Marie-Antoinette, Daughter of the Caesars

by Elena Maria Vidal

  Although Tomokiyo says that the work of Patarin and Nachef have proved that the hidden passages were romantic and not diplomatic, here is one of their decryptions from a letter of Antoinette to Fersen, dated July 8, 1791, which indeed appears to be about diplomacy:

  There is no doubt that a foreign power could get into France, but the armed people would flee the borders and the troops from outside. Then they would make use of their weapons against their fellow citizens that they have been considering as enemies for two years. In our trip and especially since our return we have made every day the sad experiment to be considered as enemies. The king thinks that a full unlimited power as it composed even by dating it on June 20th, would be dangerous in its current state.26

  The Tomokiyo article provides a great service by discussing the ciphers used by Marie-Antoinette when writing coded letters to other persons such as Comte de Mercy. To quote:

  Marie-Antoinette’s use of cipher was not limited to her correspondence with Fersen. Marie-Antoinette is also known to have written in cipher to her brother Leopold II (Arneth1). Feuillet de Conches1 mentions a particular cipher arranged between Marie-Antoinette and Mercy (Vol.2, p.95). (When in Paris as Austrian minister, the Comte de Mercy had worked to strengthen the alliance between France and Austria, which materialized as the marriage of Marie-Antoinette into the France in 1770. He was instructed by Maria-Theresa to act as a mentor of the young princess. In 1792, he became governor-general of the Austrian Netherlands.) On the other hand, Marie-Antoinette appears to have used the cipher with Fersen also in her correspondence with the Comte de Mercy.... Marie-Antoinette had relatives in many courts in Italy, including her elder sisters Maria Carolina, Queen of Naples, and Maria Amalia, Duchess of Parma. Marie-Antoinette’s cipher with them is recorded in Secret memoirs of the royal family of France, during the revolution, Vol. 2. The author is an English lady-in-waiting to Princess of Lamballe, a confidante of Marie-Antoinette. The author says Marie-Antoinette carried on a very extensive correspondence with Edmund Burke through the medium of Princess of Lamballe and she frequently ‘deciphered’ letters (presumably from Burke) (p.140). Princess of Lamballe was sent to England by the Queen in 1791 to seek help to the French royal family. Twice during her residence in England, the author was sent by Marie-Antoinette with papers communicating the result of the secret mission to the Queen of Naples. On the second of these trips, after reaching the destination after travelling night and day, she was immediately compelled to decipher the papers with the Queen of Naples in the office of the secretary of state (p.140). On 2 August 1792, when the situation was becoming critical, she left Paris with Marie-Antoinette's letters to the Queen of Naples, the Duchess of Parma, and other relatives in Italy. She was entrusted with the cipher and the key for the letters (p.304-326).27

  Madame Élisabeth of France, the sister of Louis XVI, also used a cipher when communicating with her friend the Marquise de Raigecourt. It appears, however, that the princess did not make use of ciphers as often as Antoinette did, since some of Élisabeth’s letters were later used against her at her trial.

  While I may question some of the interpretations of the articles I have been quoting, I applaud the marvelous efforts of Tomokiyo and of Patarin and Nachef in giving us a glimpse into the extraordinary way in which people communicated sensitive information in the days before telephones and telegraphs, not to mention computers and cell phones.

  As of this writing, the media has reported so-called new discoveries of scribbled passages in letters between the Queen and Fersen. A great deal of excitement has been elicited by those who think that they finally have proof that the Antoinette and Fersen were lovers, not only that they were lovers, but that Fersen fathered the Queen’s two youngest children. How odd, since every time Fersen visited Versailles, the Queen was already pregnant by her husband. Nevertheless, beneath the scribble in a letter from the Queen to Fersen, some researchers have claimed to have discovered the phrase “I love you madly.” The letter was written on January 4th, 1792. Here is the entire phrase, which someone covered with ink: “I am going to close, but not without telling you, my dear and very tender friend, that I love you madly and never, ever could I exist a moment without adoring you.” (Or in French: Je vais finire, non pas sans vous dire mon bien cher et tendre ami que je vous aime à la folie et que jamais jamais je ne peu être un moment sans vous adorer.) The ink of the scribble is different from that of the original pen, so the Queen probably is not the one who blackened the sentence in question. It indicates she felt she had nothing to hide. Perhaps because she spoke about so many others in the same manner, including her children, saying of Louis-Charles “je l’aime à la folie” or “I love him madly” as she wrote to Madame de Polignac in December of 1789.28 According to Marie-Antoinette scholar Anna Gibson:

