commissionerswere not men likely to feel or show pity. They abused her; they threatenedher. She begged them rather to kill her than take her son. They would notkill her, but they swore that they would murder both him and her daughterbefore her eyes if he were not at once surrendered. There was no moreresistance. His aunt and sister took him from the bed and dressed him. Hismother, with a voice choked by her sobs, addressed him the last words hewas ever to hear from her. "My child, they are taking you from me; neverforget the mother who loves you tenderly, and never forget God! Be good, gentle, and honest, and your father will look down on you from heaven andbless you!" "Have you done with this preaching?" said the chiefcommissioner. "You have abused our patience finely, " another added; "thenation is generous, and will take care of his education. " But she hadfainted, and heard not these words of mocking cruelty. Nothing could touchher further. 

If it be not also a mockery to speak of happiness in connection with thismost afflicted queen, she was happy in at least not knowing the details ofthe education which was in store for the noble boy whose birth hadapparently secured for him the most splendid of positions, and whoseopening virtues seemed to give every promise that he would be worthy ofhis rank and of his mother. A few days afterward Simon received hisinstructions from a committee of the Convention, of which Drouet, thepostmaster of Ste. Menehould, was the chief. "How was he to treat the wolfcub?" he asked (it was one of the mildest names he ever gave him). "Was heto kill him?" "No. " "To poison him?" "No. " "What then?" "He was to get ridof him, [9]" and Simon carried out this instruction by the most unremittingill-treatment of his pupil. He imposed upon him the most menial offices;he made him clean his shoes; he reviled him; he beat him; he compelled himto wear the red cap and jacket which had been adopted as the Revolutionarydress; and one day, when his mother obtained a glimpse of him as he waswalking on the leads of the tower to which he had been transferred, itcaused her an additional pang to see that he had been stripped of the suitof mourning for his father, and had been clothed in the garments which, inher eyes, were the symbol, of all that was most impious and mostloathsome. 

All these outrages were but the prelude of the final blow which was tofall on herself; and it shows how great was the fear with which her loftyresolution had always had inspired the Jacobins--fear with such naturesbeing always the greatest exasperation of hatred and the keenest incentiveto cruelty--that, when they had resolved to consummate her injuries by hermurder, they did not leave her in the Temple as they had left her husband, but removed her to the Conciergerie, which in those days, fitlydenominated the Reign of Terror, rarely led but to the scaffold. On thenight of the 1st of August (the darkest hours were appropriately chosenfor deeds of such darkness) another body of commissioners entered herroom, and woke her up to announce that they had come to conduct her to thecommon prison. Her sister and her daughter begged in vain to be allowed toaccompany her. She herself scarcely spoke a word, but dressed herself insilence, made up a small bundle of clothes, and, after a few words offarewell and comfort to those dear ones who had hitherto been hercompanions, followed her jailers unresistingly, knowing, and for her ownsake certainly not grieving, that she was going to meet her doom. As shepassed through the outer door it was so low that she struck her head. Oneof the commissioners had so much decency left as to ask if she was hurt. "No, " she replied, "nothing now can hurt me. [10]" Six weeks later, anEnglish gentleman saw her in her dungeon. She was freely exhibited to anyone who desired to behold her, on the sole condition--a condition worthyof the monsters who exacted it, and of them alone--that he should show nosign of sympathy or sorrow. [11] "She was sitting on an old worn-out chairmade of straw which scarcely supported her weight. Dressed in a gown whichhad once been white, her attitude bespoke the immensity of her grief, which appeared to have created a kind of stupor, that fortunately renderedher less sensible to the injuries and reproaches which a number of inhumanwretches were continually vomiting forth against her. "

Even after all the atrocities and horrors of the last twelve months, thenews of the resolution to bring her to a trial, which, it was impossibleto doubt, it was intended to follow up by her execution, was received as ashook by the great bulk of the nation, as indeed by all Europe. AndNecker's daughter, Madame de Staël, who, as we have seen, had beenformerly desirous to aid in her escape, now addressed an energetic andeloquent appeal to the entire people, calling on all persons of allparties, "Republicans, Constitutionalists, and Aristocrats alike, to unitefor her preservation. " She left unemployed no fervor of entreaty, no depthof argument. She reminded them of the universal admiration which thequeen's beauty and grace had formerly excited, when "all France thoughtitself laid under an obligation by her charms;[12]" of the affection thatshe had won by her ceaseless acts of beneficence and generosity. Sheshowed the absurdity of denouncing her as "the Austrian"--her who had leftVienna while still little more than a child, and had ever since fixed herheart as well as her home in France. She argued truly that the vagueness, the ridiculousness, the notorious falsehood of the accusations broughtagainst her were in themselves her all-sufficient defense. She showed howuseless to every party and in every point of view must be hercondemnation. What danger could any one apprehend from restoring toliberty a princess whose every thought was tenderness and pity? Shereproached those who now held sway in France with the barbarity of theirproscriptions, with governing by terror and by death, with havingoverthrown a throne only to erect a scaffold in its place; and shedeclared that the execution of the queen would exceed in foulness all theother crimes that they had yet committed. She was a foreigner, she was awoman; to put her to death would be a violation of all the laws ofhospitality as well as of all the laws of nature. The whole universe wasinteresting itself in the queen's fate. Woe to the nation which knewneither justice nor generosity! Freedom would never be the destiny of sucha people. [13]

It had not been from any feeling of compunction or hesitation that thosewho had her fate in their hands left her so long in her dungeon, but fromthe absolute impossibility of inventing an accusation against her thatshould not be utterly absurd and palpably groundless. So difficult didthey find their task, that the jailer, a man named Richard, who, whenalone, ventured to show sympathy for her miseries, sought to encourage herby the assurance that she would be replaced in the Temple. But MarieAntoinette indulged in no such illusion. She never doubted that her deathwas resolved on. "No, " she replied to his well-meant words of hope, "theyhave murdered the king; they will kill me in the same way. Never againshall I see my unfortunate children, my tender and virtuous sister. " Andthe tears which her own sufferings could not wring from her flowed freelywhen she thought of what they were still enduring. 

But at last the eagerness for her destruction overcame all difficulties orscruples. The principal articles of the indictment charged her withhelping to overthrow the republic and to effect the reestablishment of thethrone; with having exerted her influence over her husband to mislead hisjudgment, to render him unjust to his people, and to induce him to put hisveto on laws of which they desired the enactment; with having causedscarcity and famine; with having favored aristocrats; and with having keptup a constant correspondence with her brother, the emperor; and thepreamble and the peroration compared her to Messalina, Agrippina, Brunehaut, and Catherine de' Medici--to all the wickedest women of whomancient or modern history had preserved a record. Had she been guided byher own feelings alone, she would have probably disdained to defendherself against charges whose very absurdity proved that they were onlyput forward as a pretense for a judgment that had been previously decidedon. But still, as ever, she thought of her child, her fair and good son, her "gentle infant, " her king. While life lasted she could never whollyrelinquish the hope that she might see him once again, perhaps even thatsome unlooked-for chance (none could be so unexpected as almost everyoccurrence of the last four years) might restore him and her to freedom, and him to his throne; and for his sake she resolved to exert herself torefute the charges, and at least to establish her right to acquittal anddeliverance. 

Louis had been tried before the Convention. Marie Antoinette was to becondemned by the, if possible, still more infamous court that had beenestablished in the spring under the name of the Revolutionary Tribunal;and on the 13th of October she was at last conducted before a smallsub-committee, and subjected to a private examination. To every questionshe gave firm and clear answers. [14] She declared that the French peoplehad indeed been deceived, but not by her or by her husband. She affirmed"that the happiness of France always had been, and still was, the firstwish of her heart;" and that "she should not even regret the loss of herson's throne, if it led to the real happiness of the country. " She wastaken back to her cell. The next day the four judges of the tribunal tooktheir seats in the court. Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, a manwhose greed of blood stamped him with an especial hideousness, even inthose days of universal barbarity, took his seat before them; and elevenmen, the greater part of whom had been carefully picked from the verydregs of the people--journeymen carpenters, tailors, blacksmiths, anddischarged policemen--were constituted the jury. 

Before this tribunal--we will not dignify it with the name of a court ofjustice--Marie Antoinette, the widow Capet, as she was called in theindictment, was now brought. Clad in deep mourning for her murderedhusband, and aged beyond her years by her long series of sorrows, shestill preserved the fearless dignity which became her race and rank andcharacter. As she took her place at the bar and cast her eyes around thehall, even the women who thronged the court, debased as they were, werestruck by her lofty demeanor. "How proud she is!" was the exclamation, theonly sign of nervousness that she gave being that, as those who watchedher closely remarked, she moved her fingers up and down on the arm of herchair, as if she had been playing on the harpsichord. The prosecutorbrought up witness after witness; some whom it was believed that someancient hatred, others whom it was expected that some hope of pardon forthemselves, might induce to give evidence such as was required. The Countd'Estaing had always been connected with her enemies. Bailly, once Mayorof Paris, as has been seen, had sought a base popularity by the wantonnessof the unprovoked insults which he had offered to the king. Michonis knewthat his head was imperiled by suspicions of his recent desire to assisther. But one and all testified to her entire innocence of the differentcharges which they had been brought forward to support, and to thefalsehood of the statements contained in the indictment. Her own replies, when any question was addressed to herself, were equally in her favor. When accused of having been the prompter of the political mesures of theking's government, her answer could not be denied to be in accordance withthe law: "That she was the wife and subject of the king, and could not bemade responsible for his resolutions and actions. " When charged withgeneral indifference or hostility to the happiness of the people, sheaffirmed with equal calmness, as she had previously declared at herprivate examination, that the welfare of the nation had been, and alwayswas, the first of her wishes. 

Once only did a question provoke an answer in any other tone than that ofa lofty imperturbable equanimity. She had not known till that moment thedepth of her enemies' wickedness, or the cruelty with which her son's mindhad been dealt with, worse ten thousand times than the foulest torturesthat could be applied to the body. Both her children had been subjected toan examination, in the hope that something might be found to incriminateher in the words of those who might hardly be able to estimate the exactvalue of their expressions. The princess had been old enough to baffle theutmost malice of her questioners; and the boy had given short and plainreplies from which nothing to suit their purpose could be extracted, tillthey forced him to drink brandy, and, when he was stupefied with drink, compelled him to sign depositions in which he accused both the queen andElizabeth of having trained him in lessons of vice. At first, horror at somonstrous a charge had sealed the queen's lips; but when she gave nodenial, a juryman questioned her on the subject, and insisted on ananswer. Then at last Marie Antoinette spoke in sublime indignation. "If Ihave not answered, it was because nature itself rejects such an accusationmade against a mother. I appeal from it to every mother who hears me. "

Marie Antoinette had been allowed two counsel, who, perilous as was theduty imposed upon them, cheerfully accepted it as an honor; but it was notintended that their assistance should be more than nominal. She had onlyknown their names on the evening preceding the trial; but when sheaddressed a letter to the President of the Convention, demanding apostponement of the trial for three days, as indispensable to enable themto master the case, since as yet they had not had time even to read thewhole of the indictment, adding that "her duty to her children bound herto leave nothing undone which was requisite for the entire justificationof their mother, " the request was rudely refused; and all that the lawyerscould do was to address eloquent appeals to the judges and jurymen, beingutterly unable, on so short notice, to analyze as they deserved thearguments of the prosecutor or the testimony by which he had professed tosupport them. But before such a tribunal it signified little what wasproved or disproved, or what was the strength or weakness of the argumentsemployed on either side. It was long after midnight of the second day thatthe trial concluded. The jury at once pronounced the prisoner guilty. Thejudges as instantly passed sentence of death, and ordered it to beexecuted the next morning. 

It was nearly five in the morning of the 16th of October when the favoritedaughter of the great Empress-queen, herself Queen of France, was led fromthe court, not even to the wretched room which she had occupied for thelast ten weeks, but to the condemned cell, never tenanted before by anybut the vilest felons. Though greatly exhausted by the length of theproceedings, she had heard the sentence without betraying the slightestemotion by any change of countenance or gesture. On reaching her cell sheat once asked for writing materials. They had been withheld from her formore than a year, but they were now brought to her; and with them shewrote her last letter to that princess whom she had long learned to loveas a sister of her own, who had shared her sorrows hitherto, and who, atno distant period, was to share the fate which was now awaiting herself. 

"16th October, 4. 30 A. M. 

"It is to you, my sister, that I write for the last time. I have just beencondemned, not to a shameful death, for such is only for criminals, but togo and rejoin your brother. Innocent like him, I hope to show the samefirmness in my last moments. I am calm, as one is when one's consciencereproaches one with nothing. I feel profound sorrow in leaving my poorchildren: you know that I only lived for them and for you, my good andtender sister. You who out of love have sacrificed everything to be withus, in what a position do I leave you! I have learned from the proceedingsat my trial that my daughter was separated from you. Alas! poor child; Ido not venture to write to her; she would not receive my letter. I do noteven know whether this will reach you. Do you receive my blessing for bothof them. I hope that one day when they are older they may be able torejoin you, and to enjoy to the full your tender care. Let them both thinkof the lesson which I have never ceased to impress upon them, that theprinciples and the exact performance of their duties are the chieffoundation of life; and then mutual affection and confidence in oneanother will constitute its happiness. Let my daughter feel that at herage she ought always to aid her brother by the advice which her greaterexperience and her affection may inspire her to give him. And let my sonin his turn render to his sister all the care and all the services whichaffection can inspire. Let them, in short, both feel that, in whateverpositions they may be placed, they will never be truly happy but throughtheir union. Let them follow our example. In our own misfortunes how muchcomfort has our affection for one another afforded us! And, in times ofhappiness, we have enjoyed that doubly from being able to share it with afriend; and where can one find friends more tender and more united than inone's own family? Let my son never forget the last words of his father, which I repeat emphatically; let him never seek to avenge our deaths. Ihave to speak to you of one thing which is very painful to my heart, Iknow how much pain the child must have caused you. Forgive him, my dearsister; think of his age, and how easy it is to make a child say whateverone wishes, especially when he does not understand it. [15] It will come topass one day, I hope, that he will better feel the value of your kindnessand of your tender affection for both of them. It remains to confide toyou my last thoughts. I should have wished to write them at the beginningof my trial; but, besides that they did not leave me any means of writing, events have passed so rapidly that I really have not had time. 

"I die in the Catholic Apostolic and Roman religion, that of my fathers, that in which I was brought up, and which I have always professed. Havingno spiritual consolation to look for, not even knowing whether there arestill in this place any priests of that religion[16] (and indeed the placewhere I am would expose them to too much danger if they were to enter itbut once), I sincerely implore pardon of God for all the faults which Imay have committed during my life. I trust that, in his goodness, he willmercifully accept my last prayers, as well as those which I have for along time addressed to him, to receive my soul into his mercy. I begpardon of all whom I know, and especially of you, my sister, for all thevexations which, without intending it, I may have caused you. I pardon allmy enemies the evils that they have done me. I bid farewell to my auntsand to all my brothers and sisters. I had friends. The idea of beingforever separated from them and from all their troubles is one of thegreatest sorrows that I suffer in dying. Let them at least know that tomy latest moment I thought of them. 

