During the alarm for the life of the Queen, regret at not possessing an
heir to the throne was not even thought of. The King himself was wholly
occupied with the care of preserving an adored wife. The young Princess
was presented to her mother. “Poor little one,” said the Queen, “you were
not wished for, but you are not on that account less dear to me. A son
would have been rather the property of the State. You shall be mine; you
shall have my undivided care, shall share all my happiness, and console me
in all my troubles.”
The King despatched a courier to Paris, and wrote letters himself to
Vienna, by the Queen’s bedside; and part of the rejoicings ordered took
place in the capital.
A great number of attendants watched near the Queen during the first
nights of her confinement. This custom distressed her; she knew how to
feel for others, and ordered large armchairs for her women, the backs of
which were capable of being let down by springs, and which served
perfectly well instead of beds.
M. de Lassone, the chief physician, the chief surgeon, the chief
apothecary, the principal officers of the buttery, etc., were likewise
nine nights without going to bed. The royal children were watched for a
long time, and one of the women on duty remained, nightly, up and dressed,
during the first three years from their birth.
The Queen made her entry into Paris for the churching. One hundred
maidens were portioned and married at Notre-Dame. There were few popular
acclamations, but her Majesty was perfectly well received at the Opera.
A few days after the Queen’s recovery from her confinement, the Cure of
the Magdelaine de la City at Paris wrote to M. Campan and requested a
private interview with him; it was to desire he would deliver into the
hands of the Queen a little box containing her wedding ring, with this
note written by the Cure: “I have received under the seal of confession
the ring which I send to your Majesty; with an avowal that it was stolen
from you in 1771, in order to be used in sorceries, to prevent your having
any children.” On seeing her ring again the Queen said that she had in
fact lost it about seven years before, while washing her hands, and that
she had resolved to use no endeavour to discover the superstitious woman
who had done her the injury.
The Queen’s attachment to the Comtesse Jules increased every day; she went
frequently to her house at Paris, and even took up her own abode at the
Chateau de la Muette to be nearer during her confinement. She married
Mademoiselle de Polignac, when scarcely thirteen years of age, to M. de
Grammont, who, on account of this marriage, was made Duc de Guiche, and
captain of the King’s Guards, in reversion after the Duc de Villeroi. The
Duchesse de Civrac, Madame Victoire’s dame d’honneur, had been promised
the place for the Duc de Lorges, her son. The number of discontented
families at Court increased.
The title of favourite was too openly given to the Comtesse Jules by her
friends. The lot of the favourite of a queen is not, in France, a happy
one; the favourites of kings are treated, out of gallantry, with much
greater indulgence.
A short time after the birth of Madame the Queen became again enceinte;
she had mentioned it only to the King, to her physician, and to a few
persons honoured with her intimate confidence, when, having overexerted
her strength in pulling lip one of the glasses of her carriage, she felt
that she had hurt herself, and eight days afterwards she miscarried. The
King spent the whole morning at her bedside, consoling her, and
manifesting the tenderest concern for her. The Queen wept exceedingly;
the King took her affectionately in his arms, and mingled his tears with
hers. The King enjoined silence among the small number of persons who
were informed of this unfortunate occurrence; and it remained generally
unknown. These particulars furnish an accurate idea of the manner in
which this august couple lived together.
The Empress Maria Theresa did not enjoy the happiness of seeing her
daughter give an heir to the crown of France. That illustrious Princess
died at the close of 1780, after having proved by her example that, as in
the instance of Queen Blanche, the talents of a sovereign might be blended
with the virtues of a pious princess. The King was deeply affected at the
death of the Empress; and on the arrival of the courier from Vienna said
that he could not bring himself to afflict the Queen by informing her of
an event which grieved even him so much. His Majesty thought the Abbe de
Vermond, who had possessed the confidence of Maria Theresa during his stay
at Vienna, the most proper person to discharge this painful duty. He sent
his first valet de chambre, M. de Chamilly, to the Abbe on the evening of
the day he received the despatches from Vienna, to order him to come the
next day to the Queen before her breakfast hour, to acquit himself
discreetly of the afflicting commission with which he was charged, and to
let his Majesty know the moment of his entering the Queen’s chamber. It
was the King’s intention to be there precisely a quarter of an hour after
him, and he was punctual to his time; he was announced; the Abbe came out;
and his Majesty said to him, as he drew up at the door to let him pass, “I
thank you, Monsieur l’Abbe, for the service you have just done me.” This
was the only time during nineteen years that the King spoke to him.
