The winter revived the apprehensions concerning the king's health; he was manifestly sinking into the grave, while
"That which should accompany old age,
As love, obedience, honor, troops of friends,
He might not look to have."
His very mistress began with great zeal than ever, though with no better taste, to seek to conciliate the dauphiness. She tried to purchase her good-will by a bribe. She was aware that the princess greatly admired diamonds, and, learning that a jeweler of Paris had a pair of ear-rings of a size and brilliancy so extraordinary that the price which he asked for them was 700,000 francs, she persuaded the Comte de Noailles to carry them to Marie Antoinette to show them, with a message from herself that if the dauphiness liked to keep them, she would induce the king to make her a present of them.[7] Whether Marie Antoinette admired them or not, she had far too proper a sense of dignity to allow herself to be entrapped into the acceptance of an obligation by one whom she so deservedly despised. She replied coldly that she had jewels enough, and did not desire to increase the number. But the overture thus made by Madame du Barri could not be kept secret, and more than one of her partisans followed the hint afforded by her example, and showed a desire to make their peace with their future queen. The Duc d'Aiguillon himself was among the foremost of her courtiers, and entreated the mediation of Mercy in his favor, making the ambassador his messenger to assure her that "he should impose it upon himself as a law to comply with her wishes in every thing;" and only desired that he might be allowed to know which of the requests that she might make were dictated by her own judgment, and which merely proceeded from her indulgent favor to the importunities of others. For Marie Antoinette had of late often broken through the rule which, in compliance with her mother's advice, she had at first laid down for herself, to abstain from recommending persons for preferment; and had pressed many a petition on the minister's notice as to which it was self-evident that she could know nothing of their merits, nor feel any personal interest in their success.
In the spring of 1774 she had an opportunity of convincing her mother that any imputation of neglect of her countrymen when visiting the court was unfounded, by the marked honors which she paid to Marshal Lacy, one of the most honored veterans of the Seven Years' War. Knowing how highly he was esteemed by her mother, she took care to be informed beforehand of the day of his arrival. She gave orders that he should find invitations to her parties awaiting him. She made arrangements to give him a private audience even before he saw the king, where her reception of him showed how deep and ineffaceable was her love for her family and her old home, even while fairly recognizing the fact that her first duties and her first affections now belonged to France. The old warrior avowed that he had been greatly moved by the touching affection with which she spoke to him of her love and veneration for her mother; and by the tears which he saw in her eyes when she said that the one thing wanting to her happiness was the hope of being allowed one day to see that dear mother once more. She showed him some of the last presents which the empress had sent her, and dwelt with fond minuteness of observation on some views of Schoenbrunn and other spots in the neighborhood of Vienna which were endeared to her by her early recollections.
The return of mild weather seemed to be bringing with it same return of strength to the king, when, on the 28th of April, he was suddenly seized with illness, which was presently pronounced by the physicians to be the small-pox. All was consternation at Versailles, for it was soon perceived to be a severe if not a malignant attack; and at the same time all was perplexity. Thirty years before, when Louis had been supposed to be on his deathbed at Metz, bishops, peers, and ministers had found in the loss of royal favor reason to repent the precipitation with which they had insisted on the withdrawal of Madame de Chateauroux; and now, should he again recover, it was likely that Madame du Barri would he equally resentful, and that the confessor who should make her removal a necessary condition of his administering the sacraments of the Church to the king, and the courtiers who should support or act upon their requisition, would surely find reason to repent it. Accordingly, for the first few days of Louis's illness, she remained at Versailles; but he grew visibly worse. His daughters, who, though they had not had the disease themselves, tended his sick-bed with the most devoted and fearless affection, consulted the physicians, who declared it dangerous to admit of any further delay in the ministration of the rites of the Church. He himself gave his sanction to the ladies' departure, and then the royal confessor administered the sacraments, and drew up a declaration to be published in the royal name, that, "though he owed no account of his conduct to any but God alone, he nevertheless declared that he repented having given rise to scandal among his subjects, and only desired to live for the support of religion and the welfare of his people."
Even this avowal the Cardinal de Roche-Aymer promised Madame du Barri to suppress; but the royal confessor, the Abbe Mandoux, overruled him, and compelled its publication, in spite of the Duc de Richelieu, the chief confidant of the mistress, and long the chief minister and promoter of the king's debaucheries, who insulted the cardinal with the grossest abuse for his breach of promise.[8] It may be doubted whether such a compromise with profligacy, and such a profanation of the most solemn rites of the Church by its ministers, were not the greatest scandal of all; but it was in too complete harmony with their conduct throughout the whole of the reign. And, as it was impossible but that religion itself should suffer in the estimation of worldly men from such an open disregard of all but its mere outward forms, it can hardly be denied that the French cardinals and prelates about the court had almost as great a share in bringing about that general feeling of contempt for all religion which led to that formal disavowal of God himself which was witnessed twenty years later, as the scoffers who were now uniting against it, or the professed infidels who then, renounced it. Such as it was, the king's act of penitence was not performed too soon. At the end of the first week of May all prospect of his recovery vanished. Mortification set in, and on the 10th of May he died.