"Farewell, my good and tender sister. May this letter reach you. Thinkalways of me; I embrace you with all my heart, as I do my poor dearchildren. My God, how heart-rending it is to leave them forever! Farewell!farewell! I must now occupy myself with my spiritual duties, as I am notfree in my actions. Perhaps they will bring me a priest; but I hereprotest that I will not say a word to him, but that I will treat him as aperson absolutely unknown. "

Her forebodings were realized; her letter never reached Elizabeth, but wascarried to Fouquier, who placed it among his special records. Yet, if inthose who had thus wrought the writer's destruction there had been onehuman feeling, it might have been awakened by the simple dignity andunaffected pathos of this sad farewell. No line that she ever wrote wasmore thoroughly characteristic of her. The innocence, purity, andbenevolence of her soul shine through every sentence. Even in that awfulmoment she never lost her calm, resigned fortitude, nor her considerationfor others. She speaks of and feels for her children, for her friends, butnever for herself. And it is equally characteristic of her that, even inher own hopeless situation, she still can cherish hope for others, and canlook forward to the prospect of those whom she loves being hereafterunited in freedom and happiness. She thought, it may be, that her owndeath would be the last sacrifice that her enemies would require. And foreven her enemies and murderers she had a word of pardon, and could addressa message of mercy for them to her son, who, she trusted, might yet someday have power to show that mercy she enjoined, or to execute thevengeance which with her last breath she deprecated. 

She threw herself on her bed and fell asleep. At seven she was roused bythe executioner. The streets were already thronged with a fierce andsanguinary mob, whose shouts of triumph were so vociferous that she askedone of her jailers whether they would tear her to pieces. She was assuredthat, as he expressed it, they would do her no harm. And indeed theJacobins themselves would have protected her from the populace, so anxiouswere they to heap on her every indignity that would render death moreterrible. Louis had been allowed to quit the Temple in his carriage. MarieAntoinette was to be drawn from the prison to the scaffold in a commoncart, seated on a bare plank; the executioner by her side, holding thecords with which her hands were already bound. With a refinement ofbarbarity, those who conducted the procession made it halt more than once, that the people might gaze upon her, pointing her out to the mob withwords and gestures of the vilest insult. She heard them not; her thoughtswere with God: her lips were uttering nothing but prayers. Once for amoment, as she passed in sight of the Tuileries, she was observed to castan agonized look toward its towers, remembering, perhaps, how reluctantlyshe had quit it fourteen months before. It was midday before the cartreached the scaffold. As she descended, she trod on the executioner'sfoot. It might seem to have been ordained that her very last words mightbe words of courtesy. "Excuse me, sir, " she said, "I did not do it onpurpose;" and she added, "make haste. " In a few moments all was over. 

Her body was thrown into a pit in the common cemetery, and covered withquicklime to insure its entire destruction. When, more than twenty yearsafterward, her brother-in-law was restored to the throne, and with piousaffection desired to remove her remains and those of her husband to thetime-honored resting-place of their royal ancestors at St. Denis, noremains of her who had once been the admiration of all beholders could befound beyond some fragments of clothing, and one or two bones, among whichthe faithful memory of Châteaubriand believed that he recognized the mouthwhose sweet smile had been impressed on his memory since the day on whichit acknowledged his loyalty on his first presentation, while still a boy, at Versailles. 

Thus miserably perished, by a death fit only for the vilest of criminals, Marie Antoinette, the daughter of one sovereign, the wife of another, whohad never wronged or injured one human being. No one was ever more richlyendowed with all the charms which render woman attractive, or with all thevirtues that make her admirable. Even in her earliest years, her carelessand occasionally undignified levity was but the joyous outpouring of apure innocence of heart that, as it meant no evil, suspected none; whileit was ever blended with a kindness and courtesy which sprung from agenuine benevolence. As queen, though still hardly beyond girlhood whenshe ascended the throne, she set herself resolutely to work by heradmonitions, and still more effectually by her example, to purify a courtof which for centuries the most shameless profligacy had been the rule andboast; discountenancing vice and impiety by her marked reprobation, andreserving all her favor and protection for genius and patriotism, andhonor and virtue. Surrounded at a later period by unexampled dangers andcalamities, she showed herself equal to every vicissitude of fortune, andsuperior to its worst frowns. If her judgment occasionally erred, it wasin cases where alternatives of evil were alone offered to her choice, andin which it is even now scarcely possible to decide what course would havebeen wiser or safer than that which she adopted. And when at last the longconflict was terminated by the complete victory of her combined enemies--when she, with her husband and her children, was bereft not only of power, but even of freedom, and was a prisoner in the hands of those whoseunalterable object was her destruction--she bore her accumulated miserieswith a serene resignation, an intrepid fortitude, a true heroism of soul, of which the history of the world does not afford a brighter example. 

FOOTNOTES

PREFACE

[1] One entitled "Marie-Antoinette, correspondance secrète entre Marie-Thérèse et le Comte Mercy d'Argenteau, avec des lettres de Marie-Thérèseet de Marie-Antoinette. " (The edition referred to in this work is thegreatly enlarged second edition in three volumes, published at Paris, 1875. ) The second is entitled "Marie-Antoinette, Joseph II. , and LeopoldII, " published at Leipsic, 1866. 

[2] Entitled "Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, et Madame Elizabeth, " in sixvolumes, published at intervals from 1864 to 1873. 

[3] In his "Nouveau Lundi, " March 5th, 1866, M. Sainte-Beuve challenged M. Feuillet de Conches to a more explicit defense of the authenticity of hiscollection than he had yet vouchsafed; complaining, with some reason, thathis delay in answering the charges brought against it "was the morevexatious because his collection was only attacked in part, and in manypoints remained solid and valuable. " And this challenge elicited from M. F. De Conches a very elaborate explanation of the sources from which heprocured his documents, which he published in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, July 15th, 1866, and afterward in the Preface to his fourth volume. Thatin a collection of nearly a thousand documents he may have occasionallybeen too credulous in accepting cleverly executed forgeries as genuineletters is possible, and even probable; in fact, the present writerregards it as certain. But the vast majority, including all those of thegreatest value, can not be questioned without imputing to him a guiltyknowledge that they were forgeries--a deliberate bad faith, of which noone, it is believed, has ever accused him. 

It may be added that it is only from the letters of this later period thatany quotations are made in the following work; and the greater part of theletters so cited exists in the archives at Vienna, while the others, suchas those, addressed by the Queen, to Madame de Polignac, etc. , are justsuch as were sure to be preserved as relics by the families of those towhom they were addressed, and can therefore hardly be considered as liableto the slightest suspicion. 

CHAPTER I. 

[1] Sainte-Beuve, "Nouveaux Lundis, " August 8th, 1864. 

CHAPTER II. 

[1] "Histoire de Marie Antoinette, " par E. And J. De Goncourt, p. 11. 

[2] How popular masked halls were in London at this time may be learnedfrom Walpole's "Letters, " and especially from a passage in which he givesan account of one given by "sixteen or eighteen young Lords" just twomonths before this ball at Vienna. --_Walpole to Mann_, dated February27th, 1770. Some one a few years later described the French nation as halftiger and half monkey; and it is a singular coincidence that Walpole'scomment on this masquerading fashion should be, "It is very lucky, seeinghow much of the tiger enters into the human composition, that there shouldbe a good dose of the monkey too. "

[3] "Mémoires concernant Marie Antoinette, " par Joseph Weber (her foster-brother), i. , p. 6. 

[4] "Goethe's Biography, " p. 287. 

[5] "Mémoires de Bachaumont, " January 30th, 1770. 

[6] La maison du roi. 

[7] Chevalier d'honneur. We have no corresponding office at the Englishcourt. 

[8] The king said, "Vous étiez déjà de la famille, car votre mère a l'âmede Louis le Grand. "--SAINTE-BEUVE, _Nouveaux Lundis_, viii. , p. 322. 

[9] In the language of the French heralds, the title princes of the royalfamily was confined to the children or grandchildren of the reigningsovereign. His nephews and cousins were only princes of the blood. 

CHAPTER III. 

[1] The word is Maria Teresa's own; "anti-français" occurring in more thanone of her letters. 

[2] Quoted by Mme. Du Deffand in a letter to Walpole, dated May 19th, 1770("Correspondance complète de Mme. Du Deffand, " ii. , p. 59). 

[3] Mercy to Marie-Thérèse, August 4th, 1770; "Correspondance secrèteentre Marie-Thérèse et la Comte de Mercy Argenteau, avec des Lettres deMarie-Thérèse et Marie Antoinette, " par M. Le Chevalier Alfred d'Arneth, i. , p. 29. For the sake of brevity, this Collection will be hereafterreferred to as "Arneth. "

[4] "The King of France is both hated and despised, which seldom happensto the same man. "--LORD CHESTERFIELD, _Letter to Mr. Dayrolles_, dated May19th, 1752. 

[5] Maria Teresa died in December, 1780. 

[6] Mme. Du Deffand, letter of May 19th, 1770. 

[7] Chambier, i. , p. 60. 

[8] Mme. De Campan, i. , p. 3. 

[9] He told Mercy she was "'vive et un peu enfant, mais, " ajouta-t-il, "cela est bien de son âge. '"--ARNETH, i. , p. 11. 

[10] Arneth, i. , p. 9-16

CHAPTER IV. 

[1] Dates 9th and 12th. , Arneth, i. , pp. 16, 18. 

[2] Marly was a palace belonging to the king, but little inferior insplendor to Versailles itself, and a favorite residence of Louis XV. , because a less strict etiquette had been established there. Choisy andBellevue, which will often be mentioned in the course of this narrative, were two others of the royal palaces on a somewhat smaller scale. Theyhave both been destroyed. Marly, Choisy, and Bellevue were all betweenVersailles and Paris. 

[3] Mém. De Goncourt, quoting a MS. Diary of Hardy, p. 35. 

[4] De Vermond, who had accompanied her from Vienna as her reader. 

[5] See St. Simon's account of Dangeau, i. , p. 392. 

[6] The Duc de Noailles, brother-in-law of the countess, "l'homme deFrance qui a peut-être le plus d'esprit et qui connait le mieux sonsouverain et la cour, " told Mercy in August that "jugeant d'après sonexpérience et d'après les qualités qu'il voyait dans cette princesse, ilétait persuadé qu'elle gouvernerait un jour l'esprit du roi. "--ARNETH, i. , p. 34. 

[7] La petite rousse. 

[8] "De monter à cheval gâte le teint, et votre taille à la longue s'enressentira. "--_Marie-Thérèse à Marie-Antoinette_, Arneth, i. , p. 104. 

[9] "On fit chercher partout des ânes fort doux et tranquilles. Le 21 onrépéta la promenade sur les ânes. Mesdames voulurent être de la partieainsi que le Comte de Provence et le Comte d'Artois. "--_Mercy à Marie-Thérèse_, September 19, 1770, Arneth, i. , p. 49. 

[10] "Madame la Dauphine, à laquelle le trésor royal doit remettre 6000frs. Par mois, n'a réellement pas un écu dont elle peut disposer elle-mêmeet sans le concours de personne" (Octobre 20). --ARNETH, i. P. 69. 

[11] "Ses garçons de chambre reçoivent cent louis [a louis was twenty-fourfrancs, so that the hundred made 2100 francs out of her 6000] par moispour la dépense du jeu de S. A. R. ; et soit qu'elle perde ou qu'elle gagne, on ne revoit rien de cette somme. "--ARNETH, i. 

[12] "Mme. Adelaide ajouta, 'On voit bien que vous n'êtes pas de notresang. '"--ARNETH, i. , p. 94. 

[13] Arneth, i. , p. 95. 

[14] "Finalement, Mme. La Dauphine se fait adorer de ses entours et dupublic; il n'est pas encore survenu un seul inconvénient grave dans saconduite. "--_Mercy à Marie-Thérèse_, Novembre 16, Arneth, i. , p. 98. 

[15] Prince de Ligne, "Mém. " ii. , p. 79. 

[16] Mercy to Maria Teresa, dated November 17th, 1770, Arneth, i. , p. 94. 

[17] Mercy to Maria Teresa, dated February 25th, 1771, Arneth, i, p. 134. 

CHAPTER V

[1] See the "Citizen of the World, " Letter 55. Reference has often beenmade to Lord Chesterfield's prediction of the French Revolution. But I amnot aware that any one has remarked on the equally acute foresight ofGoldsmith. 

[2] Letter of April 16th, 1771, Arneth, i. , p. 148. 

[3] Arneth, i. , p. 186. 

[4] Maria Teresa to Marie Antoinette, July 9th, and August 17th, Arneth, i. , p. 196. 

[5] "Ne soyez pas honteuse d'être allemande jusqu'aux gaucheries.... LeFrançais vous estimera plus et fera plus de compte sur vous s'il voustrouve la solidité et la franchise allemande. "--_Maria Teresa to MarieAntoinette. _ May 8th, 1771, Arneth, i. , p. 159. 

[6] Walpole's letter to Sir H. Mann, June 8th, 1771, v. , p. 301. 

[7] Mercy to Maria Teresa, January 23d, 1772, Arneth, i. , p. 265. 

[8] The Duc de la Vauguyon, who, after the dauphin's marriage, stillretained his post with his younger brother. 

CHAPTER VI

[1] Mercy's letter to the empress, August 14th, 1772, Arneth, i. , p. 335. 

[2] Mercy to Maria Teresa, November 14th, 1772, Arneth, i. , p. 307. 

[3] Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, December 15th, 1772, Arneth, i. , p. 382. 

[4] Her sister Caroline, Queen of Naples. 

[5] Her brother Leopold, at present Grand Duke of Tuscany, afterwardemperor. His wife, Marie Louise, was a daughter of Charles III. Of Spain. 

[6] They, with several of the princes of the blood and some of the peers, as already mentioned, had been banished for their opposition to theabolition of the Parliaments; but now, in the hopes of obtaining theking's consent to his marriage with Madame de Montessan, a widow ofenormous wealth, the Due d'Orléans made overtures for forgiveness, accompanying them, however, with a letter so insolent that it might we beregarded as an aggravation of his original offense. According to Madame duDeffand (letter to Walpole, December 18th, 1772, vol. Ii. , p. 283), he wasonly prevented from reconciling himself to the king some months before byhis son, the Due de Chartres (afterward the infamous Égalité), whom shedescribes as "a young man, very obstinate, and who hopes to play a greatpart by putting himself at the head of a faction. " The princes, however, in the view of the shrewd old lady, had made the mistake of greatlyoverrating their own importance. "These great princes, since theirprotest, have been just citizens of the Rue St. Denis. No one at courtever perceived their absence, and no one in the city ever noticed theirpresence. "

[7] Lord Stormont, the English Embassador at Vienna, from which city hewas removed to Paris. In the preceding September Maria Teresa hadcomplained to him of being "animated against her cabinet, from indignationat the partition of Poland. "

[8] That is, sisters-in-law--the Princesses Clotilde and Elizabeth. 

[9] The Hotel-Dieu was the most ancient hospital in Paris. It had alreadyexisted several hundred years when Philip Augustus enlarged it, and gaveit the name of Maison de Dieu. Henry IV. And his successors had furtherenlarged it, and enriched it with monuments; and even the revolutionistsrespected it, though when they had disowned the existence of God theychanged its name to that of L'Hospice de l'Humanité. It had been almostdestroyed by fire a fortnight before the date of this letter, on the nightof the 29th of December. 

