Book: The Secret Memoirs of Louis XV./XVI, Complete

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"There was much more attempted to be made of another instance, in which I
exercised the duty of my office, than the truth justified--the nightly
promenades on the terrace at Versailles, or at Trianon. Though no
amusement could have been more harmless or innocent for a private
individual, yet I certainly, disapproved it for a Queen, and therefore
withheld the sanction of my attendance. My sole objection was on the
score of dignity. I well knew that Du Barry and her infamous party were
constant spies upon the Queen on every occasion of such a nature; and
that they would not fail to exaggerate her every movement to her
prejudice. Though Du Barry could not form one of the party, which was a
great source of heartburning, it was easy for her, under the
circumstances, to mingle with the throng. When I suggested these
objections to the Queen, Her Majesty, feeling no inward cause of
reproach, and being sanctioned in what she did by the King himself,
laughed at the idea of these little excursions affording food for
scandal. I assured Her Majesty that I had every reason to be convinced
that Du Barry was often in disguise, not far from the seat where Her
Majesty and the Princesse Elizabeth could be overheard in their most
secret conversations with each other. 'Listeners,' replied the Queen,
'never hear any good of themselves.'

"'My dear Lamballe,' she continued, 'you have taken such a dislike to
this woman that you cannot conceive she can be occupied but in mischief.
This is uncharitable. She certainly has no reason to be dissatisfied
with either the King or myself. We have both left her in the full
enjoyment of all she possessed, except the right of appearing at Court or
continuing in the society her conduct had too long disgraced.'

"I said it was very true, but that I should be happier to find Her
Majesty so scrupulous as never to give an opportunity even for the
falsehoods of her enemies.

"Her Majesty turned the matter off, as usual, by saying she had no idea
of injuring others, and could not believe that any one would wantonly
injure her, adding, 'The Duchess and the Princesse Elizabeth, my two
sisters, and all the other ladies, are coming to hear the concert this
evening, and you will be delighted.'

"I excused myself under the plea of the night air disagreeing with my
health, and returned to Versailles without ever making myself one of the
nocturnal members of Her Majesty's society, well knowing she could
dispense with my presence, there being more than enough ever ready to
hurry her by their own imprudence into the folly of despising criticisms,
which I always endeavoured to avoid, though I did not fear them. Of
these I cannot but consider her secretary as one. The following
circumstance connected with the promenades is a proof:

"The Abbe Vermond was present one day when Marie Antoinette observed that
she felt rather indisposed. I attributed it to Her Majesty's having
lightened her dress and exposed herself too much to the night air.
'Heavens, madame!' cried the Abbe, 'would you always have Her Majesty
cased up in steel armour, and not take the fresh air, without being
surrounded by a troop of horse and foot, as a Field-marshal is when going
to storm a fortress? Pray, Princess, now that Her Majesty, has freed
herself from the annoying shackles of Madame Etiquette (the Comtesse de
Noailles), let her enjoy the pleasure of a simple robe and breathe freely
the fresh morning dew, as has been her custom all her life (and as her
mother before her, the Empress Maria Theresa, has done and continues to
do, even to this day), unfettered by antiquated absurdities! Let me be
anything rather than a Queen of France, if I must be doomed to the
slavery of such tyrannical rules!'

"'True; but, sir,' replied I, 'you should reflect that if you were a
Queen of France, France, in making you mistress of her destinies, and
placing you at the head of her nation, would in return look for respect
from you to her customs and manners. I am born an Italian, but I
renounced all national peculiarities of thinking and acting the moment I
set my foot on French ground.'

"'And so did I,' said Marie Antoinette.

"'I know you did, Madame,' I answered; but I am replying to your
preceptor; and I only wish he saw things in the same light I do. When we
are at Rome, we should do as Rome does. You have never had a regicide
Bertrand de Gurdon, a Ravillac or a Damiens in Germany; but they have
been common in France, and the Sovereigns of France cannot be too
circumspect in their maintenance of ancient etiquette to command the
dignified respect of a frivolous and versatile people.'

"The Queen, though she did not strictly adhere to my counsels or the
Abbe's advice, had too much good sense to allow herself to be prejudiced
against me by her preceptor; but the Abbe never entered on the propriety
or impropriety of the Queen's conduct before me, and from the moment I
have mentioned studiously avoided, in my presence, anything which could
lead to discussion on the change of dress and amusements introduced by
Her Majesty.

