FRANCE AND AUSTRIA.
While the king was closeted with Madame Adelaide, the queen, on her
side, was receiving her royal household. This ceremony over, she had
gladly retired to the privacy of her own room, there to restore order to
her confused mind.
But her rest was not of long duration, for presently came Monsieur de
Campan to announce the visit of the Austrian ambassador.
The queen received him most cordially, rising from her seat, and
advancing a few steps to meet him. Madame de Noailles, who, conforming
to etiquette, had entered with Monsieur de Campan, and was to remain in
the room during the interview, was shocked at the queen, and frowned
visibly.
Marie Antoinette paid no attention to her. She reached her hand to Count
von Mercy, and allowed him to press it to his lips.
Again Madame de Noailles was horror-stricken. The kissing of the queen's
hand was a state ceremonial, and was inadmissible in private.
The queen had forgotten the existence of her mistress of ceremonies.
With sparkling eyes and beaming smiles she greeted the old count, who,
to her, was the representative of all that she loved--her mother, her
sisters, and her native country.
"Have you news for me from Vienna, count?" said she, in a voice whose
tones were strikingly like those of her mother.
"I bring to your majesty letters of condolence and of congratulation
from the empress and the emperor."
"Why, you must be a conjurer, count. Our reign is not twenty-four hours
old yet, and you bring us congratulations from Vienna?"
"I will explain, your majesty," said the old count, with a smile. "You
remember, that more than a week ago the king lay in a stupor, which, for
some hours, was supposed to be death. During his stupor, my courier
started for Vienna, and the messenger sent after him, to stop the
dispatches, arrived too late. The answers had been sent, and there are
the congratulatory letters."
The count handed his papers, and as the queen cast down her beautiful
eyes to read the address, she exclaimed, joyfully:
"My mother's handwriting and my brother's!"
She broke the seal of the empress's letter, and her countenance fell.
"Nothing but official papers," said she, sighing and putting them on the
table. "I know the contents of Joseph's letter without reading it. Have
you no news for me from Vienna? Think of something to tell me from home,
dear count."
Count von Mercy cast a stolen glance at the mistress of ceremonies, who,
stiff and watchful, stood close by the side of the queen's chair. Marie
Antoinette understood the look.
"Madame de Noailles" said she, turning with a smile to address her, "you
will not, I hope, think me rude, if I request you to allow me a few
moments interview with Count von Mercy. He has something to say to me
that is of a strictly confidential nature."
The mistress of ceremonies did not appear to have heard a word of this
address. Marie Antoinette reddened, and threw back her head.
"I request Madame de Noailles," repeated she, changing her tone, "to
retire into the reception-room. I wish to speak with Count von Mercy
alone."
"I must be permitted to say that your majesty's request cannot be
granted," replied Madame de Noailles. "No Queen of France is permitted
to receive a foreign ambassador otherwise than in the presence of the
court. I shall have to ask his majesty's pardon for a breach of decorum,
which I was too late to prevent--the reception of the ambassador here
with myself alone to witness the interview."
The queen's eyes flashed with anger as she listened to this presumptuous
language.
"You will have to ask pardon of no one but myself, madame, for your
unseemly language to your sovereign."
"Excuse me, your majesty, I perform my duty, and this requires of me to
see that no one here commits any breach of court etiquette. The laws of
etiquette are as binding upon the queen as upon her subjects--and she
cannot infringe them."
"I announce to you, madame, that no laws of yours shall be binding upon
me. The Queen of France is here to make laws--not to receive them. And
for the last time I command you to quit this room, and to leave me alone
with the representative of my imperial mother."
Madame de Noailles made a deep courtesy, and backed out of the room.
Marie Antoinette looked after her, until the last traces of her long
train had vanished, and the silk portiere had fallen in its place.
"Ah!" said she, taking a long breath, "at last I have gained a victory.
It is now my turn to lecture, and madame has received her first
scolding. Well, count, now that she is fairly off, what have you to tell
me from Vienna?"
Count von Mercy looked toward the door, and having convinced himself
that it was well closed, he drew from his pocket a package, and
presented it to the queen.
Marie Antoinette hastily tore open the seals and began to read.
"Oh!" said she, with a disappointed look, "this is no private letter. It
is nothing but a letter of instructions, directing me how to win the
king's confidence, so as to influence his policy and secure a new ally
to Austria. The empress need not remind me that I must look to the
interests of the house of Hapsburg. The Queen of France will never
forget that she is the daughter of Maria Theresa, and she will do all in
her power to promote an alliance between France and Austria. Tell my
mother that I never will cease to be her subject, and that her interests
shall always be mine. And now for the other mission."
"Good Heaven!" cried she, after opening the letter, "more politics." She
looked down the page, and read: "Personages whom I recommend as suitable
for the counsellors and household of the king."
This was quite a long list in the empress's handwriting, and at its head
stood the name of the Duke de Choiseul. "The Queen of France must use
every effort to secure his appointment as minister, for he is sincerely
attached to us."
Many other distinguished names were there; but not one of those which
had been mentioned by the king's father.
"I will preserve this paper with care," said Marie Antoinette, burying
her letters deep in her pocket. "No doubt, you know their contents,
count. A postscript says, 'Consult frequently with Mercy;' so let us
begin at once."
