Marie Antoinette finds herself in Debt.--Forgeries of her Name are
committed.--The Queen devotes herself too much to Madame de Polignac and
others.--Versailles is less frequented.--Remonstrances of the Empress.--
Volatile Character of the Queen.--She goes to the Bals d'Opéra at Paris.--
She receives the Duke of Dorset and other English Nobles with Favor.--
Grand Entertainment given her by the Count de Provence.--Character of the
Emperor Joseph.--He visits Paris and Versailles.--His Feelings toward and
Conversations with the King and Queen.--He goes to the Opera.--His Opinion
of the Queen's Friends.--Marie Antoinette's Letter to the Empress on his
Departure.--The Emperor leaves her a Letter of Advice.
But this addiction to play, though it was that consequence of the
influence of the society to which Marie Antoinette was at this time so
devoted, which would have seemed the most objectionable in the eyes of
rigid moralists, was not that which excited the greatest dissatisfaction
in the neighborhood of the court. Excessive gambling had so long been a
notorious vice of the French princes, that her letting herself down to
join the gaming-table was not regarded as indicating any peculiar laxity
of principle; while the stakes which she permitted herself, and the losses
she incurred, though they seemed heavy to her anxious German friends, were
as nothing when compared with those of the king's brothers. Even when it
became known that she was involved in debt, that again was regarded as an
ordinary occurrence, apparently even by the king himself, who paid the
amount (about £20,000) without a word of remonstrance, merely remarking
that he did not wonder at her funds being exhausted since she had such a
passion for diamonds. For a great portion of the debts had been incurred
for some diamond ear-rings which the queen herself did not wish for, and
had only bought to gratify Madame de Polignac, who had promised her custom
to the jeweler who had them for sale. Marie Antoinette had evidently
become less careful in regulating her expenses, till she was awakened by
the discovery of a crime which she herself imputed to her own carelessness
in such matters. The wife of the king's treasurer had borrowed money in
her name, and had forged her handwriting to letters of acknowledgment of
the loans. The fraud was only discovered through Mercy's vigilance, and
the criminal was at seized and punished, but it proved a wholesome lesson
to the queen, who never forgot it, though, as we shall see hereafter, if
others remembered it, the recollection only served to induce them to try
and enrich themselves by similar knaveries.
And this devotion of the queen to the society of the Polignacs and
Guimenées, "her society," as she sometimes called it,[1] had also a
mischievous effect in diminishing her popularity with the great body of
the nobles. The custom of former sovereigns had been to hold receptions
several evenings in each week, to which the men and women of the highest
rank were proud to repair to pay their court. But now the royal apartments
were generally empty, the king being alone in his private cabinet, while
the queen was passing her time at some small private party of young
people, by her presence often seeming to countenance intrigues of which
she did not in her heart approve, and giddy conversation which was hardly
consistent with her royal position; though Mercy, in reporting these
habits to the empress, adds that the queen's own demeanor, even in the
moments of apparently unrestrained familiarity, was marked by such uniform
self-possession and dignity, that no one ever ventured to take liberties
with her, or to approach her without the most entire respect.[2]
It was hardly strange, then, that those who were not members of this
society should feel offended at finding the court, as it were, closed
against them, and should cease to frequent the palace when they had no
certainty of meeting any thing but empty rooms. They even absented
themselves from the queen's balls, which in consequence were so thinly
attended that sometimes there were scarcely a dozen dancers of each sex,
so that it was universally remarked that never within the memory of the
oldest courtiers had Versailles been so deserted as it was this winter;
the difference between the scene which the palace presented now from what
had been witnessed in previous seasons striking the queen herself, and
inclining her to listen more readily to the remonstrances which, at
Mercy's instigation, the empress addressed to her. Her mother pointed out
to her, with all the weight of her own long experience, the
incompatibility of a private mode of life, such as is suitable for
subjects, with the state befitting a great sovereign; and urged her to
recollect that all the king's subjects, so long as their rank and
characters were such as to entitle them to admission at court, had an
equal right to her attention; and that the system of exclusiveness which
she had adopted was a dereliction of her duty, not only to those who were
thus deprived of the honors of the reception to which they were entitled,
but also to the king, her husband, who was injured by any line of conduct
which tended to discourage the nobles of the land from paying their
respects to him.
