M. Louis Blanc dwells upon the fact of Madame de la Motte having desired

the jewellers to be very cautious in their dealings with the cardinal,

but he says nothing of the excellent use she put this to in her defence,

and which proves she had an ulterior object in acting as she did. In

like manner she made all she could of the circumstance of her having

declined a commission on the sale of the Necklace. But what did she want

with a commission?—she meant to have the Necklace itself. To receive

a commission from the jewellers for having cheated them out of their

property was a little too much for even the Countess de la Motte.

The box containing the Necklace, says M. Louis Blanc, was given to

Lesclaux [Desclaux], the queen’s _valet de chambre_. The supposition is,

that he was known to the cardinal, who parted with the box without taking

any receipt for it.

The cardinal declared that Villette was the person to whom the box was

given; and Villette was certainly there at the time, for the countess’s

_femme de chambre_ proved having opened the door to him, and admitting

him to Madame de la Motte’s apartment. It is true that a striking

difference existed between the individual described by the cardinal and

Rétaux de Villette; but this proves but little, for if the countess could

trick out a Palais Royal courtesan with sufficient art to palm her off

upon the cardinal as Marie-Antoinette, whom the cardinal did know, she

would certainly have been competent to transform the forger Villette into

the fair-complexioned, light-haired, slim _valet de chambre_ Desclaux,

whom the cardinal did _not_ know.

M. Louis Blanc states Madame de la Motte informed the cardinal that the

queen would acknowledge the receipt of the Necklace the next day by a

secret sign, which was given, an important fact admitted by the Abbé

Georgel himself.

We do not find that Madame de la Motte made any such statement. She says

the queen wrote a note on the following day acknowledging the receipt of

the Necklace.[474] As to the secret sign no one besides the Abbé Georgel,

whose narrative M. Louis Blanc admits is full of grave errors, says a

word about it, not even the cardinal.

As the time approached for the payment for the Necklace, Madame de la

Motte, says M. Louis Blanc, manifests no anxiety.

She manifests every anxiety. She borrows thirty-five thousand livres from

her notary on the security of her jewels, thirty thousand of which she

takes to the cardinal for him to hand to the jewellers as interest on the

purchase money, and thereby induce them to wait. She neither dines, nor

sups, nor sleeps at home on that day, her anxiety is so great.

The cardinal declared to M. Baudard de Saint-James, says M. Louis Blanc,

that he had seen in the queen’s hands the seven hundred thousand livres

destined for the first payment on account of the Necklace. Böhmer, too,

informs Madame Campan that the cardinal had told him he had seen the

queen take the money from a portfolio in a Sèvres porcelain secretary.

Presuming the cardinal to have said what is stated, it proves nothing

against Marie-Antoinette. It was an exaggeration on his part of something

which Madame de la Motte had told him; in plain language a lie, told by

him to reassure the jewellers and Baudard de Saint-James, who was one of

their largest creditors.

M. Louis Blanc tells us that the cardinal hides Madame de la Motte, for

fear she should let out the secret of the correspondence, and presses her

to fly beyond the Rhine.

All this is denied by the cardinal, and his word is equally worthy of

credit with that of the Countess de la Motte, whose statement M. Louis

Blanc has adopted.

M. Louis Blanc mentions as a point in the Countess’s favour, that after

the arrest of the cardinal she refuses to fly.

It was three o’clock in the morning when, worn out by excitement and

fatigue, she had great need of rest, and when she did not believe the

danger so imminent as it proved to be, that she refused to fly. What

she would have done a few hours later, had she not been arrested in the

meanwhile, is another question.

According to M. Louis Blanc the authorities refused to arrest Count de la

Motte.

The police agents who arrested the countess had no instructions to arrest

her husband, whose complicity in the fraud was not then suspected. The

count, however, took good care not to allow them a second opportunity,

for in a very few hours he made for the coast as fast as post horses

could convey him. M. Louis Blanc complains that Madame de la Motte’s

explanations of the confessions of D’Oliva and Villette, and of the

deposition of Gray the jeweller, are not allowed to figure in the report

of the trial.

M. Louis Blanc has fallen into a grave error here. The countess’s

explanations of these different matters figure at full length in the

verbatim reports of her two examinations, preserved in the National

Archives.[475] Gray’s declaration, too, published in the cardinal’s

“Pièces Justificatives,” was, we should imagine, filed by the registrar

of the Court.