  Critically, the claim that ‘I love you madly’ is for lovers only does not hold up when you compare it to other contemporary letters from that time period. The claim also wavers when you take into consideration Marie Antoinette’s personal style of writing. ‘I love you madly’ does not differ very much from phrases Marie Antoinette regularly wrote to people she genuinely adored. The intensity with which Marie Antoinette wrote to people she considered her cherished companions cannot be overstated. Her letters to these few — people she knew from childhood, people she brought into her intimate ‘Trianon’ circle, and those who remained loyal to her during the Revolution — contain such gushing phrases as ‘I kiss you tenderly,’ ‘It would be a great pleasure for me to kiss you,’ ‘My feelings for you are tender and grow every day,’ ‘my tender heart,’ ‘my dear heart,’ ‘I kiss you with all my heart,’ ‘I embrace you with all my soul,’ ‘I will never cease to love you,’ ‘I kiss you hard,’ and other flourishes that would easily be considered romantic today. Marie Antoinette even wrote to Yolande de Polignac saying that ‘nothing but death could make me stop loving you.’

  Could lovers have used the phrase? Of course. But in the context of Marie Antoinette and Fersen, it’s not some outlier phrasing that is totally incongruous with Marie Antoinette’s normal style. It shows that she considered him an intimate, loved companion who wasn’t just loyal to her but was, by all her accounts, fighting for her life and the life of her family. If there was any point where Marie Antoinette was going to use her trademark tender, romantic phrases, the years where Fersen was an almost sole outside devotee when she was living in a country that was increasingly hostile to her is definitely that point. And remember: ‘I love you madly’ was not hidden by the queen. It was written plainly in her letter to Fersen, as were her romantic phrases in letters to her other cherished loved ones. If this was a phrase reserved for lovers, it is extremely unlikely that Marie Antoinette would ever risk everything (her security, the future of her children, the stability of the monarchy, her reputation to the European powers, to name a few things) by so casually revealing something that was considered treasonous. So what does the phrase mean? The answer is genuinely simple: Marie Antoinette wrote passionately, romantically, even gushingly to people she considered intimate friends. Before and after the revolution. And she knew how to use that flattering language to keep people on her side, when she needed to do so, and she definitely needed to bring Fersen back around after his recent criticisms and fears, which I will get more into below.

  The role that Fersen played in the last years of Marie Antoinette’s life was an intense one, that in all likelihood bonded them emotionally in a way that is difficult to imagine today. He was, in the queen's estimation, working to save their lives. He was one of the few people who was willing to take an active role in saving the royal family and the crown, beyond vague promises by foreign rulers or the dangerous behavior of the emigrated Artois and Provence elsewhere in Europe or the moderates in France that Marie Antoinette never fully trusted. Is it any wonder that Marie Antoinette wrote to him as she did other intimates like Polignac, so favored that she had to flee France? No, it is not. As with the use of gossip as evidence, using
this phrase and similar phrases as evidence that the two were physical lovers does not stand up to an extrapolating critical view. Marie Antoinette wrote this way — many women of that time period wrote this way.

