"I remember an old lady who could not bear to be told of deaths. 'Psha!
Pshaw!' she would exclaim. 'Bring me no tales of funerals! Talk of
births and of those who are likely to be blest with them! These are the
joys which gladden old hearts and fill youthful ones with ecstasy! It is
our own reproduction in children which makes us quit the world happy and
contented; because then we only retire to make room for another race,
bringing with them all those faculties which are in us decayed; and
capable, which we ourselves have ceased to be, of taking our parts and
figuring on the stage of life so long as it may please the Supreme
Manager to busy them in earthly scenes! Then talk no more to me of weeds
and mourning, but show me christenings and all those who give employ to
the baptismal font!'
"Such also was the exulting feeling of Marie Antoinette when she no
longer doubted of her wished-for pregnancy. The idea of becoming a
mother filled her soul with an exuberant delight, which made the very
pavement on which she trod vibrate with the words, 'I shall be a mother!
I shall be a mother!' She was so overjoyed that she not only made it
public throughout France but despatches were sent off to all her royal
relatives. And was not her rapture natural? so long as she had waited
for the result of every youthful union, and so coarsely as she had been
reproached with her misfortune! Now came her triumph. She could now
prove to the world, like all the descendants of the house of Austria,
that there was no defect with her. The satirists and the malevolent were
silenced. Louis XVI., from the cold, insensible bridegroom, became the
infatuated admirer of his long-neglected wife. The enthusiasm with which
the event was hailed by all France atoned for the partial insults she had
received before it. The splendid fetes, balls, and entertainments,
indiscriminately lavished by all ranks throughout the kingdom on this
occasion, augmented those of the Queen and the Court to a pitch of
magnificence surpassing the most luxurious and voluptuous times of the
great and brilliant Louis XIV. Entertainments were given even to the
domestics of every description belonging to the royal establishments.
Indeed, so general was the joy that, among those who could do no more,
there could scarcely be found a father or mother in France who, before
they took their wine, did not first offer up a prayer for the prosperous
pregnancy of their beloved Queen.
"And yet, though the situation of Marie Antoinette was now become the
theme of a whole nation's exultation, she herself, the owner of the
precious burthen, selected by Heaven as its special depositary, was the
only one censured for expressing all her happiness!
"Those models of decorum, the virtuous Princesses, her aunts, deemed it
highly indelicate in Her Majesty to have given public marks of her
satisfaction to those deputed to compliment her on her prosperous
situation. To avow the joy she felt was in their eyes indecent and
unqueenly. Where was the shrinking bashfulness of that one of these
Princesses who had herself been so clamorous to Louis XV. against her
husband, the Duke of Modena, for not having consummated her own marriage?
"The party of the dismissed favourite Du Barry were still working
underground. Their pestiferous vapours issued from the recesses of the
earth, to obscure the brightness of the rising sun, which was now rapidly
towering to its climax, to obliterate the little planets which had once
endeavoured to eclipse its beautiful rays, but were now incapable of
competition, and unable to endure its lustre. This malignant nest of
serpents began to poison the minds of the courtiers, as soon as the
pregnancy was obvious, by innuendoes on the partiality of the Comte
d'Artois for the Queen; and at length, infamously, and openly, dared to
point him out as the cause?
"Thus, in the heart of the Court itself, originated this most atrocious
slander, long before it reached the nation, and so much assisted to
destroy Her Majesty's popularity with a people, who now adored her
amiableness, her general kind-heartedness, and her unbounded charity.
"I have repeatedly seen the Queen and the Comte d'Artois together under
circumstances in which there could have been no concealment of her real
feelings; and I can firmly and boldly assert the falsehood of this
allegation against my royal mistress. The only attentions Marie
Antoinette received in the earlier part of her residence in France were
from her grandfather and her brothers-in-law. Of these, the Comte
d'Artois was the only one who, from youth and liveliness of character,
thoroughly sympathised with his sister. But, beyond the little freedoms
of two young and innocent playmates, nothing can be charged upon their
intimacy,--no familiarity whatever farther than was warranted by their
relationship. I can bear witness that Her Majesty's attachment for the
Comte d'Artois never differed in its nature from what she felt for her
brother the Emperor Joseph.
