"Louis XVI., an equitable prince, moderate in his

propensities, carelessly educated, but naturally of a good

disposition, ascended the throne [May 11, 1774] at a very

early age. He called to his side an old courtier, and

consigned to him the care of his kingdom; and divided his

confidence between Maurepas and the Queen, an Austrian

princess [Marie Antoinette], young, lively, and amiable, who

possessed a complete ascendency over him. Maurepas and the

Queen were not good friends. The King, sometimes giving way to

his minister, at others to his consort, began at an early

period the long career of his vacillations. ... The public

voice, which was loudly expressed, called for Turgot, one of

the class of economists, an honest, virtuous man, endowed with

firmness of character, a slow genius, but obstinate and

profound. Convinced of his probity, delighted with his plans

of reform, Louis XVI. frequently repeated: 'There are none

besides myself and Turgot who are friends of the people.'

Turgot's reforms were thwarted by the opposition of the

highest orders in the state, who were interested in

maintaining all kinds of abuses, which the austere minister

proposed to suppress. Louis XVI. dismissed him [1776] with

regret. During his whole life, which was only a long

martyrdom, he had the mortification to discern what was right,

to wish it sincerely, but to lack the energy requisite for

carrying it into execution. The King, placed between the

court, the parliaments, and the people, exposed to intrigues

and to suggestions of all sorts, repeatedly changed his

ministers. Yielding once more to the public voice, and to the

necessity for reform, he summoned to the finance department

Necker, a native of Geneva, who had amassed wealth as a

banker, a partisan and disciple of Colbert, as Turgot was of

Sully; an economical and upright financier, but a vain man,

fond of setting himself up for arbitrator in everything. ...

Necker re-established order in the finances, and found means

to defray the heavy expenses of the American war. ... But it

required something more than financial artifices to put an end

to the embarrassments of the exchequer, and he had recourse to

reform. He found the higher orders not less adverse to him

than they had been to Turgot; the parliaments, apprised of his

plans, combined against him, and obliged him to retire [1781].

The conviction of the existence of abuses was universal;

everybody admitted it. ... The courtiers, who derived

advantage from these abuses, would have been glad to see an

end put to the embarrassments of the exchequer, but without

its costing them a single sacrifice. ... The parliaments also

talked of the interests of the people, loudly insisted on the

sufferings of the poor, and yet opposed the equalization of

the taxes, as well as the abolition of the remains of feudal

barbarism. All talked of the public weal, few desired it; and

the people, not yet knowing who were its true friends,

applauded all those who resisted power, its most obvious

enemy. By the removal of Turgot and Necker, the state of

affairs was not changed: the distress of the treasury remained

the same. ... An intrigue brought forward M. de Calonne [in

1783, after brief careers in office of M. de Fleury and M.

d'Ormesson]. ... Calonne, clever, brilliant, fertile in

resources, relied upon his genius, upon fortune, and upon men,

and awaited the future with the most extraordinary apathy. ...

That future which had been counted upon now approached: it

became necessary at length to adopt decisive measures. It was

impossible to burden the people with fresh imposts, and yet

the coffers were empty. There was but one remedy which could

be applied; that was to reduce the expenses by the suppression

of grants; and if this expedient should not suffice, to extend

the taxes to a greater number of contributors, that is, to the

nobility and clergy. These plans, attempted successively by

Turgot and Necker, and resumed by Calonne, appeared to the

latter not at all likely to succeed, unless the consent of the

privileged classes themselves could be obtained. Calonne,

therefore, proposed to collect them together in an assembly,

to be called the Assembly of the Notables, in order to lay his

plans before them, and to gain their consent either by address or

by conviction. The assembly [which met February 22, 1787] was

composed of distinguished members of the nobility, clergy, and

magistracy, of a great number of masters of requests and some

magistrates of the provinces. ... Very warm discussions

ensued." The Notables at length "promised to sanction the

plans of Calonne, but on condition that a minister more moral

and more deserving of confidence should be appointed to carry

them into execution."

{1253}

Calonne, consequently, was dismissed, and replaced by M. de

Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse. "The Notables, bound by the

promises which they had made, readily consented to all that

they had at first refused: land-tax, stamp-duty, suppression

of the gratuitous services of vassals ('corvées'), provincial

assemblies, were all cheerfully granted. ... Had M. de Brienne

known how to profit by the advantages of his position; had he

actively proceeded with the execution of the measures assented

to by the Notables; had he submitted them all at once and

without delay to the parliament, at the instant when the

adhesion of the higher orders seemed to be wrung from

them--all would probably have been over; the parliament,

pressed on all sides, would have consented to everything. ...

