Marie Antoinette and the Revolution
The condition of France at the end of the reign of Louis XV. was most
deplorable—injustice, misery, bankruptcy, and instability everywhere.
The action of the law could be overridden by the use of arbitrary
warrants of arrest—_lettres de cachet_. The artisans of the towns
were hampered by the system of taxation, but the peasant had the
greatest cause for complaint; he was oppressed by the feudal dues and
many taxes, which often amounted to sixty per cent of his earnings.
The government was absolute, but rotten and tottering; the people,
oppressively and unjustly governed, were just beginning to be
conscious of their condition and to seek the cause of it, while the
educated classes were saturated with revolutionary doctrines which
not only destroyed their loyalty to the old institutions, but created
constant aspirations toward new ones.
Thus, when Louis XVI., a mere boy, began to reign, the whole French
administrative body was corrupt, self-seeking, and in the hands of
lawyers, a class that dominated almost every phase of government. In
general, inefficiency, idleness, and dishonesty had obtained a ruling
place in the governing body; the few honest men who had a minor
share in the administration either fell into a sort of disheartened
acquiescence or lost their fortunes and reputations in hopeless
revolt.
Under these conditions Louis XVI. began his reign; and although peace
seemed to exist externally, the country was in revolution. France
was as much under the modern "ring rule" as any country ever was—a
condition of affairs largely due to the nature of the young
king, whose predominant characteristics might be called a supreme
awkwardness and an unpardonable lack of will power. He was a man who,
during the first part of his reign, led a pure life; he possessed good
and philanthropic intentions, but was hampered by a weak intellect and
a stubbornness which bore little resemblance to real strength of
will. Also, he entertained strong religious convictions, which were
extremely detrimental to his policy and caused disagreements with his
ministers—Turgot, on account of his philosophical principles, Necker,
on account of his Protestantism.
His wife had those qualities which he lacked, decision and strength
of character; unfortunately, she wielded no influence over him in the
beginning, and when she did gain it, she used it in a fatal manner,
because she was ignorant of the needs of France. Throughout her
career of power, she evinced headstrong wilfulness in pursuing her own
course. Thus, totally incapable of acting for himself, Louis XVI. was
practically at the mercy of his aunts, wife, courtiers, and ministers,
who fitted his policy to their own desires and notions; therefore, the
vast stream of emoluments and honors was diverted by the ministers
and courtiers into channels of their own selection. There were formed
parties and combinations which were constantly intriguing for or
against each other.
At the time of the accession of Louis XVI., when poverty was general
over the kingdom, the household of the king consisted of nearly four
thousand civilians, nine thousand military men, and relatives to the
enormous number of two thousand, the supporting of which dependents
cost France some forty-five million francs annually. Luckily there
was no mistress to govern, as under Louis XV., but, in place of
one mistress who was the dispenser of favors, there were numerous
intriguing court women who were as corrupt and frivolous as the men.
These split the court into factions. As the finances of the country
sank to the lowest ebb, odium was naturally cast upon the whole court,
without exception, by the people; hence, the wholesale slaughter of
the nobility during the Revolution.
In this period, the most critical in the history of France, the queen,
Marie Antoinette, as the central figure, the leader of society,
the model and example to whom all looked for advice upon morals and
fashions, played an important rôle. Although not of French birth, she
deserves to be ranked among the women influential in France, since
she became so thoroughly imbued with French traits and characteristics
that she forgot her native tongue. French life and spirit moulded her
in such fashion that even the French look upon her as a French woman.
Before judging this unfortunate princess who has been condemned by so
many critics, we must take into consideration the demands that were
made upon her. Parade was the primary requisite: she was obliged to
keep up the splendor and attractiveness of the French monarchy;
in this she excelled, for her manner was dignified, gracious, and
"appropriately discriminating. It is said that she could bow to
ten persons with one movement, giving, with her head and eyes, the
recognition due to each one." It is said, also, that as she passed
among the ladies of her court, she surpassed them all in the nobility
of her countenance and the dignified grace of her carriage. All
foreigners were enchanted with her, and to them she owes no small part
of her posthumous popularity.
She was reproached by French women for being exclusively devoted
to the society of a select, intimate circle. Moreover, her conduct
brought slander upon her; as her companions she chose men and women
of bad reputation, and was constantly surrounded by dissipated young
noblemen whom she permitted to come into her presence in costumes
which shocked conservative people; she encouraged gambling, frequented
the worst gambling house of the time, that of the Princesse de
Guéménée, and visited masked balls where the worst women of the
capital jostled the great nobles of the court; her husband seldom
accompanied her to these pleasure resorts.