[10] St. Anthony's Day was June 14th, and her name of Antoinette wasregarded as placing her under his especial protection. 

CHAPTER VII

[1] They have not, however, been preserved. 

[2] Mercy to Maria Teresa, June 16th, 1773, Arneth, i. , p. 467. 

[3] "Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI. , et la Famille Royale", p. 23. 

[4] Marie Antoinette to Maria Theresa, July 17th, Arneth, ii. , p. 8. 

[5] "Histoire de Marie Antoinette, " par M. De Goncourt, p. 50. Quoting anunpublished journal by M. M. Hardy, in the Royal Library. 

[6] It is the name by which she is more than once described in Madame duDeffand's letters. See her "Correspondence, " ii. , p. 357. 

[7] Mercy to Maria Teresa, December 11th, 1773, Arneth, ii. , p. 81. 

[8] "Mémoires de Besenval, " i. , p. 304. 

CHAPTER VIII

[1] Mercy to Maria Teresa, August 14th, 1773, Arneth, ii. , p. 31. 

[2] The money was a joint gift from herself as well as from him. Greatdistress, arising from the extraordinarily high price of bread, was atthis time prevailing in Paris. 

[3] The term most commonly used by Marie Antoinette in her letters to hermother to describe Madame du Barri. She was ordered to retire to the Abbeyof Pont-aux-Dames, near Meaux. Subsequently she was allowed to return toLuciennes, a villa which her royal lover had given her. 

[4] Madame de Mazarin was the lady who, by the fulsomeness of herservility to Madame du Barri, provoked Madame du Deffand (herself a ladynot altogether _sans reproche_) to say that it was not easy to carry "theheroism of baseness and absurdity farther. "

[5] Lorraine had become a French province a few years before, on the deathof Stanislaus Leczinsky, father of the queen of Louis XV. 

[6] Maria Teresa to Marie Antoinette, May 18th, and to Mercy on the sameday, Arneth, ii. , p. 149. 

[7] See his letter of 8th May to Maria Teresa. "Il faut que pour la suitede son bonheur, elle commence à s'emparer de l'autorité que M. Le Dauphinn'exercera jamais que d'une façon convenable, et ... Ce serait du dernierdanger et pour l'état et pour le système général que qui ce soit s'emparâtde M. Le Dauphin et qu'il fut conduit par autre que par Madame laDauphine. "--ARNETH, ii. , p. 137. 

[8] "Je parle à l'amie, à la confidente du roi. "--_Maria Teresa to MarieAntoinette_, May 30th, 1770, Arneth, ii. , p. 155. 

[9] "Jusqu'à présent l'étiquette de cette cour a toujours interdit auxreines et princesses royales de manger avec des hommes. "--_Mercy to MariaTeresa_, June 7th, 1774, Arneth, ii, p. 164

[10] "Elle me traite, à mon arrivée, comme tous les jeunes gens quicomposaient ses pages, qu'elle comblait de bontés, en leur montrant unebienveillance pleine de dignité, mais qu'on pouvait aussi appelermaternelle. "--_Marie Thérèse, Mémoires de Tilly_, i. , p. 25. 

[11] Le don, ou le droit, de joyeux avènement. 

[12] La ceinture de la reine. It consisted of three pence (deniers) oneach hogs-head of wine imported into the city, and was levied every threeyears in the capital. --ARNETH, ii, p. 179. 

[13] The title "ceinture de la reine" had been given to it because in theold times queens and all other ladies had carried their purses at theirgirdles. 

CHAPTER IX

[1] The title by which the count was usually known: that of the countesswas madame. 

[2] St. Simon, 1709, ch. V. , and 1715, ch. I, vols. Vii. And xiii. , ed. 1829. 

[3] Ibid. , 1700, ch xxx. , vol. Ii. , p. 469. 

[4] Arneth, ii, p. 206. 

[5] Madame de Campan, ch. Iv. 

[6] Madame de Campan, ch. V. , p. 106. 

[7] _Id. _, p. 101. 

[8] "_Sir Peter_. Ah, madam, true wit is more neatly allied to good--nature than your ladyship is aware of. "--_School for Scandal_, act ii. , sc. 2. 

CHAPTER X

[1] "Elle avait entièrement le défaut contraire [à la prodigalité], et jepouvais prouver qu'elle portait souvent l'économie jusqu'à des détailsd'une mesquinerie blâmable, surtout dans une souveraine. "--MADAME DECAMPAN, ch. V. , p. 106, ed. 1858. 

[2] Arneth, ii. , p. 307. 

[3] See the author's "History of France under the Bourbons, " iii. , p. 418. Lacretelle, iv. , p. 368, affirms that this outbreak, for which in hiseyes "une prétendue disette" was only a pretext, was "évidemment fomentépar des hommes puissans, " and that "un salaire qui était payé par deshommes qu'on ne pouvait nommer aujourd'hui avec assez de certitude, excitait leurs fureurs factices. "

[4] La Guerre des Farines. 

[5] Arneth, ii. , p. 342. 

[6] "Souvenirs de Vaublanc, " i. , p. 231. 

[7] August 23d, 1775, No. 1524, in Cunningham's edition, vol. Vi. , p. 245. 

[8] The Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, who were just at this timeastonishing London with their riotous living. 

CHAPTER XI

[1] "Gustave III. Et la Cour de France, " i. P. 279. 

[2] The Duc d'Angoulême, afterward dauphin, when the Count d'Artoissucceeded to the throne as Charles X. 

[3] Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, August 12th, 1775, Arneth, ii. , p. 366. 

[4] "Le projet de la reine était d'exiger du roi que le Sieur Turgot fûtchassé, même envoyé à la Bastille ... Et il a fallu les représentationsles plus fortes et les plus instantes pour arrêter les effets de la colèrede la Reine. "--_Mercy to Maria Teresa_, May 16th, 1776, Arneth, ii. , p. 446. 

[5] The compiler of "Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI. , et La Famille Royale"(date April 24th, 1776) has a story of a conversation between the king andqueen which illustrates her feeling toward the minister. She had just comein from the opera. He asked her "how she had been received by theParisians; if she had had the usual cheers. " She made no reply; the kingunderstood her silence. "Apparently, madame, you had not feathers enough. ""I should have liked to have seen you there, sir, with your St. Germainand your Turgot; you would have been rudely hissed. " St. Germain was theminister of war. 

[6] Mercy to Maria Teresa, May 16th, 1776, Arneth, ii. , p. 446. 

[7] January 14th, 1776, Arneth, ii. , p. 414. 

[8] The ground-floor of the palace was occupied by the shops of jewelersand milliners, some of whom were great sufferers by the fire. 

[9] In a letter written at the end of 1775, Mercy reports to the empressthat some of Turgot's economical reforms had produced real discontentamong those "qui trouvent leur intérêt dans le désordre, " which they hadvented in scandalous and seditious writings. Many songs of that characterhad come out, some of which were attributed to Beaumarchais, "le roi et lareine n'y ont point été respectés. "--_December 17th_, 1775. Arneth, ii, p. 410. 

[10] Mercy to Maria Teresa, November 15th, 1776, Arneth, ii. , p. 524. 

CHAPTER XII. 

[1] "Le petit nombre de ceux que la Reine appelle 'sa société'"--_Mercy toMarie Teresa_, February 15th, 1777, Arneth, iii. , p. 18. 

[2] "Il faut cependant convenir que dans ces circonstances si rapprochéesde la familiarité, la Reine, par un maintien qui tient à son âme, atoujours su imprimer à ceux qui l'entouraient une contenance de respectqui contrebalançait un peu la liberté des propos. "--_Mercy to MariaTeresa_, Arneth, ii, p. 520. 

[3] Brunoy is about fifteen miles from Paris. 

[4] "Au reste il est temps pour la santé de la Reine que le carnavalfinisse. On remarque qu'elle s'en altère, et que sa Majesté maigritbeaucoup. "--_Marie Thérèse à Louis XVI. _, la date Février 1, 1777, p 101. 

[5] Once when he had spoken to her with a severity which alarmed Mercy, who feared it might irritate the queen, "Il me dit en riant qu'il en avaitagi ainsi pour sonder l'âme de la reine, et voir si par la force il n'yaurait pas moyen d'obtenir plus que par la douceur. "--_Mercy to MariaTeresa_, Arneth, iii. , p. 79. 

[6] Arneth, iii. , p. 73. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

[1] When Mercy remonstrated with her on her relapse into some of her oldhabits from which at first she seemed to have weaned herself, "La seuleréponse que j'aie obtenu a été la crainte de s'ennuyer. "--_Mercy to MariaTeresa_, November 19th, 1777, Arneth, iii. , p. 13. 

[2] See Marie Antoinette's account to her mother of his quarrel with theDuchess de Bourbon at a _bal de l'opéra_, Arneth, iii. , p. 174. 

[3] "Il y a apparence que notre marine dont on s'occupe depuis longtempsva bientôt être en activité. Dieu veuille que tous ces mouvementsn'amènent pas la guerre de terre. "--_Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa_, March 18th, 1777, Arneth, iii. , p. 174. 

[4] "Jamais les Anglais n'ont eu tant de supériorité sur mer; mais ils eneurent sur les Français dans tous les temps. "--_Siècle de Louis_, ch xxxv. 

[5] The Comte de la Marck, who knew him well, says of him, "Il étaitgauche dans toutes ses manières; sa taille était très élevée, ses cheveuxtrès roux, il dansait sans grâce, montait mal à cheval, et les jeunes gensavec lesquels il vivait se montraient plus adroits que lui dans lesdiverses exercices d'alors à la mode. " He describes his income as "unefortune de 120, 000 livres de rente, " a little under £5000 a year. --_Correspondance entre le Comte de Mirabeau et le Comte de la Marck_, i. P. 47. 

[6] "On a parlé de moi dans tous les cercles, même après que la bonté dela reine m'eut valu le régiment du roi dragons. "--_Mémoires de ma Main, Mémoires de La Fayette_, i. , p 86. 

[7] "La lettre où Votre Majesté, parlant du Roi de Prusse, s'exprime ainsi.... 'cela ferait un changement dans notre alliance, ce qui me donneraitla mort, ' j'ai vu la reine pâlir en me lisant cet article. "--_Mercy toMaria Teresa_, February 18th, 1778, Arneth, iii. , p. 170. 

[8] See Coxe's "House of Austria, " ch. Cxxi. The war, which was marked byno action or event of importance, was terminated by the treaty of Teschen, May 10th, 1779. 

[9] "Il n'a pas voulu y consentir, et a toujours été attentif à exciterlui-même la reine aux choses qu'il jugeait pouvoir lui être agréables. "--_Mercy to Maria Teresa_, March 29th, 1778, Arneth, iii. , p. 177. 

[10] Marie Antoinette to Joseph II, and Leopold II. , p. 21, date January16th, 1778. 

[11] Louis. 

[12] Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, May 16th, Arneth, iii. , p. 200. 

[13] Weber, i. , p. 40. 

[14] One of his admirers, seeing his mortification, said to him: "You arevery simple to have wished to go to court. Do you know what would havehappened to you? I will tell you. The king, with his usual affability, would have laughed in your face, and talked to you of your converts atFerney. The queen would have spoken of your plays. Monsieur would haveasked you what your income was. Madame would have quoted some of yourverses. The Countess of Artois would have said nothing at all; and thecount would have conversed with you about 'the Maid of Orleans. '"--_MarieAntoinette, Louis XVI. Et la Famille Royale_, p. 125, March 3d. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

[1] "La cour se précipite pêle-mêle avec la foule, car l'étiquette deFrance veut que tous entrent à ce moment, que nul ne soit refusé, et quele spectacle soit public d'une reine qui va donner un héritier à lacouronne, ou seulement un enfant au roi. "--_Mém. De Goncourt_, p. 105. 

[2] Arneth, iii. , p. 270. 

[3] Madame de Campan, ch. Ix. 

[4] _Ibid_. , ch. Ix. 

[5] Chambrier, i. , p. 394. 

[6] "Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI. , et la Famille Royale, " p. 147, December24th, 1778. 

[7] _Garde-malades_ was the name given to them. 

[8] "Du moment qu'ils [les enfants] peuvent être à l'air on les yaccoutume petit à petit, et ils finissent par y être presque toujours; jecrois que c'est la manière la plus saine et la meilleure des les élever. "

[9] Letter of Marie Antoinette to Maria Teresa, May 15th, 1779, Arneth, iii. , p. 311. 

[10] Maria Teresa had offered the mediation of the empire to restore peacebetween England and France. 

[11] Spain had recently entered into the alliance against England in thehope of recovering Gibraltar. And just at the date of this letter thecombined fleet of sixty-six sail of the line sailed into the Channel, while a French army of 50, 000 men was waiting at St. Malo to invadeEngland so soon as the British Channel fleet should have been defeated;but, though Sir Charles Hardy had only forty sail under his orders, D'Orvilliers and his Spanish colleague retreated before him, and at thebeginning of September, from fear of the equinoctial gales, of which thequeen here speaks with such alarm, retired to their own harbors, withouteven venturing to come to action with a foe of scarcely two-thirds oftheir own strength. See the author's "History of the British Navy, " ch. Xiv. 

[12] Letter of September 15th. 

[13] Letter of October 14th. 

[14] Letter of November 16th. 

[15] Letter of November 17th. 

[16] Kaunitz had been the prime minister of the empress, who negotiatedthe alliances with France and Russia, which were the preparations for theSeven Years' War. 

CHAPTER XV. 

[1] "On assure que sa majesté ne joue pas bien; ce que personne, exceptéle roi, n'a osé lui dire. Au contraire, on l'applaudit à tout rompre. "--_Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI. Et la Famille Royale_ p. 203, date September28th, 1780. 

[2] In May, 1780, Sir Henry Clinton took Charleston, with a great numberof prisoners, a great quantity of stores and four hundred guns. --LORDSTANHOPE'S _History of England_, ch. Lxii. 

[3] "Cette disposition a été faite deux ans plutôt que ne le comportel'usage établi pour les enfants de France. "--_Mercy to Maria Teresa_, October 14th, Arneth, iii. P. 476. 

[4] Madame de Campan, ch. Ix. 

[5] "Gustave III. Et la Cour de France, " i. , p. 349. 

[6] An order known as that "du Mérite" had been recently distributed forforeign Protestant officers, whose religion prevented them from taking theoath required of the Knights of the Grand Order of St. Louis. 

[7] "Sa figure et son air convenaient parfaitement à un héros de roman, mais non pas d'un roman français; il n'en avait ni le brillant nilégèreté. "--_Souvenirs et Portraits_, par M. De Levis, p. 130. 

[8] "La Marck et Mirabeau, " p. 32. 

[9] See his letter to Lord North proposing peace, date December 1st, 1780. Lord Stanhope's "History of England, " vol. Vii. , Appendix, p. 13. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

[1] "Gustave III. Et la Cour de France, " i. , p. 357. 

[2] Chambrier, i. , p. 430; "Gustave III. , " etc. , i. , p. 353. 

[3] "Gustave III. , " etc. , i. , p. 353. 

[4] "Mémoires de Weber, " i. , p. 50. 

[5] "On s'arrêtait dans les rues, on se parlait sans se connaître. "--Madame de Campan, ch. Ix. 

