“So apart from those two Bodyguards killed on the Queen’s doorstep, all are safe?”
“I believe so. Later in the morning, Lafayette appeared with the Queen at the balcony of the Palace and kissed her hand. He may have saved her life then. He is in the unenviable position of attempting to reconcile the mob and Queen, who loathes him because she sees him as the symbol of the Revolution. The crowd, pacified by his gesture, began crying To Paris! The King ostensibly agreed to leave Versailles for Paris. Yet as usual, he tried to do the reverse of what he had promised. He argued that he refused to be separated from the Assembly. How convenient for him to forget that he would have been delighted to have us arrested or executed only hours earlier! We responded that we would follow him to the capital. He has no choice now but to leave for Paris.”
I put my hand on Villers’s shoulder. “Please take some rest, my dear. You look exhausted.”
“I am, my love, but I must return to the Assembly now. The situation may change at any moment.”
Early in the afternoon of that day, Aimée and I saw another parade under my windows, going in the opposite direction from the day before. Parisians on foot, Bodyguards and National Guards on horseback, all mixed together, were marching in the greatest disorder towards Paris. In accordance with the weather, which had turned dry and warm for the season, the mood of the crowd now seemed gleeful. I looked in vain for the handsome figure of the Chevalier des Huttes among the blue and red uniforms of Bodyguards. All I saw at first was the same crowd of bedraggled women as the previous day, this time cheering, straddling cannons or riding behind the soldiers. The carriages of the royal family and the Court followed at a slow pace, accompanied by men holding aloft on pikes two severed heads.
As soon as I recognized the nature of the trophies, I pushed Aimée away from the window, which was on the second floor. I was too horrified by the grisly sight to withdraw myself. I must have looked shocked, for the men holding the pikes paused in front of my house, pushed the heads into my face and, laughing and yelling, invited me to kiss them. I could not keep my eyes away from one of them. Its skin was grey, its hair matted with blood. The blade of the pike, like a steel tongue, was poking out of one of the cheeks. Disfigured as the poor remains were, I recognized the face of the Chevalier des Huttes. My knees buckled and I withdrew from the window, too stunned for tears. From the cries of the crowd I knew that the procession had resumed its march.
I had assumed, without any reason other than a desire to believe the best, that the Chevalier had been among the Bodyguards rescued by Lafayette. He had indeed been massacred by the crowd at the Queen’s doorstep. It comforted me later to think that he had died bravely in the line of duty, as befits a soldier, and that his sacrifice had not been in vain. He had saved the life of Her Majesty, whom he loved so, by giving her time to escape.
As the street quieted, I looked out again, this time with tears for the Chevalier. All I remembered of him was his kindness to me, his fondness for Aimée and his help in bringing me to Paris. I was only beginning to understand that in the course of a revolution one should be prepared to lose one’s friends.
The Assembly, true to its word, followed the King to Paris within days. So did Villers and I. Overnight the Palace of Versailles was deserted by the living and abandoned to the ghosts of kings long dead.
47
On our return to Paris, I found the same entertainments, balls, concerts, plays, as before. My enjoyment of them was dimmed by the impression the death of the Chevalier des Huttes had left on me. The events of the 5th and 6th of October spurred a second wave, more numerous than the first, of emigration. Many members of the nobility left France, some never to return. So did Madame Lebrun, who hoped to find new patrons for her paintings in Italy. The Marquise de Bastide, the Duchess’s daughter, likewise left for Turin, the capital of the Kingdom of Savoie. Yet Paris society remained as elegant and cheerful as in the past, with the difference that politics was now the main topic of conversation.
The new liberty of speech, following centuries of royal censorship, had spawned hundreds of newspapers, pamphlets and satires. One no longer dreaded the cabinet noir, the “black cabinet,” the division of the police that read and copied private letters under the Old Regime. I attended on occasion the sessions of the Assembly, now resettled in the former indoors riding arena of the Tuileries. The debates were rowdier than anything seen in England. The galleries reserved for the public were always full, as was fitting in a young democracy, and one had to arrive early to find room. The Representatives took their seats according to their political opinions: the party of the Court to the right, the Patriots to the left, and those who could not make up their minds in the center. The audience would cheer, jeer, whistle, clap, argue with the orators. Disputes, as is often the case among Frenchmen, could become quite heated. Once in a while a nobleman drew his sword and threatened to run it through a colleague of a different opinion. The “knitters,” women of the lowest classes who would come each day to the Assembly, responded by shouting String the aristocrats from the lampposts.
From the galleries of the Assembly, I listened from time to time to the speeches of a carefully dressed young man, slightly built, with delicate features and not much of a voice. What he lacked in oratory skills was more than compensated by his conviction. His argument against the death penalty, which he called a barbaric form of punishment unworthy of a democracy, was particularly forceful. He was also passionate in his denunciation of slavery. He advocated the enfranchisement of all men, regardless of wealth, education or colour, although, to my disappointment, he did not mention female suffrage. His conviction moved me. I asked my neighbours in the galleries about him and was told that he was Robespierre, an attorney and the Representative for the northern town of Arras. Someone said: “Watch this young man, Madam. He will go far. He believes in what he says.”