During part of the reign of Marie Antoinette the country was waging
an expensive war and was deeply in debt, but the queen did not set an
example of economy by retrenching her expenses; although her personal
allowance was much larger than that of the preceding queen, she was
always in debt and lost heavily at gambling. Generally, she avoided
interference with the government of the state, but as the wife of so
incapable a king she was forced into an attempt at directing public
matters. Whenever she did mingle in state affairs, it was generally
fatal to her interests and popularity. She usually carried out her
wishes, for the king shrank from disappointing his wife and dreaded
domestic contentions.
He permitted her to go out as she did with the Comte d'Artois, her
brother-in-law, to masked balls, races, rides in the Bois de Boulogne,
and on expeditions to the salon of the Princesse de Guéménée, where
she contracted the ills of a chronically empty purse and late hours.
When attacked by measles, to relieve her ennui—which her ladies were
not successful in doing—she procured the consent of the king to the
presence of four gentlemen, who waited upon her, coming at seven in
the morning and not departing until eleven at night; and these were
some of the most depraved and debauched among the nobility—such as De
Besenval, the Duc de Coigny, and the Duc de Guines.
While in power, she always sided with extravagance and the court,
against economy and the nation. If we add to all these defects a vain
and frivolous disposition, a nature fond of admiration, pleasure, and
popularity, and lending a willing ear to all flattery, compliments,
and counsels of her favorites, her Austrian birth, and as "little
dignity as a Paris grisette in her escapades with the dissipated and
arrogant Comte d'Artois," we have, in general, the causes of her wide
unpopularity.
It will be seen that as long as she was frivolous and imprudent,
she was flattered and admired; as soon as she became absolutely
irreproachable, she was overwhelmed with harsh judgments and
expressions of ill will. The first period was during the first years
of the reign of Louis XVI., while he was still all-powerful and
popular; the second phase of her character developed during the
trying days of the king's first fall into disfavor and his ultimate
imprisonment and death. From this account of her career, it will be
seen that Marie Antoinette, as dauphiness and queen, was rather the
victim of fate and the invidious intrigues of a depraved court
than herself an instigator and promulgator of the extravagance and
dissipation of which she was accused.
We must remember the atmosphere into which Marie Antoinette was thrust
upon her arrival in France. One of the first to sup with her was that
most licentious of all royal mistresses, Mme. du Barry, who asked
for the privilege of dining with the new princess—a favor which the
dissipated and weak king granted. Louis XV. was nothing more than
a slave to vice and his mistresses. The king's daughters—Mmes.
Adelaïde, Victoire, and Sophie—were pious but narrow-minded women,
resolutely hostile to Mme. du Barry and intriguing against her. The
Comtes de Provence and d'Artois were both pleasure-loving princes of
doubtful character; their sisters—Mmes. Clotilde and Elisabeth—had
no importance. The family was divided against itself, each member
being jealous of the others. The dauphin, being of a retiring
disposition and of a close and self-contained nature, did little to
add to the happiness of the young princess. Thus, she was literally
forced to depend upon her own resources for pleasure and amusement and
was at the mercy of the court, which was never more divided than in
about 1770—the time of her appearance.
At that time there were two parties—the Choiseul, or Austrian,
party, and those who opposed the policy of Choiseul, especially in
the expulsion of the Jesuits; the latter were called the party of the
_dèvôts_ and were led by Chancellor Maupeau and the Duc d'Aiguillon.
This faction, with the mistress—Mme. du Barry—as the motive power,
soon broke up the power of Choiseul. The young and innocent foreign
princess, unschooled in intrigue and politics, could not escape both
political parties; upon her entrance into the French court, she was
immediately classed with one or the other of these rival factions
and thus made enemies by whatever turn she took, and was caught in a
network of intrigues from which extrication was almost impossible.
Here, in this whirl of social excesses, her habits were formed; hers
being a lively, alert, active nature, fond of pleasure and somewhat
inclined toward raillery, she soon became so absorbed in the
many distractions of court life that little time was left her for
indulgence in reflection of a serious nature. Her manner of life at
this time in part explains her subsequent career of heedlessness,
excessive extravagance, and gayety.
