After the 14th of July, by a manoeuvre for which the most skilful factions
of any age might have envied the Assembly, the whole population of France
was armed and organised into a National Guard. A report was spread
throughout France on the same day, and almost at the same hour, that four
thousand brigands were marching towards such towns or villages as it was
wished to induce to take arms. Never was any plan better laid; terror
spread at the same moment all over the kingdom. In 1791 a peasant showed
me a steep rock in the mountains of the Mont d'Or on which his wife
concealed herself on the day when the four thousand brigands were to
attack their village, and told me they had been obliged to make use of
ropes to let her down from the height which fear alone had enabled her to
climb.
Versailles was certainly the place where the national military uniform
appeared most offensive. All the King's valets, even of the lowest class,
were metamorphosed into lieutenants or captains; almost all the musicians
of the chapel ventured one day to make their appearance at the King's mass
in a military costume; and an Italian soprano adopted the uniform of a
grenadier captain. The King was very much offended at this conduct, and
forbade his servants to appear in his presence in so unsuitable a dress.
The departure of the Duchesse de Polignac naturally left the Abbe de
Vermond exposed to all the dangers of favouritism. He was already talked
of as an adviser dangerous to the nation. The Queen was alarmed at it,
and recommended him to remove to Valenciennes, where Count Esterhazy was
in command. He was obliged to leave that place in a few days and set off
for Vienna, where he remained.
On the night of the 17th of July the Queen, being unable to sleep, made me
watch by her until three in the morning. I was extremely surprised to
hear her say that it would be a very long time before the Abbe de Vermond
would make his appearance at Court again, even if the existing ferment
should subside, because he would not readily be forgiven for his
attachment to the Archbishop of Sens; and that she had lost in him a very
devoted servant. Then she suddenly remarked to me, that although he was
not much prejudiced against me I could not have much regard for him,
because he could not bear my father-in-law to hold the place of secretary
of the closet. She went on to say that I must have studied the Abbe's
character, and, as I had sometimes drawn her portraits of living
characters, in imitation of those which were fashionable in the time of
Louis XIV., she desired me to sketch that of the Abbe, without any
reserve. My astonishment was extreme; the Queen spoke of the man who, the
day before, had been in the greatest intimacy with her with the utmost
coolness, and as a person whom, perhaps, she might never see again! I
remained petrified; the Queen persisted, and told me that he had been the
enemy of my family for more than twelve years, without having been able to
injure it in her opinion; so that I had no occasion to dread his return,
however severely I might depict him. I promptly summarised my ideas about
the favourite; but I only remember that the portrait was drawn with
sincerity, except that everything which could denote antipathy was kept
out of it. I shall make but one extract from it: I said that he had been
born talkative and indiscreet, and had assumed a character of singularity
and abruptness in order to conceal those two failings. The Queen
interrupted me by saying, "Ah! how true that is!" I have since discovered
that, notwithstanding the high favour which the Abbe de Vermond enjoyed,
the Queen took precautions to guard herself against an ascendency the
consequences of which she could not calculate.
On the death of my father-in-law his executors placed in my hands a box
containing a few jewels deposited by the Queen with M. Campan on the
departure from Versailles of the 6th of October, and two sealed packets,
each inscribed, "Campan will take care of these papers for me." I took
the two packets to her Majesty, who kept the jewels and the larger packet,
and, returning me the smaller, said, "Take care of that for me as your
father-in-law did."
After the fatal 10th of August, 1792,--[The day of the attack on the
Tuileries, slaughter of the Swiss guard, and suspension of the King from
his functions.]--when my house was about to be surrounded, I determined to
burn the most interesting papers of which I was the depositary; I thought
it my duty, however, to open this packet, which it might perhaps be
necessary for me to preserve at all hazards. I saw that it contained a
letter from the Abbe de Vermond to the Queen. I have already related that
in the earlier days of Madame de Polignac's favour he determined to remove
from Versailles, and that the Queen recalled him by means of the Comte de
Mercy. This letter contained nothing but certain conditions for his
return; it was the most whimsical of treaties; I confess I greatly
regretted being under the necessity of destroying it. He reproached the
Queen for her infatuation for the Comtesse Jules, her family, and society;
and told her several truths about the possible consequences of a
friendship which ranked that lady among the favourites of the Queens of
France, a title always disliked by the nation. He complained that his
advice was neglected, and then came to the conditions of his return to
Versailles; after strong assurances that he would never, in all his life,
aim at the higher church dignities, he said that he delighted in an
unbounded confidence; and that he asked but two things of her Majesty as
essential: the first was, not to give him her orders through any third
person, and to write to him herself; he complained much that he had had no
letter in her own hand since he had left Vienna; then he demanded of her
an income of eighty thousand livres, in ecclesiastical benefices; and
concluded by saying that, if she condescended to assure him herself that
she would set about procuring him what he wished, her letter would be
sufficient in itself to show him that her Majesty had accepted the two
conditions he ventured to make respecting his return. No doubt the letter
was written; at least it is very certain that the benefices were granted,
and that his absence from Versailles lasted only a single week.