Villers, after our return to Paris in mid-October, continued to fulfill his duties as a Representative. Although they kept him occupied during the day, his old uneasiness returned. As I resumed my former life, he became incensed over the most insignificant details.
The Count de Maury had by then tired of poor Emilie. He often looked at me in a manner suggesting that he was considering me for the place she had occupied. One night, Villers, his face white, burst upon me while I was playing one of Mozart’s sonatas on my pianoforte. I had forgotten that Maury had once mentioned that he liked the works of that composer. Villers slammed the instrument shut and insisted on receiving a full account of my feelings for Maury.
But this was nothing compared to the jealousy Lauzun inspired. He had once mentioned that blue was his favourite colour. I met him again at a dinner given by the Duchess, when I happened to wear a blue gauze dress. Also blue were the elegant heron feather in my hair and the ribbons that trimmed my long white gloves. Villers glowered at me across the table during the whole dinner. At the end of it, he seized me roughly by the arm and shoved me rather than handed me into his carriage. Once at my lodgings, he accused me of having some sort of secret understanding with Lauzun, of wearing blue that night to show him that I loved him, and of many other things.
In our intimate relations, Villers made increased demands, sometimes of a novel nature. Any reluctance, any hesitation in submitting to his summons were interpreted as a sign that I no longer cared for him or enjoyed his embraces. One night after a dinner he had given at his house, he told me in front of his guests: “I wish to show Your Ladyship a rather interesting book I just received from London. Please, Madam, be kind enough to follow me to my study.”
I flushed with anger at the thought that he was flaunting our liaison and his power over me, when he had only half an hour to wait to be alone with me.
“You are very kind, Sir,” I said, “but I feel a little tired. Some other time maybe.”
Villers was ready to respond when Lauzun, who was among the guests, rose. “I must say that I am exhausted too,” he said. “You will allow me to retire, Vi
llers.”
I expressed my gratitude by raising my eyes to Lauzun. He looked back at me in a rather sad manner. The other guests took their cues from him and left shortly. Another scene ensued, worse than usual because Villers had noticed the looks exchanged between Lauzun and me.
I tried to reason with Villers but came to realize the futility of my efforts. I would look away and wait in silence for the outbursts to subside. Before long he would acknowledge the irrationality of his suspicions and beg my forgiveness in the most contrite manner. I nevertheless learned to mind the most trivial details of my life and dread the results of an instant of carelessness.
Even my lady friends did not find grace in Villers’s eyes. He believed them to induce me to betray him. The only one to escape his censure was the Duchess. I had missed her company in Versailles and called on her almost daily upon my return to Paris. After the emigration of her daughter, I was all the more sensible of the many obligations I had to my elderly friend.
It was during one of these visits that the Duchess told me, her eyes shining like those of a child: “I have a surprise for you, dear Belle. You are to be offered the place of lady-in-waiting to the Countess de Provence, with a stipend of 6,000 francs a year.”
I remained silent for a minute. “I cannot express my gratitude warmly enough, Madam. I have no connections at Court that could explain such a favour. It is such an honour to belong to the household of the King’s sister-in-law.”
“Well, my dear, in truth these places are less in demand than they used to be. All I had to do was to suggest your name to some of my friends. When the Countess de Provence heard of it, she herself requested that you join her household as a replacement for my daughter.”
“Why does Madame want me as a lady-in-waiting?”
“She has always been delighted with your beauty. Also of course, there is the fact that the Queen has never treated you well and hates Villers with a passion. That can only act as a recommendation in the eyes of Her Highness, who seems to have been infected by the revolutionary spirit. Finally, as you know, Madame de Gourbillon has been exiled to Lille since last February. The Countess de Provence misses her and thinks that she is owed some compensation for the loss of her dear friend’s company.”
I stiffened. “Does Her Highness expect me to provide the same services as Madame de Gourbillon?”
“Of course not, dear. It will be incumbent upon you to make things completely clear from the beginning. I am sure that Madame, who is far from an imbecile, has enough sense to respect your inclination.”
“Are you sure?”
“I would not propose this otherwise,” said the Duchess, smiling.
I trusted her judgment and gratefully accepted the place. True, I was taking a risk by becoming part of the Court at a time when the situation remained unsettled. Yet I still believed that the royal family’s move to Paris, in spite of the violence that had attended it, would seal the reconciliation between the city and the monarchy. I saw more to admire in the Revolution than to fear.
Villers glowered at me when he heard my news.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, Belle?” he asked. “Why would you accept any position with such a woman as Madame?”
“It is worth 6,000 a year. That means a great deal to me.”
“Do I not already give you an allowance in the same amount? Perhaps I should have increased it. Why did you not ask for more?”
“What you give me, my dear, is more than enough to satisfy my every need and whim, but I intend to save all of the money I will earn for Aimée’s dowry. Her father, as you know, left her next to nothing. In ten years, when she is old enough to think of those things, she will have 60,000 francs, which may be enough to induce someone she likes to marry her. I want her to have better choices than I when I came to Paris.”