At first her aunts—Mmes. Adelaïde and Sophie—succeeded in partially
estranging her from Louis XV., who had taken a strong fancy to his
granddaughter; but this influence was soon overcome—then these aunts
turned against her. Her popularity, however, increased. Innumerable
instances might be cited to show her kindness to the poor, to her
servants, to anyone in need—a quality which made her popular with the
masses. In time almost everyone at court was apparently enslaved by
her attractions and endeavored to please the dauphiness—this was
about 1774, when she was at the height of her popularity.
However, there developed a striking contrast between the dauphiness
and the queen; Burke called the former "the morning star, full of
life and splendor and joy." In fact, she was a mere girl, childlike,
passing a gay and innocent life over a road mined with ambushes and
intrigues which were intended to bring ruin upon her and destined
eventually to accomplish their purpose. By being always prompt in her
charities, having inherited her mother's devotion to the poor, she
won golden opinions on all sides; and the reputation thus gained was
augmented by her animated, graceful manner and her youthful beauty.
Little accustomed to the magnificence that surrounded her, she soon
wearied of it, craving simpler manners and the greater freedom of
private intercourse. When, as queen, she indulged these desires, she
brought upon herself the abuse and vilification of her enemies. While
dauphiness, her actions could not cause the nation's reproach or
arouse public resentment; as queen, however, her behavior was subject
to the strictest rules of etiquette, and she was responsible for
the morals and general tone of her court. This responsibility Marie
Antoinette failed to realize until it was too late.
Upon the accession of Louis XVI., a clean sweep was made of the
licentious and discredited agents of Mme. du Barry, and a new ministry
was created. The former mistress, with her lover, the Duc d'Aiguillon,
was banished, although Mme. Adelaïde succeeded in having Maurepas,
uncle of the Duc d'Aiguillon, made minister. Marie Antoinette had
little interest in the appointment after she failed to gain the honor
for her favorite, De Choiseul, who had negotiated her marriage.
The queen then proceeded to carry out her long-cherished wishes for
society dinners at which she could preside. Her every act, however,
was governed by inflexible laws of etiquette, some of which she most
impatiently suffered, but many of which she impatiently put aside.
With this manner of entertaining begins her reign as queen of taste
and fashion, for Louis XVI. left to his wife the responsibility of
organizing all entertainments, and her aspiration was to make the
court of France the most splendid in the world. From that time on, all
her movements, her apparel, her manners, to the minutest detail, were
imitated by the court ladies. This custom, of course, led to reckless
extravagance among the nobility, for whenever Marie Antoinette
appeared in a new gown, which was almost daily, the ladies of the
nobility must perforce copy it.
Tidings of these extravagances of the queen and her court in
time reached the empress-mother in Vienna. Marie Thérèse severely
reproached her daughter, writing: "My daughter, my dear daughter, the
first queen—is she to grow like this? The idea is insupportable to
me." Yet, "to speak the exact truth," said her counsellor, Mercy, when
writing to the empress-mother, "there is less to complain of in the
evil which exists than in the lack of all the good which might exist."
It is chronicled to her credit that all her expenditure was not upon
herself alone, but that she was equally lavish when she attempted
charity.
Her first political act, the removal of Turgot, was disastrous. She
thought she was humoring public opinion, which was strongly against
the minister on account of his many reforms, but her primary reason
was rather one of personal vengeance. Turgot had been openly hostile
to her friend and favorite, the Duc de Guines. She was then in the
midst of her period of dissipation; "dazzled by the glory of the
throne, intoxicated by public approval," she overstepped the bounds
of royal propriety, neglecting etiquette and forgetting that she was
secretly hated by the people because of her origin; her greatest error
was in forgetting that she was Queen of France and no longer the mere
dauphiness.
Under the escort of her brother-in-law, the Comte d'Artois, she was
constantly occupied with pleasures and had time for little else. The
king, retiring every night at eleven and rising at five, had all the
doors locked; so the queen, who returned early in the morning, was
compelled to enter by the back door and pass through the servants'
apartments. Such behavior gave plentiful material to M. de Provence,
the king's brother, who remained at home and composed, for the
_Mercure de France_, all sorts of stories, from so-called trustworthy
information, on the king, on society, and especially on the doings of
the queen.