In the course of July, 1789, the regiment of French guards, which had been
in a state of insurrection from the latter end of June, abandoned its
colours. One single company of grenadiers remained faithful, to its post
at Versailles. M. le Baron de Leval was the captain of this company. He
came every evening to request me to give the Queen an account of the
disposition of his soldiers; but M. de La Fayette having sent them a note,
they all deserted during the night and joined their comrades, who were
enrolled in the Paris guard; so that Louis XVI. on rising saw no guard
whatever at the various posts entrusted to them.
The decrees of the 4th of August, by which all privileges were abolished,
are well known.
["It was during the night of the 4th of August," says Rivarol, "that the
demagogues of the nobility, wearied with a protracted discussion upon the
rights of man, and burning to signalise their zeal, rose all at once, and
with loud exclamations called for the last sighs of the feudal system.
This demand electrified the Assembly. All heads were frenzied. The
younger sons of good families, having nothing, were delighted to sacrifice
their too fortunate elders upon the altar of the country; a few country
cures felt no less pleasure in renouncing the benefices of others; but
what posterity will hardly believe is that the same enthusiasm infected
the whole nobility; zeal walked hand in hand with malevolence; they made
sacrifice upon sacrifice. And as in Japan the point of honour lies in a
man's killing himself in the presence of the person who has offended him,
so did the deputies of the nobility vie in striking at themselves and
their constituents. The people who were present at this noble contest
increased the intoxication of their new allies by their shouts; and the
deputies of the commons, seeing that this memorable night would only
afford them profit without honour, consoled their self-love by wondering
at what Nobility, grafted upon the Third Estate, could do. They named
that night the 'night of dupes'; the nobles called it the 'night of
sacrifices'."--NOTE BY THE EDITOR.]
The King sanctioned all that tended to the diminution of his own personal
gratifications, but refused his consent to the other decrees of that
tumultuous night; this refusal was one of the chief causes of the ferments
of the month of October.
In the early part of September meetings were held at the Palais Royal, and
propositions made to go to Versailles; it was said to be necessary to
separate the King from his evil counsellors, and keep him, as well as the
Dauphin, at the Louvre. The proclamations by the officers of the commune
for the restoration of tranquillity were ineffectual; but M. de La Fayette
succeeded this time in dispersing the populace. The Assembly declared
itself permanent; and during the whole of September, in which no doubt the
preparations were made for the great insurrections of the following month,
the Court was not disturbed.
The King had the Flanders regiment removed to Versailles; unfortunately
the idea of the officers of that regiment fraternising with the Body
Guards was conceived, and the latter invited the former to a dinner, which
was given in the great theatre of Versailles, and not in the Salon of
Hercules, as some chroniclers say. Boxes were appropriated to various
persons who wished to be present at this entertainment. The Queen told me
she had been advised to make her appearance on the occasion, but that
under existing circumstances she thought such a step might do more harm
than good; and that, moreover, neither she nor the King ought directly to
have anything to do with such a festival. She ordered me to go, and
desired me to observe everything closely, in order to give a faithful
account of the whole affair.
The tables were set out upon the stage; at them were placed one of the
Body Guard and an officer of the Flanders regiment alternately. There was
a numerous orchestra in the room, and the boxes were filled with
spectators. The air, "O Richard, O mon Roi!" was played, and shouts of
"Vive de Roi!" shook the roof for several minutes. I had with me one of
my nieces, and a young person brought up with Madame by her Majesty. They
were crying "Vive le Roi!" with all their might when a deputy of the Third
Estate, who was in the next box to mine, and whom I had never seen, called
to them, and reproached them for their exclamations; it hurt him, he said,
to see young and handsome Frenchwomen brought up in such servile habits,
screaming so outrageously for the life of one man, and with true
fanaticism exalting him in their hearts above even their dearest
relations; he told them what contempt worthy American women would feel on
seeing Frenchwomen thus corrupted from their earliest infancy. My niece
replied with tolerable spirit, and I requested the deputy to put an end to
the subject, which could by no means afford him any satisfaction, inasmuch
as the young persons who were with me lived, as well as myself, for the
sole purpose of serving and loving the King. While I was speaking what
was my astonishment at seeing the King, the Queen, and the Dauphin enter
the chamber! It was M. de Luxembourg who had effected this change in the
Queen's determination.