[When the King thought proper to be reconciled to the Queen after the
death of his grandfather, Louis XV., and when she became a mother, she
really was very much attached to Louis XVI., as may be proved from her
never quitting him, and suffering all the horrid sacrifices she endured,
through the whole period of the Revolution, rather than leave her
husband, her children, or her sister. Marie Antoinette might have saved
her life twenty times, had not the King's safety, united with her own and
that of her family, impelled her to reject every proposition of
self-preservation.]
"It is very likely that the slander of which I speak derived some colour
of probability afterwards with the million, from the Queen's
thoughtlessness, relative to the challenge which passed between the Comte
d'Artois and the Duc de Bourbon. In right of my station, I was one of
Her Majesty's confidential counsellors, and it became my duty to put
restraint upon her inclinations, whenever I conceived they led her wrong.
In this instance, I exercised my prerogative decidedly, and even so much
so as to create displeasure; but I anticipated the consequences, which
actually ensued, and preferred to risk my royal mistress's displeasure
rather than her reputation. The dispute, which led to the duel, was on
some point of etiquette; and the Baron de Besenval was to attend as
second to one of the parties. From the Queen's attachment for her royal
brother, she wished the affair to be amicably arranged, without the
knowledge either of the King, who was ignorant of what had taken place,
or of the parties; which could only be effected by her seeing the Baron
in the most private manner. I opposed Her Majesty's allowing any
interview with the Baron upon any terms, unless sanctioned by the King.
This unexpected and peremptory refusal obliged the Queen to transfer her
confidence to the librarian, who introduced the Baron into one of the
private apartments of Her Majesty's women, communicating with that of the
Queen, where Her Majesty could see the Baron without the exposure of
passing any of the other attendants. The Baron was quite gray, and
upwards of sixty years of age! But the self-conceited dotard soon caused
the Queen to repent her misplaced confidence, and from his unwarrantable
impudence on that occasion, when he found himself alone with the Queen,
Her Majesty, though he was a constant member of the societies of the De
Polignacs, ever after treated him with sovereign contempt.
"The Queen herself afterwards described to me the Baron's presumptuous
attack upon her credulity. From this circumstance I thenceforward totally
excluded him from my parties, where Her Majesty was always a regular
visitor.
"The coolness to which my determination not to allow the interview gave
rise between Her Majesty and myself was but momentary. The Queen had too
much discernment not to appreciate the basis upon which my denial was
grounded, even before she was convinced by the result how correct had
been my reflection. She felt her error, and, by the mediation of the
Duke of Dorset, we were reunited more closely than ever, and so, I trust,
we shall remain till death!
"There was much more attempted to be made of another instance, in which I
exercised the duty of my office, than the truth justified--the nightly
promenades on the terrace at Versailles, or at Trianon. Though no
amusement could have been more harmless or innocent for a private
individual, yet I certainly, disapproved it for a Queen, and therefore
withheld the sanction of my attendance. My sole objection was on the
score of dignity. I well knew that Du Barry and her infamous party were
constant spies upon the Queen on every occasion of such a nature; and
that they would not fail to exaggerate her every movement to her
prejudice. Though Du Barry could not form one of the party, which was a
great source of heartburning, it was easy for her, under the
circumstances, to mingle with the throng. When I suggested these
objections to the Queen, Her Majesty, feeling no inward cause of
reproach, and being sanctioned in what she did by the King himself,
laughed at the idea of these little excursions affording food for
scandal. I assured Her Majesty that I had every reason to be convinced
that Du Barry was often in disguise, not far from the seat where Her
Majesty and the Princesse Elizabeth could be overheard in their most
secret conversations with each other. 'Listeners,' replied the Queen,
'never hear any good of themselves.'
"'My dear Lamballe,' she continued, 'you have taken such a dislike to
this woman that you cannot conceive she can be occupied but in mischief.
This is uncharitable. She certainly has no reason to be dissatisfied
with either the King or myself. We have both left her in the full
enjoyment of all she possessed, except the right of appearing at Court or
continuing in the society her conduct had too long disgraced.'
"I said it was very true, but that I should be happier to find Her
Majesty so scrupulous as never to give an opportunity even for the
falsehoods of her enemies.