The silence of the queen on receiving the jeweller’s letter of July 12th

is regarded by M. Louis Blanc as evidence of her guilt.

Marie-Antoinette read this letter with no particular attention, and burnt

it, says Madame Campan, the moment afterwards in her presence. There was

a certain mystery in the language—the Necklace itself not being even

mentioned—which, though it might have been clear enough to the queen had

she been the purchaser of the jewel, was otherwise full of ambiguity.

Besides, she had a firm conviction that Böhmer was somewhat touched in

his head—a conviction, by the way, very generally entertained by persons

about the court, and openly alluded to during the discussion on the

sentence in the Court of Parliament (p. 268).

The cardinal’s well-known diplomatic skill, says M. Louis Blanc, made it

impossible for him to have been deceived.

Diplomatic skill counts for little against the arts and wiles of an

intriguing woman, and one with whom, it must be remembered, her dupe was

madly infatuated; for does not Beugnot tell us that, whilst glancing over

some of the hundreds of letters from the Cardinal de Rohan to Madame de

la Motte, he saw with pity “the ravages which the delirium of love, aided

by that of ambition, had wrought on the mind of this unhappy man?”[476]

This is the keynote to much that may seem inexplicable in the cardinal’s

conduct in the latter stages of the Necklace affair.

According to M. Louis Blanc Madame de la Motte endeavours to screen the

queen.

Whatever she may have done at her preliminary examination, she did not

screen the queen before the Court of Parliament, but pretended she had

seen in the cardinal’s possession two hundred letters written to him by

Marie-Antoinette. All the countess’s aim was to screen herself, no matter

whom she sacrificed to attain this object.

M. Louis Blanc says that the Count de la Motte proclaims his intention

of speaking the truth, but M. de Vergennes will not consent to his being

brought to Paris.

When the trial was over, the count made a great parade of the evidence

he could have given. He was too good a judge, however, to come forward

at the trial. M. de Vergennes, moreover, could hardly have refused his

consent to the count’s coming to Paris out of consideration for the

queen, as he had long been her secret enemy, and was an admitted partisan

of the cardinal’s.

It is asserted by M. Louis Blanc that the Princess de Lamballe visits the

Salpêtrière, and gives alms to the superior for the countess.

M. Louis Blanc does not state whence he derived this information,

which we find repeated by another writer on the dubious authority of

an anonymous journal written prior to March, 1801.[477] The countess

herself, however, makes no allusion to this circumstance either in her

“Mémoires Justificatifs” or in her “Life.”

Finally, M. Louis Blanc asserts that the Count de la Motte is paid two

hundred thousand livres to suppress the publication of the countess’s

“Mémoires Justificatifs.”

No authority is given for this statement, and we doubt if any such

large amount, or indeed anything approaching to it, was ever paid.

Still, whatever may have been the sum paid for the suppression of these

“Mémoires,” even if the queen were a party to the transaction, it proves

really nothing against her. Our own criminal records abound in instances

of victims submitting to extortion for a long series of years, to save

themselves from threatened exposure—to escape being accused of some

degrading crime of which they are known to have been perfectly innocent.

It is no part of our plan to enter upon a defence of Marie-Antoinette

against those other accusations which the bitter hatred of individuals

and the fierce passions of the time laid to her charge. One of her ablest

defenders has said, that “all of youth, all of the woman, all of humanity

in the unfortunate Queen of France, is explained by these words of the

Prince de Ligne: ‘The queen’s pretended gallantry was nothing more than

a sentiment of profound friendship for a few individuals and a queen’s

womanly coquetry, that aimed at pleasing every one.’” Time, which rights

all things, is at last doing Marie-Antoinette justice, and “she whom

patriotism accused, and demagogism condemned, humanity has well nigh

absolved.”

APPENDIX.

DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF THE DIAMOND NECKLACE, WITH ITS “ESCLAVAGE” AND

TASSELS;

Based on the description given in the “Pièces Justificatives pour le

Cardinal de Rohan,” corrected by careful comparison with a _facsimile_ of

the drawing of the Necklace prepared by the crown jewellers.

1. The _fil autour_ (the row of diamonds encircling the neck), composed

of seventeen brilliants, weighing from 18 to 33 grains each.

Count de la Motte says thirteen of these stones were bought by

Gray (see _ante_, p. 146), but the latter states that he only

purchased eight. Two were set by Regnier as rings (see _ante_,

p. 140).