The enthusiasm became general; the moment their Majesties arrived the
orchestra repeated the air I have just mentioned, and afterwards played a
song in the "Deserter," "Can we grieve those whom we love?" which also
made a powerful impression upon those present: on all sides were heard
praises of their Majesties, exclamations of affection, expressions of
regret for what they had suffered, clapping of hands, and shouts of "Vive
le Roi! Vive la Reine! Vive le Dauphin!" It has been said that white
cockades were worn on this occasion; that was not the case; the fact is,
that a few young men belonging to the National Guard of Versailles, who
were invited to the entertainment, turned the white lining of their
national cockades outwards. All the military men quitted the hall, and
reconducted the King and his family to their apartments. There was
intoxication in these ebullitions of joy: a thousand extravagances were
committed by the military, and many of them danced under the King's
windows; a soldier belonging to the Flanders regiment climbed up to the
balcony of the King's chamber in order to shout "Vive le Roi!" nearer his
Majesty; this very soldier, as I have been told by several officers of the
corps, was one of the first and most dangerous of their insurgents in the
riots of the 5th and 6th of October. On the same evening another soldier
of that regiment killed himself with a sword. One of my relations,
chaplain to the Queen, who supped with me, saw him stretched out in a
corner of the Place d'Armes; he went to him to give him spiritual
assistance, and received his confession and his last sighs. He destroyed
himself out of regret at having suffered himself to be corrupted by the
enemies of his King, and said that, since he had seen him and the Queen
and the Dauphin, remorse had turned his brain.
I returned home, delighted with all that I had seen.
I found a great many people there. M. de Beaumetz, deputy for Arras,
listened to my description with a chilling air, and, when I had finished,
told me that all that had passed was terrific; that he knew the
disposition of the Assembly, and that the greatest misfortunes would
follow the drama of that night; and he begged my leave to withdraw that he
might take time for deliberate reflection whether he should on the very
next day emigrate, or pass over to the left side of the Assembly. He
adopted the latter course, and never appeared again among my associates.
On the 2d of October the military entertainment was followed up by a
breakfast given at the hotel of the Body Guards. It is said that a
discussion took place whether they should not march against the Assembly;
but I am utterly ignorant of what passed at that breakfast. From that
moment Paris was constantly in commotion; there were continual mobs, and
the most virulent proposals were heard in all public places; the
conversation was invariably about proceeding to Versailles. The King and
Queen did not seem apprehensive of such a measure, and took no precaution
against it; even when the army had actually left Paris, on the evening of
the 5th of October, the King was shooting at Meudon, and the Queen was
alone in her gardens at Trianon, which she then beheld for the last time
in her life. She was sitting in her grotto absorbed in painful
reflection, when she received a note from the Comte de Saint-Priest,
entreating her to return to Versailles. M. de Cubieres at the same time
went off to request the King to leave his sport and return to the palace;
the King did so on horseback, and very leisurely. A few minutes
afterwards he was informed that a numerous body of women, which preceded
the Parisian army, was at Chaville, at the entrance of the avenue from
Paris.
The scarcity of bread and the entertainment of the Body Guards were the
pretexts for the insurrection of the 5th and 6th of October, 1789; but it
is clear to demonstration that this new movement of the people was a part
of the original plan of the factious, insomuch as, ever since the
beginning of September, a report had been industriously circulated that
the King intended to withdraw, with his family and ministers, to some
stronghold; and at all the popular assemblies there had been always a
great deal said about going to Versailles to seize the King.
At first only women showed themselves; the latticed doors of the Chateau
were closed, and the Body Guard and Flanders regiment were drawn up in the
Place d'Armes. As the details of that dreadful day are given with
precision in several works, I will only observe that general consternation
and disorder reigned throughout the interior of the palace.
I was not in attendance on the Queen at this time. M. Campan remained
with her till two in the morning. As he was leaving her she
condescendingly, and with infinite kindness, desired him to make me easy
as to the dangers of the moment, and to repeat to me M. de La Fayette's
own words, which he had just used on soliciting the royal family to retire
to bed, undertaking to answer for his army.
The Queen was far from relying upon M. de La Fayette's loyalty; but she
has often told me that she believed on that day, that La Fayette, having
affirmed to the King, in the presence of a crowd of witnesses, that he
would answer for the army of Paris, would not risk his honour as a
commander, and was sure of being able to redeem his pledge. She also
thought the Parisian army was devoted to him, and that all he said about
his being forced to march upon Versailles was mere pretence.
On the first intimation of the march of the Parisians, the Comte de
Saint-Priest prepared Rambouillet for the reception of the King, his
family, and suite, and the carriages were even drawn out; but a few cries
of "Vive le Roi!" when the women reported his Majesty's favourable
answer, occasioned the intention of going away to be given up, and orders
were given to the troops to withdraw.