Within an hour after learning the event the Queen put on temporary
mourning, while waiting until her Court mourning should be ready; she kept
herself shut up in her apartments for several days; went out only to mass;
saw none but the royal family; and received none but the Princesse de
Lamballe and the Duchesse de Polignac. She talked incessantly of the
courage, the misfortunes, the successes, and the virtues of her mother.
The shroud and dress in which Maria Theresa was to be buried, made
entirely by her own hands, were found ready prepared in one of her
closets. She often regretted that the numerous duties of her august
mother had prevented her from watching in person over the education of her
daughters; and modestly said that she herself would have been more worthy
if she had had the good fortune to receive lessons directly from a
sovereign so enlightened and so deserving of admiration.
The Queen told me one day that her mother was left a widow at an age when
her beauty was yet striking; that she was secretly informed of a plot laid
by her three principal ministers to make themselves agreeable to her; of a
compact made between them, that the losers should not feel any jealousy
towards him who should be fortunate enough to gain his sovereign’s heart;
and that they had sworn that the successful one should be always the
friend of the other two. The Empress being assured of this scheme, one
day after the breaking up of the council over which she had presided,
turned the conversation upon the subject of female sovereigns, and the
duties of their sex and rank; and then applying her general reflections to
herself in particular, told them that she hoped to guard herself all her
life against weaknesses of the heart; but that if ever an irresistible
feeling should make her alter her resolution, it should be only in favour
of a man proof against ambition, not engaged in State affairs, but
attached only to a private life and its calm enjoyments,--in a word, if
her heart should betray her so far as to lead her to love a man invested
with any important office, from the moment he should discover her
sentiments he would forfeit his place and his influence with the public.
This was sufficient; the three ministers, more ambitious than amorous,
gave up their projects for ever.
On the 22d of October, 1781, the Queen gave birth to a Dauphin.--[The
first Dauphin, Louis, born 1781, died 1789.]--So deep a silence prevailed
in the room that the Queen thought her child was a daughter; but after the
Keeper of the Seals had declared the sex of the infant, the King went up
to the Queen’s bed, and said to her, “Madame, you have fulfilled my wishes
and those of France: you are the mother of a Dauphin.” The King’s joy was
boundless; tears streamed from his eyes; he gave his hand to every one
present; and his happiness carried away his habitual reserve. Cheerful
and affable, he was incessantly taking occasion to introduce the words,
“my son,” or “the Dauphin.” As soon as the Queen was in bed, she wished
to see the long-looked-for infant. The Princesse de Guemenee brought him
to her. The Queen said there was no need for commending him to the
Princess, but in order to enable her to attend to him more freely, she
would herself share the care of the education of her daughter. When the
Dauphin was settled in his apartment, he received the customary homages
and visits. The Duc d’Angouleme, meeting his father at the entrance of
the Dauphin’s apartment, said to him, “Oh, papa! how little my cousin
is!”--“The day will come when you will think him great enough, my dear,”
answered the Prince, almost involuntarily.--[Eldest son of the Comte
d’Artois, and till the birth of the Dauphin with near prospects of the
succession.]
The birth of the Dauphin appeared to give joy to all classes. Men stopped
one another in the streets, spoke without being acquainted, and those who
were acquainted embraced each other. In the birth of a legitimate heir to
the sovereign every man beholds a pledge of prosperity and tranquillity.
