by Susan Nagel
At Hartwell, de Staël had used flattery and charm in order to achieve her ends; however, once the duplicitous novelist departed and was in the company of others, she became a vicious, outspoken critic of the Bourbons. Princess Charlotte, daughter of the future King George IV, wrote, in a letter dated Tuesday, February 1, 1814 to her friend, Miss Mercer Elphinstone that, ‘Staël is most violent against the Bourbons being placed on the throne.’ De Staël’s daughter, Albertine, would also bite the hand that fed her and openly derided the French royal family at every opportunity.
The English, once again at war with the French, were much kinder. With the recurring dementia of George III, in early February 1811 the Prince of Wales was named Prince Regent. It was not long before the Prince, the future King George IV, famous for his profligate spending and harsh treatment of his wife, became an unlikely favorite of Marie-Thérèse. Ignoring the political ramifications and outrage expressed by his opponents, he offered the exiled French King and his wandering retinue permanent asylum, and in 1811 alone handed out approximately £154,752 in allowances to the French Princes of the Blood, their wives and daughters. The English Prince treated the French émigrés with great affection, always seating Marie-Thérèse, who was, as he was, the child of a king, in the place of honor to his right at his lavish parties and balls.
In March, Louis XVIII received word that Marie-Thérèse’s former companion whilst in Vienna, Madame de Chanclos, had died. He admitted that as she had already been saddened by the deaths of her aunt and the Queen of Prussia, he did not have the heart to bring her more bad news, so he asked the Duc d’Angoulême to be his messenger. The French royal family received another blow that same month, which was especially painful to the childless Duchesse d’Angoulême: on March 20, Napoleon’s royal bride gave birth to a son.
Marie-Thérèse decided to see some more of England, and in May she and her husband visited Bristol, Cheltenham and the famous spa town of Bath. Her mother, even at the Conciergerie, had insisted on drinking only Ville d’Avray mineral water. Marie-Thérèse’s time at Bath was so restorative that she became a convert to the curative powers of mineral waters and the visit heralded a lifelong enthusiasm for spas. On June 3, 1811, The Times reported on the visit to Bath that once ‘the public began to identify them … a vast concourse assembled round the White Hart, anxious to gratify their curiosity with a sight of these interesting personages. They went on a tour of pleasure from Hadfield House, through Oxford, Cheltenham and Gloucester; and returned through Marlbor-ough.’ Marie-Thérèse brought back to Hartwell a ‘Guide to Bristol’ for her uncle, with which he was reportedly delighted. The King had grown so fat that he was no longer able to walk without assistance and he suffered terribly with gout. Marie-Thérèse convinced the King that he needed to go to Bath and in the late summer and early autumn of 1813, the King joined his niece and ‘took the cure’. Much as he enjoyed his own stay in Bath, the waters did little to remedy his ailments.
On June 19, 1811, the Prince Regent gave an extravagant ball at his London residence, Carlton House, for over two thousand guests – in honor of himself. On the top of his guest list were many prominent French émigrés, including the entire royal family. His wife, whom he loathed, was not invited; his mistress, however, was. Seated to the Prince Regent’s right, however – the place of honor – was Marie-Thérèse. As a homage to the Duchesse d’Angoulême, the Prince Regent had instructed his staff to decorate a room, in which he would greet the daughter of the martyred King of France, draped floor to ceiling in blue silk and embellished with white fleurs-de-lys. When the Prince Regent appeared in this room later that evening he addressed King Louis XVIII not as the ‘Comte de l’Isle’, as the King had continued to be formally referred to in England, but as ‘Your Majesty’. The guests finally sat down to dinner at 2.30 in the morning. The Gentleman’s Magazine reported the dinner:
Along the center of the table, about six inches above the surface, a canal of pure water continued flowing from a silver fountain, beautifully constructed at the head of the table. Its banks were covered with green moss and aquatic flowers; gold and silver fish swam and sported through the bubbling current, which produced a pleasing murmur where it fell, and formed a cascade at the outlet. At the head of the table, above the fountain, sat his Royal Highness … The most particular friends of the Prince were arranged on each side. They were attended by sixty servitors; seven waited on the Prince … in their state liveries, with one man in a complete suit of ancient armour. At the back of the Prince’s seat appeared aureola tables, covered with crimson drapery, constructed to exhibit with the greatest effect, a profusion of the most exquisitely wrought silver-gild plate, consisting of fountains, tripods, epergnes, dishes and other ornaments.1
