The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette.--Feelings of the New
Sovereigns.--Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent.--Marie Antoinette
writes to Maria Teresa.--The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns.--
Madame Adelaide has the Small-pox.--Anxieties of Maria Teresa.--
Mischievous Influence of the Aunts.--Position and Influence of the Count
de Mercy.--Louis consults the Queen on Matters of Policy.--Her Prudence.--
She begins to Purify the Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette.--Her
Care of her Pages.--The King and the renounce the Gifts of Le Joyeux
Avénement and La Ceinture de la Reine.---She procures the Pardon of the
Due de Choiseul.
Throughout the morning of the 10th of May there was great confusion and
agitation at Versailles. The physicians declared that the king could not
live out the day; and the dauphin had decided on removing his household to
the smaller palace of La Muette at Choisy, to spend in that comparative
retirement the first week or two after his grandfather's death, during
which it would hardly be decorous for the royal family to be seen in
public. But, as it was not thought seemly to appear to anticipate the
event by quitting Versailles while Louis was still alive, a lighted candle
was placed in the window of the sick-room, which, the moment that the king
had expired, was to be extinguished, as a signal to the equerries to
prepare the carriages. The dauphin and dauphiness were in an adjoining
room awaiting the intelligence, when, at about three o'clock in the
afternoon, a sudden trampling of feet was heard, and Madame de Noailles
entered the apartment to entreat them to advance into the saloon to
receive the homage of the princes and principal officers of the court, who
were waiting to pay their respects to their new sovereigns. They came
forward arm-in-arm; and in tears, in which sincere sorrow was mingled with
not unnatural nervousness, received the salutations of the courtiers, and
immediately afterward left Versailles with all the family.
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette had now reached the pinnacle of human
greatness, as sovereigns of one of the noblest empires in the world. Yet
the first feelings which their elevation had excited in both, and
especially in the queen, were rather those of dismay and perplexity than
of exultation. In the preceding autumn, Mercy[1] had remarked to the
empress, with surprise and vexation, that, though the dauphiness exhibited
singular readiness and acuteness in comprehending political questions, she
was very unwilling, and, as it seemed to him, afraid of dealing with them,
and that she shrunk from the thought that the day would come when she must
possess power and authority. And the continuance of this feeling is
visible in her first letter to her mother, some passages of which show a
sobriety of mind under such a change of circumstances, which, almost as
much as the benevolence which the letter also displays, augured well for
the happiness of the people over whom she was to reign, so far at least as
that happiness depended on the virtues of the sovereign.
"Choisy, May 14th.
"My Dearest Mother,--Mercy will have informed you of the circumstances of
our misfortune. Happily his cruel disease left the king in possession of
his senses till the last moment, and his end was very edifying. The new
king seems to have the affection of his people. Two days before the death
of his grandfather, he sent two hundred thousand[2] francs to the poor,
which has produced a great effect. Since he has been here, he has been
working unceasingly, answering with his own hand the letters of the
ministers, whom as yet he can not see, and many others likewise. One thing
is certain, and that is that he has a taste for economy, and the greatest
desire possible to make his people happy. In every thing he has as great a
desire to be rightly instructed as he has need to be. I trust that God
will bless his good intentions.
"The public expected great changes in a moment. The king has limited
himself to sending away the creature[3] to a convent, and to driving from
the court every thing which is connected with that scandal. The king even
owed this example to the people of Versailles, who, at the very moment of
his grandfather's death, insulted Madame do Mazarin,[4] one of the
humblest servants of the favorite. I am earnestly entreated to exhort the
king to mercy toward a number of corrupt souls who had done much mischief
for many years; and I am strongly inclined to comply with the request.
* * * * *
"A messenger has just arrived to forbid my going to see my Aunt Adelaide,
who has a great deal of fever. They are afraid of the small-pox for her. I
am horrified, and can not bring myself to think of the consequences. It is
a terrible thing for her to pay so immediately for the sacrifice which she
made.
"I am very glad that Marshal Lacy was pleased with me. I confess, my dear
mamma, that I was greatly affected when he took leave of me, at thinking
how rarely it happens to me to see any of my countrymen, and especially of
those who have the happiness to approach you. A little time back I saw
Madame de Marmier, which was a great pleasure to me, since I know how
highly you value her.