He frowned. “You sound as if you had to bed Blue Beard. Was it really so disgusting for you to yield to me?”
“Of course not, but it was difficult to accept the idea of becoming your mistress.”
“And pray whose fault is it that we are not married now? We need to seriously discuss these matters, Belle. You should know that I have amended my will to leave you Vaucelles and the Cantepie estate in Normandy, which brings 50,000 a year. I would make these gifts irrevocable by marriage contract. Moreover, I understand your concerns about Aimée, and I am ready to settle 60,000 on her as a dowry. So all you have to do is to marry me, thank Madame and tell her that you are, much to your regret, unable to accept her offer.”
“You are very generous, as usual, but you have convinced me that matrimony would not suit you at all.”
“That was years ago. I have changed, Belle.”
“I am aware of it. Of late you have become jealous. Yet I have done everything in my power to please you, to the point of agreeing to be buried alive in Versailles for months.”
“I know, Belle.” He reached for my hand. “I have plagued you with my idiotic suspicions. Please forgive me. The truth is that I am afraid of losing you again. If you married me, I would feel assured of you.”
“Can we not continue as we are? Are you not happy with me?”
“I am, but I want more. I need your promise that you will be mine and mine only, that you will love me, obey me and honour me.”
“Do I not already do all of these things?”
“You do, but I want you to trust me enough to give me the power to enforce that promise. Is my proposal not generous enough?”
“It is, more so than I could ever expect or deserve. I thank you for it, but I do not wish to be so entirely dependent upon your kindness. I want to earn this money for Aimée. She is nothing to you. You should not be burdened with the expense of her dowry.”
“She would be my stepdaughter if we married. That would be enough for me to want to see her decently settled. What I cannot fathom is why you will not accept this money from me, but are ready to throw yourself at the mercy of a woman who is a drunkard and a pervert to earn it, as you say. Have you any idea of what it entails?”
“Madame knows that I would never agree to anything of the kind.”
“How would she? She has never met with much resistance from other ladies she has fancied. You are hopelessly naive, Belle, if you think that she does not expect you to be compliant, and much mistaken if you believe that I will tolerate such a ridiculous situation. I will not let you make a fool of me while you prostitute yourself.”
“How can you speak to me in such a manner?” I could feel my anger rising. “Why cannot you trust my judgment?”
“Because you have none. Let me be clear, Belle. If you accept Madame’s offer, your allowance will stop. You would not be a sol richer than if you had declined the place.”
I looked straight into Villers’s eyes. I remembered my feelings of desperate powerlessness when my brother had forced his will upon me, when I had been compelled to obey the Baron. That would never happen again.
“Fine,” I said. “I will take the place. You may turn me out of here if you wish. I will find less expensive lodgings and pay for them out of my own pocket.”
Villers rubbed his hands on his face. “So be it, Madam. I will put an end to Your Ladyship’s allowance, which will be reinstated, with a substantial increase, should you reconsider your decision. There is no need for you to move. I will still pay for your rent and servants.”
I held out my hand to him. “I am sorry to have angered you. Such was not my purpose.”
“Maybe not, but you did not hesitate to do so. You are refusing, out of sheer stupidity and obstinacy, to grant a perfectly reasonable request I made of you. Do not ever suggest again that you honour and obey me like a husband. Good night to you.”
Villers’s jaw was tight as he left.
Yielding would have been giving up any pretense of independence. I hoped for a visit from him the next morning. He did not call. I have noted earlier in these memoirs, I believe, that I have no false pride. I wrote him a note stating that I begged
his forgiveness for having offended him, that I was grieved to have done so, that I thanked him for his concern and that I hoped to have the pleasure of his company that night. He returned before dinner.
“Thank you for allowing me to save face,” he said, smiling sadly. “I would have returned in any event. I cannot stay away from you for so long. You did not say in your note whether you had reconsidered your decision.”
“I have not, my dear, but you need not worry. Rest assured that if anything inappropriate happens, I will resign my place with Madame immediately.”
“I guess I will have to be content with this.” He shook his head. “What a fool I have been not to marry you when you still wanted me.”
The Court had moved to the Palace of the Tuileries, in the heart of Paris. It had remained uninhabited for decades, except for an apartment set up for the Queen to spend the night when she attended the balls and plays of Paris. Even that part of the Palace had been unused for years because she had long quit attending public entertainments for fear of being insulted and heckled. She barely set foot out of the Palace. The King gave up hunting, which was, along with food and locksmithing, the great passion of his life. He became famous for his ability to keep his appetite, or “eat like a swine,” as people would soon say, in the face of mortal danger. His stoutness turned to obesity.
Madame was under no such pall. She shared her time between the Palace of the Luxembourg in Paris, which had already been her residence before the Revolution, and her country house of Montreuil. Unlike her sister-in-law the Queen, she did not detest Paris. She and her husband dined almost every day at the Tuileries with the King and Queen, as they had done in Versailles. As part of my duties, I accompanied her during my week of service, which was, as before the Revolution, one out of three. After staying away as much as I could from the splendid Court of Versailles, I became part of its feeble shadow in the Tuileries.
Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel Page 31