Another party guest, Lord Colchester, recorded in his diary entry for June 19 that he
went to the fête at Carlton House … The great rooms lie all on the right side of the building; the smaller apartments on the left; and in them the Prince waited to receive the King of France, etc … [at the Prince’s end of the table] it was oriental … for in that part the table widened, and the water also, and fell by a succession of cascades into a circular lake surrounded with architectural decorations, and small vases, burning perfumes, which stood under the arches of the colonnade round the lake. Behind the Prince’s end of the table there was a magnificent sideboard of gilt plate three stories high. A band in the garden, not seen by the company, played the whole time.2
Not to be ignored, the Prince Regent’s wife planned a luncheon party of her own for the French royal family on July 8. All of the French royals were, for the moment, visiting the Prince de Condé at his home in Wimbledon. King Louis declined the invitation, claiming that he had suffered another attack of gout. His courtiers immediately followed his lead, some insisting that they were needed to care for the ailing King, some offering the excuse that King Louis had requested them to receive the visiting Duke of Cumberland. Three days before the scheduled party, Marie-Thérèse sent word that she was unwell, experiencing an inflammation in her head, and simply could not appear for the festivities. Shortly after her note was dispatched, her own courtiers sent the Princess their apologies explaining that they needed to remain with their mistress. At last, the Prince de Condé refused, explaining that since all of his houseguests were ill, he could not very well leave them all. An hour or so before the luncheon was to take place, the Duke of Brunswick told his mother not to bother to go to Kensington Palace because he had just seen the Duke of Cumberland in town, and he had heard that all of the French were staying away. To be somewhat polite to the banished Princess, in fact, the Ducs d’Angoulême, de Berry and de Bourbon made an appearance on behalf of the rest of their family. The entire party comprised these three men and about thirty-five English friends of the Princess.
At the same time that the Bourbons in exile were being fêted in England, a Pastor Kühner arrived in the village of Eishausen, to serve as priest for the village. He had been tutor to the children of the Duke and Duchess of Hildburghausen. Immediately upon his arrival in Eishausen in 1812, Kühner met with ‘Vavel de Versay’. The men had a pleasant conversation, during which the Count offered to give the prelate some newspapers and other publications. One morning, a few days after their encounter, an elderly woman wearing white gloves slipped a parcel of printed material under Kühner’s door. The two men began a frequent exchange of articles enclosing their own comments and notes on world events. When a mysterious bouquet of white lilies and roses, a symbol of bloody martyrdom, appeared at the door of the Dark Countess, her guardian, under the impression that the priest had sent them, had harsh words with the pastor. Kühner insisted that he had not nor would he ever do such a thing, and the two men resumed what, for ‘Vavel de Versay’, was his closest friendship in the town.
In Eishausen, there was a New Year’s tradition whereby impassioned young men would try to impress their girlfriends by discharging many rounds of gunfire. The noise apparently upset the myste
rious Countess. De Versay sent his cook to the parsonage to ask the pastor if there was a way he could get the men to stop. Kühner had no success, so de Versay persisted and sent Senator Andrae to speak with the Hildburghausen police. The police, understanding that the Senator would only appear before them on behalf of a highly distinguished person, placed two of the rowdy young men in jail. Although the townspeople were in an uproar, the Hildburghausen police, on orders of the Ducal Court, banned the exuberant gun show for the following year. This order, backed up by the appearance in Eishausen of the Landschaftsrat Fischer, head of a local security peacekeeping force, with a commando squad on the following New Year’s Eve, backfired. Upset that local tradition had been undermined, the young men showed complete contempt for authority, rallying friends from nearby towns to join them in their marauding. The gunfire was even worse than the year before. Pastor Kühner then took matters into his own hands on behalf of the Countess. He spoke with the men and explained that the Count was willing to give a great deal of money for them all to enjoy a wonderful New Year’s celebration, as long as no shooting took place. The matter was settled, and Vavel de Versay was grateful.