"The king has allowed me myself to name the ladies who are to have places
in my household, now that I am queen; and I have had the satisfaction of
giving the Lorrainers[5] a proof of my regard, in taking for my chief
almoner the Abbé de Sabran, a man of excellent character, of noble birth,
and already named for the bishopric about to be established at Nancy.
"Although it pleased God that I should be born in the rank which I this
day occupy, still I can not forbear admiring the bounty of Providence in
choosing me, the youngest of your daughters, for the noblest kingdom in
Europe. I feel more than ever what I owe to the tenderness of my august
mother, who expended such pains and labor in procuring for me this
splendid establishment. I have never so greatly longed to throw myself at
her feet, to embrace her, to lay open my whole soul to her, and to show
her how entirely it is filled with respect and tenderness and gratitude."
It is impossible to read these glowing words, so full of the joy and hope
of youth, and breathing a confidence of happiness apparently so
well-founded, since it was built on a resolution to use the power placed
in the writer's hands for the welfare of the people over whom it was to
be exerted, without reflecting how painful a contrast to the hopes now
expressed is presented by the reality of the destiny in store for her
and her husband. At the moment he was as little disturbed by forebodings
of evil as his queen, and willingly yielded to her request to add a few
lines with his own hand to the empress, that, on so momentous an
occasion as his accession she might not be left to gather his feelings
solely from her report of them. The postscript of the letter is
accordingly their joint performance, he evidently desiring to gratify
Maria Teresa by praise of her daughter; and she, while pleased at his
acquiescence, not concealing her amusement at the clumsiness, or, to say
the least, the rusticity, of some of his expressions.
P.S. in the king's hand: "I am very glad, my dear mamma, to find an
occasion to prove to you my tenderness and my attachment. I should be very
glad to have your advice at this time, which is so embarrassing. I should
be enchanted to be able to please you, and to show by my conduct all my
attachment and the gratitude which I feel for your kindness in giving me
your daughter, with whom I am as well satisfied as possible."
P.S. by the queen: "The king would not let my letter go without adding a
word from himself. I am quite aware that it would not have been too much
for him to do to write an entire letter. But I must beg my dear mamma to
excuse him, in consideration of the mass of business with which he is
occupied, and also a little on account of his timidity and the embarrassed
manner which is natural to him. You see, my dear mamma, by his compliment
at the end, that, though he has great affection for me, he does not spoil
me by insipid flatteries."
It is almost equally remarkable that the empress herself, though thus to
see her favorite daughter on the throne of France had been her most ardent
wish, was far from regarding the consummation of her desires with
unalloyed pleasure. She was so completely a politician above all things,
that, though she was well aware that Louis XV. had been one of the most
infamous kings that ever dishonored a throne, she looked upon him solely
as an ally; described him to her daughter as "that good and tender
prince;" declared that she should never cease to regret him, and that she
would wear mourning for him all the rest of her life. At the same time,
she did not conceal from herself that he had left his kingdom in a most
deplorable condition. She had, as she declared, herself experienced how
heavy is the burden of an empire; she reflected how young her daughter
was; and expressed a sad fear that "her days of happiness were over." "She
was now in a position in which there was no half-way between complete
greatness and great misery.[6]" The best hopes for her future the empress
saw in the character for purity and kindness which Marie Antoinette had
already established and in the esteem and affection of the people which
those qualities had won for her; and she entreated her, taking it for
granted that in advising her she was advising the king also, to be prudent
and cautious, to avoid making any sudden changes, and above all things to
maintain the alliance between the two countries, and to listen to the
experienced and faithful advice of her embassador.