[Compare this account with the particulars given in the "Memoirs" of
Ferribres, Weber, Bailly, and Saint-Priest, from the latter of which the
following sentence is taken:
"M. d'Estaing knew not what to do with the Body Guards beyond bringing
them into the courtyard of the ministers, and shutting the grilles.
Thence they proceeded to the terrace of the Chateau, then to Trianon, and
lastly to Rambouillet.
"I could not refrain from expressing to M. d'Estaing, when he came to the
King, my astonishment at not seeing him make any military disposition.
'Monsieur,' replied he, 'I await the orders of the King' (who did not open
his mouth). 'When the King gives no orders,' pursued I, 'a general should
decide for himself in a soldierly manner.' This observation remained
unanswered."]
The Body Guards were, however, assailed with stones and musketry while
they were passing from the Place d'Armes to, their hotel. Alarm revived;
again it was thought necessary that the royal family should go away; some
carriages still remained ready for travelling; they were called for; they
were stopped by a wretched player belonging to the theatre of the town,
seconded by the mob: the opportunity for flight had been lost.
The insurrection was directed against the Queen in particular; I shudder
even now at the recollection of the poissardes, or rather furies, who wore
white aprons, which they screamed out were intended to receive the bowels
of Marie Antoinette, and that they would make cockades of them, mixing the
most obscene expressions with these horrible threats.
The Queen went to bed at two in the morning, and even slept, tired out
with the events of so distressing a day. She had ordered her two women to
bed, imagining there was nothing to dread, at least for that night; but
the unfortunate Princess was indebted for her life to that feeling of
attachment which prevented their obeying her. My sister, who was one of
the ladies in question, informed me next day of all that I am about to
relate.
On leaving the Queen's bedchamber, these ladies called their femmes de
chambre, and all four remained sitting together against her Majesty's
bedroom door. About half-past four in the morning they heard horrible
yells and discharges of firearms; one ran to the Queen to awaken her and
get her out of bed; my sister flew to the place from which the tumult
seemed to proceed; she opened the door of the antechamber which leads to
the great guard-room, and beheld one of the Body Guard holding his musket
across the door, and attacked by a mob, who were striking at him; his face
was covered with blood; he turned round and exclaimed: "Save the Queen,
madame; they are come to assassinate her!" She hastily shut the door upon
the unfortunate victim of duty, fastened it with the great bolt, and took
the same precaution on leaving the next room. On reaching the Queen's
chamber she cried out to her, "Get up, Madame! Don't stay to dress
yourself; fly to the King's apartment!" The terrified Queen threw herself
out of bed; they put a petticoat upon her without tying it, and the two
ladies conducted her towards the oile-de-boeuf. A door, which led from
the Queen's dressing-room to that apartment, had never before been
fastened but on her side. What a dreadful moment! It was found to be
secured on the other side. They knocked repeatedly with all their
strength; a servant of one of the King's valets de chambre came and opened
it; the Queen entered the King's chamber, but he was not there. Alarmed
for the Queen's life, he had gone down the staircases and through the
corridors under the oeil-de-boeuf, by means of which he was accustomed to
go to the Queen's apartments without being under the necessity of crossing
that room. He entered her Majesty's room and found no one there but some
Body Guards, who had taken refuge in it. The King, unwilling to expose
their lives, told them to wait a few minutes, and afterwards sent to
desire them to go to the oeil-de-boeuf. Madame de Tourzel, at that time
governess of the children of France, had just taken Madame and the Dauphin
to the King's apartments. The Queen saw her children again. The reader
must imagine this scene of tenderness and despair.
It is not true that the assassins penetrated to the Queen's chamber and
pierced the bed with their swords. The fugitive Body Guards were the only
persons who entered it; and if the crowd had reached so far they would all
have been massacred. Besides, when the rebels had forced the doors of the
antechamber, the footmen and officers on duty, knowing that the Queen was
no longer in her apartments, told them so with that air of truth which
always carries conviction. The ferocious horde instantly rushed towards
the oeil-de-boeuf, hoping, no doubt, to intercept her on her way.
Many have asserted that they recognised the Duc d'Orleans in a greatcoat
and slouched hat, at half-past four in the morning, at the top of the
marble staircase, pointing out with his hand the guard-room, which led to
the Queen's apartments. This fact was deposed to at the Chatelet by
several individuals in the course of the inquiry instituted respecting the
transactions of the 5th and 6th of October.
[The National Assembly was sitting when information of the march of the
Parisians was given to it by one of the deputies who came from Paris. A
certain number of the members were no strangers, to this movement. It
appears that Mirabeau wished to avail himself of it to raise the Duc
d'Orleans to the throne. Mounier, who presided over the National
Assembly, rejected the idea with horror. "My good man," said Mirabeau to
him, "what difference will it make to you to have Louis XVII. for your
King instead of Louis XVI.?" (The Duc d'Orleans was baptised Louis.)]