Marie Antoinette's fondness for the chase and the English racing fad,
for gambling, billiards, and her _petits soupers_ after the riding and
racing, gave ample opportunity to the gossipmongers and enemies. In
spite of the vigorous remonstrances of her mother, the empress, she
persisted in her wild career of dissipation and extravagance, and drew
upon herself more and more the disrespect of the people, especially in
appearing at places frequented by the disreputable of both sexes, by
entering into all noisy and vulgar amusements, by her disregard and
disdain of all the conventionalities of the court. She increased her
unpopularity by reviving the sport of sleighing; for this purpose
she had gorgeous sleighs constructed at a time when the population of
France was in misery. Such proceedings caused libels, epigrams, and
satirical chansonnettes to flow thick and fast from her enemies. Her
one idea was to seek congenial pleasures: she appeared to be wholly
oblivious to the disapproval of public opinion.
The slanderous tongues of her husband's aunts, the "jealousies and
bitter backbiting of her own intimate circle of friends," the infamous
accusations brought against her by her sisters-in-law, the attacks of
the Comte de Provence, and the indifference of the king himself, all
helped to increase her unpopularity.
Among her personal friends was the Princesse de Lamballe, whose
influence was preponderant for several years; she was not a
conspicuously wise woman, but one of spotless character. Her
ambitions, personal and for her relatives, often caused much trouble,
for she became the mouthpiece of her allies and her clients, for whom
she "solicited recommendations with as much pertinacity as if she had
been the most inveterate place hunter on her own account." Her favors
were too much in one direction to suit the queen, for, much attached
to the memory of her husband, the princess naturally sympathized with
the Orléans faction. As superintendent of the household of the queen,
replacing the Comtesse de Noailles, she gave rise to much scandal.
Her salary, through intrigues, had been raised to fifty thousand écus,
while her privileges were enormous; for instance, no lady of the queen
could execute an order given her without first obtaining the consent
of the superintendent. The displeasure and vexation which this
restriction caused among the court ladies may be imagined; complaints
became so frequent that the queen tired of them, and her affection for
her friend was thus cooled.
She sought other friends, among whom Mme. de Polignac was the favorite
and almost supplanted the Princesse de Lamballe in the regard of the
queen. To her she presented a large grant of money, the tabouret of
a duchess, the post of governess to the children of France; and her
friends received the appointments of ambassadors, and nominations to
inferior offices. She was not by nature an intriguing woman, but was
soon surrounded by a set of young men and women who made use of
her favor and took advantage of her influence; the result was the
formation of a regular Polignac set, almost all questionable persons,
but an exclusive circle, permitting no division of favor, and undoing
all who endeavored to rival them. This coterie of favorites may
be said to have caused Marie Antoinette as much unpopularity and
contributed as much to her ruin, and even to that of royalty, as did
any other cause originating at court. Mme. de Lamballe was no match
for her rival, so she retired, a move which increased the influence
of Mme. de Polignac, to whose house the whole court flocked. The queen
followed her wherever she went, made her husband duke, and permitted
her to sit in her presence.
By spending so much of her time at the salons of Mme. de Polignac
and the Princesse de Guéménée, the queen excited the displeasure
and enmity of many of the court and the people; at those places, De
Besenval, De Ligny, De Lauzun,—men of the most licentious habits and
expert spendthrifts,—seemed to enjoy her intimate friendship, a state
of affairs which caused many scandalous stories and helped to alienate
some of the greatest houses of France. This injudicious display of
preference for her own circle of friends also fostered a general
distrust and dislike among the people. The first families of France
preferred to absent themselves from her weekly balls at Versailles,
since attendance would probably result in their being ignored by the
queen, who permitted herself to be so engrossed by a bevy of favorites
and her own amusements as scarcely to notice other guests.
Her eulogists find excuse for all this in her lightness of heart and
gay spirits, as well as in the manner of her rearing, having been
brought up in the court of Louis XV., where she saw shameless vice
tolerated and even condoned. Although she preserved her virtue in the
midst of all this dissipation, she became callous to the shortcomings
of her friends and her own finer perceptions became blunted. Thus,
in the most critical years of her reign, her nobler nature suffered
deterioration, which resulted fatally.
Despite many warnings, she could not or would not do without those
friends. She excused anything in those who could make themselves
useful to her amusement: everyone who catered to her taste received
her favor. M. Rocheterie, in his admirable work, _The Life of Marie
Antoinette_, gives as the source of her great love of pleasure her
very strongly affectionate disposition,—the need of showering upon
someone the overflowing of an ardent nature,—together with the desire
for activity so natural in a princess of nineteen. As a place in
which to vent all these emotions, these ebullitions of affections and
amusements, the king presented her with the château "Little Trianon,"
where she might enjoy herself as she liked, away from the intrigues of
court.