Nothing of the kind, however, was done. By imprudent delays

occasion was furnished for relapses; the edicts were submitted

only one after another; the parliament had time to discuss, to

gain courage, and to recover from the sort of surprise by

which the Notables had been taken. It registered, after long

discussions, the edict enacting the second abolition of the

'corvées,' and another permitting the free exportation of

corn. Its animosity was particularly directed against the

land-tax; but it feared lest by a refusal it should enlighten

the public, and show that its opposition was entirely selfish.

It hesitated, when it was spared this embarrassment by the

simultaneous presentation of the edict on the stamp-duty and

the land-tax, and especially by opening the deliberations with

the former. The parliament had thus an opportunity of refusing

the first without entering into explanations respecting the

second; and, in attacking the stamp-duty, which affected the

majority of the payers of taxes, it seemed to defend the

interest of the public. At a sitting which was attended by the

peers, it denounced the abuses, the profligacy, and the

prodigality of the court, and demanded statements of

expenditure. A councillor, punning upon the 'états'

(statements) exclaimed ... --'It is not statements, but

States-General that we want.' ... The utterance of a single

word presented an unexpected direction to the public mind: it

was repeated by every mouth, and States-General were loudly

demanded."

_A. Thiers,

History of the French Revolution

(American edition), volume 1, pages 17-21._

"There is no doubt that the French administrative body, at the

time when Louis XVI. began to reign, was corrupt and

self-seeking. In the management of the finances and of the

army, illegitimate profits were made. But this was not the

worst evil from which the public service was suffering. France

was in fact governed by what in modern times is called 'a

ring.' The members of such an organization pretend to serve

the sovereign, or the public, and in some measure actually do

so; but their rewards are determined by intrigue and favor,

and are entirely disproportionate to their services. They

generally prefer jobbery to direct stealing, and will spend a

million of the state's money in a needless undertaking, in

order to divert a few thousands into their own pockets. They

hold together against all the world, while trying to

circumvent each other. Such a ring in old France was the

court. By such a ring will every country be governed, where

the sovereign who possesses the political power is weak in

moral character or careless of the public interest; whether

that sovereign be a monarch, a chamber, or the mass of the

people. Louis XVI., king of France and of Navarre, was more

dull than stupid, and weaker in will than in intellect. ... He

was ... thoroughly conscientious, and had a high sense of the

responsibility of his great calling. He was not indolent,

although heavy, and his courage, which was sorely tested, was

never broken. With these virtues he might have made a good

king, had he possessed firmness of will enough to support a

good minister, or to adhere to a good policy. But such

strength had not been given him. Totally incapable of standing

by himself, he leant successively, or simultaneously, on his

aunt, his wife, his ministers, his courtiers, as ready to

change his policy as his adviser. Yet it was part of his

weakness to be unwilling to believe himself under the guidance

of any particular person; he set a high value on his own

authority, and was inordinately jealous of it. No one,

therefore, could acquire a permanent influence. Thus a

well-meaning man became the worst of sovereigns. ... Louis XV.

had been led by his mistresses; Louis XVI. was turned about by

the last person who happened to speak to him. The courtiers,

in their turn, were swayed by their feelings, or their

interests. They formed parties and combinations, and intrigued

for or against each other. They made bargains, they gave and

took bribes. In all these intrigues, bribes, and bargains, the

court ladies had a great share. They were as corrupt as the

men, and as frivolous. It is probable that in no government

did women ever exercise so great an influence. The factions

into which the court was divided tended to group themselves

round certain rich and influential families. Such were the

Noailles, an ambitious and powerful house, with which

Lafayette was connected by marriage; the Broglies, one of whom

had held the thread of the secret diplomacy which Louis XV.

had carried on behind the backs of his acknowledged ministers;

the Polignacs, new people, creatures of Queen Marie

Antoinette; the Rohans, through the influence of whose great

name an unworthy member of the family was to rise to high

dignity in the church and the state, and then to cast a deep

shadow on the darkening popularity of that ill-starred

princess. Such families as these formed an upper class among

nobles. ... It is not easy, in looking at the French

government in the eighteenth century, to decide where the

working administration ended, and where the useless court that

answered no real purpose began. ... There was the department of

hunting and that of buildings, a separate one for royal

journeys, one for the guard, another for police, yet another

for ceremonies. There were five hundred officers 'of the

mouth,' table-bearers distinct from chair-bearers. There were

tradesmen, from apothecaries and armorers at one end of the

list to saddle-makers, tailors and violinists at the other. ...

The military and civil households of the king and of the

royal family are said to have consisted of about fifteen

thousand souls, and to have cost forty-five million francs per

annum. The holders of many of the places served but three

months apiece out of every year, so that four officers and

four salaries were required, instead of one. With such a

system as this we cannot wonder that the men who administered

the French government were generally incapable and

self-seeking. Most of them were politicians rather than

administrators, and cared more for their places than for their

country. Of the few conscientious and patriotic men who

obtained power, the greater number lost it very speedily."

