MARIE ANTOINETTE TO JOSEPH II

Four wax tapers were placed on her toilette; the first went out and I relighted it; shortly afterwards the second and the third went out also, upon which the Queen squeezing my hand in an emotion of terror said to me: “Misfortune has power to make us superstitious. If the fourth taper goes out like the rest, nothing can prevent my looking on it as a fatal omen.” The fourth taper went out.

MADAME CAM PAN MEMOIRS

Nothing could ever be quite the same again. For one thing, I myself had stepped across the theshold of awareness. I was no longer the frivolous child. I had become conscious of my growing unpopularity, and what had once seemed the height of pleasure now seemed a waste of time. The leader of fashion, the frivolous seeker of pleasure who threw herself so wholeheartedly into games such as descampativos and guerre pan pan seemed like a silly child. I had grown up. Moreover at the time of the verdict which had so distressed me I was heavily pregnant, and about a month afterwards I gave birth to another daughter. My little Sophie Beatrix was delicate from birth. Perhaps the grief and anger I suffered at the time of the verdict undermined my health and that of the child; but the baby took my mind completely from that affair, and I would sit nursing the whimpering child and tell myself that I did not mind what happened to me as long as she grew up strong and healthy.

I had now four children. It was what I had always wanted. To be a mother; to live with my children and for my children.

The libels about me grew wilder and they were everywhere, Pictures of me were stuck on the walls of Paris buildings and in all of them I was depicted wearing the diamond necklace. The story was that it was in my jewel box; that I had made a scapegoat of poor Madame de la Motte. If ever I rode out I was given sullen looks and silence. I thought often of my first visit to Paris when Monsieur de Brissac had told me that two hundred thousand Frenchmen were in love with me. How different it was now! Where had I gone wrong? I had been extravagant, careless, I knew, but I had never been vicious. Before my friends the Polignacs had urged me to interfere in the giving of appointments I had kept aloof from state affairs. But I had to admit that my desire to please them had caused me to interfere. Strangely enough, my husband, who was a shrewd man in many ways, seemed to trust my judgment. I think he was bemused because of the admiration my appearance excited in others, and yet I was not a promiscuous woman. I had been a faithful wife, which was something which could be said for few women at the Court of France. I was a romantic; the sensations I craved were for continual excitement, the daring escapade, the preliminaries of lovemaking, flirtations—I was a coquette by nature—but I had no deep sexual desires which must be gratified at all costs. Perhaps that early initiation which had been so frustratingly humiliating had had its effect upon me. Although I had always been surrounded by an admiring group of men and women who professed passionate friendships for me, these relationships had never been physical. I did not desire that. The very idea would have been repulsive to me. My life must be rather like a Watteau painting—charming, delicately romantic. But how could the people understand this? And my conduct was such as to give credence to the terrible stories of sexual orgies which were attached to my name. The King, however, preserved a reverence for me. I had been patient with his inadequacies, I had shared those humiliating attempts over a number of years and never complained to him nor blamed him, now I shared his triumphs. His manhood had been vindicated and I had played a very large pan in the vindication. Therefore he wished to please me.

And when I asked favours for my friends he was very loath to refuse them, even though his common sense might have told him it would have been wise to do so.

I often think of him now with great tenderness. I remember his love for our children. How people would smile when he spoke of my son and ‘the Dauphin’ as he did frequently, seeking opportunities to bring the children into the conversation. And our children loved us. We were never King and Queen to them, but dearest Papa and darling darling Maman. I knew they had this special feeling for me. Children love beautiful things and my exquisite gowns would set up cries of delight when I went into the nurseries. I would hug them to me, careless of the fine stuffs which were Rose Berlin’s delight. I was happy in my nursery; and I knew now more than ever that Louis and I should have been born in a humbler station of life. We were not fit to be a King and Queen; yet we could have been good simple parents. This was our tragedy.

