The Queen's Confession Part 29

CHAPTER 21.

"Upon you I throw myself. It is my wish that I and the nation should be one, and in full reliance on the affection and fidelity of my subjects, I have given orders to the troops to remove from Paris and Versailles."

-Louis XVI to the National a.s.sembly "The Queen then appeared on the balcony. 'Ah,' said the woman in the veil, 'the d.u.c.h.ess is not with her.' 'No,' replied the man, 'but she is still at Versailles. She is working underground like a mole, but we shall know how to dig her out.' ... I thought it my duty to relate the dialogue of these two strangers to the Queen."

-Madame Campan's Memoirs "Good-bye, dearest of friends. It is a dreadful and necessary word: Good-bye."

-Marie Antoinette to Madame de Polignac Friends Leave Versailles THE TERROR WAS UPON US.

Artois, white-lipped, all his gaiety gone, came to the apartment where the King and I were together.

"They are murdering people all over Paris," he said. "I have just heard that my name is high on their list of victims."

I ran to him and threw my arms about him. There had been a coldness between us lately, but he was my brother-in-law; we had once been good friends and there were so many memories of shared follies from those days when neither of us allowed any cares to disturb us.

"You must go away," I cried. I had a horrible picture of his head on a pike as poor de Launay's had been.

"Yes," said the King calmly. He was the only one among us who was calm. "You must make your preparations to leave."

I wondered about myself. How high was I on the list? Surely at the top of it.

Then I thought of those dear friends of mine - Gabrielle, who had been the subject of so much scandal; my dear Princesse de Lamballe.

I said: "And there will be others."

Artois read my thoughts, as he used to in the old days.

"They are talking of the Polignacs," he said.

I turned away. I went to my private chamber and I sent Madame Campan to bring Gabrielle to me.

She came startled; I took her into my arms and embraced her warmly.

"My dearest friend," I said, "you will have to go away." "You are sending me away?"

I nodded. "While there is time."

"And you?"

"I must be with the King."

"And you think ..."

"I do not think, Gabrielle. I dare not."

"I could not go. I would not leave you. There are the children."

"Are you like these rebels then? Do you too forget that I am still the Queen? You will go, Gabrielle, because I say you shall."

"And leave you?"

"And leave me," I said, turning away, "because that is my wish."

"No, no," she cried. "You cannot ask me to go. We have shared so much ... we must stay together. You would be happier if I stayed than if I went."

"Happy! I sometimes think I shall never be happy again. But I could find more comfort in thinking of you safe far from here rather than to live in fear that they would do to you what they have done to de Launay. So begin to prepare at once. Artois is going. Everyone who can must go ... and perhaps in time it will be our turn."

With that I ran out of the room, for I could bear no more.

I went back to the King. Messengers had come from Paris. The people were demanding the presence of the King there. If he did not come, they would march to Versailles to fetch him. They wanted him in Paris; they wanted to take "good care" of him.

"If you go, you may not return," I said.

"I shall come back," he answered, as calmly as though he were about to set out for a day's hunting.

The people demanded that his brothers accompany him. I trembled not only for my husband but for Artois. They said he was my lover; that was an old scandal, but the old scandals were resurrected now.

The coach was at the door and I accompanied Louis to it. "G.o.d guard you," I whispered; and he pressed my hand. His was firm. He was so sure that his people would do him no harm; but I could not share his optimism. I kept asking myself whether I should ever look on his face again.

I must occupy myself in some way. I dared not be alone to think. I kept visualizing the mob breaking into the Bastille and de Launay's head on the pike; but instead of the Bastille's governor I saw that of the King.

I would try to act normally. What should I do? My children were losing their governess. I must find a new one for them.

I thought awhile and decided on Madame de Tourzel - a widow, a serious-minded woman, and she had what was becoming one of the most prized qualities, loyalty.

I told her that she would be appointed and she understood why. She would have known that in the streets they were burning effigies of Gabrielle with me, that they were circulating obscene pictures and verses about us.

Oh, yes, Madame de Tourzel understood and I wanted to tell her how I appreciated her for the calm manner in which she thanked me for the honor and swore to serve my children for as long as I should give her permission to do so.

I went to my apartments. I wanted to be alone. I was terribly afraid that I would show the anxiety I was feeling. What was happening to my husband in Paris? Had they gone so far that they would murder their King? What should I do? Should I prepare for flight with my children?

I would have clothes packed. I would order that the carriages should be equipped and ready.

I went to the children's apartment. I must stay with them, for I was afraid of treachery.

My son brought the book of La Fontaine's Fables to me.

"Let's have the one about the fox, Maman ... I saw a fox last night. The soldier brought him in ..."

I let my hand rest on his head. "Not now, my darling."

He looked puzzled. "Where is Madame de Polignac?" he asked.

"She is in her apartments," replied his sister. "She is very busy."

"Everybody is different today," said my son. Then he brightened. "Maman, come and I will show you my garden."

"I think we will stay in today, my love. Yes ... I will read to you after all."

So I sat there reading, my ears strained for the sounds of a messenger with what dread tidings I dared not contemplate.

It was eleven o'clock when the King returned. I was sitting in my apartment in an agony of fear, waiting. He had walked back surrounded by the Deputies of the National a.s.sembly and followed by a rabble of men and women who carried cudgels and shouted as they came.

I heard the cry: "Vive le Roi!" and I felt my spirits lifted; then I ran down to greet him.

He looked very tired but as calm as ever. His coat was stained, his cravat awry, and in his hat was the tricolor.

I was almost sobbing with relief and he was touched by emotion.

"You should have been in bed," he said. "Why, you are worn out with waiting."

As if we all found it as easy to sleep in face of such horror as he did!

But these people did not give us any peace. They were all crowding into the courtyards.