_E. J. Lowell,

The Eve of the French Revolution,

chapter 2._

ALSO IN:

_F. Rocquain,

The Revolutionary Spirit preceding the French Revolution,

chapters 9-11._

_Mme. de Stael,

Considerations on the Principal Events

of the French Revolution,

chapters 3-10 (volume 1)._

_J. Necker,

On the French Revolution,

part. 1, section 1 (volume 1)._

_Condorcet,

Life of Turgot,

chapters 5-6._

_L. Say,

Turgot,

chapters 5-7._

_C. D. Yonge,

Life of Marie Antoinette,

chapters 8-21._

{1254}

FRANCE: A. D. 1778 (February).

Treaty with the United States of America.

See UNITED STATES OF AMERICA: A. D. 1776-1778,

and 1778 (FEBRUARY).

FRANCE: A. D. 1780 (July).

Fresh aid to the United States of America.

See UNITED STATES OF AMERICA: A. D. 1780 (July).

FRANCE: A. D. 1782.

Disastrous naval defeat by Rodney.

Unsuccessful siege of Gibraltar.

See ENGLAND: A. D. 1780-1782.

FRANCE: A. D. 1782.

The negotiation of Peace between Great Britain and the United

States of America.

Dissatisfaction of the French minister.

See UNITED STATES OF AMERICA: A. D. 1782 (SEPTEMBER),

and (SEPTEMBER-NOVEMBER).

FRANCE: A. D. 1784-1785.

The affair of the Diamond Necklace.

The chief actor in the affair of the diamond necklace, which

caused a great scandal and smirched the queen's name, was an

adventuress who called herself the Comtesse de Lamotte, and

claimed descent from Henry II., but who had been half servant,

half companion, to a lady of quality, and had picked up a

useful acquaintance with the manners and the gossip of court

society. "Madame de Lamotte's original patroness had a

visiting acquaintance with the Cardinal Prince Louis de Rohan,

and in her company her protégée learned to know him also.

Prince Louis, who had helped to receive Marie Antoinette at

Strasburg, had been the French ambassador at Vienna, where he

had disgusted and incensed Maria Theresa by his worldliness,

profligacy, and arrogance. She had at last procured his

withdrawal, and her letters expressing a positive terror lest

he should come near Marie Antoinette and acquire an influence

over her, were not without their effect. He was not allowed to

appear at Court, and for ten long years fretted and fumed

under a sense of the royal displeasure. ... He was now a man

bordering on fifty, grey-headed, rosy, 'pursy,' with nothing

save his blue blood and the great offices which he disgraced

to recommend him. Madame de Lamotte, hovering about Paris and

Versailles, where she had lodgings in La Belle Inage, tried to

make her own of backstairs gossip, and picked up a hint or

two. Suddenly a great idea struck her, founded on the history

of a magnificent necklace dangled before bright eyes, over

which many an excitable imagination gloated. The Queen had a

court jeweller, Bœhmer, who had formerly been jeweller to the

King of Saxony at Dresden. ... For a period of years he had

been collecting and assorting the stones which should form an

incomparable necklace, in row upon row, pendants and tassels

of lustrous diamonds, till the price reached the royal pitch

of from eighty to ninety thousand pounds English money. This

costly 'collar,' according to rumour, was ... meant, in the

beginning, for the Comtesse du Barry. In the end, it ... was

offered with confidence to the Queen. ... She declined to

buy--she had enough diamonds. ... There was nothing for it but

that Bœhmer should 'hawk' his necklace in every Court of

Europe, without success, till the German declared himself

ruined, and passionately protested that, if the Queen would

not buy the diamonds, there was no resource for him save to

throw himself into the Seine. But there was a resource,

unhappily for Bœhmer, unhappily for all concerned, most so for

the poor Queen. Madame de Lamotte, in keeping up her

acquaintance with Prince Louis de Rohan, began to hint darkly

that there might be ways of winning the royal favour. She

threw out cunning words about the degree of importance and

trust to which she had attained in the highest quarters at

Versailles; about the emptiness of the Queen's exchequer, with

consequent difficulties in the discharge of her charities;

