Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF
MARIE ANTOINETTE,
QUEEN OF FRANCE
Being the Historic Memoirs of Madam Campan,
First Lady in Waiting to the Queen
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Duchesse du Barry
Princesse de Lamballe
The Parisian Bonne
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette
Beaumarchais
The Reveille
Madame Adelaide as Diana
The Bastille
Opening of The States General
Louis XVI.
Marie Antoinette on the way to the Guillotine
Madame Campan
PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR.
Louis XVI. possessed an immense crowd of confidants, advisers, and guides;
he selected them even from among the factions which attacked him. Never,
perhaps, did he make a full disclosure to any one of them, and certainly
he spoke with sincerity, to but very few. He invariably kept the reins of
all secret intrigues in his own hand; and thence, doubtless, arose the
want of cooperation and the weakness which were so conspicuous in his
measures. From these causes considerable chasms will be found in the
detailed history of the Revolution.
In order to become thoroughly acquainted with the latter years of the
reign of Louis XV., memoirs written by the Duc de Choiseul, the Duc
d'Aiguillon, the Marechal de Richelieu,
[I heard Le Marechal de Richelieu desire M. Campan, who was librarian to
the Queen, not to buy the Memoirs which would certainly be attributed to
him after his death, declaring them false by anticipation; and adding that
he was ignorant of orthography, and had never amused himself with writing.
Shortly after the death of the Marshal, one Soulavie put forth Memoirs of
the Marechal de Richelieu.]
and the Duc de La Vauguyon, should be before us. To give us a faithful
portrait of the unfortunate reign of Louis XVI., the Marechal du Muy, M.
de Maurepas, M. de Vergennes, M. de Malesherbes, the Duc d'Orleans, M. de
La Fayette, the Abby de Vermond, the Abbe Montesquiou, Mirabeau, the
Duchesse de Polignac, and the Duchesse de Luynes should have noted
faithfully in writing all the transactions in which they took decided
parts. The secret political history of a later period has been
disseminated among a much greater number of persons; there are Ministers
who have published memoirs, but only when they had their own measures to
justify, and then they confined themselves to the vindication of their own
characters, without which powerful motive they probably would have written
nothing. In general, those nearest to the Sovereign, either by birth or
by office, have left no memoirs; and in absolute monarchies the
mainsprings of great events will be found in particulars which the most
exalted persons alone could know. Those who have had but little under
their charge find no subject in it for a book; and those who have long
borne the burden of public business conceive themselves to be forbidden by
duty, or by respect for authority, to disclose all they know. Others,
again, preserve notes, with the intention of reducing them to order when
they shall have reached the period of a happy leisure; vain illusion of
the ambitious, which they cherish, for the most part, but as a veil to
conceal from their sight the hateful image of their inevitable downfall!
and when it does at length take place, despair or chagrin deprives them of
fortitude to dwell upon the dazzling period which they never cease to
regret.
Louis XVI. meant to write his own memoirs; the manner in which his
private papers were arranged indicated this design. The Queen also had
the same intention; she long preserved a large correspondence, and a great
number of minute reports, made in the spirit and upon the event of the
moment. But after the 20th of June, 1792, she was obliged to burn the
larger portion of what she had so collected, and the remainder were
conveyed out of France.
Considering the rank and situations of the persons I have named as capable
of elucidating by their writings the history of our political storms, it
will not be imagined that I aim at placing myself on a level with them;
but I have spent half my life either with the daughters of Louis XV. or
with Marie Antoinette. I knew the characters of those Princesses; I
became privy to some extraordinary facts, the publication of which may be
interesting, and the truth of the details will form the merit of my work.
I was very young when I was placed about the Princesses, the daughters of
Louis XV., in the capacity of reader. I was acquainted with the Court of
Versailles before the time of the marriage of Louis XVI. with the
Archduchess Marie Antoinette.
MADAME CAMPAN
My father, who was employed in the department of Foreign Affairs, enjoyed
the reputation due to his talents and to his useful labours. He had
travelled much. Frenchmen, on their return home from foreign countries,
bring with them a love for their own, increased in warmth; and no man was
more penetrated with this feeling, which ought to be the first virtue of
every placeman, than my father. Men of high title, academicians, and
learned men, both natives and foreigners, sought my father's acquaintance,
and were gratified by being admitted into his house.
Twenty years before the Revolution I often heard it remarked that the
imposing character of the power of Louis XIV. was no longer to be found in
the Palace of Versailles; that the institutions of the ancient monarchy
were rapidly sinking; and that the people, crushed beneath the weight of
taxes, were miserable, though silent; but that they began to give ear to
the bold speeches of the philosophers, who loudly proclaimed their
sufferings and their rights; and, in short, that the age would not pass
away without the occurrence of some great outburst, which would unsettle
France, and change the course of its progress.
Those who thus spoke were almost all partisans of M. Turgot's system of
administration: they were Mirabeau the father, Doctor Quesnay, Abbe
Bandeau, and Abbe Nicoli, charge d'affaires to Leopold, Grand Duke of
Tuscany, and as enthusiastic an admirer of the maxims of the innovators as
his Sovereign.