  If ‘I love you madly’ proves that Marie Antoinette and Axel Fersen were physical lovers, then it stands to reason that ‘Nothing but death can make me stop loving you’ should be used as proof that Marie Antoinette and Yolande de Polignac were also physical lovers. Yet once again, I doubt historians would claim that because the Queen wrote romantically to Polignac, they were lovers, physical or otherwise, due to the context of Marie

  Antoinette's personality and the general romantic writing style of her contemporaries.29

  The circumstances in which the Queen found herself must also be looked at carefully. Gibson continues her analysis, saying:

  For the last several months, Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI had been embarking on course of action that none of their allies…had really approved. That course of action was to play both sides: ally themselves with Barnave and other constitutionals, all the while keeping up their correspondence with Fersen, Craufurd, Breteuil, and various European monarchs. In September of 1791, Louis XVI had also accepted the Constitution and the royal couple decided to outwardly support the Constitution, not just to appease the rumblings in the government but to, as Louis XVI put it, show the people that the Constitution could not work by following it to the letter. Abroad, this had the effect of sending the émigrés, the king's brothers and European monarchs into a war-minded frenzy. The king’s brothers were stirring the pot by spear-heading the raising of émigré-based armies with the intention of sending those armies into France to take back control over the country. On December 14th, 1791, Louis XVI —without consulting or notifying Fersen and the others in contact with the queen—addressed the Assembly and declared that any European powers which did not disband émigré-based troops by January 15th, 1792 would be considered enemies of France. Furthermore, he declared that he wrote to Leopold II and informed him that he was fully prepared to declare war on Austria if those troops were not disbanded.

  Eight days later, Fersen wrote Marie Antoinette a lengthy letter which contained what the queen later referred to as ‘scoldings.’ In this letter, Fersen admonished the queen for not being openly affectionate towards people he was trying to get on their side….Yet the ‘scoldings’ in this letter did not stop there. Fersen then wrote that he was astounded and grieved by the king's unsupported decision and the fact that Marie Antoinette did not tell him about it….Fersen went on to suggest that Marie Antoinette should not have acted without consulting Fersen and Breteuil, and that by doing so she invited disastrous consequences. He also questioned the queen's confidence in him….Is it any wonder that Marie Antoinette, who had excelled at charming people from an early age, knew how to reassure Fersen — who, by the tone of this letter and those leading up to it, was becoming increasingly critical of her and wary of her decisions? Fersen himself said it best: ‘Do you not think that it would be well to show persons of good-feeling and good-will certain marks of kindness?’ Fersen wanted reassurance that the queen trusted him, that she accepted his devotion, and that she considered his confidence worthy of respect. And she did just that, as she had throughout the last year to this years-long friend who she saw as fighting for the salvation of her family and for her country.30

  Other experts also remain unconvinced that the tender phrases indicates a love affair. To quote from an interview in an online journal:

  According to Fanny Cosandey, a French historian and a professor at the School for Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences in Paris, while the count and the queen may have shared a love story, it likely only unfolded on the page, not in the bedroom. ‘Personally, I don’t think it was possible for Queen Marie Antoinette to have had an actual physical relationship with Fersen,’ Cosandey told The Daily Beast. ‘Maybe it was a platonic love, maybe it was a stronger relationship… but I don’t think these documents are going to tell us much more.’31

  On June 19, 1792, the King vetoed the Assembly’s decision to deport twenty thousand priests to the jungles of Guiana for slave labor because they had refused to deny the papal supremacy. The next day, Paris marched on the Tuileries, chanting, “Down with the veto! Down with the priests!” The Royal Family was again in danger. Madame Élisabeth clung to her brother’s coat, refusing to leave him, and together they went to the first floor to meet the mob. Both men and women were armed with everything from axes and pikes to sticks and paring knives. Many of the intruders were already rampaging through the palace, looking for the Queen. They were determined this time to kill her, but she was hiding in a secret passage with the children. She had to leave her hiding place when the mob began hacking at the doors and walls with axes, so a nobleman dragged her into the Council Room, where she and the children were barricaded behind a table. She begged her ladies and the guards to let her go to the King. “It is only with me the people are angry. I am going to offer them their victim. Let me go the King, my duty calls me there!” Of course, the guards prevented her from going. Meanwhile, the rabble thought Élisabeth was the Queen, and she begged: “Do not undeceive them,” hoping to die in the Queen’s place. Louis held the bulk of them at bay for almost two hours, in spite of their insults. They were amazed that he did not appear to be afraid, or even the least bit shaken. “Put your hand on my heart, and see if it beats any faster,” he said to them. Eventually they stopped shouting, “Down with the veto!” and several unspeakable descriptions of the Queen. They handed the King a bottle of wine and a red cap, which he put on, drinking to the health of the nation. At last, the mayor of Paris, Pétion, arrived and told the people it was time to leave. The King calmly asked if they would like to see the State apartments, and so in a procession that could almost be called orderly, they traipsed through the Palace, filled with awe. Eventually, they came upon Antoinette and her children, but did no harm except for one fierce old fish wife, who screeched, ‘You vile woman!’ at the Queen. Antoinette calmly replied, “What harm have I ever done to you?” Soon, the people filed out of the palace, and the Royal Family was reunited.32