2. Forty-one brilliants, forming the three festoons suspended from the

_fil autour_ above, weighing from 12 to 20 grains each, estimating one

with another.

Twenty-two of these were set by Gray, as a necklace for the

countess (see _ante_, p. 147); two were exchanged with Furet;

one was set as a ring for the count; the remainder were sold to

Paris (see _ante_, p. 148).

3. Two pendant brilliants hanging within the side festoons, each weighing

50 grains.

The count says these were bought by Gray. Together with the

other pendant brilliants, they formed part of the eighteen oval

stones (see _ante_, p. 144).

4. Two pendant brilliants hanging between the large and smaller festoons.

The count says these were also bought by Gray (see _ante_, p.

144).

5. Six small stones supporting the above.

These were among the diamonds delivered by the count to Regnier

(see _ante_, p. 148).

6. A pendant brilliant, suspended from the _fil autour_ above by a

trefoil, and weighing 34 grains. A stone of superb quality.

The count says this was bought by Gray (see _ante_, p. 144).

7. Fourteen brilliants surrounding the above, weighing 7⅝ carats.

Delivered by the count to Regnier (see _ante_, p. 148).

8. Three brilliants, forming the trefoil, each weighing 13 grains.

These with the stones of the second trefoil, must have been the

six diamonds which the count speaks of as forming the rose of

two oval ones, and which he says he exchanged with Gray (see

_ante_, p. 146).

9. A pendant brilliant, at the lower part of the centre festoon, hanging

from a trefoil, and weighing 45 grains.

Bought by Gray (see _ante_, p. 144).

10. Fourteen brilliants, surrounding the above, weighing 10 carats.

Delivered by the count to Regnier (see _ante_, p. 148).

11. Three brilliants, forming the trefoil, weighing from 17 to 20 grains.

Stones of extreme beauty.

Exchanged by the count with Gray (see _ante_, p. 146).

12. One hundred and twenty-eight fine brilliants, forming the _esclavage_

from the _fil_ above to the knots of the two centre tassels; the stones

all matching, and weighing 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 grains each.

Gray bought eighty of these.

13. Sixty-two small brilliants, inserted in the _esclavage_, weighing 3

and 4 grains each.

14. A brilliant, forming the centre of the rose in the middle of the

_esclavage_. A very handsome stone, without the slightest flaw, weighing

45 grains.

This was the button stone valued at one thousand guineas, which

Gray set for the count as a ring (see _ante_, p. 147).

15. Eight brilliants surrounding the above, weighing 12 and 13 grains

each.

Retained by the count.

16. Ninety-six brilliants, forming the two side bands: the stones

assorted, and weighing 6, 7, 8, and 9 grains each.

Half, or thereabouts, of these stones, were bought by Gray;

twelve were delivered by the count to Regnier (see _ante_, p.

148).

17. Forty-six small brilliants, inserted in the said bands, weighing 2

and 3 grains each.

These must have been the stones intrusted to Villette to

dispose of.

18. Eight brilliants, at the heads of the tassels. Superb stones matching

with each other, and weighing 14 and 15 grains each.

Four of these were bought by Gray.

19. Twelve pendant brilliants, hanging at the bottom of the tassels,

remarkable for their whiteness, and weighing from 16 to 26 grains each.

Bought by Gray. They formed part of the eighteen oval stones

(see _ante_, p. 144).

20. Twenty-four very small stones at the sides of the above.

Delivered by the count to Regnier (see _ante_, p. 148).

21. Sixteen round-shaped brilliants in the tassels, weighing from 11 to

14 grains each.

Delivered by the count to Regnier (see _ante_, p. 148).

22. Twelve round-shaped brilliants in the tassels, weighing from 8 to 10

grains each.

23. Thirty round-shaped brilliants in the tassels, weighing from 6 to 8

grains each.

Gray states that he bought the whole of these. The count says

he only parted with sixteen (see _ante_, p. 147).

24. Thirty round-shaped brilliants in the tassels, weighing from 4 to 6

grains each.

Twenty-eight of these were given to Gray, to mount as drop

earrings (see _ante_, p. 147).

25. Fifty-two small round-shaped brilliants in the tassels.

Twenty-two of the largest of these were sold to Paris; others

the count had mounted for a watch-chain (see _ante_, p. 148).

