The Queen`s Confession

The Fourteenth of July

The four candles had gone out and it seemed that the lights of my life were going out for me. Two children lost in less than two years. I turned to those left to me—my serene and lovely daughter, whom I called affectionately Mousseline, loving and calm, never causing me anxiety, and my dearest son. The new Dauphin was very different from his brother, wilful yet lovable, and even more passionately devoted to me; he was by nature gay, and one of the best tonics I could have during those days of mourning was to hear his merry laughter as he played his games. He was self-willed, and showed temper if he could not have his own way—but what child of four does not? But he could always be brought to obedience when I showed that I wished it. He adored his sister and it was a pleasure to see them together, for she liked to mother him and he wanted to share everything he had with her.

Like most boys his great passion was for uniforms and soldiers; and he was a great favourite with the guards and would watch them from the windows or better still go out into the garden and march along beside them.

His charm endeared him to all. I called him my chou d’amour I did not wish him to be too much aware of his position; yet on the other hand I always remembered my husband’s complaint that he had never been educated to understand states craft I had even wondered whether this neglect was in some way responsible for our present difficulties.

So I talked to my son about the change his brother’s death bad made in his future.

“So you see, my darling,” I said, ‘you have now become the Dauphin.”

He nodded while he traced a pattern with his fat little finger on my dress.

“Which means you will one day be the King of France. Think of that.”

He looked at me gravely.

“I’ll tell you something better, Maman,” he said.

“Shall I?”

I lifted him on to my lap.

“What could be better, dearest?”

He put his mouth close to my ear and whispered: “Moufflet is my dog now.”

I held him to me too tightly, apparently, for he said:

“Maman, it is good to be loved, but sometimes it hurts.”

I felt a rush of emotion. And I thought: Oh, my little one, how right you are I

Life was moving fast towards some fearful climax, and the death of my son had temporarily made me forget this, for during those first days of grief I did not care much what happened. But now I realised that I had others to consider. The first meeting of the States-General had been held in the Sane des Menus and there the King, Baretin, the Keeper of the Seals, and Necker had spoken. Necker explained to the Assembly that they had been called together at the express wish of the King, whose chief point was that the two wealthy orders—the nobility and the clergy—were willing to make great sacrifices for the sake of the country. Something happened which was significant of the new mood of the people. Having uncovered his head while speaking, the King replaced his hat, at which point the custom was that the nobles should remove theirs and the members of the Third Estate kneel. This the latter declined to do, and put on their hats.

Indignation was expressed by the nobles and someone called out an order to the Third Estate to take off their hats. It was immediately apparent that ‘they obstinately refused to do this; and what would have happened I cannot say if my husband had not with great presence of mind removed his own hat; which gesture meant that everyone else must do the same—even the churlish members of the Third Estate. Thus it seemed that an unpleasant contretemps was avoided. But this was symbolic of the struggle which was about to begin with the nobles and clergy on one side and the members of the Third Estate on the other.

The name which was on everyone’s tongue was that of the Comte de Mirabeau. He was an aristocrat by birth but had been made to suffer greatly during his childhood by a sadistic father, who had beaten and tortured him and even sent him to prison. He was a brilliant man and by placing himself on the side of the Third Estate he had greatly strengthened that body and it very soon became apparent that there was to be a conflict between the Third Estate and the rest of the States-General.

The Third Estate had set itself up as the National Assembly; foj they declared they represented ninety-six per cent of the nation. They began to make their rules and announced that they would draw up a Constitution setting out how much power belonged to the King.

The Due de Luxembourg, who was the President of the Nobility, called on the King in company with the Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld and talked earnestly to him. “The Monarchy will be lost if Your Majesty does not dissolve the States-General,” said de la Rochefoucauld. The King was in a dilemma.

He wished to please all, he said.

He summoned Necker, who advised him to act in a conciliatory fashion.