  Louis began quietly strengthening the defense of the Tuileries, in preparation for the next attack. On July 14, 1792 on the Champs de Mars, Louis renewed his oath to the constitution, surrounded by another violent, cursing horde of people. Yet they ended by shouting, “Long live the King!” Louis’ courage seemed to affect them that way. In the meantime, the Jacobins under Danton planned on seizing the government and declaring a republic, using the Brunswick Manifesto as propaganda. The Duke of Brunswick had recently declared that if any harm came to the Royal Family he would use military force on Paris, to Louis XVI’s horror. He disavowed the manifesto before the Assembly. The King and his sister tried to convince the Queen to flee to Vienna. At one point she agreed to go with Princesse de Lamballe. She secretly confessed and received Holy Communion, and packed, but at the last minute changed her mind. She could not bring herself to leave the King or her children. Meanwhile, the family was insulted even while at Mass or at Vespers, with the chapel musicians playing the revolutionary song Ça ira when the King and Queen entered. People congregated outside the Queen’s windows with lewd drawings and placards, sometimes even exposing themselves in indecent ways. The King and Queen were advised to wear special iron vests under their clothes to protect them from assassination attempts, but both refused. “Whoever assassinates me will be releasing me from a truly wretched existence,” said Antoinette.

  On the morning of August 10, 1793, there could be heard the tramp of feet, along with the Marseillaise and Ça ira. A mob was again marching on the Tuileries. It was the Feast of Saint Laurence, who had been roasted on the gridiron. The revolutionary authorities advised the King, for the sake of his wife and children, to leave the palace, the champions of liberty being either unwilling or unable to control the people. Accompanied by their most faithful attendants, the Royal Family escaped through the palace
gardens, where very strangely the premature shedding of leaves had already made deep piles on the ground, to the National Assembly, where they took refuge in the stenographer’s box, called the Logographe. Louis had ordered the Swiss to lay down their arms, thinking that if they surrendered there would be no bloodshed. The servants and Swiss guards who remained in the palace were butchered and mutilated by the indignant citizens. Even children threw heads in the air and caught them on sticks. The enraged populace poured into the National Assembly, and screamed at the beleaguered family, who had little to eat except what the English ambassador’s wife sent over. They spent three days in the cramped box behind the President’s chair, and three nights in a deserted convent, where they were always within earshot of the screeches of: “No more kings!” or “Down with the Fat Pig!”, and especially things like “Death to the Austrian whore!” The crowd had plundered the palace, and mocked the Queen with her possessions they had rifled, including some jewels. They had also stolen a golden ciborium full of consecrated Hosts from the palace chapel which were publicly desecrated. After long debates, it was finally decided by the Assembly to imprison the family in the medieval fortress known as the Temple. The Temple was the former headquarters of the Knights Templar, who had been disbanded by the Church in the 1300’s because of accusations of occult practices, for which they were later absolved by the Holy See. The knights had been tortured and killed at the hands of the French King Philip the Fair, who was himself rebellious towards the Pope. And now Philip’s dethroned descendant was to be humbled on the very site of the former infamy.