In the midst of all her giddiness, Marie Antoinette always listened with
good humor, it may even be said with docility, to honest advice. No one
ever in her rank was so unspoiled by authority; and more than one
conversation which she held with the ambassador on the subject showed that
these remonstrances, re-enforced as they were by the undeniable fact of
the thinness of the company at the palace, had made an impression on her
mind; though such impressions were as yet too apt to be fleeting, and too
liable to be overborne by fresh temptations; for in volatile impulsiveness
she resembled the French themselves, and the good resolutions she made one
day were always liable to be forgotten the next. Nothing as yet was steady
and unalterable in her character but her kindness of heart and
graciousness of manner; they never changed; and it was on her genuine
goodness of disposition and righteousness of intention that her German
friends relied for producing an amendment as she grew older, far more than
on any regrets for the past, or intentions of improvement for the future,
which might be wrung from her by any momentary reflection or vexation.
If Versailles was less lively than usual, Paris, on the other hand, had
never been so gay as during the carnival of 1777. The queen went to
several of the masked balls at the opera with one or other of her
brothers-in-law and their wives; the king expressing his perfect
willingness that she should so amuse herself, but never being able to
overcome his own indolence and shyness so far as to accompany her. It
could not have been a very lively amusement. She did not dance, but sat in
an arm-chair surveying the dancers, or walked down the saloon attended by
an officer of the bodyguard and one lady in waiting, both masked like
herself. Occasionally she would grant to some noble of high rank the honor
of walking at her side; but it was remarked that those whom she thus
distinguished were often foreigners; some English noblemen, such as the
Duke of Dorset and Lord Strathavon being especially favored, for a reason
which, as given by Mercy, shows that that insular stiffness which, with
national self-complacency, Britons sometimes confess as a not unbecoming
characteristic, was not at that time attributed to them by others; since
the ambassador explains the queen's preference by the self-evident fact
that the English gentlemen were the best dancers, and made the best figure
in the ball-room.
But all the other festivities of this winter were thrown into the shade by
an entertainment of extraordinary magnificence, which was given in the
queen's honor by the Count de Provence at his villa at Brunoy.[3] The
count was an admirer of Spenser, and appeared to desire to embody the
spirit of that poet of the ancient chivalry in the scene which he
presented to the view of his illustrious guest when she entered his
grounds. Every one seemed asleep. Groups of cavaliers, armed _cap-a-pie_,
and surrounded by a splendid retinue of squires and pages, were seen
slumbering on the ground; their lances lying by their sides, their shields
hanging on the trees which overshadowed them; their very horses reposing
idly on the grass on which they cared not to browse. All seemed under the
influence of a spell as powerful as that under which Merlin had bound the
pitiless daughter of Arthur; but the moment that Marie Antoinette passed
within the gates the enchantment was dissolved; the pages sprung to their
feet, and brought the easily roused steeds to their awakened masters.
Twenty-five challengers, with scarfs of green, the queen's favorite color,
on snow-white chargers, overthrew an equal number of antagonists; but no
deadly wounds were given. The victory of her champions having been
decided, both parties of combatants mingled as spectators at a play, and
afterward as dancers at a grand ball which was wound up by a display of
fire-works and a superb illumination, of which the principal ornament was
a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, in many-colored fire, lighting up the
inscription "Vive Louis! Vive Marie Antoinette!"
At last, however, the carnival came to an end. Not too soon for the
queen's good, since hunts and long rides by day, and balls kept up till a
late hour by night, had been too much for her strength,[4] so that even
indifferent observers remarked that she looked ill and had grown thin. But
even had Lent not interrupted her amusements, she would have ceased for a
while to regard them, her whole mind being now devoted to preparing for
the reception of her brother, the Emperor Joseph, whose visit, which had
been promised in the previous year, was at last fixed for the month of
April. It was anticipated with anxiety by the Empress and Mercy, as well
as by Marie Antoinette. He was a prince of a peculiar disposition and
habits. Before his accession to the imperial throne, he had been kept,
apparently not greatly against his will, in the background. Nor, while his
father lived, did he give any indications of a desire for power, or of any
capacity for exercising it; but since he had been placed on the throne he
had displayed great activity and energy, though he was still, in the
opinion of many, more of a philosopher--a detractor might said more of a
pedant--than of a statesman. He studied theories of government, and was
extremely fond of giving advice; and as both Louis and Marie Antoinette
were persons who in many respects stood in need of friendly counsel, Mercy
and Maria Teresa had both looked forward to his visit to the French court
as an event likely to be of material service to both, while his sister
regarded it with a mixed feeling of hope and fear, in which, however, the
pleasurable emotions predominated.