"Her Majesty turned the matter off, as usual, by saying she had no idea
of injuring others, and could not believe that any one would wantonly
injure her, adding, 'The Duchess and the Princesse Elizabeth, my two
sisters, and all the other ladies, are coming to hear the concert this
evening, and you will be delighted.'
"I excused myself under the plea of the night air disagreeing with my
health, and returned to Versailles without ever making myself one of the
nocturnal members of Her Majesty's society, well knowing she could
dispense with my presence, there being more than enough ever ready to
hurry her by their own imprudence into the folly of despising criticisms,
which I always endeavoured to avoid, though I did not fear them. Of
these I cannot but consider her secretary as one. The following
circumstance connected with the promenades is a proof:
"The Abbe Vermond was present one day when Marie Antoinette observed that
she felt rather indisposed. I attributed it to Her Majesty's having
lightened her dress and exposed herself too much to the night air.
'Heavens, madame!' cried the Abbe, 'would you always have Her Majesty
cased up in steel armour, and not take the fresh air, without being
surrounded by a troop of horse and foot, as a Field-marshal is when going
to storm a fortress? Pray, Princess, now that Her Majesty, has freed
herself from the annoying shackles of Madame Etiquette (the Comtesse de
Noailles), let her enjoy the pleasure of a simple robe and breathe freely
the fresh morning dew, as has been her custom all her life (and as her
mother before her, the Empress Maria Theresa, has done and continues to
do, even to this day), unfettered by antiquated absurdities! Let me be
anything rather than a Queen of France, if I must be doomed to the
slavery of such tyrannical rules!'
"'True; but, sir,' replied I, 'you should reflect that if you were a
Queen of France, France, in making you mistress of her destinies, and
placing you at the head of her nation, would in return look for respect
from you to her customs and manners. I am born an Italian, but I
renounced all national peculiarities of thinking and acting the moment I
set my foot on French ground.'
"'And so did I,' said Marie Antoinette.
"'I know you did, Madame,' I answered; but I am replying to your
preceptor; and I only wish he saw things in the same light I do. When we
are at Rome, we should do as Rome does. You have never had a regicide
Bertrand de Gurdon, a Ravillac or a Damiens in Germany; but they have
been common in France, and the Sovereigns of France cannot be too
circumspect in their maintenance of ancient etiquette to command the
dignified respect of a frivolous and versatile people.'
"The Queen, though she did not strictly adhere to my counsels or the
Abbe's advice, had too much good sense to allow herself to be prejudiced
against me by her preceptor; but the Abbe never entered on the propriety
or impropriety of the Queen's conduct before me, and from the moment I
have mentioned studiously avoided, in my presence, anything which could
lead to discussion on the change of dress and amusements introduced by
Her Majesty.
"Although I disapproved of Her Majesty's deviations from established
forms in this, or, indeed, any respect, yet I never, before or after,
expressed my opinion before a third person.
"Never should I have been so firmly and so long attached to Marie
Antoinette, had I not known that her native thorough goodness of heart
had been warped and misguided, though acting at the same time with the
best intentions, by a false notion of her real innocence being a
sufficient shield against the public censure of such innovations upon
national prejudices, as she thought prayer to introduce,--the fatal error
of conscious rectitude, encouraged in its regardlessness of appearances
by those very persons who well knew that it is only by appearances a
nation can judge of its rulers.
"I remember a ludicrous circumstance arising from the Queen's innocent
curiosity, in which, if there were anything to blame, I myself am to be
censured for lending myself to it so heartily to satisfy Her Majesty.
"When the Chevalier d'Eon was allowed to return to France, Her Majesty
expressed a particular inclination to see this extraordinary character.
From prudential as well as political motives, she was at first easily
persuaded to repress her desire. However, by a most ludicrous
occurrence, it was revived, and nothing would do but she must have a
sight of the being who had for some time been the talk of every society,
and at the period to which I allude was become the mirth of all Paris.