CHAPTER VIII. The Court leaves Versailles for La Muette.-Feelings of the New Sovereigns.-Madame du Barri is sent to a Convent.-Marie Antoinette writes to Maria Teresa.-The Good Intentions of the New Sovereigns.- Madame Adelaide has the Small-pox.-Anxieties of Maria Teresa.- Mischievous Influence of the Aunts.-Position and Influence of the Count de Mercy.-Louis consults the Queen on Matters of Policy.-Her Prudence.- She begins to Purify the Court, and to relax the Rules of Etiquette.-Her Care of her Pages.-The King and the renounce the Gifts of Le Joyeux Avenement and La Ceinture de la Reine.--She procures the Pardon of the Due de Choiseul.
Throughout the morning of the 10th of May there was great confusion and agitation at Versailles. The physicians declared that the king could not live out the day; and the dauphin had decided on removing his household to the smaller palace of La Muette at Choisy, to spend in that comparative retirement the first week or two after his grandfather's death, during which it would hardly be decorous for the royal family to be seen in public. But, as it was not thought seemly to appear to anticipate the event by quitting Versailles while Louis was still alive, a lighted candle was placed in the window of the sick-room, which, the moment that the king had expired, was to be extinguished, as a signal to the equerries to prepare the carriages. The dauphin and dauphiness were in an adjoining room awaiting the intelligence, when, at about three o'clock in the afternoon, a sudden trampling of feet was heard, and Madame de Noailles entered the apartment to entreat them to advance into the saloon to receive the homage of the princes and principal officers of the court, who were waiting to pay their respects to their new sovereigns. They came forward arm-in-arm; and in tears, in which sincere sorrow was mingled with not unnatural nervousness, received the salutations of the courtiers, and immediately afterward left Versailles with all the family.
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette had now reached the pinnacle of human greatness, as sovereigns of one of the nobl
est empires in the world. Yet the first feelings which their elevation had excited in both, and especially in the queen, were rather those of dismay and perplexity than of exultation. In the preceding autumn, Mercy[1] had remarked to the empress, with surprise and vexation, that, though the dauphiness exhibited singular readiness and acuteness in comprehending political questions, she was very unwilling, and, as it seemed to him, afraid of dealing with them, and that she shrunk from the thought that the day would come when she must possess power and authority. And the continuance of this feeling is visible in her first letter to her mother, some passages of which show a sobriety of mind under such a change of circumstances, which, almost as much as the benevolence which the letter also displays, augured well for the happiness of the people over whom she was to reign, so far at least as that happiness depended on the virtues of the sovereign.
"Choisy, May 14th.
"My Dearest Mother,-Mercy will have informed you of the circumstances of our misfortune. Happily his cruel disease left the king in possession of his senses till the last moment, and his end was very edifying. The new king seems to have the affection of his people. Two days before the death of his grandfather, he sent two hundred thousand[2] francs to the poor, which has produced a great effect. Since he has been here, he has been working unceasingly, answering with his own hand the letters of the ministers, whom as yet he can not see, and many others likewise. One thing is certain, and that is that he has a taste for economy, and the greatest desire possible to make his people happy. In every thing he has as great a desire to be rightly instructed as he has need to be. I trust that God will bless his good intentions.
"The public expected great changes in a moment. The king has limited himself to sending away the creature[3] to a convent, and to driving from the court every thing which is connected with that scandal. The king even owed this example to the people of Versailles, who, at the very moment of his grandfather's death, insulted Madame do Mazarin,[4] one of the humblest servants of the favorite. I am earnestly entreated to exhort the king to mercy toward a number of corrupt souls who had done much mischief for many years; and I am strongly inclined to comply with the request.
* * * * *
"A messenger has just arrived to forbid my going to see my Aunt Adelaide, who has a great deal of fever. They are afraid of the small-pox for her. I am horrified, and can not bring myself to think of the consequences. It is a terrible thing for her to pay so immediately for the sacrifice which she made.
"I am very glad that Marshal Lacy was pleased with me. I confess, my dear mamma, that I was greatly affected when he took leave of me, at thinking how rarely it happens to me to see any of my countrymen, and especially of those who have the happiness to approach you. A little time back I saw Madame de Marmier, which was a great pleasure to me, since I know how highly you value her.
"The king has allowed me myself to name the ladies who are to have places in my household, now that I am queen; and I have had the satisfaction of giving the Lorrainers[5] a proof of my regard, in taking for my chief almoner the Abbe de Sabran, a man of excellent character, of noble birth, and already named for the bishopric about to be established at Nancy.
"Although it pleased God that I should be born in the rank which I this day occupy, still I can not forbear admiring the bounty of Providence in choosing me, the youngest of your daughters, for the noblest kingdom in Europe. I feel more than ever what I owe to the tenderness of my august mother, who expended such pains and labor in procuring for me this splendid establishment. I have never so greatly longed to throw myself at her feet, to embrace her, to lay open my whole soul to her, and to show her how entirely it is filled with respect and tenderness and gratitude."