She was not insensible to the probability that he would disapprove of some
of her habits; indeed, we have already seen that he had expressed his
disapproval of them, and of some of her friends, in the preceding year;
and she dreaded his lectures; but, on the other hand, she felt confident
that a personal acquaintance with the court would prove to him that many
of the tales to her prejudice which had readied him had been mischievous
exaggerations, and that thus he would be able to disabuse their mother,
and to tranquilize her mind on many points. She hoped, too, that a
personal knowledge of each other by him and her own husband would tend to
cement a real friendship between them; and that his stronger mind would
obtain an influence over Louis, which might induce him to rouse himself
from his ordinary apathy and reserve, and make him more of a man of the
world and more of a companion for her. Lastly, but probably above all, she
thirsted with sisterly affection for the sight of her brother, and
anticipated with pride the opportunity of presenting to her new countrymen
a relation of whom she was proud on account of his personal endowments and
character, and whose imperial rank made his visit wear the appearance of a
marked compliment to the whole French nation.
High-strung expectations often insure their own disappointment, but it was
not so in this instance; though the august visitor's first act displayed
an eccentricity of disposition which must have led more people than one to
entertain secret misgivings as to the consequences which might flow from a
visit which had such a commencement. Like his brother Maximilian, he too
traveled incognito, under the title of the Count Falkenstein; and he
persisted in maintaining his disguise so absolutely that he refused to
occupy the apartments which the queen had prepared for him in the palace,
and insisted on taking up his quarters with Mercy in Paris, and at a
hotel, for the few days which he passed at Versailles.
However, though by his conduct in this matter he to some extent
disappointed the hope which his sister had conceived of an uninterrupted
intercourse with him during his stay in France, in every other respect the
visit passed off to the satisfaction of all the parties principally
concerned. Fortunately, at their first interview Marie Antoinette herself
made a most favorable impression on him. She had been but a child when he
had last seen her. She was now a woman, and he was wholly unprepared for
the matured and queenly beauty at which she had arrived. He was not a man
to flatter any one, but almost his first words to her were that, had she
not been his sister, he could not have refrained from seeking her hand
that he might secure to himself so lovely a partner; and each succeeding
meeting strengthened his admiration of her personal graces. She, always
eager to please, was gratified at the feeling she had inspired; and thus
an affectionate tone was from the first established between them, and all
reserve was banished from their conversation. It was not diminished by the
admonitions which, as he conceived, his age and greater experience
entitled him to address to her, though sometimes they took the form of
banter and ridicule, sometimes that of serious reproof;[5] but she bore
all his lectures with unvarying good humor, promising him that the time
should come when she would make the amendment which he desired; never
attempting to conceal from him, and scarcely to excuse, the faults of
which she was not unconscious, nor the vexations which in some particulars
continually disquieted her.
It was, at least, equally fortunate that the king also conceived a great
liking for his brother-in-law at first sight. His character disposed him
to receive with eagerness advice from one who had himself occupied a
throne for several years, and whose relationship seemed a sufficient
warrant that his counsels would be honest and disinterested. Accordingly
those about him soon remarked that Louis treated the emperor with a
cordiality that he had never shown to any one else. They had many long and
interesting conversations, sometimes with Marie Antoinette as a third
party, sometimes by themselves. Louis discussed with the emperor his
anxiety to have a family, and his hopes of such a result; and Joseph
expressed his opinion freely on all subjects, even volunteering
suggestions of a change in the king's habits; as when he recommended him,
as a part of his kingly duty, to visit the different provinces, sea-ports,
cities, and manufacturing towns of his kingdom, so as to acquaint himself
generally with the feelings and resources of the people. Louis listened
with attention. If there was any case in which the emperor's advice was
thrown away, it was, if the queen's suspicions were correct, when he
recommended to the king a line of conduct adverse to her influence.
