Marie Antoinette and Her Son Part 10

Behind the lofty walls of Versailles, which a most vicious king erected for his menus plaisirs, there you indulge in your l.u.s.ts, and shut out the voice of truth, which would speak to you here in Paris from the hallowed lips of the people."

"Long live Marat!" cried the cobbler Simon, who, drawn by the shouting, had left the Franciscan, and joined the throng in whose midst stood Santerre, with Marat on his shoulders. "Long live the great friend of the people! Long live Marat!"

"Long live Marat!" cried and muttered the people. "Marat heals the people when the gentry have made them sick, and taken the very marrow from their bones. Marat is no 'gentleman.' Marat does not look down upon the people!"

"My friends, I repeat to you what I said before," shrieked Marat.

"Did you ever hear of a wise man looking down upon the crown prince, and thinking more of the king, who is old, unnerved by his vices, and blase! You, the people, you are the crown prince of France, and if you, at last, in your righteous and n.o.ble indignation, tread the tyrant under your feet, then the young prince, the people, will rule over France, and the beautiful words of the Bible will be fulfilled: 'There shall be one fold and one shepherd.' I have taken this improvised throne on the shoulders of a n.o.ble citizen only to tell you of an impropriety which the Queen of France has committed, and of the new usurpation with which she treads our laws under her feet, not tired out with opera-house b.a.l.l.s and promenades by night. I will read you the address which the king sent to Parliament to-day, and with which the hearing of Cardinal de Rohan's case is to begin. Will the people hear it?"

"Yes, we will hear it," was the cry from all sides. "Read us the address."

Marat drew a dirty piece of paper from his pocket, and began to read with a loud, barking voice:

"Louis, by the grace of G.o.d, King of France and Navarre, to our dear and faithful counsellors, members of the court of our Parliament, greeting:

"It has come to our knowledge that parties named Bohmer and Ba.s.senge have, without the knowledge of the queen, our much-loved consort and spouse, sold a diamond necklace, valued at one million six hundred thousand francs, to Cardinal de Rohan, who stated to them that he was acting in the matter under the queen's instructions. Papers were laid before them which they considered as approved and subscribed by the queen. After the said Bohmer and Ba.s.senge had delivered the said necklace to the said cardinal, and had not received the first payment, they applied to the queen herself. We have beheld, not without righteous indignation, the eminent name, which in many ways is so dear to us, lightly spoken of, and denied the respect which is due to the royal majesty. We have thought that it pertains to the jurisdiction of our court to give a hearing to the said cardinal, and in view of the declaration which he has made before us, that he was deceived by a woman named Lamotte-Valois, we have held it necessary to secure his person, as well as that of Madame Valois, in order to bring all the parties to light who have been the instigators or abettors of such a plot. It is our will, therefore, that that matter come before the high court of Parliament, and that it be duly tried and judgment given."

"There you have this fine message," cried Marat; "there you have the web of his, which this Austrian woman has woven around us. For it is she who has sent this message to Parliament. You know well that we have no longer a King of France, but that all France is only the Trianon of the Austrian. It stands on all our houses, written over all the doors of government buildings, 'De par la reine!' The Austrian woman is the Queen of France, and the good-natured king only writes what she dictates to him. She says in this paper that these precautions have been taken in order that she may learn who are the persons who have joined in the attack upon her distinguished and much-loved person. Who, then, is the abettor of Madame Valois?

Who has received the diamonds from the cardinal, through the instrumentality of Madame Valois? I a.s.sert, it is the queen who has done it. She received the jewels, and now she denies the whole story. And now this woman Lamotte-Valois must draw the hot chestnuts out from the ashes. You know this; so it always is! Kings may go unpunished, they always have a bete de souffrance, which has to bear their burdens. But now that a cardinal, the grand almoner of France, is compelled to become the bete de souffrance for this Austrian woman, must show you, my friends, that her arrogance has reached its highest point. She has trodden modesty and morals under foot, and now she will tread the Church under foot also."

"Be still!" was the cry on all sides. "The carbineers and gendarmes are coming. Be still, Marat, be still! You must not be arrested. We do not want all our friends to be taken to the Bastile."

And really just at that instant, at the entrance of the street that led to the square on the side of the Tuileries, appeared a division of carbineers, advancing at great speed.

Marat jumped with the speed of a cat down from the huge form of the brewer. The crowd opened and made way for him, and before the carbineers had approached, Marat had disappeared.

With this day began the investigations respecting the necklace which Messrs. Bohmer and Ba.s.senge had wanted to sell the queen through the agency of Cardinal Bohan. The latter was still a prisoner in the Bastile. He was treated with all the respect due to his rank. He had a whole suite of apartments a.s.signed to him; he was allowed to retain the service of both his chamberlains, and at times was permitted to see and converse with his relatives, although, it is true, in the presence of the governor of the Bastile. But Foulon was a very pious Catholic, and kept a respectful distance from the lord cardinal, who never failed on such occasions to give him his blessing. In the many hearings which the cardinal had to undergo, the president of the committee of investigation treated him with extreme consideration, and if the cardinal felt himself wearied, the sitting was postponed till another day. Moreover, at these hearings the defender of the cardinal could take part, in order to summon those witnesses or accused persons who could contribute to the release of the cardinal, and show that he had been the victim of a deeply-laid plot, and had committed no other wrong than that of being too zealous in the service of the queen.