My father sincerely respected the purity of intention of these
politicians. With them he acknowledged many abuses in the Government; but
he did not give these political sectarians credit for the talent necessary
for conducting a judicious reform. He told them frankly that in the art
of moving the great machine of Government, the wisest of them was inferior
to a good magistrate; and that if ever the helm of affairs should be put
into their hands, they would be speedily checked in the execution of their
schemes by the immeasurable difference existing between the most brilliant
theories and the simplest practice of administration.
Destiny having formerly placed me near crowned heads, I now amuse my
solitude when in retirement with collecting a variety of facts which may
prove interesting to my family when I shall be no more. The idea of
collecting all the interesting materials which my memory affords occurred
to me from reading the work entitled "Paris, Versailles, and the Provinces
in the Eighteenth Century." That work, composed by a man accustomed to
the best society, is full of piquant anecdotes, nearly all of which have
been recognised as true by the contemporaries of the author. I have put
together all that concerned the domestic life of an unfortunate Princess,
whose reputation is not yet cleared of the stains it received from the
attacks of calumny, and who justly merited a different lot in life, a
different place in the opinion of mankind after her fall. These memoirs,
which were finished ten years ago, have met with the approbation of some
persons; and my son may, perhaps, think proper to print them after my
decease.
J. L. H. C.
--When Madame Campan wrote these lines, she did not anticipate that the
death of her son would precede her own.
HISTORIC COURT MEMOIRS.
MARIE ANTOINETTE.
MEMOIR OF MADAME CAMPAN.
JEANNE LOUISE HENRIETTE GENET was born in Paris on the 6th of October,
1752. M. Genet, her father, had obtained, through his own merit and the
influence of the Duc de Choiseul, the place of first clerk in the Foreign
Office.
Literature, which he had cultivated in his youth, was often the solace of
his leisure hours. Surrounded by a numerous family, he made the
instruction of his children his chief recreation, and omitted nothing
which was necessary to render them highly accomplished. His clever and
precocious daughter Henriette was very early accustomed to enter society,
and to take an intelligent interest in current topics and public events.
Accordingly, many of her relations being connected with the Court or
holding official positions, she amassed a fund of interesting
recollections and characteristic anecdotes, some gathered from personal
experience, others handed down by old friends of the family.
"The first event which made any impression on me in my childhood," she
says in her reminiscences, "was the attempt of Damiens to assassinate
Louis XV. This occurrence struck me so forcibly that the most minute
details relating to the confusion and grief which prevailed at Versailles
on that day seem as present to my imagination as the most recent events. I
had dined with my father and mother, in company with one of their friends.
The drawing-room was lighted up with a number of candles, and four
card-tables were already occupied, when a friend of the gentleman of the
house came in, with a pale and terrified countenance, and said, in a voice
scarcely audible, 'I bring you terrible news. The King has been
assassinated!' Two ladies in the company fainted; a brigadier of the Body
Guards threw down his cards and cried out, 'I do not wonder at it; it is
those rascally Jesuits.'--'What are you saying, brother?' cried a lady,
flying to him; 'would you get yourself arrested?'--'Arrested! For what?
For unmasking those wretches who want a bigot for a King?' My father came
in; he recommended circumspection, saying that the blow was not mortal,
and that all meetings ought to be suspended at so critical a moment. He
had brought the chaise for my mother, who placed me on her knees. We
lived in the Avenue de Paris, and throughout our drive I heard incessant
cries and sobs from the footpaths.
"At last I saw a man arrested; he was an usher of the King's chamber, who
had gone mad, and was crying out, 'Yes, I know them; the wretches! the
villains!' Our chaise was stopped by this bustle. My mother recognised
the unfortunate man who had been seized; she gave his name to the trooper
who had stopped him. The poor usher was therefore merely conducted to the
gens d'armes' guardroom, which was then in the avenue.
"I have often heard M. de Landsmath, equerry and master of the hounds, who
used to come frequently to my father's, say that on the news of the
attempt on the King's life he instantly repaired to his Majesty. I cannot
repeat the coarse expressions he made use of to encourage his Majesty; but
his account of the affair, long afterwards, amused the parties in which he
was prevailed on to relate it, when all apprehensions respecting the
consequences of the event had subsided. This M. de Landsmath was an old
soldier, who had given proofs of extraordinary valour; nothing had been
able to soften his manners or subdue his excessive bluntness to the
respectful customs of the Court. The King was very fond of him. He
possessed prodigious strength, and had often contended with Marechal Saxe,
renowned for his great bodily power, in trying the strength of their
respective wrists.
[One day when the King was hunting in the forest of St. Germain,
Landemath, riding before him, wanted a cart, filled with the slime of a
pond that had just been cleansed, to draw up out of the way. The carter
resisted, and even answered with impertinence. Landsmath, without
dismounting, seized him by the breast of his coat, lifted him up, and
threw him into his cart.--MADAME CAMPAN.]