[6] L'Oeil de Boeuf. 

[7] Madame de Campan, ch. Ix. ; "Marie Antoinette, Louis XII. , et laFamille Royale, " p. 238. 

[8] "Un soleil d'été"--Weber, i. , p. 53. 

[9] La Muette derived its name from _les mues_ of the deer who were rearedthere. It had been enlarged by the Regent d'Orléans, who gave it to hisdaughter, the Duchess de Berri; and it, was the frequent scene of theorgies of that infamous father and daughter, while more recently it hadbeen known as the Parc aux Cerfs, under which title it had acquired astill more infamous reputation. 

[10] "Après le dîner il y eut appartement jeu, et la fête fut terminée parun feu d'artifice. "--Weber, i. , p. 57, from whom the greater part of thosedetails are taken. For the etiquette of the "jeu, " see Madame de Campan, ch. Ix. , p. 17, and 2 ed. 1858. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

[1] Mercy to Maria Teresa, June 18th, 1780, Arneth iii. , p. 440. 

[2] Le tabouret. See St. Simon. 

[3] See _infra_, the queen's letter to Madame de Tourzel, date July 25th, 1789. 

[4] "Souvenirs de Quarante Ans, " by Mademoiselle de Tourzel, p. 20. 

[5] "Filia dolorosa. "--Châteaubriand. 

[6] Napoleon, in 1814, called her the only man of her family. 

[7] Madame de Campan, ch. X. 

[8] Mémoires de Madame d'Oberkirch, i. , p. 279

[9] The Marshal Prince de Soubise, whose incapacity and cowardice causedthe disgraceful rout of Rosbach, was the head of this family; his sister, Madame Marsan, as governess of the "children of France", had brought upLouis XVI. 

[10] "Il [Rohan] a même menacé, si on ne veut pas prendre le bon cheminqui lui indique, que ma fille s'en ressentira. "--_Marie-Thérèse à Mercy_, August 28th, 1774, Arneth, ii. , p. 226. 

[11] "Ils paraissent si excédés du grand monde et des fêtes, qu'avecd'autres petites difficultés qui se sont élevées, nous avons décidé qu'iln'y aurait rien à Marly. "--_Marie Antoinette to Mercy; Marie Antoinette, Joseph II. , and Leopold II_. , p. 27. 

[12] "No fewer than five actions were fought in 1782, and the spring of1783, by those unwearied foes. De Suffrein's force was materially thestronger of the two; it consisted of ten sail of the line, one fifty-gunship, and four frigates; while Sir E. Hughes had but eight sail of theline, a fifty-gun ship, and one frigate, " See the author's "History of theBritish Navy, " i. , p. 400. 

[13] Weber, i. , p. 77. For the importance at this time attached to areception at court, see Châteaubriand, "Mémoires d'Outre-tombe, " i. , p. 221. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

[1] Joseph to Marie Antoinette, date September 9th, 1783. --_MarieAntoinette, Joseph II. , and Leopold II. _, p. 30, which, to save such alengthened reference, will hereafter be referred to as "Arneth. "

[2] She was again expecting a confinement; but, as had happened betweenthe birth of Madame Royale and that of the dauphin, an accidentdisappointed her hope, and her third child was not born till 1785. 

[3] Date September 29th, 1783, Arneth, p. 35. 

[4] Ministre de la maison du roi. 

[5] Arneth, p. 38. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

[1] "Le roi signa une lettre de cachet qui défendait cettereprésentation. "--Madame de Campan, ch. Xi. ; see the whole chapter. Madamede Campan's account of the queen's inclinations on the subject differsfrom that given by M. De Loménie, in his "Beaumarchais et son Temps, " butseems more to be relied on, as she had certainly better means ofinformation. 

[2] See M. Gaillard's report to the lieutenant of police. --_Beaumarchaiset son Temps_, ii. , p. 313. 

[3] "Il n'y a que les petits hommes qui redoutent les petits écrits. "--_Act v. , scene_ 3. 

[4] "Avec _Goddam_ en, Angleterre on ne manque de rien nulle part. Voulez-vous tâter un bon poulet gras ... _Goddam_ ... Aimez-vous à boire un coupd'excellent Bourgogne ou de clairet? rien que celui-ci _Goddam_. LesAnglais à la vérité ajoutent par-ci par-là autres mots en conversant, maisil est bien aisé de voir que _Goddam_ est le fond de la langue. "--_Act_iii. , _scene_ 5. 

[5] "Gustave III. Et la Cour de France, " ii. , p. 22

[6] _Ibid_. , p. 35. 

CHAPTER XX. 

[1] "De par la reine. "

[2] Madame de Campan, ch. Xi. 

[3] "'La légèreté à tout croire et à tout dire des souverains, ' écrit trèsjustement M. Nisard (_Moniteur_ du 22 Janvier, 1886), 'est un des traversde notre pays, et comme le défaut de notre qualité de nation monarchique. C'est ce travers qui a tué Marie Antoinette par la main des furieux quieurent peut-être des honnêtes gens pour complices. Sa mort devait rendre àjamais impossible en France la calomnie politique. '"--Chambrier, i. , p. 494. 

[4] "Mémoires de la Reine de France, " par M. Lafont d'Aussonne, p. 42. 

[5] See her letters to Mercy, December 26th, 1784, and to the emperor, December 31st, 1784, and February 4th, 1785, Arneth, p. 64, _et seq. _

[6] "J'ai été réellement touchée, de la raison et de la fermeté que le roia mises dans cette rude séance. "--_Marie Antoinette to Joseph II. _, August22d, 1785, Arneth, p. 93. 

[7] "La calomnie s'est attachée à poursuivre la reine, même avant cetteépoque où l'esprit de parti a fait disparaître la vérité de la terre. "--Madame de Staël, _Procès de la Reine_, p. 2

[8] Madame de Campan, "Éclaircissements Historiques, " p. 461; "MarieAntoinette et le Procès du Collier, " par M. Émile Campardon, p. 144, _seq. _

[9] "Permet au Cardinal de Rohan et au dit de Cagliostro de faire imprimeret afficher le présent arrêt partout où bon leur semblera. "--Campardon, p. 152. 

[10] "Sans doute le cardinal avait les mains pures de toute fraude; sansdoute il n'était pour rien dans l'escroquerie commise par les époux de LaMothe. "--Campardon, p. 155. 

[11] Campardon, p. 153, quoting Madame de Campan. 

[12] The most recent French historian, M. H. Martin, sees in this trial aproof of the general demoralization of the whole French nation. "L'impression qui en résulte pour nous est l'impossibilité que la reineait été coupable. Mais plus les imputations dirigées contre elle étaientvraisemblables, plus la créance accordée à ces imputations étaitcaractéristique, et attestait la ruine morale de la monarchie. C'étaitl'ombre du Parc aux Cerfs qui couvrait toujours Versailles. "--_Histoire deFrance_, xvi. , p. 559, ed. 1860. 

[13] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 161. 

[14] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 162. Some of the critics of M. F. DeConches's collection have questioned without sufficient reason theprobability of there having been any correspondence between the queen andher elder sister. But the genuineness of this letter is stronglycorroborated by a mistake into which no forger would have fallen. Thequeen speaks as if the cardinal had alleged that he had given her a rose;while his statement really was that Oliva, personating the queen, haddropped a rose at his feet. A forger would have made the letter Correspondwith the evidence and the fact. The queen, in her agitation, might easilymake a mistake. 

[15] "Il se retira dans son évêché de l'autre côté du Rhin. Là sa nobleconduite fit oublier les torts de sa vie passée, " etc. --Campardon, p. 156. 

[16] Campardon, p. 156. 

[17] It was from Ettenheim that the Duke d'Enghien was carried off inMarch, 1804. The cardinal died in February, 1803. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

[1] "Le duc déclarait de son côté à Mr. Elliott que ... Si la reine l'eûtmieux traité il eut peut-être mieux fait. "--Chambrier, i. , p. 519

[2] Sophie Hélène Béatrix, born July 9th, 1786, died June 9th, 1787, F. DeConches, i. P. 195. 

[3] See her letter to her brother, February, 1788, Arneth, p. 112. 

[4] "C'est un vrai enfant de paysan, grand frais et gros. "--Arneth, pp. 113. 

[5] Feuillet de Conches, i, p. 195. 

[6] Apparently she means the Notables and the Parliament. 

[7] The Duc de Guines. 

[8] See _ante_, ch. Xviii. 

[9] "'Il faut, ' dit-il, avec un mouvement d'impatience qui lui fithonneur, 'que, du moins, l'archevêque de Paris croie en Dieu. '"--_Souvenirs par le Duc de Levis_, p. 102. 

[10] The continuer of Sismondi's history, A. Renée, however, attributesthe archbishop's appointment to the influence of the Baron de Breteuil. 

[11] "Son grand art consistait à parler à chacun des choses qu'il croyaitqu'on ignorait. "--De Levis, p. 100. 

[12] The loan he proposed in June was eighty millions (of francs); inOctober, that which he demanded was four hundred and forty millions. 

[13] It is worth noticing that the French people in general did not regardthe power of arbitrary imprisonment exercised by their kings as agrievance. In their eyes it was one of his most natural prerogatives. Ayear or two before the time of which we are speaking, Dr. Moore, theauthor of "Zeluco, " and father of Sir John Moore, who fell at Corunna, wastraveling in France, and was present at a party of French merchants andothers of the same rank, who asked him many questions about the EnglishConstitution, When he said that the King of England could not impose a taxby his own authority, "they said, with some degree of satisfaction, 'Cependant c'est assez beau cela. '"... But when he informed them "that theking himself had not the power to encroach upon the liberty of the meanestof his subjects, and that if he or the minister did so, damages wererecoverable in a court of law, a loud and prolonged 'Diable!' issued fromevery mouth. They forgot their own situation, and turned to their naturalbias of sympathy with the king, who, they all seemed to think, must be themost oppressed and injured of manhood. One of them at last, addressinghimself to the English politician, said, 'Tout ce que je puis vous dire, monsieur, c'est que votre pauvre roi est bien à plaindre. '"--_A View ofthe Society and Manners in France_, etc. , by Dr. John Moore, vol. I. , p. 47, ed. 1788. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

[1] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 205. 

[2] M. Foulon was about this time made paymaster of the army and navy, andwas generally credited with ability as a financier; but he was unpopular, as a man of ardent and cruel temper, and was brutally murdered by the mobin one of the first riots of the Revolution. 

[3] The king. 

[4] Necker. 

[5] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 214. 

[6] _Ibid_. , p. 217. 

[7] On one occasion when the Marquis de Bouillé pointed out to him thedanger of some of his plans as placing the higher class at the mercy ofthe mob, "dirigé par les deux passions les plus actives du coeur humain, l'intérêt et l'amour propre, ... Il me répondit froidement, en levant lesyeux au ciel, qu'il fallait bien compter sur les vertus morales deshommes. "--_Mémoires de M. De Bouillé_, p. 70; and Madame de Staël admitsof her father that he was "se fiant trop, il faut l'avouer, à l'empire dela raison, " and adds that he "étudia constamment l'esprit public, comme laboussole à laquelle les décisions du roi devaient se conformer. "--_Considérations sur la Révolution Française_, i. , pp. 171, 172. 

[8] Her exact words are "si ... Il fasse reculer l'autorité du roi" (if hecauses the king's authority to retreat before the populace or theParliament). 

[9] "Histoire de Marie Antoinette, " par M. Montjoye, p. 202. 

[10] Madame de Campan, p. 412. 

[11] This edict was registered in the "Chambre Syndicate, " September 13th, 1787. --_La Reine Marie Antoinette et la Rév. Française, RecherchesHistoriques_, par le Comte de Bel-Castel, p. 246. 

[12] There is at the present moment so strong a pretension set up in manyconstituencies to dictate to the members whom they send to Parliament asif they were delegates, and not representatives, that it is worth while torefer to the opinion which the greatest of philosophical statesman, EdmundBurke, expressed on the subject a hundred years ago, in opposition to thatat a rival candidate who admitted and supported the claim of constituentsto furnish the member whom they returned to Parliament with "instructions"of "coercive authority. " He tells the citizens of Bristol plainly thatsuch a claim he ought not to admit, and never will. The "opinion" ofconstituents is "a weighty and respectable opinion, which a representativeought always to rejoice to hear, and which he ought most seriously toconsider; but _authoritative instruction_, mandates issued which themember is bound blindly and implicitly to obey, to vote, and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest conviction of his judgment and hisconscience; these are things utterly unknown to the laws of this land, andwhich arise from a fundamental mistake of the whole order and tenor of ourconstitution. Parliament is not a _congress_ of embassadors from differentand hostile interests... But Parliament is a _deliberative_ assembly of_one_ nation, with _one_ interest, that of the whole, where not localpurposes, not local prejudices ought to guide, but the general goodresulting from the general reason of the whole. You choose a memberindeed; but when you have chosen him, he is not member of Bristol, but heis a member of Parliament. "--_General Election Speech at the Conclusion ofthe Poll at Bristol_, November 3d, 1774, Burke's Works, vol. Iii. , pp. 19, 20, ed. 1803. 

[13] De Tocqueville considers the feudal system in France in many pointsmore oppressive than that of Germany. --_Ancien Régime_, p. 43. 

[14] Silence des grenouilles. Arthur Young, "Travels in France during1787, '88, '89, " p. 537. It is singular proof how entirely research intothe condition of the country and the people of France had been neglectedboth by its philosophers and its statesmen, that there does not seem tohave been any publication in the language which gave information on thesesubjects. And this work of Mr. Young's is the one to which modern Frenchwriters, such as M. Alexis de Tocqueville, chiefly refer. 

[15] "The _lettres de cachet_ were carried to an excess hardly credible;to the length of being sold, with blanks, to be filled up with names atthe pleasure of the purchaser, who was thus able, in the gratification ofprivate revenge, to tear a man from the bosom of his family, and bury himin a dungeon, where he would exist forgotten and die unknown. "--A. Young, p. 532. And in a note he gives an instance of an Englishman, named Gordon, who was imprisoned in the Bastile for thirty years without even knowingthe reason of his arrest. 

[16] Arthur Young, writing January 10th, 1790, identifies Les Enragés withthe club afterward so infamous as the Jacobins. "The ardent democrats whohave the reputation of being so much republican in principle that they donot admit any political necessity for having even the name of the king, are called the Enragés. They have a meeting at the Jacobins', theRevolution Club which assembles every night in the very room in which thefamous League was formed in the reign of Henry III. " (p. 267). 

[17] M. Droz asserts that a collector of such publications bought twothousand five hundred in the last three months of 1788, and that hiscollection was far from complete. --_Histoire de Louis XVI_. , ii. , p. 180. 

[18] "Tout auteur s'érige en législateur. "--_Memorial of the Princes tothe King_, quoted in a note to the last chapter of Sismondi's History, p. 551, Brussels ed. , 1849. 

[19] In reality the numbers were even more in favor of the Commons: therepresentatives of the clergy were three hundred and eight, and those ofthe nobles two hundred and eighty-five, making only five hundred andninety-three of the two superior orders, while the deputies of the Tiers-État were six hundred and twenty-one. --_Souvenirs de la Marquise deCréquy_, vii. , p. 58. 