"The King!" they cried. And then: "The Queen! The Dauphin!"

I looked at my husband and he nodded. I turned to Madame Campan, who was constantly beside me during these terrible days.

"Go to the d.u.c.h.ess de Polignac and tell her that I want my son to be brought here immediately."

"And Your Majesty wishes Madame de Polignac to bring him?"

"No, no. Tell her not to come. These terrible people must not see her."

Madame Campan brought my son to me.

The King took him onto the balcony and the people roared: "Vive le Roi! Vive le Dauphin!" And my little son lifted his hand and waved to them, which seemed to touch them.

"The Queen!" they shouted.

Madame Campan laid a hand on my arm. I saw the fear leap into her eyes. I knew she was wondering what they would do to me when I appeared.

But I must go out there onto the balcony. If I did not, they would storm the palace. They had cheered my husband and my son. They bore no malice - at the moment - toward them. But what of me?

I stepped onto the balcony. I was murmuring a prayer under my breath and I was thinking of my mother and all the warnings she had sent me and I wondered if she was watching me in Heaven now. I had been guilty of great folly, but at least I would not disgrace her now. If I was to die, I would do it as a Hapsburg, as she would expect me to.

I stood there, my head high, determined to show no fear. There was a silence which seemed to go on for a long time ... and then someone called: "Vive la Reine!"

The shouts were deafening. I felt dizzy, but I stood there smiling.

Down there the people were shouting for me, for the King and the Dauphin. It seemed that they no longer hated us. They loved us.

But I was not the fool I had once been. I knew that the people's love one day was its hatred the next. Hosanna and crucify had not been far apart.

At length that interminable day was over and we sank exhausted into our beds. Louis was immediately asleep. But I lay wondering what new trials awaited us in the days ahead.

The next day the King told me what had happened in Paris. Refreshed after his sleep, he gave no sign of the ordeal through which he had pa.s.sed. I never knew a man who could face calamity with such indifference. It was almost as though Divine Providence had especially equipped him for the role he was to play.

When he had arrived in Paris, Bailly, the Mayor who had become President of the Third Estate, was waiting to receive him and to offer him the keys of the city. This return to an old custom aroused Louis' optimism, never far from the surface. Everything was going to be all right.

Bailly said: "I bring Your Majesty the keys of your good city of Paris. These were the words which were spoken to Henri Quatre. He reconquered the people; here the people have reconquered their King."

The words were less comforting; the contrast between him and the King whom the French had always considered their greatest was insulting; but Louis showed no rancor and calmly accepted the keys. I could well imagine his benign smiles on the menacing rabble which closed about his carriage. The fact that he would not appear to see their menaces would, I could well imagine, disconcert them.

Someone fired a shot at him in the Place Louis XV, but it missed him and killed a woman; and in the general tumult the incident was scarcely noticed.

At the Hotel de Ville, Louis descended from his carriage and men with pikes and swords made an avenue under which he pa.s.sed. There he made his way to the throne while shouting men and women crowded into the hall. I could picture the scene, which would have struck terror into any heart but his, yet he must see himself as the little father - sad because his children were behaving very badly, but ready to smile and forgive at the first sign of repentance.

There was no repentance. They were the masters now and although his demeanor bewildered them, they were determined not to forget it - and that he should not either.

He was asked if he accepted the appointment of Jean Sylvain Bailly as Mayor of Paris and Marie Joseph Gilbert Motier de La Fayette as Commander of the National Guard. He agreed that he did.

He then took off his hat and standing bareheaded declared: "Upon you I throw myself. It is my wish that I and the nation should be one, and in full reliance on the affection and fidelity of my subjects, I have given orders to the troops to remove from Paris and Versailles."

There were cheers. He smiled benignly, refusing to believe that now he had given the rebels a free road to revolution.

When they gave him the tricolor to put into his hat, he was not dismayed. How would his grandfather have reacted to such an insult? Who would have dared offer it to Louis XIV?

But my Louis mildly took it, removed his hat, and stuck in the symbol of the people. He, the King, was one of them. And what could they do? Even at such a time they must have been just a little overawed by royalty.

They cheered him. "Vive le Roi!" they cried.

Fortunately there were some men present who while they wished for reforms loathed violence and realized that the country could only be saved from disaster if they were brought about in an orderly and const.i.tutional manner. One of these was the Comte de Lally-Tollendal.

He cried: "Citizens, rejoice in your King's presence and the benefits he will bestow." And to my husband: "There is not a man here, Sire, who is not ready to shed his blood for you. King and citizens, let us show the world a free and just nation under a cherished King who, owing nothing to force, will owe everything to his virtue and his love."

When I visualize this scene as Louis told it to me, I believe even now that he could have saved France. His very courage demanded their respect; his good intentions were always present. If only he had been singleminded; if he had not seen every side; if he had pursued a straight course; if he had taken a decisive action. But then he would not have been Louis.

Then he stood before that crowd and with tears of emotion in his eyes he cried: "My people can always count on my love."

And so surrounded by his cheering subjects, the tricolor in his hat, he came back to Versailles.

The next morning we talked. I had been awake all night making my plans. We could not stay here. I knew we were in danger.

I had sent Madame Campan to mingle with the crowds in the courtyard so that she might report to me what she had heard and this had proved to be very revealing.

"It was easy to see, Madame," she had said, "that many of the people in the mob were disguised. They were not of the poor people, although their clothes might indicate this. Their manner of speaking betrayed them."

"Did you speak to any?"

"Some spoke to me, Madame. There was one with a black lace veil over her face. She seized my arm quite roughly and said: 'I know you very well, Madame Campan. You should tell your Queen not to meddle with government any longer. Let her leave her husband and our good States-General to arrange the happiness of the people.'"