"M. de Landsmath had a thundering voice. When he came into the King's
apartment he found the Dauphin and Mesdames, his Majesty's daughters,
there; the Princesses, in tears, surrounded the King's bed. Send out all
these weeping women, Sire,' said the old equerry; 'I want to speak to you
alone: The King made a sign to the Princesses to withdraw. 'Come,' said
Landsmath, 'your wound is nothing; you had plenty of waistcoats and
flannels on.' Then uncovering his breast, 'Look here,' said he, showing
four or five great scars, 'these are something like wounds; I received
them thirty years ago; now cough as loud as you can.' The King did so.
''Tis nothing at all,' said Landsmath; 'you must laugh at it; we shall
hunt a stag together in four days.'--'But suppose the blade was poisoned,'
said the King. 'Old grandams' tales,' replied Landsmath; 'if it had been
so, the waistcoats and flannels would have rubbed the poison off.' The
King was pacified, and passed a very good night.
"His Majesty one day asked M. de Landsmath how old he was. He was aged,
and by no means fond of thinking of his age; he evaded the question. A
fortnight later, Louis XV. took a paper out of his pocket and read aloud:
'On such a day in the month of one thousand six hundred and eighty, was
baptised by me, rector of ------, the son of the high and mighty lord,'
etc. 'What's that?' said Landsmath, angrily; 'has your Majesty been
procuring the certificate of my baptism?'--'There it is, you see,
Landsmath,' said the King. 'Well, Sire, hide it as fast as you can; a
prince entrusted with the happiness of twenty-five millions of people
ought not wilfully to hurt the feelings of a single individual.'
"The King learned that Landsmath had lost his confessor, a missionary
priest of the parish of Notre-Dame. It was the custom of the Lazarists to
expose their dead with the face uncovered. Louis XV. wished to try his
equerry's firmness. 'You have lost your confessor, I hear,' said the
King. 'Yes, Sire.'--'He will be exposed with his face bare?'--'Such is
the custom.'--'I command you to go and see him.'--'Sire, my confessor was
my friend; it would be very painful to me.'--'No matter; I command
you.'--'Are you really in earnest, Sire?'--'Quite so.'--'It would be the
first time in my life that I had disobeyed my sovereign's order. I will
go.' The next day the King at his levee, as soon as he perceived
Landsmath, said, 'Have you done as I desired you,
Landsmath?'--'Undoubtedly, Sire.'--'Well, what did you see?'--'Faith, I
saw that your Majesty and I are no great shakes!'
"At the death of Queen Maria Leczinska, M. Campan,--[Her father-in-law,
afterwards secretary to Marie Antoinette.]--then an officer of the
chamber, having performed several confidential duties, the King asked
Madame Adelaide how he should reward him. She requested him to create an
office in his household of master of the wardrobe, with a salary of a
thousand crowns. 'I will do so,' said the King; 'it will be an honourable
title; but tell Campan not to add a single crown to his expenses, for you
will see they will never pay him.'
"Louis XV., by his dignified carriage, and the amiable yet majestic
expression of his features, was worthy to succeed to Louis the Great. But
he too frequently indulged in secret pleasures, which at last were sure to
become known. During several winters, he was passionately fond of
'candles' end balls', as he called those parties amongst the very lowest
classes of society. He got intelligence of the picnics given by the
tradesmen, milliners, and sempstresses of Versailles, whither he repaired
in a black domino, and masked, accompanied by the captain of his Guards,
masked like himself. His great delight was to go 'en brouette'--[In a
kind of sedan-chair, running on two wheels, and drawn by a
chairman.]--Care was always taken to give notice to five or six officers
of the King's or Queen's chamber to be there, in order that his Majesty
might be surrounded by people on whom he could depend, without finding it
troublesome. Probably the captain of the Guards also took other
precautions of this description on his part. My father-in-law, when the
King and he were both young, has often made one amongst the servants
desired to attend masked at these parties, assembled in some garret, or
parlour of a public-house. In those times, during the carnival, masked
companies had a right to join the citizens' balls; it was sufficient that
one of the party should unmask and name himself.
"These secret excursions, and his too habitual intercourse with ladies
more distinguished for their personal charms than for the advantages of
education, were no doubt the means by which the King acquired many vulgar
expressions which otherwise would never have reached his ears.
"Yet amidst the most shameful excesses the King sometimes suddenly resumed
the dignity of his rank in a very noble manner. The familiar courtiers of
Louis XV. had one day abandoned themselves to the unrestrained gaiety, of
a supper, after returning from the chase. Each boasted of and described
the beauty of his mistress. Some of them amused themselves with giving a
particular account of their wives' personal defects. An imprudent word,
addressed to Louis XV., and applicable only to the Queen, instantly
dispelled all the mirth of the entertainment. The King assumed his regal
air, and knocking with his knife on the table twice or thrice, 'Gentlemen;
said he, 'here is the King!'