Marie Antoinette has become better known as the queen of "Little
Trianon" than as a queen of Versailles. At the former place she
gave full license to her creative bent. Her palace, as well as her
environments, she fashioned according to her own ideas, which were
not French and only made her stand out the more conspicuously as a
foreigner. From this sort of fairy creation arose the distinctively
Marie Antoinette art and style; she caused artists to exhaust their
fertile brains in devising the most curious and magnificent, the
newest and most fanciful creations, quite regardless of cost—and
this while her people were starving and crying for bread! The angry
murmurings of the populace did not reach the ears of the gay queen,
who, had she been conscious of them, might have allowed her bright
eyes to become dim for a time, but would have soon forgotten the
passing cloud.
There was constant festivity about the queen and her companions, but
no etiquette; there was no household, only friends—the Polignacs,
Mme. Elisabeth, Monsieur, the Comte d'Artois, and, occasionally, the
king. To be sure, the amusements were innocent—open-air balls, rides,
lawn fêtes, all made particularly attractive by the affability of
the young queen, who showed each guest some particular attention; all
departed enchanted with the place and its delights and, especially,
with the graciousness of the royal hostess. There all artists and
authors of France were encouraged and patronized—with the exception
of Voltaire; the queen refused to patronize a man whose view upon
morality had caused so much trouble.
Music and the drama received especial protection from her. The triumph
of Gluck's _Iphigénie en Aulide_, in 1774, was the first victory of
Marie Antoinette over the former mistress and the Piccini party. This
was the second musical quarrel in France, the first having occurred
in 1754, between the lovers of French and Italian music, with Mme. de
Pompadour as protectress. After Gluck had monopolized the French opera
for eight years, the Italian, Piccini, was brought from Italy in
1776. Quinault's _Roland_ was arranged for him by Marmontel and was
presented in 1778, unsuccessfully; Gluck presented his _Iphigénie en
Aulide_, and no opera ever received such general approbation. "The
scene was all uproar and confusion, demoniacal enthusiasm; women threw
their gloves, fans, lace kerchiefs, at the actors; men stamped and
yelled; the enthusiasm of the public reached actual frenzy. All did
honor to the composer and to the queen."
Marie Antoinette, however, also gave Piccini her protection. Gluck,
armed with German theories and supporting French music, maintained for
dramatic interest, the subordination of music to poetry, the union
or close relation of song and recitative; whereas, the Italian opera
represented by Piccini had no dramatic unity, no great ensembles,
nothing but short airs, detached, without connection—no substance,
but mere ornamentation. Gluck proved, also, that tragedy could be
introduced in opera, while Piccini maintained that opera could embrace
only the fable—the marvellous and fairylike. This musical quarrel
became a veritable national issue, every salon, the Academy, and all
clubs being partisans of one or the other theory; it did much to mould
the later French and German music, and much credit is due the queen
for the support given and the intelligence displayed in so important
an issue.
All singers, actors, writers, geniuses in all things, were sure of
welcome and protection from Marie Antoinette; but she permitted
her passion for the theatre to carry her to extremes unbecoming her
position, for she consorted with comedians, played their parts, and
associated with them as though they were her equals. Such conduct
as this, and her exclusiveness in court circles, encouraged calumny.
Versailles was deserted by the best families, and all the pomp
and traditions of the French monarchs were abandoned. The king, in
sanctioning these amusements at the "Little Trianon," lost the respect
and esteem of the nobility, but the queen was held responsible for all
evil,—for the deficit in the treasury, and the increase in taxes;
to such an extent was she blamed, that the tide of public popularity
turned and she was regarded with suspicion, envy, and even hatred.
In the spring of 1777 the queen's brother, the Emperor Joseph II. of
Austria, arrived in Paris for a visit to his sister and the court of
France. The relations between him and Marie Antoinette became quite
intimate; the emperor, always disposed to be critical, did not
hesitate to warn his sister of the dangers of her situation, pointing
out to her her weakness in thus being led on by her love of pleasure,
and the deplorable consequences which this weakness would infallibly
entail in the future. The queen acknowledged the justness of the
emperor's reasoning, and, though often deeply offended by his
frankness and severity, she determined upon reform. This resolution
was, to some extent, influenced by the hope of pregnancy; so, when
her expectations in that direction proved to be without foundation, so
keen was the disappointment thus occasioned, that, in order to forget
it, she plunged into dissipation to such an extent that it soon
developed into a veritable passion. Bitterly disappointed, vexed
with a husband whose coldness constantly irritated her ardent nature,
fretful and nervous, there naturally developed a morbid state of mind
which explains the impetuosity with which she attempted to escape from
herself.