I was against this. Something told me that the States-General was planning our destruction. I was on the side of the Due de Luxembourg and the Cardinal de la Rochefoucauld, who were asking that the States-General be disbanded. The Deputies, I said, were a pack of madmen. We must dismiss them.

Louis as usual could not make up his mind. I could see him swaying towards Necker’s views and then to mine. He compromised. He would not, he said, treat with rebels.

On the 20th of June, the King was out hunting at Le Butard and the Assembly wished to meet. The Sane des Menus Plaisirs was shut, so they held their meeting in the tennis court, and there they swore not to dissolve until they had fulfilled the wish of the people and a Constitution had been granted.

This was defying the King, for it was the King’s right to dissolve the Assembly when he so wished.

When Louis discovered that the oath had been taken in the tennis court he was as undecided as ever. On one side were those who declared that the men who were now called rebels should be driven away by the military; and on the other was Necker, advising conciliatory methods.

Mirabeau, the strength behind the Third Estate, then announced that the National Assembly would only give way at the point of the bayonet, while Jean Sylvain Bailly, the President of the National Assembly, added that the nation once assembled could be dismissed by no one.

And the nation had assembled. That was what we did not realise soon enough. The Due d’Orleans, who had added his voice to that of the Third Estate, had been spreading sedition in the Palais Royale and was encouraging agitators. Each day there were meetings; new pamphlets were appearing several times a day.

The words Liberty and the People had a magic quality. There was an air of tension through Versailles and the whole of Paris.

And there was fear everywhere. We could not guess what would happen next. Axel spoke to me; he said: You know that I shall always be here if I am wanted. ” And I felt happier than I had for some time.

Perhaps he, as a foreigner, one who mingled with the people of Paris, understood the situation far more than we could. We did not believe that the Monarchy was tottering; we could not conceive it; but he had mingled with those crowds in the Palais Royale, he had heard the mutterings of the people.

It was necessary for Louis to go to Paris to attend a meeting of the States-General and I was worried as to what would happen there. I could not forgive Necker for not accompanying him. The man was annoyed because the King would not take his advice, and although I had asked him specially to be with the King, be had failed to do so.

Louis’s great quality was his courage. I never saw fear in him as in most men. If he took the wrong action which he did so often it was never through fear. Now that he had decided to be firm I knew that if someone could put up a good argument in favour of changing that firmness he would waver again. His trouble was that he must listen, be must see all angles of a situation, and there were too many in every case.

At the Assembly he made a firm declaration. He would not allow any changes of institutions, by which he meant the Army. He would make taxation equal; the nobility and the clergy should resign their privileges. He wished advice as to bow to abolish lettres de cachet.

When he left he ordered that the Assembly should be disbanded for the night, but no one obeyed the order. And when the Master of Ceremonies, the Marquis de Breze, announced the meeting closed and advised all to go home, Mirabeau stood up and shouted that they would go when they wished, and as for Breze, he could go back to those who sent him; and he repeated that only by the use of bayonets could they be separated.

But how typical of Louis to lose firmness as quickly as he had put it on. When Breze reported to him, he merely shrugged his shoulders and said: “Very well. Let them stay where they are.”

Then be made a mistake. He dismissed Necker and called in de Breteuil to take his place.

I was with die children reading to them aloud from the fables of La Fontaine. My daughter leaned against my chair following the text as I read and my son sat in my lap watching my lips and every now and then he would shriek with laughter as some phase of the story struck him as particularly funny.

It was easy at moments like these to forget what was happening all about us.

We were at the Trianon, which seemed to have changed its character in the last year or so. The theatre remained shut. I had no heart for it.

Often I would wander through the gardens with Gabrielle and we would try not to speak of the fears that were in our hearts. I was no longer surrounded by gay young men. They had been robbed of those sinecures which they bad all sought and which I had delighted to bestow upon them. They were a little sullen. We shall all be bankrupt,” was their cry.

I had stopped reading and dosed the book.