"Those men who are most completely abandoned to dissolute manners are not,
on that account, insensible to virtue in women. The Comtesse de Perigord
was as beautiful as virtuous. During some excursions she made to Choisy,
whither she had been invited, she perceived that the King took great
notice of her. Her demeanour of chilling respect, her cautious
perseverance in shunning all serious conversation with the monarch, were
insufficient to extinguish this rising flame, and he at length addressed a
letter to her, worded in the most passionate terms. This excellent woman
instantly formed her resolution: honour forbade her returning the King's
passion, whilst her profound respect for the sovereign made her unwilling
to disturb his tranquillity. She therefore voluntarily banished herself
to an estate she possessed called Chalais, near Barbezieux, the mansion of
which had been uninhabited nearly a century; the porter's lodge was the
only place in a condition to receive her. From this seat she wrote to his
Majesty, explaining her motives for leaving Court; and she remained there
several years without visiting Paris. Louis XV. was speedily attracted by
other objects, and regained the composure to which Madame de Perigord had
thought it her duty to sacrifice so much. Some years after, Mesdames'
lady of honour died. Many great families solicited the place. The King,
without answering any of their applications, wrote to the Comtesse de
Perigord: 'My daughters have just lost their lady of honour; this place,
madame, is your due, as much on account of your personal qualities as of
the illustrious name of your family.'
"Three young men of the college of St. Germain, who had just completed
their course of studies, knowing no person about the Court, and having
heard that strangers were always well treated there, resolved to dress
themselves completely in the Armenian costume, and, thus clad, to present
themselves to see the grand ceremony of the reception of several knights
of the Order of the Holy Ghost. Their stratagem met with all the success
with which they had flattered themselves. While the procession was
passing through the long mirror gallery, the Swiss of the apartments
placed them in the first row of spectators, recommending every one to pay
all possible attention to the strangers. The latter, however, were
imprudent enough to enter the 'oeil-de-boeuf' chamber, where, were
Messieurs Cardonne and Ruffin, interpreters of Oriental languages, and the
first clerk of the consul's department, whose business it was to attend to
everything which related to the natives of the East who were in France.
The three scholars were immediately surrounded and questioned by these
gentlemen, at first in modern Greek. Without being disconcerted, they
made signs that they did not understand it. They were then addressed in
Turkish and Arabic; at length one of the interpreters, losing all
patience, exclaimed, 'Gentlemen, you certainly must understand some of the
languages in which you have been addressed. What country can you possibly
come from then?'--'From St. Germain-en-Laye, sir,' replied the boldest
among them; 'this is the first time you have put the question to us in
French.' They then confessed the motive of their disguise; the eldest of
them was not more than eighteen years of age. Louis XV. was informed of
the affair. He laughed heartily, ordered them a few hours' confinement
and a good admonition, after which they were to be set at liberty.
"Louis XV. liked to talk about death, though he was extremely apprehensive
of it; but his excellent health and his royal dignity probably made him
imagine himself invulnerable. He often said to people who had very bad
colds, 'You've a churchyard cough there.' Hunting one day in the forest
of Senard, in a year in which bread was extremely dear, he met a man on
horseback carrying a coffin. 'Whither are you carrying that coffin?'--'To
the village of ------,' answered the peasant. 'Is it for a man or a
woman?'--'For a man.'--'What did he die of?'--'Of hunger,' bluntly replied
the villager. The King spurred on his horse, and asked no more questions.
"Weak as Louis XV. was, the Parliaments would never have obtained his
consent to the convocation of the States General. I heard an anecdote on
this subject from two officers attached to that Prince's household. It
was at the period when the remonstrances of the Parliaments, and the
refusals to register the decrees for levying taxes, produced alarm with
respect to the state of the finances. This became the subject of
conversation one evening at the coucher of Louis XV. 'You will see,
Sire,' said a courtier, whose office placed him in close communication
with the King, 'that all this will make it absolutely necessary to
assemble the States General!'
"The King, roused by this speech from the habitual apathy of his
character, seized the courtier by the arm, and said to him, in a passion,
'Never repeat, these words. I am not sanguinary; but had I a brother, and
were he to dare to give me such advice, I would sacrifice him, within
twenty-four hours, to the duration of the monarchy and the tranquillity of
the kingdom.'
"Several years prior to his death the Dauphin, the father of Louis XVI.,
had confluent smallpox, which endangered his life; and after his
convalescence he was long troubled with a malignant ulcer under the nose.
He was injudiciously advised to get rid of it by the use of extract of
lead, which proved effectual; but from that time the Dauphin, who was
corpulent, insensibly grew thin, and a short, dry cough evinced that the
humour, driven in, had fallen on the lungs. Some persons also suspected
him of having taken acids in too great a quantity for the purpose of
reducing his bulk. The state of his health was not, however, such as to
excite alarm. At the camp at Compiegne, in July, 1764, the Dauphin
reviewed the troops, and evinced much activity in the performance of his
duties; it was even observed that he was seeking to gain the attachment of
the army. He presented the Dauphiness to the soldiers, saying, with a
simplicity which at that time made a great sensation, 'Mes enfans, here is
my wife.' Returning late on horseback to Compiegne, he found he had taken
a chill; the heat of the day had been excessive; the Prince's clothes had
been wet with perspiration. An illness followed, in which the Prince
began to spit blood. His principal physician wished to have him bled; the
consulting physicians insisted on purgation, and their advice was
followed. The pleurisy, being ill cured, assumed and retained all the
symptoms of consumption; the Dauphin languished from that period until
December, 1765, and died at Fontainebleau, where the Court, on account of
his condition, had prolonged its stay, which usually ended on the 2d of
November.