News spread abroad of numerous arrests occurring in Paris. It had been known from the royal decree that the Countess Lamotte-Valois had likewise been arrested and imprisoned in the Bastile; but people were anxious to learn decisively whether Count Cagliostro, the wonder-doctor, had been seized. The story ran that a young woman in Brussels, who had been involved in the affair, and who had an extraordinary resemblance to the Queen Marie Antoinette, had been arrested, and brought to Paris for confinement in the Bastile.

All Paris, all France watched this contest with eager interest, which, after many months, was still far from a conclusion, and respecting which so much could be said.

The friends of the queen a.s.serted that her majesty was completely innocent; that she had never spoken to the Countess Lamotte-Valois, and only once through her chamberlain. Weber had never sent her any a.s.sistance. But these friends of the queen were not numerous, and their number diminished every day.

The king had seen the necessity of making great reductions in the cost of maintaining his establishment, and in the government of the realm. France had had during the last years poor harvests. The people were suffering from a want of the bare necessities of life.

The taxes could not be collected. A reform must be introduced, and those who before had rejoiced in a superfluity of royal gifts had to be contented with a diminution of them.

It had been the queen who allowed the tokens of royal favor to pour upon her friends, her companions in Trianon, like a golden rain. She had at the outset done this out of a hearty love for them. It was so sweet to cause those to rejoice whom she loved; so pleasant to see that charming smile upon the countenance of the d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac- -that smile which only appeared when she had succeeded in making others happy. For herself the d.u.c.h.ess never asked a favor; her royal friend could only, after a long struggle and threatening her with her displeasure, induce her to take the gifts which were offered out of a really loving heart.

But behind the d.u.c.h.ess Diana stood her brother and sister-in-law, the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac, who were ambitious, proud, and avaricious; behind the d.u.c.h.ess Diana stood the three favorites of the royal society in Trianon --Lords Vaudreuil, Besenval, D'Adhemar- -who desired emba.s.sies, ministerial posts, orders, and other tokens of honor.

Diana de Polignac was the channel through whom all these addressed themselves to the queen; she was the loved friend who asked whether the queen could not grant their demands. Louis granted all the requests to the queen, and Marie Antoinette then went to her loved friend Diana, in order to gratify her wishes, to receive a kiss, and to be rewarded with a smile.

The great n.o.ble families saw with envy and displeasure this supremacy of the Polignacs and the favorites of Trianon. They withdrew from the court; gave the "Queen of Trianon" over to her special friends and their citizen pleasures and sports, which, as they a.s.serted, were not becoming to the great n.o.bility. They gave the king over to his wife who ruled through him, and who, in turn, was governed by the Polignacs and the other favorites. To them and to their friends belonged all places, all honors; to them all applied who wanted to gain any thing for the court, and even they who wanted to get justice done them. Around the royal pair there was nothing but intrigues, cabals, envy, and hostility. Every one wanted to be first in the favor of the queen, in order to gain influence and consideration; every one wanted to cast suspicion on the one who was next to him, in order to supplant him in the favor of Marie Antoinette.

The fair days of fortune and peace, of which the queen dreamed in her charming country home, thinking that her realizations were met when the sun had scarcely risen upon them, were gone. Trianon was still there, and the happy peasant-girl of Trianon had been unchanged in heart; but those to whom she had given her heart, those who had joined in her harmless amus.e.m.e.nt in her village there, were changed! They had cast aside the idyllic masks with which the good- natured and confiding queen had deceived herself. They were no longer friends, no longer devoted servants; they were mere place- hunters, intriguers, flatterers, not acting out of love, but out of selfishness.

Yet the queen would not believe this; she continued to be the tender friend of her friends, trusted them, depended upon their love, was happy in their neighborhood, and let herself be led by them just as the king let himself be led by her.

They set ministers aside, appointed new ones, placed their favorites in places of power, and drove their opponents into obscurity.

But there came a day when the queen began to see that she was not the ruler but the ruled,--when she saw that she was not acting out her own will, but was tyrannized over by those who had been made powerful through her favor.

"I have been compelled to take part in political affairs," said she, "because the king, in his n.o.ble, good-humored way, has too little confidence in himself, and, out of his self-distrust, lets himself be controlled by the opinions of others. And so it is best that I should be his first confidante, and that he should take me to be his chief adviser, for his interests are mine, and these children are mine, and surely no one can speak more truly and honestly to the King of France than his queen, his wife, the mother of his children!

And so if the king is not perfectly independent, and feels himself too weak to stand alone, and independently to exert power, he ought to rest on me; I will bear a part in his government, his business, that at any rate they who control be not my opponents, my enemies!"

For a while she yielded to her friends and favorites who wanted to stand in the same relation to the queen that she did to the king-- she yielded, not like Louis, from weakness, but from the very power of her love for them.