[M. Merard de Saint Just made a quatrain on the birth of the Dauphin to
the following effect:
“This infant Prince our hopes are centred in, will doubtless make us
happy, rich, and free; And since with somebody he must begin, My fervent
prayer is--that it may be me!”
--NOTE BY THE EDITOR.]
The rejoicings were splendid and ingenious. The artificers and tradesmen
of Paris spent considerable sums in order to go to Versailles in a body,
with their various insignia. Almost every troop had music with it. When
they arrived at the court of the palace, they there arranged themselves so
as to present a most interesting living picture. Chimney-sweepers, quite
as well dressed as those that appear upon the stage, carried an ornamented
chimney, at the top of which was perched one of the smallest of their
fraternity. The chairmen carried a sedan highly gilt, in which were to be
seen a handsome nurse and a little Dauphin. The butchers made their
appearance with their fat ox. Cooks, masons, blacksmiths, all trades were
on the alert. The smiths hammered away upon an anvil, the shoemakers
finished off a little pair of boots for the Dauphin, and the tailors a
little suit of the uniform of his regiment. The King remained a long time
upon a balcony to enjoy the sight. The whole Court was delighted with it.
So general was the enthusiasm that (the police not having carefully
examined the procession) the grave-diggers had the imprudence to send
their deputation also, with the emblematic devices of their ill-omened
occupation. They were met by the Princesse Sophie, the King’s aunt, who
was thrilled with horror at the sight, and entreated the King to have the
audacious, fellows driven out of the procession, which was then drawing up
on the terrace.
The ‘dames de la halle’ came to congratulate the Queen, and were received
with the suitable ceremonies.
Fifty of them appeared dressed in black silk gowns, the established full
dress of their order, and almost all wore diamonds. The Princesse de
Chimay went to the door of the Queen’s bedroom to receive three of these
ladies, who were led up to the Queen’s bed. One of them addressed her
Majesty in a speech written by M. de la Harpe. It was set down on the
inside of a fan, to which the speaker repeatedly referred, but without any
embarrassment. She was handsome, and had a remarkably fine voice. The
Queen was affected by the address, and answered it with great
affability,--wishing a distinction to be made between these women and the
poissardes, who always left a disagreeable impression on her mind.
The King ordered a substantial repast for all these women. One of his
Majesty’s maitres d’hotel, wearing his hat, sat as president and did the
honours of the table. The public were admitted, and numbers of people had
the curiosity to go.
The Garden-du-Corps obtained the King’s permission to give the Queen a
dress ball in the great hall of the Opera at Versailles. Her Majesty
opened the ball in a minuet with a private selected by the corps, to whom
the King granted the baton of an exempt. The fete was most splendid. All
then was joy, happiness, and peace.
The Dauphin was a year old when the Prince de Guemenee’s bankruptcy
compelled the Princess, his wife, who was governess to the children of
France, to resign her situation.
The Queen was at La Muette for the inoculation of her daughter. She sent
for me, and condescended to say she wished to converse with me about a
scheme which delighted her, but in the execution of which she foresaw some
inconveniences. Her plan was to appoint the Duchesse de Polignac to the
office lately held by the Princesse de Guemenee. She saw with extreme
pleasure the facilities which this appointment would give her for
superintending the education of her children, without running any risk of
hurting the pride of the governess; and that it would bring together the
objects of her warmest affections, her children and her friend. “The
friends of the Duchesse de Polignac,” continued the Queen, “will be
gratified by the splendour and importance conferred by the employment. As
to the Duchess, I know her; the place by no means suits her simple and
quiet habits, nor the sort of indolence of her disposition. She will give
me the greatest possible proof of her devotion if she yields to my wish.”