"The Dauphiness, his widow, was deeply afflicted; but the immoderate
despair which characterised her grief induced many to suspect that the
loss of the crown was an important part of the calamity she lamented. She
long refused to eat enough to support life; she encouraged her tears to
flow by placing portraits of the Dauphin in every retired part of her
apartments. She had him represented pale, and ready to expire, in a
picture placed at the foot of her bed, under draperies of gray cloth, with
which the chambers of the Princesses were always hung in court mournings.
Their grand cabinet was hung with black cloth, with an alcove, a canopy,
and a throne, on which they received compliments of condolence after the
first period of the deep mourning. The Dauphiness, some months before the
end of her career, regretted her conduct in abridging it; but it was too
late; the fatal blow had been struck. It may also be presumed that living
with a consumptive, man had contributed to her complaint. This Princess
had no opportunity of displaying her qualities; living in a Court in which
she was eclipsed by the King and Queen, the only characteristics that
could be remarked in her were her extreme attachment to her husband, and
her great piety.
"The Dauphin was little known, and his character has been much mistaken.
He himself, as he confessed to his intimate friends, sought to disguise
it. He one day asked one of his most familiar servants, 'What do they say
in Paris of that great fool of a Dauphin?' The person interrogated seeming
confused, the Dauphin urged him to express himself sincerely, saying,
'Speak freely; that is positively the idea which I wish people to form of
me.'
"As he died of a disease which allows the last moment to be anticipated
long beforehand, he wrote much, and transmitted his affections and his
prejudices to his son by secret notes.
"Madame de Pompadour's brother received Letters of Nobility from his
Majesty, and was appointed superintendent of the buildings and gardens. He
often presented to her Majesty, through the medium of his sister, the
rarest flowers, pineapples, and early vegetables from the gardens of
Trianon and Choisy. One day, when the Marquise came into the Queen's
apartments, carrying a large basket of flowers, which she held in her two
beautiful arms, without gloves, as a mark of respect, the Queen loudly
declared her admiration of her beauty; and seemed as if she wished to
defend the King's choice, by praising her various charms in detail, in a
manner that would have been as suitable to a production of the fine arts
as to a living being. After applauding the complexion, eyes, and fine
arms of the favourite, with that haughty condescension which renders
approbation more offensive than flattering, the Queen at length requested
her to sing, in the attitude in which she stood, being desirous of hearing
the voice and musical talent by which the King's Court had been charmed in
the performances of the private apartments, and thus combining the
gratification of the ears with that of the eyes. The Marquise, who still
held her enormous basket, was perfectly sensible of something offensive in
this request, and tried to excuse herself from singing. The Queen at last
commanded her; she then exerted her fine voice in the solo of Armida--'At
length he is in my power.' The change in her Majesty's countenance was so
obvious that the ladies present at this scene had the greatest difficulty
to keep theirs.
"The Queen was affable and modest; but the more she was thankful in her
heart to Heaven for having placed her on the first throne in Europe, the
more unwilling she was to be reminded of her elevation. This sentiment
induced her to insist on the observation of all the forms of respect due
to royal birth; whereas in other princes the consciousness of that birth
often induces them to disdain the ceremonies of etiquette, and to prefer
habits of ease and simplicity. There was a striking contrast in this
respect between Maria Leczinska and Marie Antoinette, as has been justly
and generally observed. The latter unfortunate Queen, perhaps, carried
her disregard of everything belonging to the strict forms of etiquette too
far. One day, when the Marechale de Mouchy was teasing her with questions
relative to the extent to which she would allow the ladies the option of
taking off or wearing their cloaks, and of pinning up the lappets of their
caps, or letting them hang down, the Queen replied to her, in my presence:
'Arrange all those matters, madame, just as you please; but do not imagine
that a queen, born Archduchess of Austria, can attach that importance to
them which might be felt by a Polish princess who had become Queen of
France.'
"The virtues and information of the great are always evinced by their
conduct; their accomplishments, coming within the scope of flattery, are
difficult to be ascertained by any authentic proofs, and those who have
lived near them may be excused for some degree of scepticism with regard
to their attainments of this kind. If they draw or paint, there is always
an able artist present, who, if he does not absolutely guide the pencil
with his own hand, directs it by his advice. If a princess attempt a
piece of embroidery in colours, of that description which ranks amongst
the productions of the arts, a skilful embroideress is employed to undo
and repair whatever has been spoilt. If the princess be a musician, there
are no ears that will discover when she is out of tune; at least there is
no tongue that will tell her so. This imperfection in the accomplishments
of the great is but a slight misfortune. It is sufficiently meritorious
in them to engage in such pursuits, even with indifferent success, because
this taste and the protection it extends produce abundance of talent on
every side. Maria Leczinska delighted in the art of painting, and
imagined she herself could draw and paint. She had a drawing-master, who
passed all his time in her cabinet. She undertook to paint four large
Chinese pictures, with which she wished to ornament her private
drawing-room, which was richly furnished with rare porcelain and the
finest marbles. This painter was entrusted with the landscape and
background of the pictures; he drew the figures with a pencil; the faces
and arms were also left by the Queen to his execution; she reserved to
herself nothing but the draperies, and the least important accessories.