She yielded at the time when Diana de Polignac, urged by her brother-in-law, Polignac, and by Lord Besenval, conjured the queen to nominate Lord Calonne to be general comptroller of the finances.

She yielded, and Calonne, the flatterer, the courtier of Polignac, received the important appointment, although Marie Antoinette experienced twinges of conscience for it, and did not trust the man whom she herself advanced to this high place. Public opinion, meanwhile, gave out that Lord Calonne was a favorite of the queen; and, while she bore him no special favor, and considered his appointment as a misfortune to France, she who herself promoted him became the object of public indignation.

Meanwhile the nomination of Lord Calonne was to be productive of real good. It gave rise to the publication of a host of libels and pamphlets which discussed the financial condition of France, and, in biting and scornful words, in the language of sadness and despair, developed the need and the misfortune of the land. The king gave the chief minister of police strict injunctions to send him all these ephemeral publications. He wanted to read them all, wanted to find the kernel of wheat which each contained, and, from his enemies, who a.s.suredly would not flatter, he wanted to learn how to be a good king. And the first of his cares he saw to be a frugal king, and to limit his household expenses.

This time he acted independently; he asked no one's counsel, not even the queen's. As his own unconstrained act, he ordered a diminution of the court luxury, and a limitation of the great pensions which were paid to favorites. The great stable of the king must be reduced, the chief directorship of the post bureau must be abolished, the high salary of the governess of the royal children as well as that of the maid of honor of Madame Elizabeth, sister of the king, must be reduced.

And who were the ones affected by this? Chiefly the Polignac family.

The Duke de Polignac was director of the royal mews, and next to him the Duke de Coigny. The Duke de Polignac was also chief director of the post department. His wife, Diana de Polignac, was also maid of honor to Madame Elizabeth, and Julia de Polignac was governess of the children of Prance.

They would not believe it; they held it impossible that so unheard- of a thing should happen, that their income should be reduced. The whole circle of intimate friends resorted to Trianon, to have an interview with the queen, to receive from her the a.s.surance that she would not tolerate such a robbing of her friends, and that she would induce the king to take back his commands.

The queen, however, for the first time, made a stand against her friends.

"It is the will of the king," said she, "and I am too happy that the king has a will, to dare opposing it. May the king reign! It is his duty and his right, as it is the duty and right of all his subjects to conform to his wish and be subject to his will."

"But," cried Lord Besenval, "it is horrible to live in a country where one is not sure but he may lose tomorrow what he holds to-day; down to this time that has always been the Turkish fashion."

[Footnote: His very words. See Goncourt's "Histoire de Marie Antoinette," p. 181.]

The queen trembled and raised her great eyes with a look full of astonishment and pain to Besenval, then to the other friends; she read upon all faces alienation and unkindly feeling. The mask of devoted courtiers and true servants had for the first time fallen from their faces, and Marie Antoinette discovered these all at once wholly estranged and unknown countenances; eyes without the beam of friendship, lips without the smile of devotion.

The queen sought to put her hand to her heart. It seemed to her as if she had been wounded with a dagger. She felt as if she must cry aloud with pain and grief. But she commanded herself and only gave utterance to a faint sigh.

"You are not the only ones who will lose, my friends," said she, gently. "The king is a loser, too; for if he gives up the great stables, he sacrifices to the common good his horses, his equipages, and, above all, his true servants. We must all learn to put up with limitations and a reduction of outlay. But we can still remain good friends, and here in Trianon pa.s.s many pleasant days with one another in harmless gayety and happy contentment. Come, my friends, let us forget these cares and these constraints; let us, despite all these things, be merry and glad. Duke de Coigny, you have been for a week my debtor in billiards, to-day you must make it up. Come, my friends, let us go into the billiard-room."

And the queen, who had found her gayety again, went laughing in advance of her friends into the next apartment, where the billiard- table stood. She took up her cue, and, brandishing it like a sceptre, cried, "Now, my friends, away with care--"

She ceased, for as she looked around her she saw that her friends had not obeyed her call. Only the Duke de Coigny, whom she had specially summoned, had followed the queen into the billiard-room.

A flash of anger shot from the eyes of the queen.

"How!" cried she, aloud, "did my companions not hear that I commanded them to follow me hither?"

"Your majesty," answered the Duke de Coigny, peevishly, "the ladies and gentlemen have probably recalled the fact that your majesty once made it a rule here in Trianon that every one should do as he pleases, and your majesty sees that they hold more strictly to the laws than others do."

"My lord," sighed the queen, "do you bring reproaches against me too? Are you also discontented?"

"And why should I be contented, your majesty?" asked the duke, with choler. "I am deprived of a post which hitherto has been held for life, and does your majesty desire that I should be contented? No, I am not contented. No, I do as the others do. I am full of anger and pain to see that nothing is secure more, that nothing is stable more, that one can rely upon nothing more--not even upon the word of kings."

"My lord duke," cried Marie Antoinette, with flashing anger, "you go too far, you forget that you are speaking to your queen."

"Madame," cried he, still louder, "here in Trianon there is no queen, there are no subjects! You yourself have said it, and I at least will hold to your words, even if you yourself do not. Let us play billiards, madame. I am at your service."