[20] "Se levant alors, 'Non, ' dit le roi, 'ce ne peut être qu'àVersailles, à cause des chasses. '"--LOUIS BLANC, ii. , p. 212, quotingBarante. 

[21] "La reine adopta ce dernier avis [that the States should meet fortyor sixty leagues from the capital], et elle insista auprès du roi que l'ons'eloignât de l'immense population de Paris. Elle craignait dès lors quele peuple n'influençât les délibérations des députés. "--MADAME DE CAMPAN, ch 83. 

[22] Chambrier, i. , p. 562. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

[1] It was called "L'insurrection du Faubourg St. Antoine. "

[2] The best account of this riot is to be found in Dr. Moore's "Views ofthe Causes and Progress of the French Revolution, " i. , p. 189. 

[3] Madame de Campan specially remarks that the disloyal cry of "Vive leDuc d'Orléans" came from "les femmes du peuple" (ch. Xiii. ). 

[4] Afterward Louis Philippe, King of the French. 

[5] "View of the Causes and Progress of the French Revolution, " by Dr. Moore, i. , p. 144. 

[6] The dauphin was too ill to be present. The children were Madame Royaleand the Duc de Normandie, who became dauphin the next month by the deathof his elder brother. 

[7] "Aucun nom propre, excepté le sien, n'était encore célèbre dans lessix cents députés du Tiers. "--_Considérations sur la RévolutionFrançaise_, pp. 186, 187

[8] In the first weeks of the session he told the Count de la Marck, "Onne sortira plus de là sans un gouvernement plus ou moins semblable à celuid'Angleterre. "--_Correspondance entre le comte de la Marck_, i. , p. 67. 

[9] He employed M. Malouet, a very influential member of the Assembly, ashis agent to open his views to Necker, saying to him, "Je m'adresse donc àvotre probité. Vous êtes lié avec MM. Necker et de Montmorin, vous devezsavoir ce qu'ils veulent, et s'ils ont un plan; si ce plan est raisonnableje le défendrai. "--_Correspondance de Mirabeau et La Marck_, i. , p. 219. 

[10] There is some uncertainty about Mirabeau's motives and connections atthis time. M. De Bacourt, the very diligent and judicious editor of thatcorrespondence with De la Marck which has been already quoted, denies thatMirabeau ever received money from the Duc d'Orléans, or that he had anyconnection with his party or his views. The evidence on the other sideseems much stronger, and some of the statements of the Comte de la Marckcontained in that volume go to exculpate Mirabeau from all complicity inthe attack on Versailles on the 9th of October, which seems established byabundant testimony. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

[1] A letter of Madame Roland dated the 26th of this very month, July, 1789, declares that the people "are undone if the National Assembly doesnot proceed seriously and regularly to the trial of the illustrious heads[the king and queen], or if some generous Decius does not risk his life totake theirs. "

[2] This story reached even distant province. On the 24th of July ArthurYoung, being at Colmar, was assured at the _table-d'hôte_ "That the queenhad a plot, nearly on the point of execution, to blow up the NationalAssembly by a mine, and to march the army instantly to massacre allParis. " A French officer presumed but to doubt of the truth of it, and wasimmediately overpowered with numbers of tongues. A deputy had written it;they had seen the letter. And at Dijon, a week later, he tells us that"the current report at present, to which all possible credit is given, isthat the queen has been convicted of a plot to poison the king andmonsieur, and give the regency to the Count d'Artois, to set fire toParis, and blow up the Palais Royal by a mine. "--ARTHUR YOUNG'S _Travels, etc. , in France_, pp. 143, 151. 

[3] "Car dès ce moment on menaçait Versailles d'une incursion de gensarmés de Paris. "--MADAME DE CAMPAN, ch. Xiv. 

[4] Lacretelle, vol. Vii. , p. 105. 

[5] She meant to say, "Messieurs, je viens remettre entre vos mainsl'épouse et la famille de votre souverain. Ne souffrez pas que l'ondésunisse sur la terre ce qui a été uni dans le ciel. "--MADAME DE CAMPAN, ch. Xiv. 

[6] Napoleon seems to have formed this opinion of his political views:"Selon M. Gourgaud, Buonaparte, causant à Ste. Hélène le traitait avecplus de mépris [que Madame de Staël]. 'La Fayette était encore un autreniais. Il était nullement taillé pour le rôle qu'il avait à jouer.... C'était un homme sans talents, ni civils, ni militaires; esprit borné, caractère dissimulé, dominé par des idées vagues de liberté mal digéréeschez lui; mal conçues. '"--_Biographie Universelle_. 

[7] In his Memoirs he boasts of the "gaucherie de ses manières qui ne seplièrent jamais aux grâces de la Cour, " p. 7. 

[8] See her letter to Mercy, without date, but, apparently written a dayor two after the king's journey to Paris, Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 238. 

[9] "Souvenirs de Quarante Ans" (by Madame de Tourzel's daughter), p. 30. 

[10] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 240. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

[1] "Mémoires de la Princesse de Lamballe, " i. , p. 342. 

[2] Les Gardes du Corps. 

[3] Louis Blanc, iii. , p. 156, quoting the Procédure du Châtelet. 

[4] "Souvenirs de la Marquise de Créquy, " vol. Vii, p. 119. 

[5] There is some uncertainty where La Fayette slept that night. Lacretelle says it was at the "Maison du Prince de Foix, fort éloignée duchâteau. " Count Dumas, meaning to be as favorable to him as possible, places him at the Hôtel de Noailles, which is "not one hundred paces fromthe iron gates of the chapel" ("Memoirs of the Count Dumas, " p. 159). However, the nearer he was to the palace, the more incomprehensible it isthat he should not have reached the palace the next morning till nearlyeight o'clock, two hours after the mob had forced their entrance into theCour des Princes. 

[6] Weber, i. , p. 218. 

[7] Le Boulanger (the king), la Boulangère (the queen), et le petit mitron(the dauphin). 

[8] "Souvenirs de la Marquise de Créquy, " vii. , p. 123. 

[9] Weber, ii, p. 226. 

[10] "Souvenirs de Quarante Ans, " p. 47. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

[1] Madame de Campan, ch. Xv. 

[2] F. De Conches, p. 264. 

[3] Madam de Campan, ch. Xv. 

[4] See a letter from M. Huber to Lord Auckland, "Journal andCorrespondence of Lord Auckland, " ii, p. 365. 

[5] La Marck et Mirabeau, ii. , pp. 90-93, 254. 

[6] "Arthur Young's Travels, " etc. , p. 264; date, Paris, January 4th, 1790. 

[7] Feuillet de Conches, iii. , p. 229. 

[8] Joseph died February 20th. 

[9] "Je me flatte que je la mériterai [l'amitié et confiance] de votrepart lorsque ma façon de penser et mon tendre attachement pour vous, votreépoux, vos enfants, et tout ce qui peut vous intéresser vous seront mieuxconnus. "--ARNETH, p. 120. Leopold had been for many years absent fromGermany, being at Florence as Grand Duke of Tuscany. 

[10] Feuillet de Conches, iii. , p. 260. 

[11] As early as the second week in October (La Marck, p. 81, seems toplace the conversation even before the outrages of October 5th and 6th;but this seems impossible, and may arise from his manifest desire torepresent Mirabeau as unconnected with those horrors), Mirabeau said to LaMarck, "Tout est perdu, le roi et la reine y périront et vous le verrez, la populace battra leurs cadavres. "

[12] Lèse-nation. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

[1] Arthur Young's "Journal, " January 4th, 1790, p. 251. 

[2] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 315. 

[3] "Le mal déjà fait est bien grave, et je doute que Mirabeau lui-mêmepuisse réparer celui qu'on lui a laissé faire. "--_Mirabeau et La Marck_, i. , p. 100. 

[4] La Marck et Mirabeau, i. , p. 315. 

[5] _Ibid. _, p. 111. 

[6] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 345. 

[7] Mirabeau et La Marck, i. , p. 125. 

[8] He alludes to Maria Teresa's appearance at Presburg at the beginningof the Silesian war. 

[9] "Il lui [à l'Assemblée] importait de faire une épreuve sur toutes lesGardes Nationales de France, d'animer ce grand corps dont tous les membresétaient encore épars et incohérents, de leur donner une même impulsion.... Enfin, de faire sous les yeux de l'Europe une imposante revue des forcequ'elle pourrait un jour opposer à des rois inquiets ou courroucés. "--LACRETELLE, vii. , p. 359. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

[1] We learn from Dr. Moore that there was a leader with five subalternofficers and one hundred and fifty rank and file in each gallery of thechamber; that the wages of the latter were from two to three francs a day;the subaltern had ten francs, the leaders fifty. The entire expense wasabout a thousand francs a day, a sum which strengthens the suspicion thatthe pay-master (originally, at least) was the Duc d'Orléans. --DR. MOORE'S_View of the Causes, etc. , of the French Revolution_, i. , p. 425. 

[2] Mirabeau et La Marck, ii. , p. 47. 

[3] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 352. 

[4] Marie Antoinette to Mercy, Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 355. 

[5] _Ibid_. , i. , p. 365. 

[6] Arneth, p. 140. 

[7] It is remarkable that he, like one or two of the Girondin party, belonged by birth to the Huguenot persuasion, and Marat had studiedmedicine at Edinburgh. 

[8] The Marquise de Brinvilliers had been executed for poisoning severalof her own relations in the reign of Louis XIV. 

[9] Madame de Campan, ch. Xvii. ; Chambrier, ii. , p. 12. 

[10] He said to La Marck, "Aucun homme seul ne sera capable de ramener lesFrançais an bon sens, le temps seul peut rétablir l'ordre dans lesesprits, " etc. , etc. --_ Mirabeau et La Marck_, i. , p. 147. 

[11] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p, 376. 

[12] Marie Antoinette to Leopold, date December 11th, 1790, Arneth, p. 143. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

[1] The Marshal de Bouillé, who was La Fayette's cousin, says, in Octoberof this year, "L'évêque de Pamiers me fit le tableau de la situationmalheureux de ce prince et de la famille royale ... Que la rigueur etdureté de La Fayette, devenu leur geôlier, rendent de jour en jour plusinsupportable. "--_Mémories de De Bouillé_, pp. 175, 181. And in June hehad remarked, "Que sa popularité (de La Fayette) dépendait plutôt de lacaptivité du roi, qu'il tenait prisonnier, et qui était sous sa garde, quede sa force personnelle, qui n'avait plus d'autre appui que la miliceParisienne. "

[2] _Ibid_. , p. 130. 

[3] The letter to the King of Prussia is given by Lamartine; its date isDecember 3d, 1790. --_Histoire des Girondins_, book v. , § 12. 

[4] Mercy to Marie Antoinette, from The Hague, December 17th, 1790, Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 398. 

[5] Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 401. 

[6] _Ibid. , p. 403, date December 27th, 1790. 

[7] "Mirabeau et La Marck, " ii. , pp. 57--61. 

[8] Letter to the queen, date February 19th, 1791; "Correspondance deMirabeau et La Marck, " ii. , p. 229. 

[9] "Mirabeau et La Marck, " ii. , pp. 153, 194, _et passim. _

[10] "Souvenirs de Quarante Ans, " p. 54. 

[11] "Mirabeau aurait préféré que Louis XVI. Sortit publiquement, et enroi, M. De Bouillé pensait de même. "--_Mirabeau et La Marck_, i. , p. 172. 

[12] 1789, see _ante_, p. 256. 

[13] Date February 18th, 1791, Feuillet de Conches, i. , p. 465. 

[14] "Mirabeau et La Marck, " ii. , p. , 216 date February 3d, 1791. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

[1] Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 14, date March 7th. 

[2] Arneth, p. 146, letter of the queen to Leopold, February 27th, 1791. 

[3] Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 20, date March 20th, 1791. 

[4] Letter of M. Simolin, the Russian embassador, April 4th, 1791, Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 31. 

[5] "Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, " par Étienne Dumont, p. 201. 

[6] In her letter to Mercy of August 16th, of which extracts are given inch. Xi. , she takes credit for having encountered the dangers of thejourney to Montmédy for the sake of "the public welfare. "

[7] Arneth, p. 155. 

[8] Letter of Leopold to Marie Antoinette, date May 2d, 1791, Arneth, p. 162. 

[9] "Cette démarche est le terme extrême de réussir ou périr. Les chosesen sont-elles au point de rendre ce risque indispensable?"--_Mercy toMarie Antoinette_, May 11th, 1791, Arneth, p. 163. 

[10] The day on which the king and she had been prevented from going toSt. Cloud. 

[11] The king. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

[1] Chambrier, ii. , p. 86-88. 

[2] Lamartine's "Histoire des Girondins, " ii. , p. 15. 

[3] Moore's "View, " ii. , p. 367. 

[4] The Palais Royal had been named the Palais National. All signs withthe portraits of the king or queen, all emblems of royalty, had been torndown. A shop-keeper was even obliged to erase his name from his shopbecause it was Louis. --MOORE'S _View_, etc. , ii. , p. 356. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

[1] A certain set of writers in this country at one time made La Fayette asubject for almost unmixed eulogy, with such earnestness that it may beworth while to reproduce the opinion expressed of him by the greatest ofhis contemporaries--a man as acute in his penetration into character as hewas stainless in honor--the late Duke of Wellington. In the summer of1815, he told Sir John Malcolm that "he had used La Fayette like a dog, ashe merited. The old rascal, " said he, "had made a false report of hismission to the Emperor of Russia, and I possessed complete evidence of hishaving done so. I told him, the moment he entered, of this fact; I did noteven state it in the most delicate manner. I told him he must be sensiblehe had made a false report. He made no answer. " And the duke bowed him outof the room with unconcealed scorn. --Kaye's _Life of Sir J. Malcolm_, ii. , p. 109. 

[2] Lamartine calls the Cordeliers the Club of Coups-de-main, as he callsthe Jacobins the Club of Radical Theories. --_Histoire des Girondins_, xvi. , p. 4. 

[3] Dr. Moore, ii. , p. 372; Chambrier, ii. , p. 142. 

[4] Mercy to Marie Antoinette, May 16th, Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 60. 

[5] _Ibid. _, p. 140. 

[6] A resolution, that is, to recognize the Constitution. 

[7] Arneth, p. 188; Feuillet de Conches, ii, p. 186. 

[8] The letter took several days to write, and was so interrupted thatportions of it have three different dates affixed, August 16th, 21st, 26th. Mercy's letter, which incloses Burke's memorial, is dated the 20th, from London, so that the first portion of the queen's letter can not beregarded as an intentional answer to Burke's arguments, though it is so, as embodying all the reasons which influenced the queen. 

[9] The manifesto which he left behind him when starting for Montmédy. 

[10] The king. 

[11] Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 228; Arneth, p. 203. 

[12] The Emperor Leopold died March 1st, 1792. 

[13] The declaration of Pilnitz, drawn up by the emperor and the King ofPrussia at a personal interview, August 21st, 1791, did not in expresswords denounce the new Constitution (which, in fact, they had not seen), but, after declaring "the situation of the King of France to be a matterof common interest to all European sovereigns, " and expressing a hope that"the reality of that interest will be duly appreciated by the other powerswhose assistance they invoke, " they propose that those other powers "shallemploy, in conjunction with their majesties, the most efficacious means, in order to enable the King of France to consolidate in the most perfectliberty the foundation of a monarchical government, conformable alike tothe rights of sovereigns and the well-being of the French nation. "--Alison, ch. Ix. , Section 90. 