The Queen also spoke of the Princesse de Chimay and the Duchesse de Duras,
whom the public pointed out as fit for the post; but she thought the
Princesse de Chimay’s piety too rigid; and as to the Duchesse de Duras,
her wit and learning quite frightened her. What the Queen dreaded as the
consequence of her selection of the Duchesse de Polignac was principally
the jealousy of the courtiers; but she showed so lively a desire to see
her scheme executed that I had no doubt she would soon set at naught all
the obstacles she discovered. I was not mistaken; a few days afterwards
the Duchess was appointed governess.
The Queen’s object in sending for me was no doubt to furnish me with the
means of explaining the feelings which induced her to prefer a governess
disposed by friendship to suffer her to enjoy all the privileges of a
mother. Her Majesty knew that I saw a great deal of company.
The Queen frequently dined with the Duchess after having been present at
the King’s private dinner. Sixty-one thousand francs were therefore added
to the salary of the governess as a compensation for this increase of
expense.
The Queen was tired of the excursions to Marly, and had no great
difficulty in setting the King against them. He did not like the expense
of them, for everybody was entertained there gratis. Louis XIV. had
established a kind of parade upon these excursions, differing from that of
Versailles, but still more annoying. Card and supper parties occurred
every day, and required much dress. On Sundays and holidays the fountains
played, the people were admitted into the gardens, and there was as great
a crowd as at the fetes of St. Cloud.
Every age has its peculiar colouring; Marly showed that of Louis XIV. even
more than Versailles. Everything in the former place appeared to have
been produced by the magic power of a fairy’s wand. Not the slightest
trace of all this splendour remains; the revolutionary spoilers even tore
up the pipes which served to supply the fountains. Perhaps a brief
description of this palace and the usages established there by Louis XIV.
may be acceptable.
The very extensive gardens of Marly ascended almost imperceptibly to the
Pavilion of the Sun., which was occupied only by the King and his family.
The pavilions of the twelve zodiacal signs bounded the two sides of the
lawn. They were connected by bowers impervious to the rays of the sun.
The pavilions nearest to that of the sun were reserved for the Princes of
the blood and the ministers; the rest were occupied by persons holding
superior offices at Court, or invited to stay at Marly. Each pavilion was
named after fresco paintings, which covered its walls, and which had been
executed by the most celebrated artists of the age of Louis XIV. On a line
with the upper pavilion there was on the left a chapel; on the right a
pavilion called La Perspective, which concealed along suite of offices,
containing a hundred lodging-rooms intended for the persons belonging to
the service of the Court, kitchens, and spacious dining-rooms, in which
more than thirty tables were splendidly laid out.
During half of Louis XV.’s reign the ladies still wore the habit de cour
de Marly, so named by Louis XIV., and which differed little from, that
devised for Versailles. The French gown, gathered in the back, and with
great hoops, replaced this dress, and continued to be worn till the end of
the reign of Louis XVI. The diamonds, feathers, rouge, and embroidered
stuffs spangled with gold, effaced all trace of a rural residence; but the
people loved to see the splendour of their sovereign and a brilliant Court
glittering in the shades of the woods.
After dinner, and before the hour for cards, the Queen, the Princesses,
and their ladies, paraded among the clumps of trees, in little carriages,
beneath canopies richly embroidered with gold, drawn by men in the King’s
livery. The trees planted by Louis XIV. were of prodigious height, which,
however, was surpassed in several of the groups by fountains of the
clearest water; while, among others, cascades over white marble, the
waters of which, met by the sunbeams, looked like draperies of silver
gauze, formed a contrast to the solemn darkness of the groves.
In the evening nothing more was necessary for any well-dressed man to
procure admission to the Queen’s card parties than to be named and
presented, by some officer of the Court, to the gentleman usher of the
card-room. This room, which was very, large, and of octagonal shape, rose
to the top of the Italian roof, and terminated in a cupola furnished with
balconies, in which ladies who had not been presented easily obtained
leave to place themselves, and enjoy, the sight of the brilliant
assemblage.