The Queen every morning filled up the outline marked out for her, with a
little red, blue, or green colour, which the master prepared on the
palette, and even filled her brush with, constantly repeating, 'Higher up,
Madame--lower down, Madame--a little to the right--more to the left.'
After an hour's work, the time for hearing mass, or some other family or
pious duty, would interrupt her Majesty; and the painter, putting the
shadows into the draperies she had painted, softening off the colour where
she had laid too much, etc., finished the small figures. When the work
was completed the private drawing-room was decorated with her Majesty's
work; and the firm persuasion of this good Queen that she had painted it
herself was so entire that she left this cabinet, with all its furniture
and paintings, to the Comtesse de Noailles, her lady of honour. She added
to the bequest: 'The pictures in my cabinet being my own work, I hope the
Comtesse de Noailles will preserve them for my sake.' Madame de Noailles,
afterwards Marechale de Mouchy, had a new pavilion constructed in her
hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain, in order to form a suitable receptacle
for the Queen's legacy; and had the following inscription placed over the
door, in letters of gold: 'The innocent falsehood of a good princess.'
"Maria Leczinska could never look with cordiality on the Princess of
Saxony, who married the Dauphin; but the attentive behaviour of the
Dauphiness at length made her Majesty forget that the Princess was the
daughter of a king who wore her father's crown. Nevertheless, although
the Queen now saw in the Princess of Saxony only a wife beloved by her
son, she never could forget that Augustus wore the crown of Stanislaus.
One day an officer of her chamber having undertaken to ask a private
audience of her for the Saxon minister, and the Queen being unwilling to
grant it, he ventured to add that he should not have presumed to ask this
favour of the Queen had not the minister been the ambassador of a member
of the family. 'Say of an enemy of the family,' replied the Queen,
angrily; 'and let him come in.'
"Comte de Tesse, father of the last Count of that name, who left no
children, was first equerry to Queen Maria Leczinska. She esteemed his
virtues, but often diverted herself at the expense of his simplicity. One
day, when the conversation turned on the noble military, actions by which
the French nobility was distinguished, the Queen said to the Count: 'And
your family, M. de Tesse, has been famous, too, in the field.'--'Ah,
Madame, we have all been killed in our masters' service!'--'How rejoiced I
am,' replied the Queen, 'that you have revived to tell me of it.' The son
of this worthy M. de Tesse was married to the amiable and highly gifted
daughter of the Duc d'Ayen, afterwards Marechale de Noailles. He was
exceedingly fond of his daughter-in-law, and never could speak of her
without emotion. The Queen, to please him, often talked to him about the
young Countess, and one day asked him which of her good qualities seemed
to him most conspicuous. 'Her gentleness, Madame, her gentleness,' said
he, with tears in his eyes; 'she is so mild, so soft,--as soft as a good
carriage.'--'Well,' said her Majesty, 'that's an excellent comparison for
a first equerry.'
"In 1730 Queen Maria Leczinska, going to mass, met old Marechal Villars,
leaning on a wooden crutch not worth fifteen pence. She rallied him about
it, and the Marshal told her that he had used it ever since he had
received a wound which obliged him to add this article to the equipments
of the army. Her Majesty, smiling, said she thought this crutch so
unworthy of him that she hoped to induce him to give it up. On returning
home she despatched M. Campan to Paris with orders to purchase at the
celebrated Germain's the handsomest cane, with a gold enamelled crutch,
that he could find, and carry it without delay to Marechal Villars's
hotel, and present it to him from her. He was announced accordingly, and
fulfilled his commission. The Marshal, in attending him to the door,
requested him to express his gratitude to the Queen, and said that he had
nothing fit to offer to an officer who had the honour to belong to her
Majesty; but he begged him to accept of his old stick, saying that his
grandchildren would probably some day be glad to possess the cane with
which he had commanded at Marchiennes and Denain. The known frugality of
Marechal Villars appears in this anecdote; but he was not mistaken with
respect to the estimation in which his stick would be held. It was
thenceforth kept with veneration by M. Campan's family. On the 10th of
August, 1792, a house which I occupied on the Carrousel, at the entrance
of the Court of the Tuileries, was pillaged and nearly burnt down. The
cane of Marechal Villars was thrown into the Carrousel as of no value, and
picked up by my servant. Had its old master been living at that period we
should not have witnessed such a deplorable day.