"Will your majesty not read the letter of the emperor?"
"Why should I read it now? It grieves me to see these political
documents from the hands of dear relatives who ought to write to me of
home and love. I will put it with the official letter of the empress for
the king to read."
"Pardon me, your majesty, but I do not think it is official."
"Read it for me, then," said the queen, throwing herself back in the
deep recesses of her arm-chair. "I have confidence enough in you to be
willing that you shall see my brother's letter, should it even be a
private one."
Count von Mercy bowed, and unfolded the letter, which was as follows:
"Madame: I congratulate you upon your husband's accession to the throne
of France. He will repair the faults of his predecessor's reign, and win
the love of his people. The French nation has groaned under the
inflictions of a king who not only proscribed parliament, but intrusted
every office of state to his favorites. He banished De Choiseul,
Malesherbes, and Chalotais; and in their stead elevated the Maurepas,
the D'Aiguillons, and that hateful Abbe Terray, who, for rapacity, were
none of them better than Du Barry--and thus he ended by losing the love
of his subjects. I have often pitied Louis XV. for degrading himself as
he did before the eyes of his family, his subjects, and the world.
"Unite your efforts to those of your husband, that you may win the love
of the French nation. Leave no stone unturned to secure their affection,
for, by so doing, you will prove a blessing to your people.
"Strengthen our alliance with France, and apply yourself to the mission
for which you were educated--that of peace-maker between two of the most
important powers of Europe.
"I kiss your hands, and remain, with the highest esteem and
consideration, your majesty's friend and brother,
"Joseph." [Footnote: "Letters of Joseph II, as Characteristic
Contributions," etc., p. 20.]
"You are right, count," said the queen, as the ambassador concluded his
reading. "This is no official document, but a most significant letter of
instructions. I am expected to preserve peace between France and
Austria. Ah, I fear that I am not calculated to walk the slippery arena
of politics, and I confess to you that I feel in no wise drawn toward
it. It does seem to me that a queen of nineteen may be pardoned if she
feels some desire to enjoy life. I intend to begin by breaking the
fetters which have hitherto made such wretched puppets of the queens of
France; and before long you will see the workings of my court
revolution. But there is one thing near to my heart, which you must
assist me to compass. The Duke de Choiseul must be minister of foreign
affairs. I know that he desires it, and I am under obligations to him
which deserve some return. I owe it to him that I am Queen of France.
Now, if I succeed in elevating Choiseul to the ministry," continued the
queen, with an appealing smile, "I hope that Austria will be satisfied,
and will allow me to retire from the field. The Duke de Choiseul will be
a much abler auxiliary than I, near the king. We must, therefore, have
him recalled."
"The duke arrived in Paris from Chanteloup this morning, but does not
think it advisable to present himself, until he receives a message from
the king."
"I shall see that the message is sent," said Marie Antoinette,
confidently. "The king will not refuse me, I know. You shrug your
shoulders, count. Do you think it doubtful?"
"Your majesty condescends to speak confidentially with me," said the
count, seriously. "I am an old servant of your house, and my hair has
grown gray in its service. In consideration, then, of the deep affection
which I have ever felt for your majesty, will you allow me to speak with
you frankly?"
"I implore you, count, to do so."
"Then, your majesty, let me warn you to be careful. Things do not work
at this French court as they ought to do. Your majesty has bitter
enemies, who await an opportunity to declare themselves openly. The
Count of Provence and the aunts of the king are at the head, and,
believe me, they are watchful spies."
"Oh, my God!" cried the poor young queen, "what have I done to earn
their enmity?"
"You are an Austrian princess, and that suffices for them. Your marriage
was a victory over the anti-Austrian party, for which the Duke de
Choiseul never will be forgiven; and as for yourself, if you give them
the opportunity, they will not scruple to take revenge upon your own
royal person. The Count of Provence has a sharp tongue, and his aunts
and himself will spare no means to wound or to injure you. Therefore,
pardon me, if again I bid you beware of your enemies. There is Madame de
Noailles, for instance, she belongs to the most powerful families in
France, and the French nation regard her as the palladium of the queen's
honor. Your majesty cannot afford to offend her. It would be a great
misfortune for you, if she should resign her office; for her resignation
would place on the list of your enemies all the most influential nobles
in France."
"Is that all?" asked the queen, with a painful blush.
"Yes, your majesty; and I thank you for your condescension in listening
so long."
"Then hear me," said Marie Antoinette, rising and standing proudly
before him. "You tell me that I have enemies. Be it so, and may God
forgive them! But it were unworthy the daughter of Maria Theresa to
stoop to conciliate them. With visor raised, and front exposed, I stand
before them. My blameless life shall be my defence, for I will so live
that all France shall be my champions. As for Madame de Noailles, I will
make no concessions to her. My virtue needs no more protection from
etiquette than that of any other woman. Heretofore the Queens of France
have been nothing but Marionettes in the hands of their high-born
duennas. I intend to transform the puppets into women, whom the French
nation can love and esteem, for I wish my people to know that their
queen's virtue is not a thing of form, but the veritable overflowing of
a heart aspiring to perfection."
"Right royally spoken!" said a soft voice behind, and the queen
starting, beheld the king, who, having opened the door quietly, had
heard her last words.