How did the fearful disasters come upon us? Even now, I cannot entirely say. Even now I ask myself when that moment had come, the turning-point in affairs of men which can lead to greatness . or disaster. If my dear Gabrielle had not possessed such rapacious relations perhaps things might have been different. No, that was too small a matter.

I was accused of working against France for Austria. Every little incident was lumed to my disadvantage, as people will do when they appear to be consumed by an all-absorbing hate. I was Austrian and because of this was resented in France.

My brother Joseph was at war with Turkey and Prussia, and the French alliance with Austria had laid down that in such circumstances money or men should be sent to aid then-ally. I knew of course that what Joseph needed was men, not 15,000,000 livres which Monsieur de Vergennes and his Council had decided to send. I asked Vergennes to see me that I might ask that men should be sent and give my reasons why. Monsieur de Vergennes informed me that it was not politic to send Frenchmen to fight in the service of the Emperor Joseph; therefore the money would go. I explained that there was no lack of money at Vienna and that it was men who were needed, to which Vergenn’s asked me to remember that I was the mother of the Dauphin and cease thinking of myself as the sister of the Emperor. It was as though he believed I wished to sacrifice France for the sake of Austria, which was quite untrue. The money was sent. I was deeply distressed. I talked of it to my dear Campan, who during these days of uneasiness seemed to grow closer to me.

“How can they be so wicked!” I cried.

“They have sent all that money from the general post office making it known publicly that the carriages which are being loaded with French money are going to my brother in Austria. , they say, am sending money from France, where it is so badly needed, to my brother. And in truth I had not wished the money to be sent and it would have been sentp>

if I had belonged to an nations. He was an autocrat but he was a Ring of whom France could be proud. The pomp and etiquette of his Court did not appear to be ridiculous because he was in fact as grand as his setting. He was not named the Roi Soleil for nothing.

And there was his great-grandson, our dear grandfather who had been so charming to me on my arrival. It was during his long reign that the pedestal on which the Monarchy was placed had begun to crumble. Madame Campan’s father was right. It had begun long before we came to the throne. The people’s heritage had been squandered in careless and extravagant debauchery. It was later said that not since the days of ancient Rome was there such profligacy as was practised at the Court of Louis XV. But when my husband became King there should have been a change. There could never have been a King of France less given to extravagance, and he had never in his life practised debauchery He wanted to be good; he cared passionately for his people; he asked nothing for himself, only their confidence in the belief that he was their little father who would make Prance great again. Maurepas was there to advise him; he listened to Maurepas; but when I made my requests he would listen to me; and he was never sure to which of us he should give his support. He wavered. Was that what destroyed us? He was unable to think quickly, unable ever to make up his mind. This was not stupidity—quite the reverse. He was too ready to see both sides of a dispute, which was often the true aspect of the case, but it prevented his making a decision. Hence he. would go a little way in one direction hesitate, turn . give way and then sway again. My poor Louis, whose intentions were always so unselfish, who desperately sought to find the right course and seldom succeeded.

He had trained himself to be calm in all situations, and in this he was helped by his own nature. Yet all his good qualities worked against him; for this very calmness prevented his seeing disaster when it loomed right ahead of him. He would say: “Oh, it will pass. It is only a bagatelle.”

Had it not been for the state of the finances, we might have avoided tragedy. Was it our fault that the country’s finances were tottering on the edge of bankruptcy? To some extent perhaps I was to blame. My dear Trianon was like a greedy monster who put his head into the treasury and drank deep. My white and gold theatre, my exquisite gardens, my Hameau . they were all very expensive. But I did not think of the cost because they were so beautiful, and they made not only me but thousands of others happy.

Turgot, and Necker, had tried to right these finances and their methods had failed. Then we called in Calonne. His policy was to borrow from the people and decrease taxation. The yearly deficit was over 100,000,000 livres.

Everyone was talking of the Deficit. They had given me a new name. My picture, with the necklace, was seen everywhere, and underneath it were the words “Madame Deficit.”