Though not of the number of persons belonging to the Court, gentlemen
admitted into this salon might request one of the ladies seated with the
Queen at lansquenet or faro to bet upon her cards with such gold or notes
as they presented to her. Rich people and the gamblers of Paris did not
miss one of the evenings at the Marly salon, and there were always
considerable sums won and lost. Louis XVI. hated high play, and very
often showed displeasure when the loss of large sums was mentioned. The
fashion of wearing a black coat without being in mourning had not then
been introduced, and the King gave a few of his ‘coups de boutoir’ to
certain chevaliers de St. Louis, dressed in this manner, who came to
venture two or three louis, in the hope that fortune would favour the
handsome duchesses who deigned to place them on their cards.
[Bachaumont in his “Memoirs,” (tome xii., p. 189), which are often
satirical; and always somewhat questionable, speaks of the singular
precautions taken at play at Court. “The bankers at the Queen’s table,”
says he, “in order to prevent the mistakes [I soften the harshness of his
expression] which daily happen, have obtained permission from her Majesty
that before beginning to play the table shall be bordered by a ribbon
entirely round it, and that no other money than that upon the cards beyond
the ribbon shall be considered as staked.”--NOTE By THE EDITOR.]
Singular contrasts are often seen amidst the grandeur of courts. In order
to manage such high play at the Queen’s faro table, it was necessary to
have a banker provided with large, sums of money; and this necessity
placed at the table, to which none but the highest titled persons were
admitted in general, not only M. de Chalabre, who was its banker, but also
a retired captain of foot, who officiated as his second. A word, trivial,
but perfectly appropriate to express the manner in which the Court was
attended there, was often heard. Gentlemen presented at Court, who had
not been invited to stay at Marly, came there notwithstanding, as they did
to Versailles, and returned again to Paris; under such circumstances, it
was said such a one had been to Marly only ‘en polisson’;--[A contemptuous
expression, meaning literally “as a scamp” or “rascal”]--and it appeared
odd to hear a captivating marquis, in answer to the inquiry whether he was
of the royal party at Marly, say, “No, I am only here ‘en polisson’,”
meaning simply “I am here on the footing of all those whose nobility is of
a later date than 1400.” The Marly excursions were exceedingly expensive
to the King. Besides the superior tables, those of the almoners,
equerries, maitres d’hotel, etc., were all supplied with such a degree of
magnificence as to allow of inviting strangers to them; and almost all the
visitors from Paris were boarded at the expense of the Court.
The personal frugality of the unfortunate Prince who sank beneath the
weight of the national debts thus favoured the Queen’s predilection for
her Petit Trianon; and for five or six years preceding the Revolution the
Court very seldom visited Marly.
The King, always attentive to the comfort of his family, gave Mesdames,
his aunts, the use of the Chateau de Bellevue, and afterwards purchased
the Princesse de Guemenee’s house, at the entrance to Paris, for
Elisabeth. The Comtesse de Provence bought a small house at Montreuil;
Monsieur already had Brunoy; the Comtesse d’Artois built Bagatelle;
Versailles became, in the estimation of all the royal family, the least
agreeable of residences. They only fancied themselves at home in the
plainest houses, surrounded by English gardens, where they better enjoyed
the beauties of nature. The taste for cascades and statues was entirely
past.
The Queen occasionally remained a whole month at Petit Trianon, and had
established there all the ways of life in a chateau. She entered the
sitting-room without driving the ladies from their pianoforte or
embroidery. The gentlemen continued their billiards or backgammon without
suffering her presence to interrupt them. There was but little room in
the small Chateau of Trianon. Madame Elisabeth accompanied the Queen
there, but the ladies of honour and ladies of the palace had no
establishment at Trianon. When invited by the Queen, they came from
Versailles to dinner. The King and Princes came regularly to sup. A
white gown, a gauze kerchief, and a straw hat were the uniform dress of
the Princesses.