There were other occasions when the priest would come to the rescue of the Dark Countess, including the time when, during an appearance of Russian troops in the area, an officer of the Czar demanded to meet with the woman, insisting that he would use force to enter the castle. Kühner distracted the commander until his unit had orders to depart immediately. On another occasion, the couple’s manservant, Scharre, wanted to confess secrets to the priest and asked Kühner to keep his confession a secret from his master. Kühner assured Scharre that his conscience was clear, but he did not want to promise confidentiality. Feeling a sense of obligation toward the Count and the Duchess of Hildburghausen, and although he corresponded for many years with Vavel de Versay, he never disclosed any information about the couple, other than to say that de Versay was cultured and well educated.
In late July 1812, the Duc d’Angoulême had written an impassioned letter to Czar Alexander asking for permission to join the Russian army. The Czar turned him down, advising him that it would be more appropriate for him to fight alongside British forces against Napoleon. In the autumn of 1812, Napoleon invaded Russia. When his army arrived in Moscow, they found that the city had been torched, the hospitals emptied. Frozen and starving, the French were forced to retreat.
In England, Louis sensed that the moment of Napoleon’s defeat was near and started to gather troops, money, and political support for his family’s return. There was some discussion among the allied powers as to whether the regency should be shared, with Napoleon’s newborn son being placed on the throne; in essence, dividing France. The Bourbons, however, would not relent. Louis XVIII continued to place his niece center stage in order to evoke maximum sentiment and support for a Bourbon restoration; for her part, Marie-Thérèse, who had waited so long for this moment, proved a willing accomplice.
Louis strived to keep Marie-Thérèse’s social comings and goings private, thereby preserving the image of Marie-Thérèse the Pious – Marie-Thérèse the Orphan of the Temple. In fact Marie-Thérèse often went to parties, enjoyed the spa and society of Bath – a place that some considered a hedonistic haunt – and relished the company of men like her brother-in-law, the Duc de Berry, and the Prince Regent, both widely known for their excesses. Newspapers, however, with Louis’s encouragement, continued to portray her as the long-suffering embodiment of Christian perfection. People assumed that she never socialized, which was clearly incorrect, and that she was dour and somber, although those who knew her always spoke of her natural gaiety.
As she turned thirty-four, on December 19, 1812, Marie-Thérèse seemed overflowing with happiness. On January 27, 1813, Princess Charlotte gave a ball and noticed that d’Angoulême too was in high spirits. In a letter dated February 7 to her friend, Miss Mercer Elphinstone, the English Princess made a special note that at her grand fête, d’Angoulême proved to be a wonderful dance partner. Marie-Thérèse’s doctor, Monsieur Lefebvre, knew the reason for the couple’s ebullience, and as he would explain to Hüe that January: ‘At this moment, I am tending to a woman who lives above me and who is pregnant for the first time after more than thirteen years of marriage.’
On January 30, Hüe wrote to his wife that Dr Lefebvre had given him the miraculous news that the Duc d’Angoulême would be a father in June. The doctor confirmed this in his own handwriting on the same letter. Madame Hüe received the note and added a formal sentence on the paper: ‘Monsieur Hüe and Monsieur Lefebvre designate Madame the Duchesse d’Angoulême, announcing her pregnancy.’3 On February 15, 1813, Louise de Condé wrote to her father that she was stunned to hear of the pregnancy as she had heard for years that, while Marie-Thérèse had been in the Temple Prison, the Jacobin guards had bragged about destroying her fertility with a combination of drugs.4 Marie-Thérèse’s joy was to be short-lived. Quite a few months into the pregnancy, she suffered a miscarriage and that summer left for Bath to recuperate.