Maria Teresa was mistaken when she thought that her daughter would at all
times be able to lead her husband. Though slow in action, Louis was not
deficient in perception. On many subjects he had views of his own, which,
in some cases, were clear and sound enough, and to which, even when they
were not so, he adhered with considerable tenacity. At the same time,
though he had but little affection for his aunts, and still less respect
for their judgment, he had been so long accustomed to listen to their
advice while he had no authority, that he could not as yet wholly shake
off all feeling of deference for it, and their influence was exerted with
most mischievous effect in the first week of his reign. Indeed, it had
been exhibited even before the reign began, though the form which it took
greatly interfered with the personal comfort of the young sovereigns. It
had been settled that the king and queen should go by themselves to La
Muette, and that the rest of the royal family should remove to the
Trianon. But Madame Adelaide had no inclination for a plan which would
separate her from her nephew at a moment when so many matters of
importance would come before her for decision. At the last moment she
prevailed upon him to consent that the whole family should go to Choisy
together; and the very next day she induced him to dismiss his ministers,
and to place the Comte de Maurepas at the head of the Government, though
Louis himself had selected another-statesman for the office, M. Machault,
who, as finance minister twenty-five years before, had shown both ability
and integrity, and who had enjoyed the confidence of the king's father,
and though Maurepas had never been supposed to be either able or honest,
and might well have been regarded as superannuated, since he had begun his
official life under Louis XIV.
With the change in the position of Marie Antoinette, Mercy's position had
also been changed, and likewise his view of the line of conduct which it
was desirable for her to adopt. Hitherto he had been the counselor of a
princess who, without wary walking, was liable every moment to be
overwhelmed by the intrigues with which she was surrounded; and his chief
object had been to enable his royal pupil to escape the snares and dangers
which encompassed her. Now, as far as his duties could be determined by
the wish of the empress, in which her daughter fully acquiesced, he was
elevated to the post of confidential adviser to a great queen, who, in his
opinion, was inevitably destined to be the real ruler of the kingdom. It
was a strange position for so experienced a politician as the empress to
desire for him, and for so prudent a statesman to accept. Yet, anomalous
as it was, and dangerous as it would usually be for a foreign embassador
to interfere in the internal politics of the kingdom to which he is sent,
his correspondence bears ample testimony to both his sagacity and his
disinterestedness. And it would have been well for both his royal pupil
and her adopted country had his advice more frequently and more steadily
guided the course of both.
On one point of primary importance his advice to the queen differed from
that which he had been wont to give to the dauphiness. While dauphiness,
he had urged her to abstain from any interference in public affairs. He
now, on the contrary, desired to see her take an active part in them,
explaining to the empress that the reason which actuated him was the
character of the new king, who, as he regarded him, was never likely to
exert the authority which belonged to him with independence or steadiness,
but was certain to be led by some one or other, while it would in the
highest degree endanger the maintenance of the alliance between France and
Austria (which, coinciding with the judgment of his imperial mistress, he
regarded as the most important of all political objects), and be most
injurious to the welfare of France and to her own personal comfort, if
that leader should be any one but the queen.[7]
But, as we have seen, he could not prevent Louis from yielding at times to
other influences. Taking the same view of the situation as the empress, if
indeed Maria Teresa had not adopted it from him, he had urged Marie
Antoinette to prevent any change in the ministry being made at first, in
which it is highly probable that she did not coincide with him, though
equally likely that Maurepas was not the minister whom she would have
preferred. Another piece of advice which he gave was, however, taken, and
with the happiest effect The poorer classes in Paris and its neighborhood
were suffering from a scarcity which almost amounted to a famine; and,
before the death of Louis XV., Mercy had recommended that the first
measure of the new reign should be one which should lower the price of
bread. That counsel was too entirely in harmony with the active
benevolence of the new monarch to be neglected. The necessary edicts were
issued. In twenty-four hours the price of the loaf was reduced by
two-fifths, and Mercy had the satisfaction of hearing the relief
generally attributed to the influence of the new queen.
It can not he supposed that the king knew either the opinion which the
empress and the embassador had formed of his capacity and disposition, or
the advice which they had consequently given to the queen. But he very
early began to show that he himself also appreciated his wife's quickness
of intelligence and correctness of judgment. Maria Teresa, in pressing on
her daughter her opinion of the general character of the policy which the
interest of France required, explained her view of her daughter's position
to be that she was "the friend and confidante of the king.[8]" And June
had hardly arrived before he began to discuss all his plans and
difficulties with her; while she spared his pride and won his further
confidence by avoiding all appearances of pressing for it, as if her
advice were necessary to him, but at the same time showing with what
satisfaction she received it. To those who solicited her intervention, her
language was most carefully guarded. "She did not," she said, "interfere
in any affair of state; she only coincided in all the wishes and
intentions of the king."