[14] Arneth, p. 208. 

[15] _Ibid_, p. 210; Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 325. 

[16] Letter, date December 3d, 1791. Feuillet de Conches, iv. , p. 278. 

[17] Madame de Campan, ch xix. 

[18] "Leurs touffes de cheveux noirs volaient dans la salle, eux seuls àcette époque avaient quitté l'usage de poudrer les cheveux. "--_Note on thePassage by Madame de Campan_, ch xix. 

[19] This first Assembly, as having framed the Constitution, is oftencalled the Constituent Assembly; the second, that which was about to meet, being distinguished as the Legislative Assembly. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

[1] "Mémoires Particuliers, " etc. , par A. F. Bertrand de Moleville, i. , p. 355. Brissot, Isnard, Vergniaud, Gaudet, and an infamous ecclesiastic, theAbbé Fauchet, are those whom he particularly mentions, adding: "Mais M. De Lessart trouva que c'était les payer trop cher, et comme ils nevoulurent rien rabattre de leur demande, cette négociation n'eut aucunesuite, et ne produisit d'autre effet que d'aigrir davantage ces cinqdéputés contre ce ministre. "

[2] Feuillet de Conches, ii. , p. 414, date October 4th: "Je pense qu'aufond le bon bourgeois et le bon peuple ont toujours été bien pour nous. "

[3] "Mémoires Particuliers, " etc. , par A. F. Bertrand de Moleville, i. , p. 10-12. It furnishes a striking proof of the general accuracy of Dr. Moore's information, that he, in his "View" (ii. , p. 439), gives the nameaccount of this conversation, his work being published above twenty yearsbefore that of M. Bertrand de Moleville. 

[4] "La reine lui répondit par un sourire de pitié, et lui demanda s'ilétait fou.... C'est par la reine elle-même que, le lendemain de cetteétrange scène, je fus instruit de tous les détails que je viens derapporter. "--BERTRAND DE MOLEVILLE, i. , p. 126. 

[5] She herself called him so on this occasion, and he belonged to theJacobin Club; but he was also one of the Girondin party, of which, indeed, he was one of the founders, and it was as a Girondin that he was afterwardpursued to death by Robespierre. 

[6] Narrative of the Comte Valentin Esterhazy, Feuillet de Conches, iv. , p. 40. 

[7] The queen spoke plainly to her confidants: "M. De La Fayette will onlybe the Mayor of Paris that he may the sooner become Mayor of the Palace. Pétion is a Jacobin, a republican; but he is a fool, incapable of everbecoming the leader of a party. He would be a nullity as mayor, and, besides, the very interest which he knows we take in his nomination maybind him to the king. "--Lamartine's _Histoire des Girondins_ vi. , p. 22. 

[8] "Elle [Madame d'Ossun, dame d'atours de la reine] m'a dit, il y atrois semaines, que le roi et la reine avaiet été neuf jours sans un sou. "_Letter of the Prince de Nassau-Siegen to the Russian Empress Catherine_, Feuillet de Conches, iv. , p. 316; of also Madame de Campan, ch. Xxi. 

[9] Letter of the Princess to Madame de Bombelles, Feuillet de Conches, v. , p. 267. 

[10] "N'est-il pas bien gentil, mon enfant?"--_Mémoires Particuliers_, p. 235. 

[11] See two most insolent letters from the Count de Provence and Countd'Artois to Louis XVI, Feuillet de Conches, v. , pp. 260, 261. 

[12] Feuillet de Conches, iv. , p. 291

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

[1] Letter to Madame de Polignac, March 17th, Feuillet de Conches, v. , p. 337. 

[2] The Monks of St. Bernard were known as Feuillants, from Feuillans, avillage in Languedoc where their principal convent was situated. 

[3] Lamartine, "Histoire des Girondins, " xiii. , p. 18. 

[4] The messenger was M. Goguelat: he took the name of M. Daumartin, andadhered to the cause of his sovereigns to the last moment of their lives. 

[5] Letter of the Count de Fersen, who was at Brussels, to Gustavus (who, however, was dead before it could reach him), dated March 24th, 1792. Inmany respects the information De Fersen sends to his king talliesprecisely with that sent by Breteuil to the emperor; he only adds a fewcircumstances which had not reached the baron. 

[6] Afterward Louis Philippe, King of the French, who was himself drivenfrom the throne by insurrection above half a century afterward. 

[7] Madame de Campan, ch. Xx. 

[8] _Ibid. _, ch. XIX. 

[9] "Vie de Dumouriez, " ii, p. 163, quoted by Marquis de Ferrières, Feuillet de Conches, and several other writers. 

[10] Even Lamartine condemns the letter, the greater part of which heinserts in his history as one in which "the threat is no less evident thanthe treachery. "--_Histoire des Girondins, _ xiii. , p. 16. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

[1] "Gare la Lanterne, " alluding to the use of the chains to which thestreet-lamps were suspended as gibbets. 

[2] Madame de Campan, ch. Xxi. 

[3] Dumas, "Memoirs of his Own Time, " i. , p. 353. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

[1] To be issued by the foreign powers. 

[2] Feuillet de Conches, vi. , p. 192, and Arneth, p. 265. 

[3] The day is not mentioned. "Lettres de la Reine Marie Antoinette à laLandgravine Louise, " etc. P. 47. 

[4] The bearer was Prince George himself, but she does not venture to namehim more explicitly. 

[5] Lamourette might correspond to the English name Lovekin. 

[6] Letter of the Princess Elizabeth, date July 16th, 1792, Feuillet deConches, vi. , p. 215. 

[7] It is remarkable, however, that, if we are to take Lamartine as aguide in any respect, and he certainly was not in intention unfavorable toLa Fayette, the marquis was even now playing a double game. Speaking ofthis very proposal, he says: "La Fayette himself did not disguise hisambition for a protectorate under Louis XVI. At the very moment when heseemed devoted to the preservation of the king he wrote thus to hisconfidante, La Colombe: 'In the matter of liberty I do not trust myselfeither to the king or any other person, and if he were to assume thesovereign, I would fight against him as I did in 1789. '"--_Histoire desGirondins_, xvii. , p. 7 (English translation). It deserves remark, too, ifhis words are accurately reported, that the only occasion 1789 on which he"fought against" Louis must have been October 5th and 6th, when heprofessed to be using every exertion for his safety. 

[8] M. Bertrand expressly affirms the insurrection of August 10th to havebeen almost exclusively the work of the Girondin faction. --_MémoiresParticuliers, _ ii. , p. 122. 

[9] _Mémoires Particuliers, _ ii. , p. 132. 

[10] "Mémoires Particuliers, " p. 111. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

[1] See _ante_. 

[2] "Histoire de la Terreur, " par Mortimer Ternaux, ii. , p. 269. For thetransactions of this day, and of the following months, he is by far themost trustworthy guide, as having had access to official documents ofwhich earlier writers were ignorant. But he admits the extreme difficultyof ascertaining the precise details and time of each event. And it is noteasy in every instance to reconcile his account with that of Madame deCampan, on whom for many particulars he greatly relies. He differs fromher especially as to the hour at which the different occurrences of thisday took place. For instance, he says (p. 268, note 2) that Mandat leftthe Tuileries a little after five, while Madame de Campan says it was fouro'clock when the queen told her he had been murdered. Both, however, agreethat it was soon after eight o'clock when the king left the palace. 

[3] "À quatre heures la reine sortit de la chambre du roi, et vint nousdire qu'elle n'espérait plus rien; que M. Mandat venait d'êtreassassiné. "--MADAME DE CAMPAN, ch. Xxi. 

[4] "La Terreur, " viii. , p. 4. 

[5] It is clear that this is the opinion formed by M Mortimer Ternaux. Hesums up the fourth chapter of his eighth book with the conclusion that "lepalais de la royauté ne fut pas enlevé de vive force, mais abandonné parordre de Louis XVI. " And in a note he affirms that the entire number ofkilled and wounded on the part of the rioters did not exceed one hundredand sixty "en chiffres ronds. "

[6] Bertrand de Moleville, ch. Xxvii. 

[7] Madame de Campan, ch. Xxi. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

[1] "Dernières Années du Règne et de la Vie de Louis XVI. , " par FrançoisHue, p. 336. 

[2] For about a fortnight they had two, both men--Hue, the valet to thedauphin, as well as Cléry; but Hue was removed on the 2d of September. He, as well as Cléry, has left an account of the imprisonment till the day ofhis dismissal. 

[3] "Journal de ce qui s'est passé à la tour du Temple, " etc. P. 28, _seq. _

[4] "Mémoires Particuliers, " par Madame la Duchesse d'Angoulême, p. 21. 

[5] Decius was the hero whose example was especially invoked by MadameRoland. The historians of his own country had never accused him ofmurdering any one; but she, in the very first month of the Revolution, hadcalled, with a very curious reading of history, for "some generous Deciusto risk his life to take theirs" (the lives of the king and queen). 

[6] The princess told Cléry, "La reine et moi nous nous attendons à tout, et nous ne nous faisons aucune illusion sur le sort qu'on prépare au roi, "etc. --CLÉRY, p. 106. 

[7] "Mémoires" de la Duchesse d'Angoulême, p. 53. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

[1] Cléry's "Journal, " p. 169. 

[2] In March, having an opportunity of communicating with the Count deProvence, she sent these precious memorials to him for safer custody, witha joint letter from herself and her three fellow-prisoners: "Having afaithful person on whom we can depend, I profit by the opportunity to sendto my brother and friend this deposit, which may not be intrusted to anyother hands. The bearer will tell you by what a miracle we were able toobtain these precious pledges. I reserve the name of him who is so usefulto us, to tell it you some day myself. The impossibility which hashitherto existed of sending you any intelligence of us, and the excess ofour misfortunes, make us feel more vividly our cruel separation. May itnot lie long. Meanwhile I embrace you as I love you, and you know thatthat is with all my heart. --M. A. " A line is added by the princess royal, and signed by her brother, as king, as well as by herself: "I am chargedfor my brother and myself to embrace you with all my heart. --M. T. [MARIATERESA], LOUIS. " And another by the Princess Elizabeth: "I enjoybeforehand the pleasure which you will feel in receiving this pledge oflove and confidence. To be reunited to you and to see you happy is allthat I desire. You know if I love you. I embrace you with all my heart. --E. " The letters were shown by the Count de Provence to Cléry, whom heallowed to take a copy of them. --CLÉRY'S _Journal_, p. 174. 

[3] "Mémoires" de la Duchesse d'Angoulême, p. 56. 

[4] It was burned in 1871, in the time of the Commune. 

[5] Feuillet de Conches, vi. , p. 499. The letter is neither dated norsigned. 

[6] Lanjuinais had subsequently the singular fortune of gaining theconfidence of both Napoleon and Lounis XVIII. The decree against him wasreversed in 1795, and he became a professor at Rennes. Though he hadopposed the making of Napoleon consul for life, Napoleon gave him a placein his Senate; and at the first restoration, in 1814, Louis XVIII namedhim a peer of France. He died in 1827. 

[7] Some of the apologists of the Girondins--nearly all the oldestcriminals of the Revolution have found defenders, except perhaps Marat andRobespierre--have affirmed that the Girondins, though they had not courageto give their votes to save the life of Louis, yet hoped to save him byvoting for an appeal to the people; but the order in which the differentquestions were put to the Convention is a complete disproof of this plea. The first question put was, Was Louis guilty? They all voted "Oui"(Lacretelle, x. , p. 403). But though on the second question, whether thisverdict should be submitted to the people for ratification, many of themdid vote for such an appeal being made, yet after the appeal had beenrejected by a majority of one hundred and forty-two, and the thirdquestion, "What penalty shall be inflicted on Louis?" (Lacretelle, x. , p. 441) was put to the Convention, they all except Lanjuinais voted for"death. " The majorities were, on their question, 683 to 66; on the second, 423 to 281; on the third, 387 to 334; so that on this last, the fatalquestion, it would have been easy for the Girondins to have turned thescale. And Lamartine himself expressly affirms (xxxv. , p. 5) that theking's life depended on the Girondin vote, and that his death was chieflyowing to Vergniaud. 

[8] Goncourt, p. 370, quoting "Fragments de Turgy. "

[9] "S'en défaire. "--_Louis XVII. , sa Vie, son Agonie, sa Mort_, par M. DeBeauchesne, quoting Senart. See Croker's "Essays on the Revolution, " p. 266. 

[10] Duchesse d'Angoulême, p. 78. 

[11] See a letter from Miss Chowne to Lord Aukland, September 23d, 1793, Journal, etc. , of Lord Aukland, ii. , p. 517. 

[12] "Le peuple la reçut non seulement comme une reine adorée, mais ilsemblait aussi qu'il lui savait gré d'être charmante, " p. 5, ed. 1820. 

[13] Great interest was felt for her in England. In October Horace Walpolewrites: "While assemblies of friends calling themselves _men_ are from dayto day meditating torment and torture for his [Louis XVI. 's] heroic widow, on whom, with all their power and malice, and with every page, footman, and chamber-maid of hers in their reach, and with the rack in their hands, they have not been able to fix a speck. Nay, do they not talk of theinutility of evidence? What other virtue ever sustained such an ordeal?"Walpole's testimony in such a matter is particularly valuable, because hehad not only been intimately acquainted with all the gossip of the Frenchcapital for many years, but also because his principal friends in Francedid not belong to the party which might have been expected to be mostfavorable to the queen. Had there been the very slightest foundation forthe calumnies which had been propagated against her, we may be sure thatsuch a person as Madame du Deffand would not only have heard them, butwould have been but too willing to believe them. His denunciation of themis a proof that she knew their falsehood. 

[14] Goncourt, p. 388, quoting _La Quotidienne_ of October 17th, 18th. 

[15] The depositions which the little king had been compelled to signcontained accusations of his aunt as well as of his mother. 

[16] As we shall see in the close of the letter, she did not regard thosepriests who had taken the oath imposed by the Assembly, but which the Popehad condemned, as any longer priests. 

INDEX. 

Abbé De Mandoux; De Sabran; De Sieyés; De Vermond. Abolition of titles of honour. Addresses presented from Paris and from the States of Languedoc. Adelaide, Princess, intrigues of; afflicted with the small-pox; flight of. Admiral de Coligny; d'Orvilliers; du Chaffault; Keppel; Rodney. Ailesbury, Lady. Alliance formed with the United States; with Russia and Prussia; with Spain. American war, the. Anglomania in Paris. _Anglomanie_, a name given to English fashions. Anti-Austrian feeling in Paris. Antoinette, Marie. See _Marie Antoinette_. Arbitrary powers of the sovereign of France. Archbishop Loménie de Brienne. Archduke Maximilian visits his sister. Arpay-de-Duc, where the king's aunts were detained. Arnould, Mademoiselle. Arrest of Cardinal Rohan. Assassination of Gustavus III. Of Sweden. Assembly, parties in the, "the Right, " "the Left, " and "the Plain, "; abolishes all privileges August 4th, 1789; disorders in the; tyranny of the; meeting of the new. Austria, antagonistic feeling against; Emperor Joseph of, visits France _incognito_; writes to his sister, the Queen of France, on European politics; Austria, Maria Teresa, Empress of; death of Joseph II. , Emperor of; influence of, in France, causes jealousy; remonstrating by the Emperor Leopold with the French Government; Death of Leopold; war declared against. Autun, Bishop of. Axel de Fersen, Count. 