The prudence and honourable feeling of several officers of the Parisian
guards, and the judicious conduct of M. de Vaudreuil, lieutenant-general
of marine, and of M. de Chevanne, one of the King's Guards, brought about
an understanding between the grenadiers of the National Guard of Paris and
the King's Guard. The doors of the oeil-de-boeuf were closed, and the
antechamber which precedes that room was filled with grenadiers who wanted
to get in to massacre the Guards. M. de Chevanne offered himself to them
as a victim if they wished for one, and demanded what they would have. A
report had been spread through their ranks that the Body Guards set them
at defiance, and that they all wore black cockades. M. de Chevanne showed
them that he wore, as did the corps, the cockade of their uniform; and
promised that the Guards should exchange it for that of the nation. This
was done; they even went so far as to exchange their grenadiers' caps for
the hats of the Body Guards; those who were on guard took off their
shoulder-belts; embraces and transports of fraternisation instantly
succeeded to the savage eagerness to murder the band which had shown so
much fidelity to its sovereign. The cry was now "Vivent le Roi, la
Nation, et les Gardes-du-corps!"
The army occupied the Place d'Armes, all the courtyards of the Chateau,
and the entrance to the avenue. They called for the Queen to appear in
the balcony: she came forward with Madame and the Dauphin. There was a
cry of "No children!" Was this with a view to deprive her of the interest
she inspired, accompanied as she was by her young family, or did the
leaders of the democrats hope that some madman would venture to aim a
mortal blow at her person? The unfortunate Princess certainly was
impressed with the latter idea, for she sent away her children, and with
her hands and eyes raised towards heaven, advanced upon the balcony like a
self-devoted victim.
A few voices shouted "To Paris!" The exclamation soon became general.
Before the King agreed to this removal he wished to consult the National
Assembly, and caused that body to be invited to sit at the Chateau.
Mirabeau opposed this measure. While these discussions were going forward
it became more and more difficult to restrain the immense disorderly
multitude. The King, without consulting any one, now said to the people:
"You wish, my children, that I should follow you to Paris: I consent, but
on condition that I shall not be separated from my wife and family." The
King added that he required safety also for his Guards; he was answered by
shouts of "Vivo le Roi! Vivent les Gardes-du-corps!" The Guards, with
their hats in the air, turned so as to exhibit the. cockade, shouted "Vive
le Roi! Vive la Nation!" shortly afterwards a general discharge of all
the muskets took place, in token of joy. The King and Queen set off from
Versailles at one o'clock. The Dauphin, Madame, the King's daughter,
Monsieur, Madame,--[Madame, here, the wife of Monsieur le Comte de
Provence.]--Madame Elisabeth, and Madame de Tourzel, were in the carriage;
the Princesse de Chimay and the ladies of the bedchamber for the week, the
King's suite and servants, followed in Court carriages; a hundred deputies
in carriages, and the bulk of the Parisian army, closed the procession.
The poissardes went before and around the carriage of their Majesties,
Crying, "We shall no longer want bread! We have the baker, the baker's
wife, and the baker's boy with us!" In the midst of this troop of
cannibals the heads of two murdered Body Guards were carried on poles. The
monsters, who made trophies of them, conceived the horrid idea of forcing
a wigmaker of Sevres to dress them up and powder their bloody locks. The
unfortunate man who was forced to perform this dreadful work died in
consequence of the shock it gave him.
[The King did not leave Versailles till one o'clock. The Queen, the
Dauphin, Madame Royale, Monsieur, Madame Elisabeth, and Madame de Tourzel
were in his Majesty's carriage. The hundred deputies in their carriages
came next. A detachment of brigands, bearing the heads of the two Body
Guards in triumph, formed the advance guard, and set out two hours
earlier. These cannibals stopped a moment at Sevres, and carried their
cruelty to the length of forcing an unfortunate hairdresser to dress the
gory heads; the bulk of the Parisian army followed them closely. The
King's carriage was preceded by the 'poissardes', who had arrived the day
before from Paris, and a rabble of prostitutes, the vile refuse of their
sex, still drunk with fury and wine. Several of them rode astride upon
cannons, boasting, in the most horrible songs, of the crimes they had
committed themselves, or seen others commit. Those who were nearest the
King's carriage sang ballads, the allusions in which by means of their
vulgar gestures they applied to the Queen. Wagons, full of corn and
flour,--which had been brought into Versailles, formed a train escorted by
grenadiers, and surrounded by women and bullies, some armed with pikes,
and some carrying long branches of poplar. At some distance this part of
the procession had a most singular effect: it looked like a moving forest,
amidst which shone pike-heads and gun-barrels. In the paroxysms of their
brutal joy the women stopped passengers, and, pointing to the King's
carriage, howled in their ears: "Cheer up, friends; we shall no longer be
in want of bread! We bring you the baker, the baker's wife, and the
baker's little boy!" Behind his Majesty's carriage were several of his
faithful Guards, some on foot, and some on horseback, most of them
uncovered, all unarmed, and worn out with hunger and fatigue; the
dragoons, the Flanders regiment, the hundred Swiss, and the National
Guards preceded, accompanied, or followed the file of carriages. I
witnessed this heartrending spectacle; I saw the ominous procession. In
the midst of all the tumult, clamour, and singing, interrupted by frequent
discharges of musketry, which the hand of a monster or a bungler might so
easily render fatal, I saw the Queen preserving most courageous
tranquillity of soul, and an air of nobleness and inexpressible dignity,
and my eyes were suffused with tears of admiration and grief.--"Memoirs of
Bertrand de Molleville."]