[The extreme simplicity of the Queen’s toilet began to be strongly
censured, at first among the courtiers, and afterwards throughout the
kingdom; and through one of those inconsistencies more common in France
than elsewhere, while the Queen was blamed, she was blindly imitated.
There was not a woman but would have the same undress, the same cap, and
the same feathers as she had been seen to wear. They crowded to
Mademoiselle Bertin, her milliner; there was an absolute revolution in the
dress of our ladies, which gave importance to that woman. Long trains,
and all those fashions which confer a certain nobility on dress, were
discarded; and at last a duchess could not be distinguished from an
actress. The men caught the mania; the upper classes had long before
given up to their lackeys feathers, tufts of ribbon, and laced hats. They
now got rid of red heels and embroidery; and walked about our streets in
plain cloth, short thick shoes, and with knotty cudgels in their hands.
Many humiliating scrapes were the consequence of this metamorphosis.
Bearing no mark to distinguish them from the common herd, some of the
lowest classes got into quarrels with them, in which the nobles had not
always the best of it.--MONTJOIE, “History of Marie Antoinette.”]
Examining all the manufactories of the hamlet, seeing the cows milked, and
fishing in the lake delighted the Queen; and every year she showed
increased aversion to the pompous excursions to Marly.
The idea of acting comedies, as was then done in almost all country
houses, followed on the Queen’s wish to live at Trianon without ceremony.
[The Queen got through the characters she assumed indifferently enough;
she could hardly be ignorant of this, as her performances evidently
excited little pleasure. Indeed, one day while she was thus exhibiting,
somebody ventured to say, by no means inaudibly, “well, this is royally
ill played!” The lesson was thrown away upon her, for never did she
sacrifice to the opinion of another that which she thought permissible.
When she was told that her extreme plainness in dress, the nature of her
amusements, and her dislike to that splendour which ought always to attend
a Queen, had an appearance of levity, which was misinterpreted by a
portion of the public, she replied with Madame de Maintenon: “I am upon
the stage, and of course I shall be either hissed or applauded.” Louis
XIV. had a similar taste; he danced upon the stage; but he had shown by
brilliant actions that he knew how to enforce respect; and besides, he
unhesitatingly gave up the amusement from the moment he heard those
beautiful lines in which Racine pointed out how very unworthy of him such
pastimes were.--MONTJOIE, “History of Marie Antoinette.”]
It was agreed that no young man except the Comte d’Artois should be
admitted into the company of performers, and that the audience should
consist only of the King, Monsieur, and the Princesses, who did not play;
but in order to stimulate the actors a little, the first boxes were to be
occupied by the readers, the Queen’s ladies, their sisters and daughters,
making altogether about forty persons.
The Queen laughed heartily at the voice of M. d’Adhemar, formerly a very
fine one, but latterly become rather tremulous. His shepherd’s dress in
Colin, in the “Devin du Village,” contrasted very ridiculously with his
time of life, and the Queen said it would be difficult for malevolence
itself to find anything to criticise in the choice of such a lover. The
King was highly amused with these plays, and was present at every
performance. Caillot, a celebrated actor, who had long quitted the stage,
and Dazincourt, both of acknowledged good character, were selected to give
lessons, the first in comic opera, of which the easier sorts were
preferred, and the second in comedy. The office of hearer of rehearsals,
prompter, and stage manager was given to my father-in-law. The Duc de
Fronsac, first gentleman of the chamber, was much hurt at this. He
thought himself called upon to make serious remonstrances upon the
subject, and wrote to the Queen, who made him the following answer: “You
cannot be first gentleman when we are the actors. Besides, I have already
intimated to you my determination respecting Trianon. I hold no court
there, I live like a private person, and M. Campan shall be always
employed to execute orders relative to the private fetes I choose to give
there.” This not putting a stop to the Duke’s remonstrances, the King was
obliged to interfere. The Duke continued obstinate, and insisted that he
was entitled to manage the private amusements as much as those which were
public. It became absolutely necessary to end the argument in a positive
manner.
