THE NEW FASHIONS AND THEIR UNHAPPY RESULTS.
A murmur of surprise and admiration was heard among the ladies, when the
queen appeared in the reception-room. The Countess of Provence could
scarcely retain her discontent, as she surveyed the magnificent costume
of her beautiful sister-in-law.
For a few moments the queen enjoyed the pleasure of being sincerely
admired. Then, advancing to the princess, she took her hand and said:
"Oblige me, dear sister, by dining with the king and myself en famille.
Let us have a social meal together to-day."
"Certainly, your majesty, I will do so with pleasure; but what you are
pleased to call a family dinner will lose all its charm through the
curiosity of your majesty's admirers, who come from Paris, from
Versailles, and from all the ends of the earth, to look at the royal
family taking their dinner."
"Not at all," said the queen, eagerly. "I look upon this daily
exhibition as a tyrannical custom, which must be abolished. It is too
hard that we cannot have our meals in private, but must be gazed at like
animals, and denied the privilege of confidential intercourse. I have
submitted to be stared at for four years, but the queen is not to be
ruled as the dauphiness has been. We shall dine to-day en famille, and
from this time the public have access to our dining-room no more."
"That is delightful news," answered the princess, "but I pity the good
people who are coming in expectation of seeing your majesty at table."
"They will return to their homes," said the queen, slightly raising her
shoulders, "and when they reflect coolly on the subject, they will
certainly not think less of me because I prefer to dine like the rest of
the world. I believe that if we desire popularity with the people, we
must show them that we have feeling hearts like themselves, and it is by
such means that I hope to gain the love of the French nation."
The princess was secretly vexed at the honesty and purity of the queen's
motives, but she forced a smile, and replied: "You have already
succeeded in doing so: for the French people adore you; and if they
could only see you to-day in that piquant head-dress, they would verify
the saying of the mayor of Paris: 'Your majesty beholds in us a hundred
thousand lovers.' "
Marie Antoinette laughed. "Quite a respectable army," said she slightly
blushing; "but to complete its worth it must be commanded by the king.
How surprised he will be to see us dining in private!"
"His majesty has not been consulted?"
"It is a surprise which I have in store for him. He has often bewailed
this stupid custom, but dared not complain, for fear of remarks. I am
less timid than he, and I am about to give you a proof of the same."
"Madame de Noailles," added she, aloud, "inform the ushers that while
the royal family are at dinner no strangers will be admitted to the
dining-room. The privilege of entrance shall cease from to-day."
The countess had been awaiting her opportunity to speak.
"Your majesty," said she, with an expression of painful anxiety, "I
entreat of you not to revoke that privilege! Believe me when I tell you
that it is dangerous to interfere with customs which are so old that the
people have grown to look upon them as right. Ever since the days of
Francis I the royal family has dined in public, and every decently-clad
person has enjoyed the privilege of entering the banquet-room. Moreover,
allow me to observe to your majesty that this public meal is an express
ceremony of the French court, and it is indispensable to its dignity."
"Etiquette, madame," replied Marie Antoinette, "is not made for
sovereigns, but regulated by them. You speak of the people's rights;
allow me to claim something for mine. It has ever been the habit of
kings and queens to give commands, not to receive them. Let me,
therefore, advise you to strike out from your code of etiquette the rule
which obliges us to dine in public, and to insert in its stead the
following: `On days of festivals or of public rejoicing, the people will
be admitted to the king's dining-room.' And now, sister, let us take a
turn in the park."
So saying, the queen took the arm of the princess, and, followed by the
ladies in waiting, they went out upon the terrace. Madame de Noailles
remained behind in the large, empty reception-room. Her face was pale
and troubled, and she leaned despondently against the high back of an
arm-chair near that from which the queen had just risen.
"Royalty totters on its throne!" murmured she, in a low voice. "This
woman's bold hand is shaking the pillars of her own temple, and when it
falls it will bury both king and queen under its fragments. She laughs
at etiquette as ridiculous despotism; she does not know that it is the
halo that renders her sacred in the eyes of the people. I see the
tempest lowering," continued the mistress of ceremonies, after a
thoughtful pause. "The queen is surrounded by enemies whom she defies,
and those who would be her friends she alienates by her haughtiness. In
the innocence of her thoughtless heart, what unhappy precedents has she
established this day! They are the dragon's teeth that will grow armed
men to destroy their sower. She despises conventionalities and braves
old customs. She does not know how dearly she will pay for her milliner,
her hair-dresser, and her dinners in private! I have done my duty. I
have warned and remonstrated, and will continue to do so as long as my
patience and honor can endure the humiliations to which I am
exposed--but no longer! By the Heaven that hears me--no longer!"
The countess was right. The apparently trifling incidents of the day
were fraught with mournful consequences to the queen. Heretofore she had
been remarked for her simplicity of dress; from the introduction of
Bertin and Leonard into her household she dressed with rare
magnificence. Not only the ladies of the court, but those of the city,
followed her extravagance at a distance. They must wear the same jewels,
the same flowers, the same costly silks and laces. Ostrich-feathers
became the rage, and they were soon so scarce that fabulous prices were
paid to import them for the use of the Frenchwomen.
The trousseau of a young beauty became as important as her dowry.
Mothers and husbands sighed, and at last ended by abusing the queen. It
was she who had set the example of this wasteful luxury in dress; she
who had bewitched all the women, so that they had gone mad for a feather
or a flower. Strife was in every house. Parents were at variance with
their children; marriages were broken off through the exactions of the
brides; and on all sides the blame of everybody's domestic troubles fell
upon the shoulders of the queen.