Mercy had told the emperor that Louis was devotedly attached to the queen,
but that he feared her at least as much as he loved her; and Joseph would
have desired to see some of this fear transferred to and felt by her; and
showed his wish that the king should exert his legitimate authority as a
husband to check those habits of his wife of which they both disapproved,
and which she herself did not defend. But, even if Louis did for a moment
make up his mind to adopt a tone of authority, his resolution faded away
in his wife's presence before her superior resolution; and to the end of
their days she continued to be the leader, and he to follow her guidance.
It need hardly be told that so august a visitor had entertainments given
in his honor. The king gave banquets at Versailles, the queen less formal
parties at her Little Trianon, though gayeties were not much to Joseph's
taste; and, at a visit which his sister compelled him to pay to the opera,
he remained ensconced at the back of her box till she dragged him forward,
and, as if by main force, presented him to the audience. The whole theatre
resounded with applause, expressed in such a way as to mark that it was to
the queen's brother, fully as much as to the emperor, that the homage was
paid. The opera was "Iphigénie," the chorus in which, "_Chantons,
célébrons notre reine_," had by this time been almost as fully adopted, as
the expression of the national loyalty, as "God save the Queen" is in
England. But even on its first performance it had not been hailed with
more rapturous cheering than shook the whole house on this occasion; and
Joseph had the satisfaction of believing that his sister's hold on the
affection and on the respect of the Parisians was securely established.
He was less pleased at the races in the Bois de Boulogne, which he visited
the next day. No inconsiderable part of Mercy's disapproval of such
gatherings had been founded on the impropriety of gentlemen appearing in
the queen's presence in top-boots and leather breeches, instead of in
court dress; and the emperor's displeasure appears to have been chiefly
excited by the hurry and want of stately order which were inseparable from
the excitement of a race-course, and which, indifferent as he was to many
points of etiquette, seemed even to him derogatory to the majesty of a
queen to witness so closely. But he was far more dissatisfied with the
company at the Princess de Guimenée's, to which the queen, with not quite
her usual judgment, persuaded him one evening to accompany her. He saw not
only gambling for much higher stakes than could be right for any lady to
venture (the queen did not play herself), but he saw those who took part
in the play lose their tempers over their cards and quarrel with one
another; while he heard the hostess herself accused of cheating, the
gamesters forgetting the respect due to their queen in their excitement
and intemperance. He spoke strongly on the subject to Marie Antoinette,
declaring that the apartment was no better than a common gaming-house; but
was greatly mortified to see that his reproofs on this subject were
received with less than the usual attention, and that she allowed her
partiality for those whom she called her friends to outweigh her feeling
of the impropriety of disorders of which she could not deny the existence.
But entertainments and amusements were not permitted to engross much of
his time. If he visited the king and queen as a brother, he was visiting
France and Paris as a sovereign and a statesman, and as such he made a
careful inspection of all that Paris had most worthy of his attention--of
the barracks, the arsenals, the hospitals, the manufactories. And he
acquired a very high idea of the capabilities and resources of the
country, though, at the same time, a very low opinion of the talents and
integrity of the existing ministers. Of the king himself he conceived a
favorable estimate. Of his desire to do his duty to his people he had
always been convinced, but, in a long conversation which he had held with
him on the character of the French people,[6] and of the best mode of
governing them, in which Louis entered into many details, he found his
correctness of judgment and general knowledge of sound principles of
policy far superior to his anticipations, though at the same time he felt
convinced that his want of readiness and decision, and his timidity in
action, would always render and keep him very inferior to the queen,
especially whenever it should be necessary to come to a prompt decision on
matters of moment.
After a visit of six weeks, he quit Paris for his dominions in the
Netherlands at the end of May, and a letter of the queen to her mother is
very expressive of the pleasure which she had received from his visit, and
of the lasting benefits which she hoped to derive from it.
"Versailles, June 14th.
"MY DEAREST MOTHER,--It is plain truth that the departure of the emperor
has left a void in my heart from which I can not recover. I was so happy
during the short time of his visit that at this moment it all seems like a
dream. But one thing will never be a dream to me, and that is, the good
advice and counsel which he gave me, and which is forever engraven in my
heart.