"Although I disapproved of Her Majesty's deviations from established
forms in this, or, indeed, any respect, yet I never, before or after,
expressed my opinion before a third person.

"Never should I have been so firmly and so long attached to Marie
Antoinette, had I not known that her native thorough goodness of heart
had been warped and misguided, though acting at the same time with the
best intentions, by a false notion of her real innocence being a
sufficient shield against the public censure of such innovations upon
national prejudices, as she thought prayer to introduce,--the fatal error
of conscious rectitude, encouraged in its regardlessness of appearances
by those very persons who well knew that it is only by appearances a
nation can judge of its rulers.

"I remember a ludicrous circumstance arising from the Queen's innocent
curiosity, in which, if there were anything to blame, I myself am to be
censured for lending myself to it so heartily to satisfy Her Majesty.

"When the Chevalier d'Eon was allowed to return to France, Her Majesty
expressed a particular inclination to see this extraordinary character.
From prudential as well as political motives, she was at first easily
persuaded to repress her desire. However, by a most ludicrous
occurrence, it was revived, and nothing would do but she must have a
sight of the being who had for some time been the talk of every society,
and at the period to which I allude was become the mirth of all Paris.

"The Chevalier being one day in a very large party of both sexes, in
which, though his appearance had more of the old soldier in it than of
the character he was compelled 'malgre lui', to adopt, many of the
guests having no idea to what sex this nondescript animal really
belonged, the conversation after dinner happened to turn on the manly
exercise of fencing.

[It may be necessary to observe here that the Chevalier, having for some
particular motives been banished from France, was afterwards permitted to
return only on condition of never appearing but in the disguised dress of
a female, though he was always habited in the male costume underneath
it.]

Heated by a subject to him so interesting, the Chevalier, forgetful of
the respect due to his assumed garb, started from his seat, and, pulling
up his petticoats, threw himself on guard. Though dressed in male
attire underneath, this sudden freak sent all the ladies--and many of
the gentlemen out of the room in double--quick time. The Chevalier,
however, instantly recovering from the first impulse, quietly pat down
his, upper garment, and begged pardon in, a gentlemanly manner for
having for a moment deviated from the forma of his imposed situation.
All, the gossips of Paris were presently amused with the story, which,
of coarse, reached the Court, with every droll particular of the pulling
up and clapping down the cumbrous paraphernalia of a hoop petticoat.

"The King and Queen, from the manner in which they enjoyed the tale when
told them (and certainly it lost nothing in the report), would not have
been the least amused of the party had they been present. His Majesty
shook the room with laughing, and the Queen, the Princesse Elizabeth, and
the other ladies were convulsed at the description.

"When we were alone, 'How I should like,' said the Queen, 'to see this
curious man-woman!'--'Indeed,' replied I, 'I have not less curiosity than
yourself, and I think we may contrive to let Your Majesty have a peep at
him--her, I mean!--without compromising your dignity, or offending the
Minister who interdicted the Chevalier from appearing in your presence. I
know he has expressed the greatest mortification, and that his wish to
see Your Majesty is almost irrepressible.'

"'But how will you be able to contrive this without its being known to
the King, or to the Comte de Vergennes, who would never forgive me?'
exclaimed Her Majesty.

"'Why, on Sunday, when you go to chapel, I will cause him, by some means
or other, to make his appearance, en grande costume, among the group of
ladies who are generally waiting there to be presented to Your Majesty.'

"'Oh, you charming creature!' said the Queen. 'But won't the Minister
banish or exile him for it?'

"'No, no! He has only been forbidden an audience of Your Majesty at
Court,' I replied.

"In good earnest, on the Sunday following, the Chevalier was dressed en
costume, with a large hoop, very long train, sack, five rows of ruffles,
an immensely high powdered female wig, very beautiful lappets, white
gloves, an elegant fan in his hand, his beard closely shaved, his neck
and ears adorned with diamond rings and necklaces, and assuming all the
airs and graces of a fine lady!

"But, unluckily, his anxiety was so great, the moment the Queen made her
appearance, to get a sight of Her Majesty, that, on rushing before the
other ladies, his wig and head-dress fell off his head; and, before they
could be well replaced, he made so, ridiculous a figure, by clapping
them, in his confusion, hind part before, that the King, the Queen, and
the whole suite, could scarcely refrain from laughing; aloud in the
church.