In December, 1778, a daughter was born to the queen, and she welcomed
her with these words: "Poor little one, you are not desired, but you
will be none the less dear to me! A son would have belonged to the
state—you will belong to me." After this event the queen gave herself
up to thoughts and pursuits of a more serious nature. In 1779 the
dauphin was born, and from that period Marie Antoinette considered
herself no longer a foreigner.
After the death of Maurepas, minister and counsellor to the king,
the queen became more influential in court matters. She relieved the
indolent monarch of much responsibility, but only to hand it over to
her favorites. The period from 1781 to 1785 was the most brilliant of
the court of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, one of dissipation and
extravagance, the rich _bourgeoisie_ vying with the nobility in their
luxurious style of living and in lavish expenditure. "The finest silks
that Lyons could weave, the most beautiful laces that Alençon could
produce, the most gorgeous equipages, the most expensive furniture,
inlaid and carved, the tapestry of Beauvais and the porcelain of
Sèvres—all were in the greatest demand." Necker was replaced by
incompetent ministers, the treasury was depleted, and the poor became
more and more restless and threatening. Once more, and with increased
vehemence, was heard the cry: _A bas l'Autrichienne!_
During the American war of the Revolution, Marie Antoinette was always
favorable to the Colonial cause, protecting La Fayette and encouraging
all volunteers of the nobility, who embarked for America in great
numbers. She presented Washington with a full-length portrait of
herself, loudly and publicly proclaiming her sympathy for things
American. She assured Rochambeau of her good will, and procured for La
Fayette a high command in the _corps d'armée_ which was to be sent to
America. When Necker and other ministers were negotiating for
peace, from 1781 to 1785, she persisted in asserting that American
independence should be acknowledged; and when it was declared, she
rejoiced as at no political event in her own country.
Her political adventures were few; in fact, she disliked politics and
desired to keep aloof from the intrigues of the ministers. She may
have been instrumental in the downfall of Necker—at least, she
secured the appointment, as minister of finance, of the worthless
Calonne, who, it will be remembered, brought about the ruin of
France in a short period. In time, however, the queen recognized his
worthlessness and would have nothing to do with him, thus making in
him another implacable enemy.
Events were fast diminishing the popularity of the queen. When, after
the long-disputed question of presenting the _Marriage of Figaro_, she
herself undertook to play in _The Barber of Seville_ in her theatre
at the Trianon, she overstepped the bounds of propriety. Then followed
the affair of the diamond necklace, in which the worst, most cunning,
and most notorious rogues abused the name of the queen. That was the
great adventure of the eighteenth century. Boehmer, the court jeweler,
had, in a number of years, procured a collection of stones for an
incomparable necklace. This was intended for Mme. du Barry, but
Boehmer offered it to the queen, who refused to purchase it, and he
considered himself ruined. It may be well to add that the queen had
previously purchased a pair of diamond earrings which had been ordered
by Louis XV. for his mistress; for those ornaments she paid almost
half her annual pin money, amounting to nine hundred thousand francs.
The jeweler, therefore, had good reason to hope that she would relieve
him of the necklace.
An adventuress, a Mme. de La Motte, acquainted at court and also with
the Prince Louis de Rohan, who had incurred the displeasure of the
queen, informed the cardinal that Marie Antoinette was willing to
again extend to him her favor. She counterfeited notes, and even went
so far as to appoint a meeting at midnight in the park at Versailles.
The supposed queen who appeared was no other than an English girl,
who dropped a rose with the words: "You know what that means." The
cardinal was informed that the queen desired to buy the necklace, but
that it was to be kept secret—it was to be purchased for her by a
great noble, who was to remain unknown. All necessary papers were
signed, and the necklace turned over to the Prince de Rohan, who, in
turn, intrusted it to Mme. de La Motte to be given to the queen; but
the agent was not long in having it taken apart, and soon her husband
was selling diamonds in great quantities to English jewelers.