"I must tell my dear mamma that he gave me one thing which I earnestly
begged of him, and which causes me the greatest pleasure: it is a packet
of advice, which he has left me in writing. At this moment it constitutes
my chief reading; and, if ever I could forget what he said to me, which I
do not believe I ever could, I should still have this paper always before
me, which would soon recall me to my duty. My dear mamma will have learned
by the courier, who started yesterday, how well the king behaved during
the last moments of my brother's visit. I can assure you that I thoroughly
understand him, and that he was really affected at the emperor's
departure. As he does not always recollect to pay attention to forms, he
does not at all times show his feelings to the outer world, but all that I
see proves to me that he is truly attached to my brother, and that he has
the greatest regard for him; and at the moment of my brother's departure,
when I was in the deepest distress, he showed an attention to, and a
tenderness for, me which all my life I shall never forget, and which would
attach me to him, if I had not been attached to him already.
"It is impossible that my brother should not have been pleased with this
nation. For one who, like him, knows how to estimate men, must have seen
that, in spite of the exceeding levity which is inveterate in the people,
there is a manliness and cleverness in them, and, speaking generally, an
excellent heart, and a desire to do right. The only thing is to manage
them properly.... I have this moment received your dear letter by the
post. What goodness yours is, at a moment when you have so much business
to think of, to recollect my name day! It overwhelms me. You offer up
prayers for my happiness. The greatest happiness that I can have is to
know that you are pleased with me, to deserve your kindness, and to
convince you that no one in the world feels greater affection or greater
respect for you than I."
It is a letter very characteristic of the writer, as showing that neither
time nor distance could chill her affection for her family; and that the
attainment of royal authority had in no degree extinguished her habitual
feeling of duty: that it had even strengthened it by making its
performance of importance not only to herself, but to others. Nor is the
jealousy for the reputation of the French people, and the desire so warmly
professed that they should have won her brother's favorable opinion, less
becoming in a queen of France; while, to descend to minor points, the
neatness and felicity of the language may be admitted to prove, if her
education had been incomplete when she left Austria, with how much pains,
since her progress had depended on herself, she had labored to make up for
its deficiencies. That she should have asked her brother, as she here
mentions, to leave her his advice in writing, is a practical proof that
her expression of an earnest desire to do her duty was not a mere form of
words; while the resolution which she avows never to forget his
admonitions shows a genuine humility and candor, a sincere desire to be
told of and to amend her faults, which one is hardly prepared to meet with
in a queen of one-and-twenty. For Joseph did not spare her, nor forbear to
set before her in the plainest light those parts of her conduct which he
disapproved. He told her plainly that if in France people paid her respect
and observance, it was only as the wife of their king that they honored
her; and that the tone of superiority in which she sometimes allowed
herself to speak of him was as ill-judged as it was unbecoming. He hinted
his dissatisfaction at her conduct toward him as her husband in a series
of questions which, unless she could answer as he wished, must, even in
her own judgment, convict her of some failure in her duties to him. Did
she show him that she was wholly occupied with him, that her study was to
make him shine in the opinion of his subjects without any thought of
herself? Did she stifle every wish to shine at his expense, to be affable
when he was not so, to seem to attend to matters which he neglected? Did
she preserve a discreet silence as to his faults and weaknesses, and make
others keep silence about them also? Did she make excuses for him, and
keep secret the fact of her acting as his adviser? Did, she study his
character, his wishes? Did she take care never to seem cold or weary when
with him, never indifferent to his conversation or his caresses?
The other matters on which the emperor chiefly dwells were those on which
Mercy, and, by Mercy's advice, Maria Teresa also, had repeatedly pressed
her. But those questions of Joseph's set plainly before us some of his
young sister's difficulties and temptations, and, it must be confessed,
some points in which her conduct was not wholly unimpeachable in
discretion, even though her solid affection for her husband never wavered
for a moment. In some respects they were an ill-assorted couple. He was
slow, reserved, and awkward. She was clever, graceful, lively, and looking
for liveliness. Both were thoroughly upright and conscientious; but he was
indifferent to the opinions formed of him, while she was eager to please,
to be applauded, to be loved. The temptation was great, to one so young,
at times to put her graces in contrast to his uncouthness; to be seen to
lead him who had a right to lead her; and, though we may regret, we can
not greatly wonder, that she had not always steadiness to resist it. One
tie was still wanting to bind her to him more closely; and happily the day
was not far distant when that was added to complete and rivet their union.