There were, however, matters which were strictly and exclusively within
her own province; and in them she at once began to exert her authority
most beneficially. Her first desire was to purify the court where
licentiousness in either sex had long been the surest road to royal favor.
She began by making a regulation, that she would receive no lady who was
separated from her husband; and she abolished a senseless and inexplicable
rule of etiquette which had hitherto prohibited the queen and princesses
from dining or supping in company with their husbands.[9] Such an
exclusion from the king's table of those who were its most natural and
becoming ornaments had notoriously facilitated and augmented the disorders
of the last reign; and it was obvious that its maintenance must at least
have a tendency to lead to a repetition of the old irregularities.
Fortunately, the king was as little inclined to approve of it as the
queen. All his tastes were domestic, and he gladly assented to her
proposal to abolish the custom. Throughout the reign, at all ordinary
meals, at his suppers when he came in late from hunting, when he had
perhaps invited some of his fellow-sportsmen to share his repast, and at
State banquets, Marie Antoinette took her seat at his side, not only
adding grace and liveliness to the entertainment, but effectually
preventing license, and even the suspicion of scandal; and, as she desired
that her household as well as her family should set an example of
regularity and propriety to the nation, she exercised a careful
superintendence over the behavior of those who had hitherto been among the
least-considered members of the royal establishment. Even the king's
confessor had thought the morals of the royal pages either beneath his
notice or beyond his control; but Marie Antoinette took a higher view of
her duties. She considered her pages[10] as placed under her charge, and
herself as bound to extend what one of themselves calls a maternal care
and kindness to them, restraining as far as she could, and when she could
not restrain, reproving their boyish excesses, softening their hearts and
winning their affections by the gentle dignity of her admonitions, and by
the condescending and hopeful indulgence with which she accepted their
expressions of contrition and their promises of amendment. In one matter,
too, which, if not exactly political, was at all events of public
interest, she acted in a manner of which none of her predecessors had set
an example. By a custom of immemorial antiquity, at the accession of a new
sovereign, a tax had been levied on the whole kingdom as an offering to
the king, known as "the gift of the happy accession;[11]" when there was a
queen, a similar tax was imposed upon the Parisians, to provide what was
called "the girdle of the queen.[12]" It has already been mentioned that
the distress which existed in Paris at this time was so severe that, just
before the death of the late king, Louis and Marie Antoinette had relieved
it by a munificent gift from their private purse; and to lay additional
burdens on the people at such a time was not only repugnant to their
feelings, but seemed especially inconsistent with their recent generosity.
Accordingly, the very first edict of the new reign announced that neither
tax would be imposed. The people felt the kindness which dictated such a
relief more than even the relief itself, and repaid it with expressions of
gratitude such as no French sovereign had heard for above a century; but
Marie Antoinette, with the humility natural to her on such subjects, made
light of her own share in the act of benevolence, turning off the
compliments which were paid to her with a playful jest, that it was
impossible for a queen to affix a purse to her girdle, now that girdles
had gone out of fashion.[13]
On another subject, also, not wholly unconnected with politics, Since the
nobleman concerned had once been the chief minister, but in which Marie
Antoinette's interest was personal, she broke through her usual rule of
not beginning the discussion with the king, and requested the recall from
banishment of the Due de Choiseul. An unfounded prejudice based upon
calumnies set on foot by the cabal of Madame du Barri, had envenomed
Louis's mind against the duke. He bad been led to suspect that his own
father, the late dauphin, had been poisoned, and that Choiseul had been
accessory to the crime. There was nothing more certain than that the
dauphin's death had been natural; but a dislike of the accused duke
lingered in the king's mind, and he eluded compliance with his wife's
request till she put it on entirely personal grounds, by declaring it to
be humiliating to herself that one to whom she was under the deepest
obligations as the negotiator of her own happy marriage should be under
the king's displeasure without her being able to procure his pardon. Louis
felt the force of the appeal thus made to him. "If she used that argument,
he could deny her nothing," and the duke's sentence was remitted, though
his royal patroness was unable to procure his re-admission to office. Nor
did Maria Teresa regret that she failed in that object; since she feared
his restless character, and felt the alliance between the two countries
safer in the hands of the new foreign secretary, the Count de Vergennes.