The diminutive Duc de Fronsac never failed, when he came to pay his
respects to the Queen at her toilet, to turn the conversation upon
Trianon, in order to make some ironical remarks on my father-in-law, of
whom, from the time of his appointment, he always spoke as “my colleague
Campan.” The Queen would shrug her shoulders, and say, when he was gone,
“It is quite shocking to find so little a man in the son of the Marechal
de Richelieu.”
So long as no strangers were admitted to the performances they were but
little censured; but the praise obtained by the performers made them look
for a larger circle of admirers. The company, for a private company, was
good enough, and the acting was applauded to the skies; nevertheless, as
the audience withdrew, adverse criticisms were occasionally heard. The
Queen permitted the officers of the Body Guards and the equerries of the
King and Princes to be present at the plays. Private boxes were provided
for some of the people belonging to the Court; a few more ladies were
invited; and claims arose on all sides for the favour of admission. The
Queen refused to admit the officers of the body guards of the Princes, the
officers of the King’s Cent Suisses, and many other persons, who were
highly mortified at the refusal.
While delight at having given an heir to the throne of the Bourbons, and a
succession of fetes and amusements, filled up the happy days of Marie
Antoinette, the public was engrossed by the Anglo-American war. Two
kings, or rather their ministers, planted and propagated the love of
liberty in the new world; the King of England, by shutting his ears and
his heart against the continued and respectful representations of subjects
at a distance from their native land, who had become numerous, rich, and
powerful, through the resources of the soil they had fertilised; and the
King of France, by giving support to this people in rebellion against
their ancient sovereign. Many young soldiers, belonging to the first
families of the country, followed La Fayette’s example, and forsook
luxury, amusement, and love, to go and tender their aid to the revolted
Americans. Beaumarchais, secretly seconded by Messieurs de Maurepas and
de Vergennes, obtained permission to send out supplies of arms and
clothing. Franklin appeared at Court in the dress of an American
agriculturist. His unpowdered hair, his round hat, his brown cloth coat
formed a contrast to the laced and embroidered coats and the powder and
perfume of the courtiers of Versailles. This novelty turned the light
heads of the Frenchwomen. Elegant entertainments were given to Doctor
Franklin, who, to the reputation of a man of science, added the patriotic
virtues which invested him with the character of an apostle of liberty. I
was present at one of these entertainments, when the most beautiful woman
out of three hundred was selected to place a crown of laurels upon the
white head of the American philosopher, and two kisses upon his cheeks.
Even in the palace of Versailles Franklin’s medallion was sold under the
King’s eyes, in the exhibition of Sevres porcelain. The legend of this
medallion was:
“Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.”
The King never declared his opinion upon an enthusiasm which his correct
judgment no doubt led him to blame. The Queen spoke out more plainly
about the part France was taking respecting the independence of the
American colonies, and constantly opposed it. Far was she from foreseeing
that a revolution at--such a distance could excite one in which a
misguided populace would drag her from her palace to a death equally
unjust and cruel. She only saw something ungenerous in the method which
France adopted of checking the power of England.
However, as Queen of France, she enjoyed the sight of a whole people
rendering homage to the prudence, courage, and good qualities of a young
Frenchman; and she shared the enthusiasm inspired by the conduct and
military success of the Marquis de La Fayette. The Queen granted him
several audiences on his first return from America, and, until the 10th of
August, on which day my house was plundered, I preserved some lines from
Gaston and Bayard, in which the friends of M. de La Fayette saw the exact
outline of his character, written by her own hand:
“Why talk of youth,
When all the ripe experience of the old
Dwells with him? In his schemes profound and cool,
He acts with wise precaution, and reserves
For time of action his impetuous fire.