"Before the Revolution there were customs and words in use at Versailles
with which few people were acquainted. The King's dinner was called 'The
King's meat.' Two of the Body Guard accompanied the attendants who
carried the dinner; every one rose as they passed through the halls,
saying, 'There is the King's meat.' All precautionary duties were
distinguished by the words 'in case.' One of the guards might be heard to
say, 'I am in case in the forest of St. Germain.' In the evening they
always brought the Queen a large bowl of broth, a cold roast fowl, one
bottle of wine, one of orgeat, one of lemonade, and some other articles,
which were called the 'in case' for the night. An old medical gentleman,
who had been physician in ordinary to Louis XIV., and was still living at
the time of the marriage of Louis XV., told M. Campan's father an anecdote
which seems too remarkable to have remained unknown; nevertheless he was a
man of honour, incapable of inventing this story. His name was Lafosse.
He said that Louis XIV. was informed that the officers of his table
evinced, in the most disdainful and offensive manner, the mortification
they felt at being obliged to eat at the table of the comptroller of the
kitchen along with Moliere, valet de chambre to his Majesty, because
Moliere had performed on the stage; and that this celebrated author
consequently declined appearing at that table. Louis XIV., determined to
put an end to insults which ought never to have been offered to one of the
greatest geniuses of the age, said to him one morning at the hour of his
private levee, 'They say you live very poorly here, Moliere; and that the
officers of my chamber do not find you good enough to eat with them.
Perhaps you are hungry; for my part I awoke with a very good appetite this
morning: sit down at this table. Serve up my 'in case' for the night
there.' The King, then cutting up his fowl, and ordering Moliere to sit
down, helped him to a wing, at the same time taking one for himself, and
ordered the persons entitled to familiar entrance, that is to say the most
distinguished and favourite people at Court, to be admitted. 'You see
me,' said the King to them, 'engaged in entertaining Moliere, whom my
valets de chambre do not consider sufficiently good company for them.'
From that time Moliere never had occasion to appear at the valets' table;
the whole Court was forward enough to send him invitations.
"M. de Lafosse used also to relate that a brigade-major of the Body Guard,
being ordered to place the company in the little theatre at Versailles,
very roughly turned out one of the King's comptrollers who had taken his
seat on one of the benches, a place to which his newly acquired office
entitled him. In vain he insisted on his quality and his right. The
altercation was ended by the brigade-major in these words: 'Gentlemen Body
Guards, do your duty.' In this case their duty was to turn the offender
out at the door. This comptroller, who had paid sixty or eighty thousand
francs for his appointment, was a man of a good family, and had had the
honour of serving his Majesty five and twenty years in one of his
regiments; thus ignominiously driven out of the hall, he placed himself in
the King's way in the great hall of the Guards, and, bowing to his
Majesty, requested him to vindicate the honour of an old soldier who had
wished to end his days in his Prince's civil employment, now that age had
obliged him to relinquish his military service. The King stopped, heard
his story, and then ordered him to follow him. His Majesty attended the
representation in a sort of amphitheatre, in which his armchair was
placed; behind him was a row of stools for the captain of the Guards, the
first gentleman of the chamber, and other great officers. The
brigade-major was entitled to one of these places; the King stopped
opposite the seat which ought to have been occupied by that officer and
said to the comptroller, 'Take, monsieur, for this evening, the place near
my person of him who has offended you, and let the expression of my
displeasure at this unjust affront satisfy you instead of any other
reparation:
"During the latter years of the reign of Louis XIV. he never went out but
in a chair carried by porters, and he showed a great regard for a man
named D'Aigremont, one of those porters who always went in front and
opened the door of the chair. The slightest preference shown by
sovereigns, even to the meanest of their servants, never fails to excite
observation.
[People of the very first rank did not disdain to descend to the level of
D'Aigremont. "Lauzun," said the Duchesse d'Orleans in her "Memoirs,"
"sometimes affects stupidity in order to show people their own with
impunity, for he is very malicious. In order to make Marechal de Tease
feel the impropriety of his familiarity with people of the common sort, he
called out, in the drawing-room at Marly, 'Marechal, give me a pinch of
snuff; some of your best, such as you take in the morning with Monsieur
d'Aigremont, the chairman.'"--NOTE BY THE EDITOR.]
The King had done something for this man's numerous family, and frequently
talked to him. An abbe belonging to the chapel thought proper to request
D'Aigremont to present a memorial to the King, in which he requested his
Majesty to grant him a benefice. Louis XIV. did not approve of the
liberty thus taken by his chairman, and said to him, in a very angry tone,
'D'Aigremont, you have been made to do a very unbecoming act, and I am
sure there must be simony in the case.'--'No, Sire, there is not the least
ceremony in the case, I assure you,' answered the poor man, in great
consternation; 'the abbe only said he would give me a hundred
Louis.'--'D'Aigremont,' said the King, 'I forgive you on account of your
ignorance and candour. I will give you the hundred Louis out of my privy
purse; but I will discharge you the very next time you venture to present
a memorial to me.'