The progress of the procession was so slow that it was near six in the
evening when this august family, made prisoners by their own people,
arrived at the Hotel de Ville. Bailly received them there; they were
placed upon a throne, just when that of their ancestors had been
overthrown. The King spoke in a firm yet gracious manner; he said that he
always came with pleasure and confidence among the inhabitants of his good
city of Paris. M. Bailly repeated this observation to the representatives
of the commune, who came to address the King; but he forgot the word
confidence. The Queen instantly and loudly reminded him of the omission.
The King and Queen, their children, and Madame Elisabeth, retired to the
Tuileries. Nothing was ready for their reception there. All the
living-rooms had been long given up to persons belonging to the Court;
they hastily quitted them on that day, leaving their furniture, which was
purchased by the Court. The Comtesse de la Marck, sister to the Marechaux
de Noailles and de Mouchy, had occupied the apartments now appropriated to
the Queen. Monsieur and Madame retired to the Luxembourg.
The Queen had sent for me on the morning of the 6th of October, to leave
me and my father-in-law in charge of her most valuable property. She took
away only her casket of diamonds. Comte Gouvernet de la Tour-du-Pin, to
whom the military government of Versailles was entrusted 'pro tempore',
came and gave orders to the National Guard, which had taken possession of
the apartments, to allow us to remove everything that we should deem
necessary for the Queen's accommodation.
I saw her Majesty alone in her private apartments a moment before her
departure for Paris; she could hardly speak; tears bedewed her face, to
which all the blood in her body seemed to have rushed; she condescended to
embrace me, gave her hand to M. Campan to kiss, and said to us, "Come
immediately and settle at Paris; I will lodge you at the Tuileries; come,
and do not leave me henceforward; faithful servants at moments like these
become useful friends; we are lost, dragged away, perhaps to death; when
kings become prisoners they are very near it."
I had frequent opportunities during the course of our misfortunes of
observing that the people never entirely give their allegiance to factious
leaders, but easily escape their control when some cause reminds them of
their duty. As soon as the most violent Jacobins had an opportunity of
seeing the Queen near at hand, of speaking to her, and of hearing her
voice, they became her most zealous partisans; and even when she was in
the prison of the Temple several of those who had contributed to place her
there perished for having attempted to get her out again.
On the morning of the 7th of October the same women who the day before
surrounded the carriage of the august prisoners, riding on cannons and
uttering the most abusive language, assembled under the Queen's windows,
upon the terrace of the Chateau, and desired to see her. Her Majesty
appeared. There are always among mobs of this description orators, that
is to say, beings who have more assurance than the rest; a woman of this
description told the Queen that she must now remove far from her all such
courtiers as ruin kings, and that she must love the inhabitants of her
good city. The Queen answered that she had loved them at Versailles, and
would likewise love them at Paris. "Yes, yes," said another; "but on the
14th of July you wanted to besiege the city and have it bombarded; and on
the 6th of October you wanted to fly to the frontiers." The Queen
replied, affably, that they had been told so, and had believed it; that
there lay the cause of the unhappiness of the people and of the best of
kings. A third addressed a few words to her in German: the Queen told her
she did not understand it; that she had become so entirely French as even
to have forgotten her mother tongue. This declaration was answered with
"Bravo!" and clapping of hands; they then desired her to make a compact
with them. "Ah," said she, "how can I make a compact with you, since you
have no faith in that which my duty points out to me, and which I ought
for my own happiness to respect?" They asked her for the ribbons and
flowers out of her hat; her Majesty herself unfastened them and gave them;
they were divided among the party, which for above half an hour cried out,
without ceasing, "Marie Antoinette for ever! Our good Queen for ever!"
Two days after the King's arrival at Paris, the city and the National
Guard sent to request the Queen to appear at the theatre, and prove by her
presence and the King's that it was with pleasure they resided in their
capital. I introduced the deputation which came to make this request.
Her Majesty replied that she should have infinite pleasure in acceding to
the invitation of the city of Paris; but that time must be allowed her to
soften the recollection of the distressing events which had just occurred,
and from which she had suffered too much. She added, that having come
into Paris preceded by the heads of the faithful Guards who had perished
before the door of their sovereign, she could not think that such an entry
into the capital ought to be followed by rejoicings; but that the
happiness she had always felt in appearing in the midst of the inhabitants
of Paris was not effaced from her memory, and that she should enjoy it
again as soon as she found herself able to do so.
Their Majesties found some consolation in their private life: from
Madame's--[Madame, here, the Princesse Marie Therese, daughter of Marie
Antoinette.]--gentle manners and filial affection, from the
accomplishments and vivacity of the little Dauphin, and the attention and
tenderness of the pious Princess Elisabeth, they still derived moments of
happiness. The young Prince daily gave proofs of sensibility and
penetration; he was not yet beyond female care, but a private tutor, the
Abbe Davout, gave him all the instruction suitable to his age; his memory
was highly cultivated, and he recited verses with much grace and feeling.
[On the 19th of October, that is to say, thirteen days after he had taken
up his abode at Paris, the King went, on foot and almost alone, to review
some detachments of the National Guard. After the review Louis XVI. met
with a child sweeping the street, who asked him for money. The child
called the King "M. le Chevalier." His Majesty gave him six francs. The
little sweeper, surprised at receiving so large a sum, cried out, "Oh! I
have no change; you will give me money another time." A person who
accompanied the monarch said to the child, "Keep it all, my friend; the
gentleman is not chevalier, he is the eldest of the family."--NOTE BY THE
EDITOR.]
The day after the arrival of the Court at Paris, terrified at hearing some
noise in the gardens of the Tuileries, the young prince threw himself into
the arms of the Queen, crying out, "Grand-Dieu, mamma! will it be
yesterday over again?" A few days after this affecting exclamation, he
went up to the King, and looked at him with a pensive air. The King asked
him what he wanted; he answered, that he had something very serious to say
to him. The King having prevailed on him to explain himself, the young
Prince asked why his people, who formerly loved him so well, were all at
once angry with him; and what he had done to irritate them so much. His
father took him upon his knees, and spoke to him nearly as follows: "I
wished, child, to render the people still happier than they were; I wanted
money to pay the expenses occasioned by wars. I asked my people for
money, as my predecessors have always done; magistrates, composing the
Parliament, opposed it, and said that my people alone had a right to
consent to it. I assembled the principal inhabitants of every town,
whether distinguished by birth, fortune, or talents, at Versailles; that
is what is called the States General. When they were assembled they
required concessions of me which I could not make, either with due respect
for myself or with justice to you, who will be my successor; wicked men
inducing the people to rise have occasioned the excesses of the last few
days; the people must not be blamed for them."
The Queen made the young Prince clearly comprehend that he ought to treat
the commanders of battalions, the officers of the National Guard, and all
the Parisians who were about him, with affability; the child took great
pains to please all those people, and when he had had an opportunity of
replying obligingly to the mayor or members of the commune he came and
whispered in his mother's ear, "Was that right?"
He requested M. Bailly to show him the shield of Scipio, which is in the
royal library; and M. Bailly asking him which he preferred, Scipio or
Hannibal, the young Prince replied, without hesitation, that he preferred
him who had defended his own country. He gave frequent proofs of ready
wit. One day, while the Queen was hearing Madame repeat her exercises in
ancient history, the young Princess could not at the moment recollect the
name of the Queen of Carthage; the Dauphin was vexed at his sister's want
of memory, and though he never spoke to her in the second person singular,
he bethought himself of the expedient of saying to her, "But 'dis donc'
the name of the Queen, to mamma; 'dis donc' what her name was."
Shortly after the arrival of the King and his family at Paris the Duchesse
de Luynes came, in pursuance of the advice of a committee of the
Constitutional Assembly, to propose to the Queen a temporary retirement
from France, in order to leave the constitution to perfect itself, so that
the patriots should not accuse her of influencing the King to oppose it.
The Duchess knew how far the schemes of the conspirers extended, and her
attachment to the Queen was the principal cause of the advice she gave
her. The Queen perfectly comprehended the Duchesse de Luynes's motive;
but replied that she would never leave either the King or her son; that if
she thought herself alone obnoxious to public hatred she would instantly
offer her life as a sacrifice;--but that it was the throne which was aimed
at, and that, in abandoning the King, she should be merely committing an
act of cowardice, since she saw no other advantage in it than that of
saving her own life.
One evening, in the month of November, 1790, I returned home rather late;
I there found the Prince de Poix; he told me he came to request me to
assist him in regaining his peace of mind; that at the commencement of the
sittings of the National Assembly he had suffered himself to be seduced
into the hope of a better order of things; that he blushed for his error,
and that he abhorred plans which had already produced such fatal results;
that he broke with the reformers for the rest of his life; that he had
given in his resignation as a deputy of the National Assembly; and,
finally, that he was anxious that the Queen should not sleep in ignorance
of his sentiments. I undertook his commission, and acquitted myself of it
in the best way I could; but I was totally unsuccessful. The Prince de
Poix remained at Court; he there suffered many mortifications, never
ceasing to serve the King in the most dangerous commissions with that zeal
for which his house has always been distinguished.
When the King, the Queen, and the children were suitably established at
the Tuileries, as well as Madame Elisabeth and the Princesse de Lamballe,
the Queen resumed her usual habits; she employed her mornings in
superintending the education of Madame, who received all her lessons in
her presence, and she herself began to work large pieces of tapestry. Her
mind was too much occupied with passing events and surrounding dangers to
admit her of applying herself to reading; the needle was the only
employment which could divert her.
[There was long preserved at Paris, in the house of Mademoiselle
Dubuquois, a tapestry-worker, a carpet worked by the Queen and Madame
Elisabeth for the large room of her Majesty's ground-floor apartments at
the Tuileries. The Empress Josephine saw and admired this carpet, and
desired it might be taken care of, in the hope of one day sending it to
Madame--MADAME CAMPAN.]
She received the Court twice a week before going to mass, and on those
days dined in public with the King; she spent the rest of the time with
her family and children; she had no concert, and did not go to the play
until 1791, after the acceptation of the constitution. The Princesse de
Lamballe, however, had some evening parties in her apartments at the
Tuileries, which were tolerably brilliant in consequence of the great
number of persons who attended them. The Queen was present at a few of
these assemblies; but being soon convinced that her present situation
forbade her appearing much in public, she remained at home, and conversed
as she sat at work. The sole topic of her discourse was, as may well be
supposed, the Revolution. She sought to discover the real opinions of the
Parisians respecting her, and how she could have so completely lost the
affections of the people, and even of many persons in the higher ranks.
She well knew that she ought to impute the whole to the spirit of party,
to the hatred of the Duc d'Orleans, and the folly of the French, who
desired to have a total change in the constitution; but she was not the
less desirous of ascertaining the private feelings of all the people in
power.
From the very commencement of the Revolution General Luckner indulged in
violent sallies against her. Her Majesty, knowing that I was acquainted
with a lady who had been long connected with the General, desired me to
discover through that channel what was the private motive on which
Luckner's hatred against her was founded. On being questioned upon this
point, he answered that Marechal de Segur had assured him he had proposed
him for the command of a camp of observation, but that the Queen had made
a bar against his name; and that this 'par', as he called it, in his
German accent, he could not forget.
The Queen ordered me to repeat this reply to the King myself, and said to
him: "See, Sire, whether I was not right in telling you that your
ministers, in order to give themselves full scope in the distribution of
favours, persuaded the French that I interfered in everything; there was
not a single license given out in the country for the sale of salt or
tobacco but the people believed it was given to one of my favourites."
"That is very, true," replied the King; "but I find it very difficult to
believe that Marechal de Segur ever said any such thing to Luckner; he
knew too well that you never interfered in the distribution of favours.
"That Luckner is a good-for-nothing fellow, and Segur is a brave and
honourable man who never uttered such a falsehood; however, you are right;
and because you provided for a few dependents, you are most unjustly
reported to have disposed of all offices, civil and military."
All the nobility who had not left Paris made a point of presenting
themselves assiduously to the King, and there was a considerable influx to
the Tuileries. Marks of attachment were exhibited even in external
symbols; the women wore enormous bouquets of lilies in their bosoms and
upon their heads, and sometimes even bunches of white ribbon. At the play
there were often disputes between the pit and the boxes about removing
these ornaments, which the people thought dangerous emblems. National
cockades were sold in every corner of Paris; the sentinels stopped all who
did not wear them; the young men piqued themselves upon breaking through
this regulation, which was in some degree sanctioned by the acquiescence
of Louis XVI. Frays took place, which were to be regretted, because they
excited a spirit of lawlessness. The King adopted conciliatory measures
with the Assembly in order to promote tranquillity; the revolutionists
were but little disposed to think him sincere; unfortunately the royalists
encouraged this incredulity by incessantly repeating that the King was not
free, and that all that he did was completely null, and in no way bound
him for the time to come. Such was the heat and violence of party spirit
that persons the most sincerely attached to the King were not even
permitted to use the language of reason, and recommend greater reserve in
conversation. People would talk and argue at table without considering
that all the servants belonged to the hostile army; and it may truly be
said there was as much imprudence and levity in the party assailed as
there was cunning, boldness, and perseverance in that which made the
attack.