In early 1813, the Prussians severed their alliance with France, joining the Russians against Napoleon. The tide was beginning to turn against the Emperor of the French, raising Bourbon hopes that they would soon return. On Saturday, October 16, Princess Charlotte wrote to her friend Miss Mercer Elphinstone that since the day Napoleon had married his Austrian Archduchess, he ‘affects to call all crowned heads his relations, &, on someone talking of Revolution, he said, ‘‘If that happens again, do you think they will treat me like my poor uncle?”,’ referring to the late Louis XVI. Even his powerful ally, Talleyrand, participated in a plot against him. Talleyrand, who was often referred to as ‘Prince Girouette’ – ’Weathervane’ – because his loyalty swung whichever way the wind blew, sensed that change was in the air. He dispatched the royalist Baron de Vitrolles to allied forces in eastern France with a letter written in invisible ink, advising Napoleon’s enemies to attack Paris at that very moment. On March 31, 1814, the allies entered Paris. On April 6, Napoleon abdicated in favor of his son, abdicated unconditionally days later and was exiled to the small Mediterranean island of Elba.
Copies of Louis’s ‘Declaration of Hartwell’, in which he promised the people of France peace and stability, were strewn about the streets of the French capital. On Sunday, April 10, the English newspaper, the Examiner, published the new French constitution – or Charter – in which five of the twenty-nine articles declared that the new French government would be ‘monarchial, hereditary from male to male, in order of primogeniture … the French People call freely to the throne … the House of Bourbon, in the ancient order … the ancient Nobility resume their titles … the sanction of the King is necessary for the completion of a Law’. The newspaper also wryly commented that those who pointed to ‘Saint Louis’ and ‘Henry the Great’ as great kings of France needed to remember that the rest of the rulers of that country were ‘wretched’, adding that Saint Louis was ‘a bigot’. The Examiner denounced the idea of the Bourbon restoration saying it would be a serious mistake and a retrograde step for liberty, while tacitly acknowledging that it had, in fact, been the allied monarchs who had placed their ‘cousin’ back on the throne and that, in the end, the people of France, now a vanquished nation, had little choice.
Paris was clearly a conquered city. The English soldiers enjoyed promenading in the Bois de Boulogne and the Austrians had taken over Saint-Cloud. It was an unusual coincidence that in 1814, both Catholic and Orthodox Easter fell on the same day, April 10. In Paris, an altar was built in the Place Louis XV where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette had gone to the guillotine. The road to the Place Louis XV was filled with allied soldiers, who marched in triumph and unison toward the altar. There, the Czar of Russia and the King of Prussia stood for a Te Deum mass and benediction. At the end of the service, a hundred Russian cannon roared. The allied soldiers kneeled as the Czar Alexander and King Frederick William embraced the Marshals of France, their lifelong enemies, as
a sign of Christian forgiveness. Both royalists and liberals celebrated.
The Marquis de la Maisonfort was at Hartwell when Marie-Thérèse celebrated Easter that Sunday, April 10. Louis XVIII wrote in his memoirs that he had never seen her as jubilant and that when his niece learned that she would be returning to France her usual ‘impenetrable calm’ cracked. She sobbed and sobbed, repeating over and over that she was once more going to see France. After a while, she spoke between her tears and told the King that he was to go ahead of her so that he could make an unforgettable entrance. The King refused, telling Marie-Thérèse that he would not set one foot on French soil without her and that she was their ‘angel of forgetting and pardon’. He would later reflect in his journal on the tragic irony that she, who had suffered and sacrificed so much for France, should be denied the consolation of perpetuating their dynasty for posterity.
Chapter XIX
The Only Man in the Family
The prospect of Napoleon’s wife as Regent of France, with the eventuality of his son becoming the next Emperor of the French, had proved unpalatable to Europe’s monarchs (with the exception of Maria Louisa’s father, Emperor Franz, whose idea it was). The story, however, could so easily have unfolded differently for Marie-Thérèse, and Louis XVIII knew it. Louis was consummately aware of the prevailing sympathy for Marie-Thérèse and believed that if his niece had married Archduke Karl his own chances of becoming King of France would have been destroyed. The Emperor would have achieved Habsburg domination over most of continental Europe as his brilliant Austrian Foreign Minister Metternich would no doubt have negotiated – with some give and take with Russia, Prussia and Spain – to place Marie-Thérèse and Karl on the throne of France as co-Regents, an arrangement that would have echoed the marriage of Empress Maria Theresa and Francis of Lorraine some seventy-eight years earlier.