"Louis XIV. was very kind to those of his servants who were nearest his
person; but the moment he assumed his royal deportment, those who were
most accustomed to see him in his domestic character were as much
intimidated as if they were appearing in his presence for the first time
in their lives. Some of the members of his Majesty's civil household,
then called 'commensalite', enjoying the title of equerry, and the
privileges attached to officers of the King's household, had occasion to
claim some prerogatives, the exercise of which the municipal body of St.
Germain, where they resided, disputed with them. Being assembled in
considerable numbers in that town, they obtained the consent of the
minister of the household to allow them to send a deputation to the King;
and for that purpose chose from amongst them two of his Majesty's valets
de chambre named Bazire and Soulaigre. The King's levee being over, the
deputation of the inhabitants of the town of St. Germain was called in.
They entered with confidence; the King looked at them, and assumed his
imposing attitude. Bazire, one of these valets de chambre, was about to
speak, but Louis the Great was looking on him. He no longer saw the
Prince he was accustomed to attend at home; he was intimidated, and could
not find words; he recovered, however, and began as usual with the word
Sire. But timidity again overpowered him, and finding himself unable to
recollect the slightest particle of what he came to say, he repeated the
word Sire several times, and at length concluded by paying, 'Sire, here is
Soulaigre.' Soulaigre, who was very angry with Bazire, and expected to
acquit himself much better, then began to speak; but he also, after
repeating 'Sire' several times, found his embarrassment increasing upon
him, until his confusion equalled that of his colleague; he therefore
ended with 'Sire, here is Bazire.' The King smiled, and answered,
'Gentlemen, I have been informed of the business upon which you have been
deputed to wait on me, and I will take care that what is right shall be
done. I am highly satisfied with the manner in which you have fulfilled
your functions as deputies.'"
Mademoiselle Genet's education was the object of her father's particular
attention. Her progress in the study of music and of foreign languages
was surprising; Albaneze instructed her in singing, and Goldoni taught her
Italian. Tasso, Milton, Dante, and even Shakespeare, soon became familiar
to her. But her studies were particularly directed to the acquisition of
a correct and elegant style of reading. Rochon de Chabannes, Duclos,
Barthe, Marmontel, and Thomas took pleasure in hearing her recite the
finest scenes of Racine. Her memory and genius at the age of fourteen
charmed them; they talked of her talents in society, and perhaps applauded
them too highly.
She was soon spoken of at Court. Some ladies of high rank, who took an
interest in the welfare of her family, obtained for her the place of
Reader to the Princesses. Her presentation, and the circumstances which
preceded it, left a strong impression on her mind. "I was then fifteen,"
she says; "my father felt some regret at yielding me up at so early an age
to the jealousies of the Court. The day on which I first put on my Court
dress, and went to embrace him in his study, tears filled his eyes, and
mingled with the expression of his pleasure. I possessed some agreeable
talents, in addition to the instruction which it had been his delight to
bestow on me. He enumerated all my little accomplishments, to convince me
of the vexations they would not fail to draw upon me."
Mademoiselle Genet, at fifteen, was naturally less of a philosopher than
her father was at forty. Her eyes were dazzled by the splendour which
glittered at Versailles. "The Queen, Maria Leczinska, the wife of Louis
XV., died," she says, "just before I was presented at Court. The grand
apartments hung with black, the great chairs of state, raised on several
steps, and surmounted by a canopy adorned with Plumes; the caparisoned
horses, the immense retinue in Court mourning, the enormous
shoulder-knots, embroidered with gold and silver spangles, which decorated
the coats of the pages and footmen,--all this magnificence had such an
effect on my senses that I could scarcely support myself when introduced
to the Princesses. The first day of my reading in the inner apartment of
Madame Victoire I found it impossible to pronounce more than two
sentences; my heart palpitated, my voice faltered, and my sight failed.
How well understood was the potent magic of the grandeur and dignity which
ought to surround sovereigns! Marie Antoinette, dressed in white, with a
plain straw hat, and a little switch in her hand, walking on foot,
followed by a single servant, through the walks leading to the Petit
Trianon, would never have thus disconcerted me; and I believe this extreme
simplicity was the first and only real mistake of all those with which she
is reproached."
When once her awe and confusion had subsided, Mademoiselle Genet was
enabled to form a more accurate judgment of her situation. It was by no
means attractive; the Court of the Princesses, far removed from the revels
to which Louie XV. was addicted, was grave, methodical, and dull. Madame
Adelaide, the eldest of the Princesses, lived secluded in the interior of
her apartments; Madame Sophie was haughty; Madame Louise a devotee.
Mademoiselle Genet never quitted the Princesses' apartments; but she
attached herself most particularly to Madame Victoire. This Princess had
possessed beauty; her countenance bore an expression of benevolence, and
her conversation was kind, free, and unaffected. The young reader excited
in her that feeling which a woman in years, of an affectionate
disposition, readily extends to young people who are growing up in her
sight, and who possess some useful talents. Whole days were passed in
reading to the Princess, as she sat at work in her apartment. Mademoiselle
Genet frequently saw there Louis XV., of whom she has related the
following anecdote: