they would have been ready to bargain for it around a conference table and Louis would have been eager to grant them what they wished. Men such as these were far removed from those animals outside who shrieked obscenities at us, who demanded our heads . and other parts of our bodies . who wanted blood and who laughed with demoniacal joy at the thought of shedding it. Oh yes, these men were different. They talked to us, as they thought, reasonably. We were only people, they told us. We did not deserve to be privileged because we were born in a different stratum of society from them. The King listened gravely, inclined to agree with them. They talked of the revolution, and what they wanted from life, and the inequalities of it; it was not reasonable to suppose that a people would go on indefinitely in want while a certain section of society spent on a gown what would keep a family in food for a year.
The Dauphin took a fancy to the two men and they to him. He read the words on the buttons of their uniforms.
“Vivre libre ou mourir.”
“Will you live freely or die?” he asked them gravely; and they assured him they would.
I felt that Elisabeth and Madame de Tourzel were near breaking point.
I knew that it was for me to keep them sane. My way of doing it was to attempt a lofty indifference. It did not please the mob, but it forced some respect from them. When we were obliged to draw up the blinds of the berline, which they demanded now and then, and Bamave or Petion would declare we had better do so as this mob was getting violent, I would sit staring straight ahead. They would come up to the window and call obscenities at me and I would ” look straight ahead as though they were not there. ” Whore! ” they shouted and I would not seem to hear. They jeered, but it had its effect on them. ( Food was brought to tike berline for us; the people shouted that they wanted to see us eat. I Elisabeth was terrified and thought we should pull up the blinds as the crowd demanded, but I refused to do so.
We must keep our dignity,” I told her.
Madame, they will smash the berline,” said Bamave.
But I knew that to draw up those blinds was to degrade ourselves, and refused to do so until I wished to throw out my chicken bones, and this I did into the crowd as though they did not exist for me.
Petion was the fiercer of the two; I detected in Bamave an admiration for me. He admired my manner with the mob and I could see that he was changing his ideas of us. He had thought arrogant aristocrats were unlike human beings, but I noticed how astonished he seemed when I spoke to Elisabeth and called her ‘little sister,” or she addressed the King as ‘brother.” These men were astonished at the way we talked to the children and impressed by the obvious affection between me and my family.
They must have been fed for years on those absurd scandalous sheets which had circulated through the capital. They thought I was some sort of monster incapable of any tender feelings—a Messalina, a Catherine de Medici.
Petion tried in the beginning to speak insolently of Axel. There had been many rumours about our relationship.
We know that your family left the Tuileries in an ordinary fiacre and that this was driven by a man of Swedish nationality,” he said.
I was terrified. They knew, then, that Axel had driven us!
We should like you to tell us the name of this Swede,” went on Petion, and I could see by the gleam in his eye that he enjoyed talking about my lover before my husband.
Do you think I would know the name of a hackney coachman? ” I demanded scornfully. And the haughty look I gave him so subdued him that he did not broach the subject again.
Pedon was a fool. When Elisabeth slept she was next to him her head fell on his shoulder and I could see by the smug manner in which he sat still that he believed she had laid it there purposely. As for Bamave, his manner was becoming more and more respectful towards me with the passing of every hour. I believed that given the opportunity we could have turned these two men from their revolutionary ideas and that they would have been our loyal servants.
These were the lighter moments of that nightmare journey. It lives with me now; in so much horror it still haunts me.
We were exhausted, dirty, unkempt; the heat seemed more unbearable than ever, the crowds more dense and hostile.
When someone in the crowd called “Vive Ie Roi,” the mob turned on him and cut his throat. I saw the blood before I could stop myself looking.
This was Paris that same city in which I had once been told, a lifetime away, that two hundred thousand of its people had fallen in love with me.
They were all round the berline now.
A face looked in at me, lips drawn back in a snarl, lips I realised I had once kissed.
“Antoinette a la lanterne.”
It was Jacques Armand, that little boy whom I had found on the road and brought up as my own until my children had arrived and made me forget him.
Were all my past sins and careless frivolities coming home to roost like so many vultures watching for the end?
I held my son against me; I did not wish him to see.
He was whimpering. He did not like it. He wanted to see the soldiers, he said. He did not like these people.
“We shall soon be home,” I told him.
Home that dark, dank prison from which a few days ago we had escaped.
We were ingloriously home.
Exhausted, desolate, we made our way to our old apartments.
“It is over,” I said. We are where we were before we attempted to escape But of course that was not true. We had gone forward towards disaster.
There was no longer a King and Queen of France. I knew it—although no one had told me yet.
I took off my hat and shook out my hair.
It was a long time since I had looked at myself in a mirror. I stared for a few seconds without recognising the woman with the red-rimmed eyes, the face covered with the dust of the roads, the torn gown. But it was not these things which startled me.
My hair, which Madame du Barry had referred to as ‘carrots’ and which the dressmakers of Paris had called the ‘colour of gold,” was completely white.
The Faubourgs on the March
I was almost glad when we arrived at the Tuileries and exist—nothing more. How anxious I have been for you and all you must have suffered in having no news of us. On no account think of returning. It is known that it is you who helped us to get away, and all would be lost if you should show yourself.
I can tell you that I love you and have only time for that. Do not be troubled about me. I am well. I long to know the same of you. Tell me where I should address my letters so that I may be able to write to you, for I cannot live without that. Farewell, most loved and loving of men.
MARIE ANTOINETTE TO THE COMTE DE FERSEN
Tribulation first makes one realise what one is. My blood courses through my son’s veins and I hope that a day will come when he will show himself worthy to be the grandson of Maria Theresa.
MARIE ANTOINETTE TO MERCY
Feb. 13th 1792: Went to see her. Made very anxious because of the National Guards.
Feb. 14th: Saw the King at six o’clock. Louis is, in truth, a man of honour.
COMTE DE FERSEN’S JOURNAL
The Marseillaise was the greatest General of the Republic.
NAPOLEON
During those first days back in the Tuileries I existed in a state of numbness. I would start up in my sleep imagining filthy hands on me, foul wine-sodden breath in my face. I lived again a thousand times the horror of that ride back to Paris. La Fayette had saved us from the fury of the mob with men such as the Due d’Auguillon and the Vicomte de Noailles who had never been friends of mine; but they had been disgusted by the tornado which was raging all about us.
Everywhere we looked there were guards. We were prisoners as we had not been before. They were determined that we should never have an opportunity of escaping again.
We heard that Provence and Marie Josephe had safely crossed the frontier. Their shabby carriage had got by whereas o
ur luxurious berline had failed. I refused to remember that it was Axel’s berline which had delayed and betrayed us. He wanted the best for me, but fugitives of course should give up luxury for a chance of freedom.
I wept when I heard that Bouin6 had arrived at Varennes with his troops only half an hour after we left; and when he realised that we had gone he bad disbanded his troops, for there was no point in making war on the revolutionaries then. Half an hour between us and freedom!
Had we not stopped to gather flowers on the roadside, had we travelled more simply, we could have travelled at greater speed. Freedom was within our reach and we had lost it. Not through ill luck. I must be reasonable and see this. It was not in our stars but in ourselves that we had failed.
I was desperate during those long winter months. I even attempted to intrigue through Bamave, who had shown his admiration for me during that terrible journey in the berline. I wrote letters which were smuggled out to him in which I flattered him, telling him that his intelligence had so impressed me that I was asking for his cooperation. I told him that I was ready to compromise if it was necessary and that I believed in his good intentions. Would he be prepared to help me? Bamave was flattered and delighted, although naturally apprehensive. He showed my letters to some of his trusted friends and wrote to me that they were interested and would prefer to deal with me rather than the King.
I must, they told me, do all I could to bring my brothers in-law back to France and try to persuade my brother, the Emperor Leopold, to recognise the French Constitution. They drafted the letter which I was to send—and this I did, although I had no intention of submitting to the new Constitution and immediately wrote secretly to my brother to tell him in what circumstances I had written the first letter.
I was in fact involved in a dangerous and double game for which I was ill equipped, intellectually and emotionally. I was deceiving these men who were ready to be my friends, but I could not lightly give up what I believed to be my birthright. I must make some effort to regain what we had lost, since my husband would not do so. But bow I hated the deception! To lie and deceive was not one of my faults. I wrote to Axel:
“I cannot understand myself and have to ask myself again and again whether it is really I who am acting in this way. Yet what can I do?
It has become necessary to do these things and our position would be worse if I did not act. We can gain time in this way and time is what we need. What a joyful day it will be to me when I can tell the truth and show these men that I never intended to work with them. “
I continued to be very unhappy because of this role into which I had fallen.
Worse still, there was no news from Axel. Where was he? Why did he not get in touch? I heard that he was in Vienna trying to interest my brother in our cause, trying to urge him to send an army to France with whom our loyal soldiers could link up and so restore law and order—and the Monarchy—to our tortured country.
When I heard that Comte d’Esterhazy was going to Vienna I asked him to take a ring to the Comte de Fersen. It was engraved with three fleurs-delis, and inside, the inscription “Lache qui les abandon ne was engraved. I wrote to Esterhazy when I sent the ring. H you write to him,” I wrote, ‘tell him that many miles and many countries can never separate hearts. This ring is just his size. Ask him to wear it for me. I wore it for two days before wrapping it. Tell him it comes from me. I do not know where he is. It is torture to have no news and not even to know where the people one loves are living. “
No sooner had I sent that letter to Esterhazy, who I knew was my good friend and would do as I asked, than I was terrified that Axel would see it as a reproach and return to danger. I immediately wrote to him:
“I exist nothing more. How anxious I have been for you and all you must have suffered in having no news of us. Heaven grant that this reaches you…. On no account think of returning. It is known that it is you who helped us to get away, and all would be lost if you should show yourself. We are guarded and watched night and day…. Be at rest. Nothing will happen to me. Farewell. I shall not be able to write to you any more….”
But I had to write to him. I could not have gone on living during those dreary days if I had not. Soon I was writing again:
I can tell you that I love you and have only time for that. Do not be troubled about me. I am well. I long to know the same of you. Write to me in cipher by the post and address it to Monsieur de Browne and in a second envelope for Monsieur de Gougens. Tell me where I should address my letters so that I may be able to write to you, for I cannot live without that. Farewell, most loved and loving of men. I embrace you with my whole heart. “
I was deeply resentful of the manner in which we were treated. The doors of my apartments were barred at night, and the door of my room had to remain open. I felt reckless at times, resigned at others. But I continued in correspondence with Bamave.
At last there was news from Axel. He wanted to come to Paris and I was delighted at the prospect of seeing him, but at the same time terrified.
“It would endanger our happiness,” I wrote, ‘and you can truly believe I mean that, for I have the keenest desire to see you. “
I was staying in my rooms all day. I no longer cared to go out. I spent my time writing. My children were constantly with me. They provided my only Joy, my only reason for wanting to stay alive.
I wrote to Axel:
“They are the only happiness left to me. When I am most sad I take my little son in my arms and I hold him against my heart. That consoles me.”
The National Assembly had prepared its draft of a Constitution and had laid it before the King for his acceptance. To ask for it was a meaningless gesture. The King was their prisoner. He had no alternative but to agree.
“It is a moral death,” I said to him, ‘worse than bodily death, which frees us of our troubles. “
He agreed, knowing that his acceptance of the Constitution was a sacrifice of all he stood for.
Louis was obliged to attend the Assembly; I went to watch him make his speech and it filled me with indignation and sorrow to see that the Assembly remained seated while he made his oath.
When he returned to the Tuileries he was so dispirited that he sank into a chair and wept. I put my arms about him to comfort him and wept for him, for although I now believed that had he acted with resolve and determination we might have escaped this dire misfortune, I could not help remembering his kindness and tenderness and it occurred to me that it was his very goodness of heart which had added to our troubles. I wrote to Mercy:
“As regards the acceptance of the Constitution it is impossible that any thinking person can fail to see that whatever we may do we are not free. But it is essential that we should give these monsters who surround us no cause for suspicion. However things turn out, only the foreign powers can save us. We have lost the army; we have lost money; there exists within this realm no power to restrain the armed populace. The very chiefs of the Revolution are no longer listened to when they try to talk about order. Such is the deplorable position in which we find ourselves. Add to this that we have not a single friend, that all the world is betraying us; some because of hatred and others because of weakness and ambition. I myself am reduced to such a pitch that I have come to dread the days when we shall be given a semblance of freedom.
At least in view of the impotence to which we have been condemned, we have no reason to reproach ourselves. You will find my whole soul in this letter Later I wrote:
“Tribulation first makes one realise what one is. My blood courses through my sons veins and I hope that a day will come when he will show himself worthy to be the grandson of Maria Theresa.” The fact was, I was ashamed for having had to negotiate with Bamave. I was not clever. I had no wish to live other than in a straightforward manner. To Axel I wrote:
It would have been nobler to refuse to accept the Constitution, but refusal was impossible. Let me advise you that the scheme which has been adopted is the least undesirable of many.
The follies of the emigres has forced us to this; and in accepting it it was necessary to leave no doubt that the acceptance was made in good faith. “
I was very unhappy in this. I believed that my mother would not have approved of the manner in which I had acted. But then she had never been in the position in which I now found myself. She had never ridden from Versailles to Paris, from Varennes to Paris, surrounded by a howling, bloodthirsty mob.
The result of the King’s acceptance of the Constitution was immediate.
The rigorous guard was removed from the Tuileries. I no longer had a guard outside my apartments; I was allowed to shut my bedroom door and sleep in peace.
We had accepted the revolution and were no longer reviled; when we went out I even heard people shout “Vive Ie Roi“ It was February, the height of the cold, cruel winter. I was alone in my bedroom on the ground floor when I heard a footstep. I started up in terror, for in spite of the changed attitude towards us, I could never be sure when one of those figures which played such a prominent part in my nightmares might appear in reality, bloodstained knife in hand to do to me what I had heard threatened so many times.
The door of my room was opened, and I stared, for I believed I was dreaming. It was impossible.
I recognised him at once in spite of his disguise. He could never deceive me. And for the moment I was only conscious of joy—sheer unadulterated joy—an emotion I had believed I should never feel again.
Axell’ I cried.
“It is not possible !’ He laughed and said: ” Can you not believe your own eyes? “
“But to come here …! Oh—it is dangerous. You must go at once.”
“A good welcome,” he said laughing, and embracing me in a’manner which told me he had no intention of leaving me.
I could only cling to him, for the moment not caring what had brought him, how he had come, only that he was here.
The Queen`s Confession Page 47