I wish to show you my flowers,” said Louis Charles And so we went out into the garden to that little patch which I had given him all for his own—for he delighted in flowers, and already, with the help of the gardeners, was cultivating them.

“Flowers and soldiers, Maman,” he had said, “I do not know which I love best.”

And hand in hand we walked out into the gardens and my dear villagers of the Hameau came out to curtsy and adore my children with their eyes; and no one would have guessed what was happening in the outside world. And yet again the Trianon was my haven.

My son released my hand and ran on ahead.

He reached his garden and stood waiting for us. I have been talking to a grasshopper,” he said.

“He’s been laughing at an old ant. But he won’t laugh, will be. Ataman, when the winter comes.”

When did you speak to the grasshopper, my love? “

“Just now. You couldn’t see him. He ran out of the book while you were reading.”

He looked at me seriously.

“You are making that up,” said his sister.

But he swore he wasn’t.

“I take my oath,” he said.

I laughed. But his way of exaggerating did disturb me a little. It was not that he did not mean to be truthful;

he had such a vivid imagination.

Then he was picking flowers and presenting them to me and his sister.

“Maman,” he said, ‘when you go to a ball I will make you a necklace of flowers. “

“Will you, darling?”

“A beautiful, beautiful one. It’ll be better than a diamond necklace.”

Always close to me were the warning shadows.

I picked him up suddenly and kissed him fiercely.

Td far rather have the flowers,” I said.

I heard news of what was happening in Paris. During those hot July days it seemed as though the city was preparing itself, waiting. I heard the names of dangerous men mentioned often, Mirabeau, Robespierre, Danton, and the biggest traitor of them all, Orleans—Prince of the Royal House-who was urging the country to rise against us.

“What does he hope for?” I demanded of Louis. To step into your shoes? “

“It would be impossible,” replied my husband. But I heard that crowds were thronging to the gardens of the Palais Royale day and night and that Orleans was already king of this little territory. The journalist agitator Camille Desmoulins was in his pay, it was said. These men were working against us.

They can never succeed against the throne,” said Louis. Madame Campan was quiet and more serious than ever. Tell me everything,” I said.

“Hold nothing back from me.”

There have been riots in Paris, Madame. Mobs are roaming the streets and the shopkeepers are barricading their shops. “

“Violence!” I muttered.

“How I hate it ” Danton speaks in the Palais Royale gardens, so does Desmoulins. They have discarded the green cockade because those are the colours of the Comte d’Artois. “

“I fear they hate Artois almost as much as they do me.”

I was sad, remembering those extravagant adventures we bad shared.

“They have chosen the colours of Monsieur d’Orleans, Madame—red, white and blue, the tricolour. They are asking for the recall of Necker. They parade through the streets with busts of Necker and the Due d’Orleans.”

“So they are heroes now.”

Louis had changed again. He now decided that firm action was needed.

He would call out the military; he would send garrisons to the Bastille. The States-General must be disbanded. And while garrisoning the Bastille the King gave orders that the guns were not to be used against the people.

I shall never forget that night of the fourteenth of July. The hot sultry day was over and we had retired to our apartments.

I was unable to sleep. How different from Louis. His rest seemed never to be disturbed. He had to be aroused when the messenger came.

It was the Due de la Rochefoucauld de Liancourt riding in haste from Paris with a terrible tale to tell. His face was ashen, his voice trembled.

I heard him calling to be taken to the King and I rose and wrapped a gown about me.

The King’s servants were arguing. The King was in bed. He could not be disturbed at this hour!

And Liancourt’s terse answer: “Awaken the King. I must see the King.”

The Due was in the bedchamber.

“Sire!” he cried.

“The people have stormed the Bastille I’ Louis sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“The Bastille …” he murmured. “They have taken the Bastille, Sire.”

“But … the governor …”

“They have killed de Launay, Sire. They marched into the prison with his head on a pike.”

“This would seem to be a revolt,” said the King.

“No, Sire,” answered the Due gravely.

“It is a revolution.”