To guard the camp, to scale the leaguered wall,
Or dare the hottest of the fight, are toils
That suit th’ impetuous bearing of his youth;
Yet like the gray-hair’d veteran he can shun
The field of peril. Still before my eyes
I place his bright example, for I love
His lofty courage, and his prudent thought.
Gifted like him, a warrior has no age.”
[During the American war a general officer in the service of the United
States advanced with a score of men under the English batteries to
reconnoitre their position. His aide-de-camp, struck by a ball, fell at
his side. The officers and orderly dragoons fled precipitately. The
general, though under the fire of the cannon, approached the wounded man
to see whether any help could be afforded him. Finding the wound had been
mortal, he slowly rejoined the group which had got out of the reach of the
cannon. This instance of courage and humanity took place at the battle of
Monmouth. General Clinton, who commanded the English troops, knew that the
Marquis de La Fayette generally rode a white horse; it was upon a white
horse that the general officer who retired so slowly was mounted; Clinton
desired the gunners not to fire. This noble forbearance probably saved M.
de La Fayette’s life, for he it was. At that time he was but twenty-two
years of age.--“Historical Anecdotes of the Reign of Louis XVI.”]
These lines had been applauded and encored at the French theatre;
everybody’s head was turned. There was no class of persons that did not
heartily approve of the support given openly by the French Government to
the cause of American independence. The constitution planned for the new
nation was digested at Paris, and while liberty, equality, and the rights
of man were commented upon by the Condorcets, Baillys, Mirabeaus, etc.,
the minister Segur published the King’s edict, which, by repealing that of
1st November, 1750, declared all officers not noble by four generations
incapable of filling the rank of captain, and denied all military rank to
the roturiers, excepting sons of the chevaliers de St. Louis.
[“M. de Segur,” says Chamfort, “having published an ordinance which
prohibited the admission of any other than gentlemen into the artillery
corps, and, on the other hand, none but well-educated persons being proper
for admission, a curious scene took place: the Abbe Bossat, examiner of
the pupils, gave certificates only to plebeians, while Cherin gave them
only to gentlemen. Out of one hundred pupils, there were not above four
or five who were qualified in both respects.”]
The injustice and absurdity of this law was no doubt a secondary cause of
the Revolution. To understand the despair and rage with which this law
inspired the Tiers Etat one should have belonged to that honourable class.
The provinces were full of roturier families, who for ages had lived as
people of property upon their own domains, and paid the taxes. If these
persons had several sons, they would place one in the King’s service, one
in the Church, another in the Order of Malta as a chevalier servant
d’armes, and one in the magistracy; while the eldest preserved the
paternal manor, and if he were situated in a country celebrated for wine,
he would, besides selling his own produce, add a kind of commission trade
in the wines of the canton. I have seen an individual of this justly
respected class, who had been long employed in diplomatic business, and
even honoured with the title of minister plenipotentiary, the son-in-law
and nephew of colonels and town mayors, and, on his mother’s side, nephew
of a lieutenant-general with a cordon rouge, unable to introduce his sons
as sous-lieutenants into a regiment of foot.
Another decision of the Court, which could not be announced by an edict,
was that all ecclesiastical benefices, from the humblest priory up to the
richest abbey, should in future be appanages of the nobility. Being the
son of a village surgeon, the Abbe de Vermond, who had great influence in
the disposition of benefices, was particularly struck with the justice of
this decree.
During the absence of the Abbe in an excursion he made for his health, I
prevailed on the Queen to write a postscript to the petition of a cure,
one of my friends, who was soliciting a priory near his curacy, with the
intention of retiring to it. I obtained it for him. On the Abbe’s return
he told me very harshly that I should act in a manner quite contrary to
the King’s wishes if I again obtained such a favour; that the wealth of
the Church was for the future to be invariably devoted to the support of
the poorer nobility; that it was the interest of the State that it should
be so; and a plebeian priest, happy in a good curacy, had only to remain
curate.
Can we be astonished at the part shortly afterwards taken by the deputies
of the Third Estate, when called to the States General?