It is impossible to read these glowing words, so full of the joy and hope of youth, and breathing a confidence of happiness apparently so well-founded, since it was built on a resolution to use the power placed in the writer's hands for the welfare of the people over whom it was to be exerted, without reflecting how painful a contrast to the hopes now expressed is presented by the reality of the destiny in store for her and her husband. At the moment he was as little disturbed by forebodings of evil as his queen, and willingly yielded to her request to add a few lines with his own hand to the empress, that, on so momentous an occasion as his accession she might not be left to gather his feelings solely from her report of them. The postscript of the letter is accordingly their joint performance, he evidently desiring to gratify Maria Teresa by praise of her daughter; and she, while pleased at his acquiescence, not concealing her amusement at the clumsiness, or, to say the least, the rusticity, of some of his expressions.
P.S. in the king's hand: "I am very glad, my dear mamma, to find an occasion to prove to you my tenderness and my attachment. I should be very glad to have your advice at this time, which is so embarrassing. I should be enchanted to be able to please you, and to show by my conduct all my attachment and the gratitude which I feel for your kindness in giving me your daughter, with whom I am as well satisfied as possible."
P.S. by the queen: "The king would not let my letter go without adding a word from himself. I am quite aware that it would not have been too much for him to do to write an entire letter. But I must beg my dear mamma to excuse him, in consideration of the mass of business with which he is occupied, and also a little on account of his timidity and the embarrassed manner which is natural to him. You see, my dear mamma, by his compliment at the end, that, though he has great affection for me, he does not spoil me by insipid flatteries."
It is almost equally remarkable that the empress herself, though thus to see her favorite daughter on the throne of France had been her most ardent wish, was far from regarding the consummation of her desires with unalloyed pleasure. She was so completely a politician above all things, that, though she was well aware that Louis XV. had been one of the most infamous kings that ever dishonored a throne, she looked upon him solely as an ally; described him to her daughter as "that good and tender prince;" declared that she should never cease to regret him, and that she would wear mourning for him all the rest of her life. At the same time, she did not conceal from herself that he had left his kingdom in a most deplorable condition. She had, as she declared, herself experienced how heavy is the burden of an empire; she reflected how young her daughter was; and expressed a sad fear that "her days of happiness were over." "She was now in a position in which there was no half-way between complete greatness and great misery.[6]" The best hopes for her future the empress saw in the character for purity and kindness which Marie Antoinette had already established and in the esteem and affection of the people which those qualities had won for her; and she entreated her, taking it for granted that in advising her she was advising the king also, to be prudent and cautious, to avoid making any sudden changes, and above all things to maintain the alliance between the two countries, and to listen to the experienced and faithful advice of her embassador.
Maria Teresa was mistaken when she thought that her daughter would at all times be able to lead her husband. Though slow in action, Louis was not deficient in perception. On many subjects he had views of his own, which, in some cases, were clear and sound enough, and to which, even when they were not so, he adhered with considerable tenacity. At the same time, though he had but little affection for his aunts, and still less respect for their judgment, he had been so long accustomed to listen to their advice while he had no authority, that he could not as yet wholly shake off all feeling of deference for it, and their influence was exerted with most mischievous effect in the first week of his reign. Indeed, it had been exhibited even before the reign began, though the form which it took greatly interfered with the personal comfort of the young sovereigns. It had been settled that the king and queen should go by themselves to La Muette, and that the rest of the royal family should remove to the Trianon. But Madame Adelaide had no inclination for a plan which would separate her from her nephew at a moment when so many matters of importance would come before
her for decision. At the last moment she prevailed upon him to consent that the whole family should go to Choisy together; and the very next day she induced him to dismiss his ministers, and to place the Comte de Maurepas at the head of the Government, though Louis himself had selected another-statesman for the office, M. Machault, who, as finance minister twenty-five years before, had shown both ability and integrity, and who had enjoyed the confidence of the king's father, and though Maurepas had never been supposed to be either able or honest, and might well have been regarded as superannuated, since he had begun his official life under Louis XIV.
With the change in the position of Marie Antoinette, Mercy's position had also been changed, and likewise his view of the line of conduct which it was desirable for her to adopt. Hitherto he had been the counselor of a princess who, without wary walking, was liable every moment to be overwhelmed by the intrigues with which she was surrounded; and his chief object had been to enable his royal pupil to escape the snares and dangers which encompassed her. Now, as far as his duties could be determined by the wish of the empress, in which her daughter fully acquiesced, he was elevated to the post of confidential adviser to a great queen, who, in his opinion, was inevitably destined to be the real ruler of the kingdom. It was a strange position for so experienced a politician as the empress to desire for him, and for so prudent a statesman to accept. Yet, anomalous as it was, and dangerous as it would usually be for a foreign embassador to interfere in the internal politics of the kingdom to which he is sent, his correspondence bears ample testimony to both his sagacity and his disinterestedness. And it would have been well for both his royal pupil and her adopted country had his advice more frequently and more steadily guided the course of both.
The Life of Marie Antoinette Page 9