A SELECTION FROM THE LETTERS WHICH THE COUNTESS DE LA MOTTE PRETENDED HAD

PASSED BETWEEN THE QUEEN AND THE CARDINAL DE ROHAN.

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_April 28, 1784._

“I read with indignation the manner in which you have been

deceived by your niece. I never had any knowledge of the

letters you mention to me, and I question whether they

ever existed. The persons you complain of have in reality

contributed to your disgrace, but the methods they used to

effect it were very different from those you suppose. I have

forgotten all, and require of you never to speak to me of

anything that has reference to what is past. The account which

the countess has given me of your behaviour towards her has

made a stronger impression on me than all you have written to

me. I hope you will never forget that it is to her you are

indebted for your pardon, as also for the letter I write to you.

“I have always looked upon you as a very inconsistent and

indiscreet man, which opinion necessarily obliges me to

great reservedness; and I own to you, that nothing but a

conduct quite the reverse of that you have held can regain my

confidence and merit my esteem.”

FROM THE CARDINAL TO THE QUEEN.

_May 6, 1784._

“Yes; I am the happiest mortal breathing! My _master_ pardons

me: he grants me his confidence; and, to complete my happiness,

he has the goodness to smile upon his _slave_, and to give

him public signals of a right understanding. Such unexpected

favours caused in me so great an emotion, that I for a moment

was apprehensive lest the motive should be suspected by the

extraordinary answers which I made. But I soon recovered when

I saw my absence of mind was attributed to quite another

motive; upon which, I assumed an air of approbation, in order

to divert observation from the real object. This circumstance

is a warning to me, to direct henceforth my words and actions

in a more prudential manner.

“I know how to appreciate all the obligations I am under to

the charming countess. In whatever situation I may chance to

be, I shall be gratefully mindful of all that she has done in

my behalf. So much for that. All depends on my _master_. The

facility he has of making beings happy, makes his _slave_ wish

for the means of following his footsteps and being the echo of

his good pleasure.”

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_May 15, 1784._

“I cannot disapprove of the desire you have of seeing me. I

could wish, in order to facilitate you the means, to remove

all obstacles that oppose it; but you would not have me act

imprudently, to bring about more compendiously a thing which

you must be persuaded you will shortly obtain.

“You have enemies who have done you much disservice with the

_minister_[478] (the countess will tell you the meaning of

that word, which you must use for the future). The turning of

them out cannot but be advantageous to you. I know the changes

and revolutions that are to happen, and have calculated all

the circumstances which will infallibly bring forward the

opportunities which I desire. In the interim be very cautious,

above all, discreet; and, as there is no foreseeing what

may happen, be reserved, and greatly perplexed in what you

hereafter write to me.”

FROM THE CARDINAL TO THE QUEEN.

_July 29, 1784._

“My adorable _master_, permit your _slave_ to express his joy

for the favours you have conferred upon him. That charming

_rose_ lies upon my heart. I will preserve it to my latest

breath. It will incessantly recall to me the first instant of

my happiness.

“In parting from the countess, I was so transported, that I

found myself imperceptibly brought to the charming spot which

you had made choice of. After having crossed the shrubbery,

I almost despaired of knowing again the place where your

beloved _slave_ threw himself at your feet. Destined, no doubt,

to experience during that delightful night none but happy

sensations, I found again the pleasing turf, gently pressed by

those pretty little feet. I rushed upon it as if you had still

been there, and kissed with as much ardour your grassy seat,

as that fair hand which was yielded to me with a grace and

kindness that belong to none but my dear _master_. Enchanted,

as it were, to that bewitching spot, I found the greatest

difficulty in quitting it; and I should certainly have spent

the night there, had I not been apprehensive of making my

attendants uneasy, who knew of my being out.

“Soon after my return home, I went to bed, but pressed for a

considerable time a restless pillow. My imagination, struck

with your adorable person, was filled during my slumbers with

the most delightful sensations. Happy night! that proved the

brightest day in my life! Adorable _master_, your _slave_

cannot find expressions to describe his felicity! You yesterday

witnessed his embarrassment, his bashfulness, his silence,

the natural effects of the most genuine love! You alone in

the universe could produce what he never before experienced.

Enveloped in these pleasing sensations, I sometimes imagine

it to be only a visionary felicity, and that I am still under

the influence of a dream; but, combining all the circumstances

of my happiness, recalling to mind the enchanting sound of

that voice which pronounced my pardon, I give way to an excess

of joy, accompanied with exclamations, which, if they were

overheard, would argue distraction. Such is my condition,

which I deem supremely happy, and wish for its continuance the

remainder of my life.