"Thus ended the long longed for sight of this famous man-woman!

"As to me, it was a great while before I could recover myself. Even now,
I laugh whenever I think of this great lady deprived of her head
ornaments, with her bald pate laid bare, to the derision of such a
multitude of Parisians, always prompt to divert themselves at the expense
of others. However, the affair passed off unheeded, and no one but the
Queen and myself ever knew that we ourselves had been innocently the
cause of this comical adventure. When we met after Mass, we were so
overpowered, that neither of us could speak for laughing. The Bishop who
officiated said it was lucky he had no sermon to preach that day, for it
would have been difficult for him to have recollected himself, or to have
maintained his gravity. The ridiculous appearance of the Chevalier, he
added, was so continually presenting itself before him during the service
that it was as much as he could do to restrain himself from laughing, by
keeping his eyes constantly riveted on the book. Indeed, the oddity of
the affair was greatly heightened when, in the middle of the Mass, some
charitable hand having adjusted the wig of the Chevalier, he re-entered
the chapel as if nothing had happened, and, placing himself exactly
opposite the altar, with his train upon his arm, stood fanning himself, a
la coquette, with an inflexible self-possession which only rendered it
the more difficult for those around him to maintain their composure.

"Thus ended the Queen's curiosity. The result only made the Chevalier's
company in greater request, for every one became more anxious than ever
to know the masculine lady who had lost her wig!"





BOOK 2.


SECTION I.


[From the time that the Princesse de Lamballe saw the ties between the
Queen and her favourite De Polignac drawing closer she became less
assiduous in her attendance at Court, being reluctant to importune the
friends by her presence at an intimacy which she did not approve. She
could not, however, withhold her accustomed attentions, as the period of
Her Majesty's accouchement approached; and she has thus noted the
circumstance of the birth of the Duchesse d'Angouleme, on the 19th of
December, 1778.]

"The moment for the accomplishment of the Queen's darling hope was now at
hand: she was about to become a mother.

"It had been agreed between Her Majesty and myself, that I was to place
myself so near the accoucheur, Vermond, as to be the first to
distinguish the sex of the new-born infant, and if she should be
delivered of a Dauphin to say, in Italian, 'Il figlio e nato.'

[Brother to the Abbe, whose pride was so great at this honour conferred
on his relative, that he never spoke of him without denominating him
Monsieur mon frere, d'accoucher de sa Majeste, Vermond.]

"Her Majesty was, however, foiled even in this the most blissful of her
desires. She was delivered of a daughter instead of a Dauphin.

"From the immense crowd that burst into the apartment the instant Vermond
said, The Queen is happily delivered, Her Majesty was nearly suffocated.
I had hold of her hand, and as I said 'La regina e andato', mistaking
'andato' for 'nato', between the joy of giving birth to a son and the
pressure of the crowd, Her Majesty fainted. Overcome by the dangerous
situation in which I saw my royal mistress, I myself was carried out of
the room in a lifeless state. The situation of Her Majesty was for some
time very doubtful, till the people were dragged with violence from about
her, that she might have air. On her recovering, the King was the first
person who told her that she was the mother of a very fine Princess.

"'Well, then,' said the Queen, 'I am like my mother, for at my birth she
also wished for a son instead of a daughter; and you have lost your
wager:' for the King had betted with Maria Theresa that it would be a
son.

"The King answered her by repeating the lines Metastasio had written on
that occasion.

"'Io perdei: l'augusta figlia
A pagar, m'a condemnato;
Ma s'e ver the a voi somiglia
Tutto il moudo ha guadagnato.'"

[The Princesse de Lamballe again ceased to be constantly about the Queen.
Her danger was over, she was a mother, and the attentions of
disinterested friendship were no longer indispensable. She herself about
this time met with a deep affliction. She lost both of her own parents;
and to her sorrows may, in a great degree, be ascribed her silence upon
the events which intervened between the birth of Madame and that of the
Dauphin. She was as assiduous as ever in her attentions to Her Majesty
on her second lying-in. The circumstances of the death of Maria Theresa,
the Queen's mother, in the interval which divided the two accouchements,
and Her Majesty's anguish, and refusal to see any but De Lamballe and De
Polignac, are too well known to detain us longer from the notes of the
Princess. It is enough for the reader to know that the friendship of Her
Majesty for her superintendent seemed to be gradually reviving in all its
early enthusiasm, by her unremitting kindness during the confinements of
the Queen, till, at length, they became more attached than ever. But, not
to anticipate, let me return to the narrative.]