Bagatelle, a house belonging to the Comte d'Artois, which was built insixty days. Bailli de Suffrein. Bailly, M. , and the National Guard; effrontery of. "Baker, " a name given to the king. Balbi, Countess de. Balloons introduced into France by Montgolfier. Banquet at the Hotel de Ville on account of the birth of the dauphin. Barbaroux, M. "Barber of Seville, " play of the. Barnave, M. And the Constitutionalists; gives advice to the queen. Baron de Batz; de Besenval; de Breteuil. Baroness de Staël. Barri, Countess du, jealous of Marie Antoinette; sent to a convent. Bastile, attack on the, 1789; and murder of the governor; anniversary of the capture of. Battle of Brandywine. Batz, Baron de. Bavaria, affairs in; at the death of the elector 1777. Beauharnais, General. Beaulieu, Marshal. Beaumarchais, M. Beauty of Marie Antoinette. Beauvau, M. De, and the Opposition. Bertrand, M.. Besenval, Baron de; and the Reveillon riot. Birth of Duc d'Angoulême; of the Princess Marie-Thérèse Charlotte (Madame Royale); of the dauphin, son of Marie Antoinette. Bishop Lamourette; Talleyrand. Body-guard, ball given by the; and the Versailles mob; protecting the court. Boehmer, the court jeweler. Boillé, Marquis de; flies from France. Boutourlin's, M. , attacks on M. Necker. Brandywine, Battle of. Breteuil, Baron de; appointed prime minister; and foreign intervention. Breton Club. Brienne, Loménie de, Archbishop of Toulouse. Brissac, Duc de. Brissot, M.. Broglie, Marshal de. Brunier, M.. Brunoy, entertainment given at. Brunswick, Duke of. Brunswick, Prince Ferdinand of. Burke's description of the beauty of the queen. Buzot, M.. 

Calonne, M. De; dismissed from the office of finance minister. Campan, Madame de. Cap, red, of liberty. Cape St. Vincent. Capet, name given to the queen before the trial. Cardinal de Rohan. Carlisle, Lord, receiving a challenge from La Fayette in 1778. Carnival of 1777. Castle of Gaillon. Chaffault, Admiral du. Challenge sent by Marquis de La Fayette to Lord Carlisle. Châlons, and the reception of the king on his arrest. Champs de Mars, fête in the, in celebration of the anniversary of thecapture of the Bastile. Chantilly, festivities at. Charity shown by Louis XVI. And the queen during the winter of 1788-9. Charleston, capture of. Chartres, Duc de and Duc d'Orléans recalled from banishment; and the Comte d'Artois establish horse-racing; displays cowardice as rear-admiral; refused marriage with Madame Royale; and the red cap of liberty. Chevalier d'Assas, story of the. Chinon, M. De. Choiseul, Duc de; dismissal of; recall from banishment. Choisy, private parties at. Clergy, oppression of the. Cléry, M. , refused audience with the queen. Clinton, Sir Harry. Clootz, Anacharsis, heads a deputation. Clostercamp, the scene of the heroism displayed by the Chevalier d'Assas. Clotilde, Princess, marriage of the. Clubs, political, springing up at Paris. Coigny, Duc de. Coligny, Admiral de, and Count de Mirabeau. Compiègne. Comte d'Artois; de la Marck; de Mercy;Condorcet, Marquis de. Constitution, completing the, by the Assembly; acceptance of the, by the king. Constitutional guard, dissolution of the. Constitutionalists, or "the Plain". Conti, Prince de. Cordeliers, the. Cortey, M.. Count d'Estaing; de Fersen; d'Hervilly; de Grasse; de Luxembourg; de Maurepas; de Mirabeau; de Narbonne; de Roche-Aymer; de Rosenberg; de Stedingk; de St. Priest; de Vaudreuil; Esterhazy. Countess de Balbi; du Barri; de Grammont; de Monnier; de la Mothe; de Noailles; de Polignac; de Provence. "Coupe-têtes, " the. Court supper-parties. Couthon, M. Craufurd, Mr. 

D'Agoust, Marquis. D'Aiguillon, Duc. Dames de la Halle. D'Angoulême, Duc, birth of. D'Artois, Comte, marriage of the; and; the Duc de Chartres establish horse-racing; his character; shielding the Duc de Chartres; watching at the queen's bedside during her illness; shows contempt for the commercial orders; flees from Paris; misconduct of the; refuses to return to France. D'Assas, Chevalier, story of the. Dauphin, proposal of marriage of Marie Antoinette to the; early education of the; introduction to; married at Versailles, Mary 16th, 1770; letter from Maria Teresa to the; admiration of the, for his wife; and the Count de Provence, characters of the; birth of the, son of Louis XVI. ; death of the, son of Louis XVI. , June 4th, 1789, and succeeded by his brother; and M. Bertrand. Deane, Silas. Death of Francis, Emperor of Germany; of Louis XV. ; of Voltaire; of Cardinal de Rohan, at Ettenheim; of Princess Sophie, daughter of the queen; of the Dauphin, son of Louis XVI. , June 4th, 1789; of Joseph II. , Emperor of Austria; of Count de Mirabeau; of Leopold, Emperor of Austria. Debt, the queen finds herself in. Declaration of Pilnitz. Defeat of De Grasse by Admiral Rodney. Degraves, M. De Launay, M. , governor of the Bastile, death of. Des Huttes, M. D'Esprémesnil, Duval. De Staël, Baroness. D'Estaing, Count. Destruction of the Spanish squadron by the British at Cape St. VincentDe Varicourt, M. D'Hervilly, Count. D'Huillier, M. Disorders in the Assembly. Dissolution of the Constitutional Guard. Distress and discontent in France in 1771; general, caused by the severity of the winter of 1788-89. D'Oberkirch, MadameDonkey-riding; horse-riding. D'Orléans, Duc, and the Duc de Chartres recalled from banishment; and the Archduke Maximilian; shows hostility to the queen; and the presidency of the club "Les Enragés"; and the Reveillon riot; and the Versailles mob; leaves France for England; and the red cap. D'Ormesson, M. D'Orvilliers, Admiral. Duc d'Aiguillon; d'Angoulême; de Brissac; de Chartres; de Choisseu; de Coigny; de la Feuillade; de Maine; de la Vauguyon; de Liancourt; d'Orléans; de Richelieu. Dugazon, Madame. Duke of Brunswick; of Normandy; Paul of Russia; of Tarouka. Dumont, M. Dumouriez, General, character of; and the queen; resigns his position as minister, and takes command of the army. Duportail, M. Duranton, M. Durepaire, M. Durfort, Marquis de. Duverney, Paris. 

Education, the queen's views of. Emigrant princes, misconduct of the. Emigration from France repugnant to Louis XVI. Emperor Francis of Germany; Joseph of Austria; Leopold of Austria. Empress Catherine, of Russia; Maria Teresa, of Austria. Encore, the first. Epigram of Metastasio. Ermenonville, the burial-place of Rousseau. Escape from prison by the Countess de la Mothe; the royal family preparing to; arrested at Varennes and brought back. Esterhazy, Count. Etiquette, strictness of court; relaxation of. Ettenheim, Cardinal de Rohan dies at. Execution of M. De Favras. Expenses, court, retrenchment in. Expostulation of the Emperor Maximilian with his sister. 

Factious conduct of the princes of the blood. Fall of Turgot. Favras, M. De, execution of. Feast of the Federation. Federation, Feast of the. Ferdinand, Duke, of Brunswick. Fersen, Count Axel de. Feudal system, the, in France and its need of reform. Feuillade's, Duc de la, statue of Louis XIV. Feuillants, les. Figaro, the Marriage of, the play of. Fire at the Hôtel Dieu; at the Palace of Justice. Fire-works, explosion of, at Paris. First impressions of the French Court. Flanders, the regiment of, arrives at Versailles. Fleurieu, M. Fleury, Joly de. Flight from Paris decided on. Fontainebleau, the peasant at; grand review at. Fontanges, M. , de. Forgeries of the Queen's name committed. Fouquier, Tinville. France and Germany, feelings in, regarding Marie Antoinette's marriage; distress and discontent in. Francis, Emperor of Germany, death of. Frost, severe, ant the Seine frozen over. 

Gaillon, Castle of. Gambling, court. Garden-parties given at the Trianon. General Beauharnais; Dumouriez. General rejoicings. Gensonné, M. Germany, death of Francis, emperor of; and France, feelings in regarding Marie Antoinette's marriage. Gibraltar, siege of. Gifts of Le Joyeuse Avénement and La Ceinture de la Reine renounced. Girondins, rise of the; fall of the. Gluck appointed to teach the harpsichord; visits Paris. Goethe. Goldsmith's prediction of a French revolution. Grains, war of the. Grammont, Countess de. Grasse, Count de. Gaudet, M. Guimenée, Princess de. Guines, Duc de. Gustavus III. , King of Sweden, at the French court. 

Horse-racing by Comte d' Artois. Hôtel de Ville, banquet at the, on account of the birth of the dauphin; storming of the, by the insurgents, July 1789. Hôtel Dieu, great fire at. Hughes, Sir E. , fights with M. De Suffrein. Hunting-field, Marie Antoinette in the. Huttes, M. Des. 

Illuminations in Paris at the birth of the dauphin. Income, settlement of. Indictment drawn up against the queen. Inscription on a snow pyramid erected in gratitude by the Parisians forthe charity they received from their queen in the winter of 1788-'89. Insolence shown to the queen by a virago. Insurgents, the, under Santerre. Insurrection in Paris, July, 1789; of June 20th 1792; of August 5th, 1792. Intrigues formed against Marie Antoinette; of Madame Adelaide. "Iphigénie, " opera of. 

Jacobin Club, the. Jarjayes, Madame de. Jason and Medea, tapestry representing the history of. Jealousy shown by the queen's favorites; of the Countess du Barri; of the aunts; of Austrian influence. Jewelry and Boehmer, the court jeweler. Joséphine Louise, Princess of Savoy, married to the Count de Provence. Joseph, Emperor of Austria, visits France _incognito_; writes to his sister on European politics; death of. Jussieu, Bernard de. Justice, remarkable, always shown by the queen. 

Kaunitz, Prince. Keppel, Admiral. King Gustavus III. Of Sweden visits the French court. Korff, Madame de. 

La Belle Liégeoise. Lacoste, M. Lacy, Marshal. Lady Ailesbury; Sutherland. La Fayette, Marquis de; and the National Guard; and Mirabeau; demands the suppression of titles; offered the sword of the Constable of France, which he declines; shows insolence to the royal family; threatens the queen with a divorce; saves the castle at Vincennes; insults the nobles who come to protect the king; his urgency to bring back the king, who had been arrested in his flight; arrogance of; shows personal animosity to the king; ordered to prepare for foreign service; unskillfulness of; shows much deficiency in military tactics; appears before the Assembly, and narrowly escapes impeachment; proposes a plan for the royal family to escape; flies from France, and is thrown into an Austrian prison. Lamballe, Princess de. Lambel, M. Lambert, M. Lameth, Alexander. Lameth, Charles. Lamoignon, M. Lamourette, Bishop, makes a motion in the Assembly. La Muette, at Choisy, palace of. Lanjuinais, M. Leopold, Emperor of Austria, remonstrates with the French government. _Le Patriote Français_. Lepitre, M. Les Enragés, a political club formed under the presidency of the Ducd'Orléans. "Les Événements Imprévus". Lessart, M. Letters from Maria Teresa to her daughter. See _Maria Teresa_. From Marie Antoinette to her mother. See _Marie Antoinette_. Liancourt, Duc de. Libelous attacks on the queen. Liberty, Restorer of French, a title given to the king. Lichtenstein, Prince de, sent as envoy from Austria. Loménie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, appointed prime minister; resigns office. Lord Carlisle; Stormont. Lorraine, Prince of; death of. Lorraine, Princess of, at the State ball. Louis XIV. , the Duc de la Feuillade's statue of. Louis XV. , character and life of; apathy of; catches the smallpox; death of. Louis XVI, receives homage on the death of his grandfather; influenced by his aunts; gives the pavilion of the Little Trianon to the queen; compared to Louis XII. And Henry IV. ; crowned at Rheims; concludes an alliance with the United States; exempts from the poll-tax all those unable to pay on the occasion of the birth of the dauphin; visits Cherbourg; orders the arrest of two members of Parliament, and also the closing-up of the House; conspicuous for his charity during the winter of 1788-89; concedes the chief demands of the Commons; opens the States in person, May 5th, 1789; loses his eldest son, the dauphin, June 4th, 1789; grants reforms to the States; removes Necker; withdraws the troops from Paris; visits Paris, and appeals to the populace, July 17th, 1789; invites Necker to return; called the "Restorer of French Liberty, "; sends his plate to be melted down for the benefit of the starving citizens; adheres to his conciliatory policy before the mob at Versailles; fixes his residence at Paris; accepts the Constitution so far as it has been settled; accepts the services of the Count de Mirabeau; offers La Fayette the sword of the Constable of France, which he declines; appears at the fête at the Champs de Mars; contemplates foreign intervention; decides to remove to Montmédy; report of attempted assassination of; reproves the nobles for coming to his aid; forbidden to remove more than twenty leagues from Paris; urged to escape; escapes, and is arrested and brought back; acceptance of the new Constitution by the king; dissolves the first constituent assembly; refuses his assent to the decrees against the priests and emigrants; issues a circular condemning emigration; apathy of; made to put on the red cap of liberty; a plot to assassinate; appears at the Feast of Federation; holds his last ball, August 5th, 1792; reviews the troops for the last time; appeals to the Assembly for protection; receives notice that his authority is a nullity; made prisoner with his wife and family; sent to the Temple; trial of; insults offered to; condemned to death; execution of. Louvre, visit by the dauphin and dauphiness to the. Luckner, Marshal. Luxembourg, Count de, and the military banquet at Versailles. Luzerne, M. De. 