about the secret royal desire for the famous necklace, which

the King would not enable Marie Antoinette to obtain. The

blinded and besotted Cardinal drank in these insinuations. The

black art was called in to deepen his convictions. In an age

when many men, especially many churchmen, believed in nothing,

in spite of their professions, naturally they were given over

to believe a lie. Cagliostro, astrologer and modern magician,

was flourishing in Paris, and by circles and signs he promised

the priest, De Rohan, progress in the only suit he had at

heart. Still the dupe was not so infatuated as to require no

proof of the validity of these momentous implications, and

proof was not wanting; notes were handed to him, to be

afterwards shown to Bœhmer, graciously acknowledging his

devotion, and authorising him to buy for the Queen the diamond

necklace. These notes were apparently written in the Queen's

hand (that school-girl's scrawl of which Maria Theresa was

wont to complain); but they were signed 'Marie Antoinette de

France,' a signature which so great a man as the Cardinal

ought to have known was never employed by the Queen, for the

very good reason that the termination 'de France' belonged to

the children and not to the wife of the sovereign. Even a

further assurance that all was right was granted. The

Cardinal, trembling in a fever of hope and expectation, was

told that a private interview with the Queen would be

vouchsafed to him at midnight in the Park of Versailles. At

the appointed hour, on the night of the 28th of July, 1784, De

Rohan, in a blue greatcoat and slouched hat, was stationed,

amidst shrouding, sultry darkness, in the neighbourhood of the

palace. Madame de Lamotte, in a black domino, hovered near to

give the signal of the Queen's approach. The whisper was

given, 'In the Hornbeam Arbour,' and the Cardinal hurried to

the spot, where he could dimly descry a tall lady in white,

with chestnut hair, blue eyes, and a commanding air, if he

could really have seen all these well-known attributes. He

knelt, but before he could do more than mutter a word of

homage and gratitude, the black domino was at his side again

with another vehement whisper, 'On vient' (They come).

{1255}

The lady in white dropped a rose, with the significant words,

'Vous savez ce que cela veut dire' (You know what that means),

and vanished before the 'Vite, vite' ('Quick, quick ') of the

black domino, for the sound of approaching footsteps was

supposed to indicate the approach of Madame and the Comtesse

d'Artois, and the Cardinal, in his turn, had to flee from

detection. What more could be required to convince a man of

the good faith of the lady. ... Bœhmer received a hint that he

might sell his necklace, through the Prince Cardinal Louis de

Rohan, to one of the great ones of the earth, who was to

remain in obscurity. The jeweller drew out his terms--sixteen

hundred thousand livres, to be paid in five equal instalments

over a year and a-half--to which he and Prince Louis affixed

their signatures. This paper Madame de Lamotte carried to

Versailles, and brought it back with the words written on the

margin, 'Bon Marie Antoinette de France.' In the meantime,

Bœhmer, the better to keep the secret, gave out that he had

sold the necklace to the Grand Turk for his favourite Sultana.

The necklace was, in fact, delivered to Prince Louis and by

him entrusted to Madame Lamotte, from whose hands it passed

--not into the Queen's. Having been taken to pieces, it was

sent in all haste out of the kingdom, while the Cardinal,

according to his own account, was still played with. ... It

goes without saying that no payment, except a small offer of

interest on the thirty thousand, was forthcoming. The Cardinal

and Bœhmer were betrayed into wrath, dismay, and despair.

Bœhmer took it upon him to apply, in respectful terms, to her

Majesty for payment; and when she said the whole thing was a

mistake, the man must be mad, and caused her words to be

written to him, he sought an interview with Madame Campan, the

first woman of the bedchamber, at her house at Crespy, where

he had been dining, and in the gardens there, in the middle of

a thunder-shower, astounded her with his version of the story.

... The Cardinal was taken to the Bastille. More arrests

followed, including those of Madame de Lamotte, staying

quietly in her house at Bar-sur-Aube, and the girl Gay

d'Oliva, an unhappy girl, tall and fair haired, taken from the

streets of Paris, and brought to the park of Versailles to

personate the Queen. It was said the Queen wept passionately

over the scandal--well she might. The court in which the case

was tried might prove the forgery, as in fact it did, though

not in the way she expected; but every Court in Europe would

ring with the story, and she had made deadly enemies, if not

of the Church itself, of the great houses of De Rohan, De

Soubise, De Guéménée, De Marsan, and their multitude of

allies. The process lasted nine months, and every exertion was

made for the deliverance of the princely culprit. ... The

result of the trial was that, though the Queen's signature was

declared false, Madame de Lamotte was sentenced to be whipped,

branded, and imprisoned for life, her husband was condemned to

the galleys, and a man called Villette de Retaux, who was the

actual fabricator of the Queen's handwriting, was sentenced to

be banished for life. The Cardinal Prince Louis de Rohan was

fully acquitted, with permission to publish what defence he

chose to write of his conduct. When he left the court, he was

escorted by great crowds, hurrahing over his acquittal,

because it was supposed to cover the Court with

mortification."

_Sarah Tytler,

Marie Antoinette,

chapter 12._

ALSO IN:

_T. Carlyle,

The Diamond Necklace

(Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, volume 5)._

_H. Vizetelly,

The Story of the Diamond Necklace._

FRANCE: A. D. 1787-1789.

Struggle of the Crown with the Parliament of Paris.

The demand for a meeting of the States-General yielded to.

Double representation of the Third Estate conceded.

The make-up of the States-General as elected by the three

Estates.

History for ready reference, Volume 2, El Dorado to Greaves · 第 135 / 222 段