"The public feeling had undergone a great change with respect to Her
Majesty from the time of her first accouchement. Still, she was not the
mother of a future King. The people looked upon her as belonging to them
more than she had done before, and faction was silenced by the general
delight. But she had not yet attained the climax of her felicity. A
second pregnancy gave a new excitement to the nation; and, at length, on
the 22nd October, 1781, dawned the day of hope.

"In consequence of what happened on the first accouchement, measures were
taken to prevent similar disasters on the second. The number admitted
into the apartment was circumscribed. The silence observed left the
Queen in uncertainty of the sex to which she had given birth, till, with
tears of joy, the King said to her: 'Madame, the hopes of the nation, and
mine, are fulfilled. You are the mother of a Dauphin.'

"The Princesse Elizabeth and myself were so overjoyed that we embraced
every one in the room.

"At this time Their Majesties were adored. Marie Antoinette, with all
her beauty and amiableness, was a mere cipher in the eyes of France
previous to her becoming the mother of an heir to the Crown; but her
popularity now arose to a pitch of unequalled enthusiasm.

"I have heard of but one expression to Her Majesty upon this occasion in
any way savouring of discontent. This came from the royal aunts. On
Marie Antoinette's expressing to them her joy in having brought a Dauphin
to the nation, they replied, 'We will only repeat our father's
observation on a similar subject. When one of our sisters complained to
his late Majesty that, as her Italian husband had copied the Dauphin's
whim, she could not, though long a bride, boast of being a wife, or hope
to become a mother--"a prudent Princess," replied Louis XV., "never wants
heirs!"' But the feeling of the royal aunts was an exception to the
general sentiment, which really seemed like madness.

"I remember a proof of this which happened at the time. Chancing to
cross the King's path as he was going to Marly and I coming from
Rambouillet, my two postillions jumped from their horses, threw
themselves on the high road upon their knees, though it was very dirty,
and remained there, offering up their benedictions, till he was out of
sight.

"The felicity of the Queen was too great not to be soon overcast. The
unbounded influence of the De Polignacs was now at its zenith. It could
not fail of being attacked. Every engine of malice, envy, and detraction
was let loose; and, in the vilest calumnies against the character of the
Duchess, her royal mistress was included.

"It was, in truth, a most singular fatality, in the life of Marie
Antoinette that she could do nothing, however beneficial or
disinterested, for which she was not either criticised or censured. She
had a tenacity, of character which made her cling more closely to
attachments from which she saw others desirous of estranging her; and
this firmness, however excellent in principle, was, in her case, fatal in
its effects. The Abbe Vermond, Her Majesty's confessor and tutor, and,
unfortunately, in many respects, her ambitious guide, was really alarmed
at the rising favour of the Duchess; and, though he knew the very
obstacles thrown in her way only strengthened her resolution as to any
favourite object, yet he ventured to head an intrigue to destroy the
great influence of the De Polignacs, which, as he might have foreseen,
only served to hasten their aggrandisement.

"At this crisis the dissipation of the Duc de Guemenee caused him to
become a bankrupt. I know not whether it can be said in principle, but
certainly it may in property, 'It is an ill wind that blows no one any
good.' The Princess, his wife, having been obliged to leave her
residence at Versailles, in consequence of the Duke's dismissal from the
King's service on account of the disordered state of his pecuniary
circumstances, the situation of governess to the royal children became
necessarily vacant, and was immediately transferred to the Duchesse de
Polignac. The Queen, to enable her friend to support her station with
all the eclat suitable to its dignity, took care to supply ample means
from her own private purse. A most magnificent suite of apartments was
ordered to be arranged, under the immediate inspection of the Queen's
maitre d'hotel, at Her Majesty's expense.