"MADAME DEFICIT, " a nickname given to the queen. Madame Royale refused in marriage to the Duc de Chartres. Maillard, M. , and the insurgents of 1789. Mailly, Marshal de. Maine, Duke de. Malesherbes, M. Malouet, M. Mandat, M. ; assassination of. Mandense, Abbé. Marat, M. , denounces the queen. Marchioness de Tourzel. Marck, Count de la. Maria Teresa, Empress of Austria, her habits and life; her feelings at the departure of her daughter; letter from, to the dauphin; letter of advice to her daughter; appoints Comte de Mercy as Embassador to France; letters from Marie Antoinette to; advice to Marie Antoinette; disapproval of her daughter appearing in the hunting field; expresses her approval of her daughter's liberality; receives a letter from her daughter on her state entrance into Paris; anxieties about her daughter since her accession as queen of France; cautions her daughter against extravagances; admonishes her daughter; solicits an alliance between France and Austria against Prussia; writes about the birth of her daughter's child; death of. Marie Antoinette, importance of, in the French Revolution of 1789; estimation of her character formed from her correspondences; her birth, November 2d, 1755; her childhood; projects for her marriage; her education; proposal of marriage to the dauphin; leaves Vienna April 26th, 1770; Strasburg, reception at; at Soissons; meeting the king and dauphin at Compiègne; visits the Princess Louise at the Convent of St. Denis; married at Versailles, May 16th, 1770; difficulties in the path of; courage in her conduct; letter of advice from her mother; her sympathy with the sufferers at the fire-work explosion at Paris and with the peasant at Fontainebleau pleases the king and the people; description of her physical appearance; writes to her mother, giving her first impressions of the court and of her own position and prospects; dislike to the court etiquette; intrigues formed against; jealousy of the aunts; addresses from Paris and the states of Languedoc; gaining popularity; expresses a wish to learn to ride; donkey-riding; settlement of income upon; introduces sledging parties into France; gains admiration from her husband; advice of Maria Teresa; growing preference of Louis XV. For; becomes a horse-woman; applying herself to study; taste for music acquired by; appears at a review at Fontainebleau; in the hunting-field; writes to her mother early in 1773; liberality shown by, to the sufferers by the fire at the Hôtel Dieu; receives approval from her mother; expresses her feelings about Poland; state entrance of, into Paris; writes to her mother; presiding at the banquet of the Dames de la Halle; visiting the Parisian theatres; writes to her mother on the death of Louis XV. ; shows her good character upon her accession as queen of France; procures the recall from banishment of the Duc de Choiseul; receives from the king the pavilion of the Little Trianon; desires for private friendships and constant amusements; accused of Austrian preferences; receives increased allowance as queen; visited by the Archduke Maximilian; writes to her mother on the coronation of the king; gives garden parties at Trianon; beauty of; shows her mortification at not having children; speaks disparagingly of the king; writes to her mother extolling the French people; indulges at the play-table; finds herself in debt and forgeries of her name committed; receives the Duke of Dorset and others with favor; receives a visit from her brother, the Emperor of Austria; writes to her mother concerning the emperor's visit; receives a letter of advice from her brother on his departure from France; inviting the king's ministers to the Little Trianon; writes political letters; expects to become a mother; declines to receive Voltaire on his return to France; gives birth to a daughter, whom she names Marie Thérèse Charlotte; goes to Notre Dame Cathedral to return thanks; goes in a hackney-coach to a bal d'opéra; is attacked by measles; writes to her mother about the war between France and England; studies politics; engages in private theatricals; writes to her mother in the midst of her troubles; exhibits great grief at the death of her mother; gives birth to a son, the dauphin of France; on education; receives M. De Suffrein with great honor; receives a letter from her brother, the Emperor of Austria, on European politics, and replies to it; St. Cloud is bought for; gives birth to the Duke of Normandy; finds that her name has been forged and misrepresentations made for procuring a necklace made by Boehmer; receives a visit from her sister, the Princess of Teschen; is treated with hostility by the Duc d'Orléans; receives the nickname of "Madame Deficit"; loses her second daughter, the Princess Sophie; writes two political letters to the Duchess de Polignac; writes to Mercy on the present political state of affairs, August 19th, 1788; conspicuous for her charity during a severe winter; has serious views about the demands of the commons; refuses to accept the Duc de Chartres for husband to her daughter Madame Royale; attends the opening of the States; loses her eldest son, the dauphin, June 4th, 1780; writes to the Duchess de Polignac on the States' affairs; writes to the Marchioness de Tourzel, intrusting to her the education of her children; rejects Barnave's overtures; is remarkable for her bravery; writes to Mercy about her feelings at the present aspect of affairs; receives insolence from a virago; feels the death of her brother, the Emperor Joseph II. Of Austria; writes to her brother Leopold, who succeeded Joseph II. ; refuses to give evidence against the mob rioters; shows kind feeling toward the widowed Marchioness de Favras; makes a speech to the deputies; is well received at the theatre; receives the services of the Count de Mirabeau; interviews him; shows her presence of mind at the fête at the Champ de Mars; writes to Mercy about the difficulty of managing Mirabeau; has to bid farewell to Mercy, who is removed to the Hague; gives audience to Prince de Lichtenstein; denounced by Marat; attempts made to assassinate; writes to the Emperor of Austria, her brother Leopold, October 22d, 1790; refuses to quit France by herself; is threatened with a divorce by La Fayette; writes to the Comte d'Artois, expostulating with him; writes to her brother to send troops to intervene; escapes from Paris with her family, and is arrested and brought back; writes to De Fersen; writes to her brother, Emperor Leopold; sends a letter to Mercy about the Revolution; writes to Mercy about the declaration of Pilnitz and the Constitution; declares her feelings in a letter to the Empress Catherine of Russia; M. Bertrand and the queen; receives news of the death of her brother Leopold, the Emperor of Austria; direct attacks made against; Dumouriez speaks his mind strongly to; appears before the insurrectionists at the Tuileries, June 20th, 1793; writes to Mercy, July 4th, 1792; receives proposals for her escape; writes to the Landgravine Louise; employs her time in quilting her husband a waistcoat to resist a dagger or a bullet; attempt made to assassinate; determines to sacrifice personal safety to loss of the crown and Constitution; made prisoner with her husband; plans formed for the escape of, fail; additional insults offered to; has a trial and is sentenced; writes a final letter to the Princess Elizabeth; is executed; her remains treated with indignity; summary of the character of. Maritime superiority possessed by England. Marly, palace at. Marmier, Madame de. Marquis d'Agoust; de Bouillé; de Condorcet; de Durfort; de La Fayette; de Montesquieu; de Savonières; de St. Huruge; de Vaudreuil. "Marriage of Figaro. " the play of the. Marriage of Marie Antoinette to the Dauphin of France, May 16, 1770; feelings in Germany and France regarding the. Marsan, Madame de. Marseillese, the. Marshal Beaulieu; de Broglie; de Mailly; Lacy; Luckner; Rochambeau. Maubourg, M. Latour. Maurepas, Count de. Maximillan, Archduke, visits his sister. Mazarin, Madame de. Measles, the queen is attacked by the. Mercy, Comte de, appointed as embassador to France; reports to Maria Teresa; position and influence of, upon the accession of Louis XVI. ; receives letters from the queen on the political state of affairs; replies to the same; introduces Count de Mirabeau to the queen; receives letter from the queen about Mirabeau; is removed to the Hague; the queen writes urgently to. Metastasio, epigram of. Michonis, M. Miomandre, M. Mirabeau, Count de, and court etiquette; and his conjugal rights; his character his behavior at the opening of the States; drives Necker from office, and presents a petition to the king to withdraw the troops from Paris; changes his views; his services accepted by the court; denounced by the Jacobin club; interviews the queen, and is pleased with her; interviews the Count de la Marck; great difficulty in managing; retires from office; stands by the queen; death of; funeral of. Mob at Versailles. Moleville, M. Bertrand de. Monnier, Countess de, and the Count de Mirabeau. Montesquieu, Marquis de. Montgolfier's balloons introduced. Montmédy. Montmorency, Viscount Matthieu de. Montmorin, M.. Montsabert, M. , arrest of. Moreau, M.. Mothe, Countess de la. Murder of Mandat; of the Princess de Lamballe. Music, great taste for, exhibited by the dauphiness. Mutiny in the Marquis de Bouillé's army. Mutual jealousies of the queen's favorites. Mysore, Tippoo Sahib, sultan of. 

Narbonne, Count de. "National Assembly, " the, first proposed. National Guard, formation of the; fires on the people. Necker, M. ; retires from the ministry; invited to rejoin, and declines; appointed prime mister; aims at popularity; convokes the States-general; resumes office. Necklace made by Boehmer, the court jeweler; story of the, revived. Noailles, Countess de. Normandy, Duke of. Notables, the Calonne, assembles; Loménie de Brienne dismisses. Notre Dame, public thanksgiving at, on account of the birth of Madame Royale; also on the occasion of the birth of the dauphin. 

Oliva, Mademoiselle, and the great necklace forgery case. Opera of "Iphigénie en Aulide" performed in Paris. Opinion of foreign nations. Outrages in the provinces in 1789. Overthrow of the Girondins. 

Paris Duverney. Paris, fire-work explosion at; state entrance of the dauphin and Marie Antoinette into; great scarcity in, September, 1789; riots in; and the Reveillon riot; riots in, July, 1789; the court removes to; insurrection in, June 20th, 1792; riots in, August 5th, 1792. Parliament, violence of the; arrest of two of its members; closing-up of, by the king's order; recall of, by Necker. Pastoret, M.. Paul, Grand Duke of Russia, visits the French court with his wife. Peace restored between Prussia and Austria; between France and England. Peasant, the, at Fontainebleau. _People's Friend, The_, a newspaper published by the Revolutionists. Pétion, M.. Pilnitz, declaration of. Poland, the partition of. Polastron, Madame de. Polignac, Countess de. Political clubs springing up in Paris. Poll-tax, exemptions from, made by Louis XVI.. Popularity of Marie Antoinette, increasing. Prince Charles of Lorraine, death of; de Conti; de Lichtenstein sent as envoy from Austria; Ferdinand of Brunswick; Kaunitz; Cardinal Louis de Rohan. Princess Adelaide; Clotilde; de Guimenée; de Lamballe; Joséphine Louise of Savoy; of Lorraine; Sophie of France; of Teschen; Victoire. Private theatricals. Provence, Count de, married to the Princess Joséphine Louise of Savoy. Provence, Countess de. Provinces, outrages in the. Prussia allies with Russia. And the declaration of Pilnitz. Public thanksgiving at the birth of Madame Royale; at the birth of the dauphin. 

Race-course established in the Bois de Boulogne. Ramond, M.. Red cap of liberty worn. Reform, the necessity of, generally admitted; granted by Louis XVI.. Rejoicings, general, in France at the birth of the princess; at the birth of the dauphin. Republic declared. "Restorer of French Liberty, " title given to the king. Rétaux de Villette. Retrenchment in court expenditure. Reveillon, M. , and the Paris riot. Revolution of 1789 commenced. Revolutionary tribunal; trial of the queen. Rheims, coronation of Louis XVI. At. Richelieu, Duc de. Ride, Marie Antoinette expresses a wish to learn to; donkey-riding. Riding, donkey; horse. Riots, formidable in some of the provinces; in Paris; the Reveillon, in Paris; in Paris, July, 1789; in Paris, June 20th, 1792; in Paris, August 5th, 1792;Robespierre, M. Rochambeau, Marshal. Roche-Aymer, Count de. Rodney, Admiral. Roederer, M. Rohan, Cardinal Prince de. Roland, Madame, urging secret assassinations of the king and queen; and Robespierre; death of. Romenf, M. "Rose of the North, " a name given to the Countess de Fersen. Rosenburg, Count de. Rousseau, Jean Jacques. Royal family, the, preparing to escape; arrested; authority suspended. Royalists, the name first used as a reproach. Russia allies with Prussia; Grand Duke of, visits the French court; Catherine Empress of. 

Sabran, Abbé de. Sahib, Tippoo, Sultan of Mysore. Salis, M. De. Sans-culottes. Santerre, M. , and the attack on the Bastille; and the Paris insurrection; and the insurgents. Sartines, M. De. Savonières, Marquis de. Scarcity of food in Paris in September, 1789. Schönbrunn, retreat at. Seine, water-parties on the; frozen over. Seven Years' War, the. Severity of the winter of 1788-'89 much felt in France. Seville, the Barber of, the play of. Séze, M. De. Sieyès, Abbé. Simolin, M. Simon M. , and the young king. Sir Edward Hughes. Sledging-parties. Small-pox caught by Louis XV. ; caught by Madame Adelaide. Snow pyramids and obelisks erected, and inscriptions made on them showing the French people's gratitude for the charity displayed by the queen in the winter of 1788-'89. Soissons. Songs of the Dames de la Halle on the occasion of the birth of the dauphin. Sophie Hélène Beatrice, Princess, born July 9th, 1786, died June 9th 1787. Sovereign of France, arbitrary powers of the. Spain and France form an alliance against the British. Spanish squadron destroyed by the British. St Anthony's Day. St. Cloud, visit of the dauphin and dauphiness to; purchased for the queen. St Huruge, Marquis de. St. Priest, Count de. St. Targeau, M. De. St Menehould, the king recognized at, while escaping from France. Staël, Baroness de, at the opening of the States; and the queen's last days. States-general, need for a meeting of the; opening of the, by Louis XVI. , May 5th, 1789; uproar in. Statue of Louis XIV. , by the Duc de la Feuillade. Stedingk, Count de. Stormont, Lord. Strasburg, reception at. Strausse, M. Successes of the English in America. Suffrein, Bailli de, fights with Sir E. Hughes. Sultan of Mysore. Supper-parties, court. Sutherland, Lady, supplies clothes for the dauphin. Sweden, Gustavus III. , King of, at the French court; assassination of the King of. Swedish nobles received at the French courtSwiss Guard, under Count d'Hervilly; murder of the. 

Taboureau des Reaux. Talleyrand, Bishop of Autun. Tarouka's, Duka of, wager. Taxes imposed on the accession of a king and queen renounced. Tea, introduction of, into FranceTemple, theTeresa, Maria. See _Maria Teresa_Tertre, Duport de. Teschen, peace of; Princess of, visits her sister, the queen, in 1786. Thanksgiving, public, at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. "The Handsome, " a name given to the Count Axel de Fersen. Theatre, tumult at the. Theatres, the dauphin and dauphiness visiting the Parisian. Theatricals, private. Tison, Madam, and the queen. Titles of honor, abolition of. Tocqueville's, M. Alexis de, opinion of the feudal system in France. Toulan, M. , and Marie Antoinette. Toulouse, Loménie de Brienne, Archbishop of. Tourzel, Marchioness de; the queens writes, intrusting her children to the care of; assumes the name of Madame de Korff. Trial of Cardinal de Rohan and others for forgery; of the king, December 11th, 1792. Trianon, Little, pavilion of the, given to the queen; the queen at the; parties at the; festivities at the; the queen improving the. Tricolor flag adopted in Paris. Tronchet, M. Tuileries, shabbiness of the, and removal of the court to the. Turgot, A. R. J. ; dismissal from office. Turgy, M. 

Usages, French and Austrian. 

Valenciennes, a frontier town. Valory, M. Varennes, the king is arrested at, in his flight from Paris. Varicourt, M. DeVaudreuil, Count de. Vaudreuil, Marquis de. Vauguyon, Duc de la. Vergennes, Count de. Vergniaud, M. Vermond, Abbé de. Versailles, Marie Antoinette and Louis married at, May 16th, 1770; less frequented; winter of 1779. Veto, debates on the; "Monsieur" and "Madame, " nicknames to the king and queen. Victoire, Princess. Vienna, Marie Antoinette, leaving, April 26th, 1770. _Ville de Paris_, ship. Villette, Marquis de. Vincennes, castle at, attacked by the mob. Violence of the Parliament. Viscount Matthieu de Montmorency. Volatile character of the queen. Voltaire's remark about the maritime superiority of England; return to France, and his death. 

Walpole's, Horace, observations on the beauty of the queen. War of the Grains; the Seven Years'; the American; between France and England; declared against Austria. Water-parties on the Seine. West Indies, French successes in the. Winter of 1783, severity of; of 1788-89, much distress in France in the. 

The End