In time, as no payments were received and no favors were shown by the
queen, an investigation followed. The result was a trial which lasted
nine months; the cardinal was declared not guilty, the signature
of the queen false, Mme. de La Motte was sentenced to be whipped,
branded, and imprisoned for life, and her husband was condemned to the
galleys. Nevertheless, much censure fell to the share of the queen. It
was the beginning of the end of her reign as a favorite whose faults
could be condoned. She was beginning to reap the fruits of her former
dissipations. In about 1787, when she least deserved it, she became
the butt of calumny, intrigues, and pamphlets.
During these years she was the most devoted of mothers; she personally
looked after her four children, watched by their bedsides when they
were ill, shutting herself up with them in the château so that they
would not communicate their disease to the children who played in the
park. In 1785 the king purchased Saint-Cloud and presented it to
the queen, together with six millions in her own right, to enjoy and
dispose of as she pleased. That act added the last straw to the burden
of resentment of the overwrought public; from that time she was known
as "Madame Deficit." Also she was accused of having sent her brother,
Joseph II., one hundred million livres in three years. She was hissed
at the opera. In 1788 there were many who refused to dance with the
queen. In the preceding year a caricature was openly sold, showing
Louis XVI. and his queen seated at a sumptuous table, while a starving
crowd surrounded them; it bore the legend: "The king drinks, the queen
eats, while the people cry!" Calonne, minister of finance, an intimate
friend of the Polignacs, but in disfavor with the queen, also made
common cause with the enemies, in songs and perfidious insinuations.
Upon his fall, in 1787, the queen's position became even worse.
The last period of the life of the queen, La Rocheterie calls the
militant period—it was one in which the joy of living was no more;
trouble, sorrows upon sorrows, and anxieties replaced the former
care-free, happy radiance of her youth. At the reunion of the
States-General, while the country at large was full of confidence and
the king was still a hero, the queen was the one dark spot; calumny
had done its work—the whole country seemed to be saturated with an
implacable hatred and prejudice against her whom they considered
the source of all evil. Throughout the ceremonies attending the
States-General, the queen was received with the same ominous silence;
no one lifted his voice to cheer her, but the Duc d'Orléans was always
applauded, to her humiliation.
Whatever may have been the faults and excesses of her youth, their
period was over and in their place arose all the noble sentiments so
long dormant. When the king was about to go to Paris as the prisoner
of the infuriated mob, La Fayette asked the queen: "Madame, what is
your personal intention?" "I know the fate which awaits me, but
my duty is to die at the feet of the king and in the arms of my
children," replied the queen. During the following days of anxiety she
showed wonderful courage and graciousness, "winning much popularity
by her serene dignity, the incomparable charm which pervaded her whole
person, and her affability."
Upon the urgent request of the queen the Polignac set departed,
and Mme. de Lamballe endeavored to do the honors for the queen, by
receptions three times a week, given to make friends in the Assembly.
At those functions all conditions of people assembled, and instead
of the witty, brilliant conversations of the old salon there were
politics, conspiracies, plots; instead of the gay and laughing faces
of the old times there were the worn and anxious faces of weary,
discouraged men and women. There was, indeed, a sad contrast between
the gay, frivolous, haughty queen of the early days, and this captive
queen—submissive, dignified, "majestic in her bearing, heroic, and
reconciled to her awful fate."
Her period of imprisonment, the cruelty, neglect, inadequate food and
garments, her torture and indescribable sufferings, the insults of
the crowd and the newspapers, her heroic death, all belong to history.
"The first crime of the Revolution was the death of the king, but
the most frightful was the death of the queen." Napoleon said: "The
queen's death was a crime worse than regicide." "A crime absolutely
unjustifiable," adds La Rocheterie, "since it had no pretext whatever
to offer as an excuse; a crime eminently impolitic, since it struck
down a foreign princess, the most sacred of hostages; a crime beyond
measure, since the victim was a woman who possessed honors without
power."
Because Marie Antoinette played a romantic rôle in French history, it
is quite natural to find conflicting and contradictory opinions among
her biographers. The most conflicting may be summed up in these
words: the queen's influence upon the Revolution was great—her
extravagances, her haughty bearing, her scorn of the etiquette of
royalty, her enemies, her prejudices, the arrests which she caused,
etc. Then her pernicious influence upon the king, after the breaking
out of the Revolution—she caused his hesitancy, which led to such
disastrous results, and his plan of annihilating the States Assembly;
the gathering of the foreign troops and his many contradictory
and uncertain commands were all laid at her door, making of her an
important and guilty party to the Revolution. Another estimate is more
humane and, probably, is the result of cooler reflection, yet is not
always accepted by Frenchmen or the world at large. It represents her
as neither saint nor sinner, but as a pure, fascinating woman, always
chaste, though somewhat rash and frivolous. Proud and energetic, if
inconsiderate in her political actions and somewhat too impulsive in
the selection of friends upon whom to bestow her favors, she is yet
worthy of the title of queen by the very dignity of her bearing;
always a true woman, seductive and tender of heart, she became a
martyr "through the extremity of her trials and her triumphant death."