"Is there anything on earth more natural than the lively interest which
inspires a mother towards those who have the care of her offspring? What,
then, must have been the feelings of a Queen of France who had been
deprived of that blessing for which connubial attachments are formed, and
which, vice versa, constitutes the only real happiness of every young
female, what must have been, I say, the ecstasy of Marie Antoinette when
she not only found herself a mother, but the dear pledges of all her
future bliss in the hands of one whose friendship allowed her the
unrestrained exercise of maternal affection,--a climax of felicity
combining not only the pleasures of an ordinary mother, but the
greatness, the dignity, and the flattering popularity of a Queen of
France.

"Though the pension of the Duchesse de Polignac was no more than that
usually allotted to all former governesses of the royal children of
France, yet circumstances tempted her to a display not a little injurious
to her popularity as well as to that of her royal mistress. She gave too
many pretexts to imputations of extravagance. Yet she had neither
patronage, nor sinecures, nor immunities beyond the few inseparable from
the office she held, and which had been the same for centuries under the
Monarchy of France. But it must be remembered, as an excuse for the
splendour of her establishment, that she entered her office upon a
footing very different from that of any of her predecessors. Her mansion
was not the quiet, retired, simple household of the governess of the
royal children, as formerly: it had become the magnificent resort of the
first Queen in Europe; the daily haunt of Her Majesty. The Queen
certainly visited the former governess, as she had done the Duchesse de
Duras and many other frequenters of her Court parties; but she made the
Duchesse de Polignac's her Court; and all the courtiers of that Court,
and, I may say, the great personages of all France, as well as the
Ministers and all foreigners of distinction, held there their usual
rendezvous; consequently, there was nothing wanting but the guards in
attendance in the Queen's apartments to have made it a royal residence
suitable for the reception of the illustrious personages that were in the
constant habit of visiting these levees, assemblies, balls, routs,
picnics, dinner, supper, and card parties.

[I have seen ladies at the Princesse de Lamballe's come from these card
parties with their laps so blackened by the quantities of gold received
in them, that they have been obliged to change their dresses to go to
supper. Many a chevalier d'industree and young military spendthrift has
made his harvest here. Thousands were won and lost, and the ladies were
generally the dupes of all those who were the constant speculative
attendants. The Princease de Lamballe did not like play, but when it was
necessary she did play, and won or lost to a limited extent; but the
prescribed sum once exhausted or gained she left off. In set parties,
such as those of whist, she never played except when one was wanted,
often excusing herself on the score of its requiring more attention than
it was in her power to give to it and her reluctance to sacrifice her
partner; though I have heard Beau Dillon, the Duke of Dorset, Lord Edward
Dillon, and many others say that she understood and played the game much
better than many who had a higher opinion of their skill in it. Lord
Edward Fitzgerald was admitted to the parties at the Duchesse de
Polignac's on his first coming to Paris; but when his connection with the
Duc d'Orleans and Madame de Genlis became known he was informed that his
society would be dispensed with. The famous, or rather the infamous,
Beckford was also excluded.]

"Much as some of the higher classes of the nobility felt aggrieved at the
preference given by the Queen to the Duchesse de Polignac, that which
raised against Her Majesty the most implacable resentment was her
frequenting the parties of her favourite more than those of any other of
the 'haut ton'. These assemblies, from the situation held by the
Duchess, could not always be the most select. Many of the guests who
chanced to get access to them from a mere glimpse of the Queen--whose
general good-humour, vivacity, and constant wish to please all around her
would often make her commit herself unconsciously and
unintentionally--would fabricate anecdotes of things they had neither
seen nor heard; and which never had existence, except in their own wicked
imaginations. The scene of the inventions, circulated against Her
Majesty through France, was, in consequence, generally placed at the
Duchess's; but they were usually so distinctly and obviously false that
no notice was taken of them, nor was any attempt made to check their
promulgation.

"Exemplary as was the friendship between this enthusiastic pair, how much
more fortunate for both would it have been had it never happened! I
foresaw the results long, long before they took place; but the Queen was
not to be thwarted. Fearful she might attribute my anxiety for her
general safety to unworthy personal views, I was often silent, even when
duty bade me speak. I was, perhaps, too scrupulous about seeming
officious or jealous of the predilection shown to the Duchess.
Experience had taught me the inutility of representing consequences, and
I had no wish to quarrel with the Queen. Indeed, there was a degree of
coldness towards me on the part of Her Majesty for having gone so far as
I had done. It was not until after the birth of the Duc de Normandie,
her third child, in March, 1785, that her friendship resumed its
primitive warmth.

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