It was a long time since I had looked at myself in a mirror. I stared for a few seconds without recognising the woman with the red-rimmed eyes, the face covered with the dust of the roads, the torn gown. But it was not these things which startled me.
My hair, which Madame du Barry had referred to as ‘carrots’ and which the dressmakers of Paris had called the ‘colour of gold,” was completely white.
The Faubourgs on the March
I was almost glad when we arrived at the Tuileries and exist—nothing more. How anxious I have been for you and all you must have suffered in having no news of us. On no account think of returning. It is known that it is you who helped us to get away, and all would be lost if you should show yourself.
I can tell you that I love you and have only time for that. Do not be troubled about me. I am well. I long to know the same of you. Tell me where I should address my letters so that I may be able to write to you, for I cannot live without that. Farewell, most loved and loving of men.
Tribulation first makes one realise what one is. My blood courses through my son’s veins and I hope that a day will come when he will show himself worthy to be the grandson of Maria Theresa.
Feb. 13th 1792: Went to see her. Made very anxious because of the National Guards.
Feb. 14th: Saw the King at six o’clock. Louis is, in truth, a man of honour.
The Marseillaise was the greatest General of the Republic.
During those first days back in the Tuileries I existed in a state of numbness. I would start up in my sleep imagining filthy hands on me, foul wine-sodden breath in my face. I lived again a thousand times the horror of that ride back to Paris. La Fayette had saved us from the fury of the mob with men such as the Due d’Auguillon and the Vicomte de Noailles who had never been friends of mine; but they had been disgusted by the tornado which was raging all about us.
Everywhere we looked there were guards. We were prisoners as we had not been before. They were determined that we should never have an opportunity of escaping again.
We heard that Provence and Marie Josephe had safely crossed the frontier. Their shabby carriage had got by whereas our luxurious berline had failed. I refused to remember that it was Axel’s berline which had delayed and betrayed us. He wanted the best for me, but fugitives of course should give up luxury for a chance of freedom.
I wept when I heard that Bouin6 had arrived at Varennes with his troops only half an hour after we left; and when he realised that we had gone he bad disbanded his troops, for there was no point in making war on the revolutionaries then. Half an hour between us and freedom!
Had we not stopped to gather flowers on the roadside, had we travelled more simply, we could have travelled at greater speed. Freedom was within our reach and we had lost it. Not through ill luck. I must be reasonable and see this. It was not in our stars but in ourselves that we had failed.
I was desperate during those long winter months. I even attempted to intrigue through Bamave, who had shown his admiration for me during that terrible journey in the berline. I wrote letters which were smuggled out to him in which I flattered him, telling him that his intelligence had so impressed me that I was asking for his cooperation. I told him that I was ready to compromise if it was necessary and that I believed in his good intentions. Would he be prepared to help me? Bamave was flattered and delighted, although naturally apprehensive. He showed my letters to some of his trusted friends and wrote to me that they were interested and would prefer to deal with me rather than the King.
I must, they told me, do all I could to bring my brothers in-law back to France and try to persuade my brother, the Emperor Leopold, to recognise the French Constitution. They drafted the letter which I was to send— and this I did, although I had no intention of submitting to the new Constitution and immediately wrote secretly to my brother to tell him in what circumstances I had written the first letter.
I was in fact involved in a dangerous and double game for which I was ill equipped, intellectually and emotionally. I was deceiving these men who were ready to be my friends, but I could not lightly give up what I believed to be my birthright. I must make some effort to regain what we had lost, since my husband would not do so. But bow I hated the deception! To lie and deceive was not one of my faults. I wrote to Axel:
“I cannot understand myself and have to ask myself again and again whether it is really I who am acting in this way. Yet what can I do?
It has become necessary to do these things and our position would be worse if I did not act. We can gain time in this way and time is what we need. What a joyful day it will be to me when I can tell the truth and show these men that I never intended to work with them. “
I continued to be very unhappy because of this role into which I had fallen.
Worse still, there was no news from Axel. Where was he? Why did he not get in touch? I heard that he was in Vienna trying to interest my brother in our cause, trying to urge him to send an army to France with whom our loyal soldiers could link up and so restore law and order—and the Monarchy—to our tortured country.
When I heard that Comte d’Esterhazy was going to Vienna I asked him to take a ring to the Comte de Fersen. It was engraved with three fleurs-delis, and inside, the inscription “Lache qui les abandon ne was engraved. I wrote to Esterhazy when I sent the ring. H you write to him,” I wrote, ‘tell him that many miles and many countries can never separate hearts. This ring is just his size. Ask him to wear it for me. I wore it for two days before wrapping it. Tell him it comes from me. I do not know where he is. It is torture to have no news and not even to know where the people one loves are living. “
No sooner had I sent that letter to Esterhazy, who I knew was my good friend and would do as I asked, than I was terrified that Axel would see it as a reproach and return to danger. I immediately wrote to him:
“I exist nothing more. How anxious I have been for you and all you must have suffered in having no news of us. Heaven grant that this reaches you…. On no account think of returning. It is known that it is you who helped us to get away, and all would be lost if you should show yourself. We are guarded and watched night and day…. Be at rest. Nothing will happen to me. Farewell. I shall not be able to write to you any more….”
But I had to write to him. I could not have gone on living during those dreary days if I had not. Soon I was writing again:
I was deeply resentful of the manner in which we were treated. The doors of my apartments were barred at night, and the door of my room had to remain open. I felt reckless at times, resigned at others. But I continued in correspondence with Bamave.
At last there was news from Axel. He wanted to come to Paris and I was delighted at the prospect of seeing him, but at the same time terrified.
“It would endanger our happiness,” I wrote, ‘and you can truly believe I mean that, for I have the keenest desire to see you. “