"The Chevalier being one day in a very large party of both sexes, in
which, though his appearance had more of the old soldier in it than of
the character he was compelled 'malgre lui',
[It may be necessary to observe here that the Chevalier, having for some
particular motives been banished from France, was afterwards permitted to
return only on condition of never appearing but in the disguised dress of
a female, though he was always habited in the male costume underneath
it.]
to adopt, many of the guests having no idea to what sex this nondescript
animal really belonged, the conversation after dinner happened to turn on
the manly exercise of fencing. Heated by a subject to him so
interesting, the Chevalier, forgetful of the respect due to his assumed
garb, started from his seat, and, pulling up his petticoats, threw
himself on guard. Though dressed in male attire underneath, this sudden
freak sent all the ladies--and many of the gentlemen out of the room in
double--quick time. The Chevalier, however, instantly recovering from
the first impulse, quietly pat down his, upper garment, and begged pardon
in, a gentlemanly manner for having for a moment deviated from the forma
of his imposed situation. All, the gossips of Paris were presently
amused with the story, which, of coarse, reached the Court, with every
droll particular of the pulling up and clapping down the cumbrous
paraphernalia of a hoop petticoat.
"The King and Queen, from the manner in which they enjoyed the tale when
told them (and certainly it lost nothing in the report), would not have
been the least amused of the party had they been present. His Majesty
shook the room with laughing, and the Queen, the Princesse Elizabeth, and
the other ladies were convulsed at the description.
"When we were alone, 'How I should like,' said the Queen, 'to see this
curious man-woman!'--'Indeed,' replied I, 'I have not less curiosity than
yourself, and I think we may contrive to let Your Majesty have a peep at
him--her, I mean!--without compromising your dignity, or offending the
Minister who interdicted the Chevalier from appearing in your presence. I
know he has expressed the greatest mortification, and that his wish to
see Your Majesty is almost irrepressible.'
"'But how will you be able to contrive this without its being known to
the King, or to the Comte de Vergennes, who would never forgive me?'
exclaimed Her Majesty.
"'Why, on Sunday, when you go to chapel, I will cause him, by some means
or other, to make his appearance, en grande costume, among the group of
ladies who are generally waiting there to be presented to Your Majesty.'
"'Oh, you charming creature!' said the Queen. 'But won't the Minister
banish or exile him for it?'
"'No, no! He has only been forbidden an audience of Your Majesty at
Court,' I replied.
"In good earnest, on the Sunday following, the Chevalier was dressed en
costume, with a large hoop, very long train, sack, five rows of ruffles,
an immensely high powdered female wig, very beautiful lappets, white
gloves, an elegant fan in his hand, his beard closely shaved, his neck
and ears adorned with diamond rings and necklaces, and assuming all the
airs and graces of a fine lady!
"But, unluckily, his anxiety was so great, the, moment the Queen made her
appearance, to get a sight of Her Majesty, that, on rushing before the
other ladies, his wig and head-dress fell off his head; and, before they
could be well replaced, he made so, ridiculous a figure, by clapping
them, in his confusion, hind part before, that the King, the Queen, and
the whole suite, could scarcely refrain from laughing; aloud in the
church.
"Thus ended the long longed for sight of this famous man-woman!
"As to me, it was a great while before I could recover myself. Even now,
I laugh whenever I think of this great lady deprived of her head
ornaments, with her bald pate laid bare, to the derision of such a
multitude of Parisians, always prompt to divert themselves at the expense
of others. However, the affair passed off unheeded, and no one but the
Queen and myself ever knew that we ourselves had been innocently the
cause of this comical adventure. When we met after Mass, we were so
overpowered, that neither of us could speak for laughing. The Bishop who
officiated said it was lucky he had no sermon to preach that day, for it
would have been difficult for him to have recollected himself, or to have
maintained his gravity. The ridiculous appearance of the Chevalier, he
added, was so continually presenting itself before him during the service
that it was as much as he could do to restrain himself from laughing, by
keeping his eyes constantly riveted on the book. Indeed, the oddity of
the affair was greatly heightened when, in the middle of the Mass, some
charitable hand having adjusted the wig of the Chevalier, he re-entered
the chapel as if nothing had happened, and, placing himself exactly
opposite the altar, with his train upon his arm, stood fanning himself, a
la coquette, with an inflexible self-possession which only rendered it
the more difficult for those around him to maintain their composure.
"Thus ended the Queen's curiosity. The result only made the Chevalier's
company in greater request, for every one became more anxious than ever
to know the masculine lady who had lost her wig!"
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Fatal error of conscious rectitude
Feel themselves injured by the favour shown to others
Listeners never hear any good of themselves
Only retire to make room for another race
Regardlessness of appearances