Although history makes Marie Antoinette a central figure during the
reign of Louis XVI. and the period of the Revolution, yet her personal
influence was practically limited to the domain of the social world of
customs and manners; her political influence issued mainly from or was
due to the concatenation of conditions and circumstances, the results
of her friends' doings, while her social triumphs were products of
her own activity. The two women—her intimate friends—who during
this period were of greatest prominence, who owed their elevation
and standing entirely to the queen, were women of whom little has
survived. In her time, Mme. de Polignac was an influential woman,
wielding tremendous power, contributing largely to the shaping and
climaxing of France's fate; yet this influence was centred in reality
in the Polignac set, which was composed of the most important, daring,
and consummate intriguers that the court of France had ever seen.
She escaped the guillotine, and by doing so escaped the attention of
posterity.
Mme. de Lamballe, who wrote nothing, did nothing, effected nothing,
is better known to the world at large, is more respected and honored,
than is Mme. de Polignac or even the great salon leaders such as Mme.
de Genlis or Mlle. de Lespinasse. She owes this prominence to her
undying devotion to her queen, to her marvellous beauty, and to her
tragic death on the guillotine. She was not even bright or witty,
the essentials of greatness among French women—not one _bon mot_ has
survived her; but she may well be placed by the side of her queen
for one sublime virtue, too rare in those days,—chastity. She was
Princess of Sardinia; upon the request of the Duke of Penthièvre to
Louis XV. to select a wife for his son, the Prince of Lamballe, she
was chosen. A year after the marriage the prince died; and although
the marriage had not been a happy one, because of the dissolute life
of the prince, his wife forgave him, and "sorrowed for him as though
he deserved it."
When in 1768 the queen died, two parties immediately formed, the
object of both of them being to provide Louis XV. with a wife: one may
be called the reform party, striving to keep the old king in the paths
of decency; while the other was composed of the typical eighteenth
century intriguers, endeavoring to revive the "grand old times." The
candidate of the former was Mme. de Lamballe, that of the latter, the
dissolute Duchesse du Barry. This state of affairs was made possible
by the disagreement of the political and social schemes of the court
and ministry. Soon after, in 1770, the king negotiated the marriage
of Marie Antoinette and the dauphin, and from that time began the
friendship of the future queen and the Princesse de Lamballe. Entering
the unfamiliar circle of this highly debauched court, the young
dauphiness sought a sympathetic friend, and found her in the princess.
No figure in that society was more disinterested and unselfishly
devoted. In all the queen's undertakings, fêtes, and other amusements,
she was inseparable from the princess, who was indeed a rare exception
to the majority of the women of that time.
The friendship of these two women was uninterrupted, save for a period
extending from 1778 to 1785, when Mme. de Polignac and her set of
intriguers succeeded in estranging them and usurping all the favors of
the queen. When the outside world was accrediting to Marie Antoinette
every popular misfortune, when she lost by death both the dauphin
and the Princess Beatrice, when fate was against her, when the future
promised nothing but evil, she found no stauncher friend, better
consoler, more ardent admirer, than her old companion. Learning of the
removal of the royal family to the Tuileries, she rejoined the queen.
In 1791, with the escape of the royal fugitives, the princess left
for England, to seek the protection of the English government for her
royal friends.
Mr. Dobson says she was scarcely the _discrète et insinuante et
touchante Lamballe_, with a marvellous sang-froid, hardly the astute
diplomatist, that De Lescure makes her. "She was rather the quiet,
imposing Lamballe of old, interested in her friends and what she
could do for them, but never shrewd and diplomatic." In November she
returned to France, to meet her queen and to suffer death for her
sake,—and for this unswerving devotion she has a place in history.
She stands out also as the one normal woman in the crowds of
impetuous, shallow, petty, and, in many cases, pitifully debauched
women of the time. Not majestic greatness, but a direct, unaffected
sweetness and consistent goodness entitle her to rank among the great
women of France.