“I shall not depart till I have heard from you.”

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_August 16, 1784._

“An observation made to me yesterday, with an air of curiosity

and suspicion, will prevent my going to-day to T—— (Trianon),

but will not, for all that, deprive me of seeing my amiable

_slave_. The _minister_ sets out at eleven, to go a-hunting at

R—— (Rambouillet): his return will be very late, or, to speak

more properly, next morning. I hope, during his absence, to

make myself amends for the tediousness and contradiction I

have experienced for these two days past. Imprudent conduct has

brought me to that pass, that I cannot, without danger, remove

objects that are displeasing to me, and who haunt me. They

have so thoroughly studied me, and know so little how to feign

and dissemble, that they attribute my change to nothing but a

discretion, which to them appears blameworthy; it is therefore

very essential to be on one’s guard, to avoid all surprise.

“The daring question put to me, persuades me that my confidence

has been abused, as well as my good-nature, and that advantage

has been taken of circumstances to fetter my will. I have a

way of coming at information concerning it, but I will first

consult thee. As thou wilt play the principal part in the

scheme I have devised, we must needs agree as well on this

point as we did last Friday on the S——. This comparison will

make thee laugh, no doubt; but, as it is a just one, and I

desire to give thee a proof of it to-night, before we talk of

serious matters, observe exactly what follows: Do thou assume

the garb of a messenger, and, with a parcel in thy hand, be

walking about at half-past eleven under the porch of the

chapel: I will send the countess, who shall serve thee for

a guide, and conduct thee up a little back staircase to an

apartment, where thou wilt find the object of thy desires.”

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_January 15, 1785._

“If it had not been my intention there should be a mystery in

the purchase of the jewel, I certainly should not have employed

you to procure it for me. I am not accustomed to enter thus

into treaty with my jewellers, and this way of proceeding is so

much the more contrary to what I owe to myself, as two words

were sufficient to put me in possession of that object. I am

surprised that you dare to propose to me such an arrangement;

but let there be no more said about it. It is a trifle that has

occasioned me to make a few reflections, which I will impart to

you when opportunity offers. The countess will deliver to you

your paper. I am sorry you have given yourself so much trouble

to no purpose.”

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_January 29, 1785._

“How is this? Affectation with me? Why, my friend, ought people

in our predicament to act under restraint, to seek for shifts,

and deal with insincerity? Dost thou know that thy reserve, and

thy false pride, drew upon thee the letter thou hast received;

and that but for the countess, who has told me all, I should

have attributed that pretended arrangement to quite a different

motive. Fortunately, all is cleared up. The countess will

deliver thee the writing, and explain the motives by which I

have been actuated in this matter. As I am supposed ignorant

of the confidence thou hast shewn her, as also of the token

of trust that thou wilt give her, by laying before her our

particular engagements, that is a more than sufficient reason

to make thee secure, and remove all difficulties. Thou wilt

keep the writing, and deliver it to none but me.

“I hope, notwithstanding my disorder, to see thee before the

holiday. I expect the countess to-morrow. I will tell her

whether I shall be able to receive from my _slave_ the object

which had nearly set us at variance.”

FROM THE QUEEN TO THE CARDINAL.

_July 19, 1785._

“I believe I have informed you of the disposal of the sum

which I destined for the object in question, and that probably

I should not fulfil the engagements till my return from

Fontainebleau. The countess will remit to you thirty thousand

livres, to pay the interest. The privation of the capital is to

be taken into consideration, and this compensation will make

them easy.

“You complain, and I say not a word: a very extraordinary

circumstance; time will, perhaps, acquaint you with the motive

of my silence. I do not love suspicious people, especially

when there is so little reason for it. I possess a principle I

never will recede from. Your last conversation is very opposite

to what you related to me at a preceding period. Reflect upon

it, and if your memory serves you faithfully, by comparing

the eras, you will judge what I am to think of your pressing

solicitations.”

AN EPITOME OF THE “FIRST PROCÈS-VERBAL DESCRIPTIVE OF THE DOCUMENTS

TENDING TO ESTABLISH CRIMINALITY. SEP. 9, 10, 11, 1785.”[479]

(_Preserved in the National Archives—Section, Procès du Collier, Series

X², No. 18,576._)

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