abolitions were talked of. Liberty, Equality and Fraternity were discussed. Frenchmen had helped to fight for these across the sea, so why not in France?
It was hardly likely that the Notables should succeed. Were the nobility of France going to agree to pay taxes? Were they going to take on a greater share of the country’s finances? The Notables were impotent. It was said that they were not in a position to impose taxes. The only assembly which could do that was a States- General.
That was the first whisper of those words. The Notables were a failure. In the streets they were using the Anglo-French ride of NotAbles. This assembly could only resign, and was a sign for the downfall of Calonne, who had been responsible for calling it.
The people were demanding the recall of Necker.
Who to replace Calonne? The Abbe Vermond was at my elbow. His friend Lomenie de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, was the man for the task.
He was certain of it. I always wanted to please my friends and Vermond had been close to me since my arrival in France -and even before therefore I longed to make this appointment. The King did not wish for it; everyone was against it; he wavered; but I persisted and eventually he gave way.
Now I was caught up in state affairs. Lomenie de Brienne was not the man for the job; in fact the Pariement was against him and everything he suggested was opposed. The very fact that I had helped to make his appointment set them against him; and when in a futile effort to please me he brought forward the proposal that I should have a place at the meetings of the council and so have a say in the actual government of the country the result was naturally to make me more unpopular than ever.
In the streets the people were shouting: “Shall we be governed by Madame Deficit? Never.” They paraded with placards on which were crude drawings of me always wearing the necklace, always inscribed “Madame Deficit.”
In the Palais Royale opinion against me was steadily whipped up; at Bellevue, which Louis had given to the aunts, my wickedness and depravity were talked of and fresh stories the more fantastic the better were concocted.
“It is the Queen! was the cry.
“The Queen who is responsible for the woes of our country. Who else but the chief character in the case of the Diamond Necklace, who but the Austrian Woman, Madame Deficit.”
Brienne had no new ideas. I was fast realising that I had been wrong to ask for his appointment. He could only think of borrowing, and wanted to float new loans. The Parlement disagreed with his propositions, and the King, in a rare moment of decision, decided to support the minister.
Orleans was on his feet reminding the King that what he had said was illegal.
Knowing that Orleans was a danger, having some notion of the nightly gatherings in the Palais Royale, Louis for once was stem, and banished Orleans to his estates at VillersCotteret.
Now there was a division between the King and the Parlement; and all the Pariements of the country stood firmly behind the Parlement of Paris.
“Brienne must go,” was the cry not only in the capital but throughout the country. There was rioting in several towns; people were demanding the recall of Necker, and he could only come back if Brienne was dismissed.
The cry went up: “The country needs the States-General I’
Madame Louise, the youngest of the aunts, died at that time. I think of her now as one of the lucky ones who did not live too long, as most of us did.
She had died in her convent sure of her place in Heaven, for as she passed away she cried in her delirium as though TO her coachman: “To Paradise, quick. Full speed ahead.”
I think she must have been the happiest of the aunts, removed from the stresses which had become so much a part of our lives.
I was spending more and more time at the Trianon, walking in the gardens, talking to my peasants at the Hameau. I felt so strongly the need to escape. I kept the children with me—my two healthy ones and my Dauphin, who was growing visibly thinner every day.
Rose Benin came with new patterns. She had an exquisite silk—and also the most delightful satin I had ever seen.
“Everything is changed now,” I told her.
“I have many dresses in my wardrobe. They must suffice.”
She looked at me incredulously, and then smiled her roguish familiar smile.
“Wait until Your Majesty sees the new blue velvet.”
I have no wish to see it,” I replied. I shall not be sending for you so often now.”
She laughed and called to one of her women to unroll the velvet, but I turned away and walked to the window.
She was angry; I saw that, as she left the apartment;
her cheeks were pink and her eyes were half-closed. I wondered why I had ever liked the woman; and I was to wonder still more when I understood that she, growing more and more angry when she realised I really meant that I should not send for her, discussed my follies and extravagances with her customers and even went into the market places to do so.
I really had no desire for new dresses. I had changed. I must set a good example. I must cut down my expenses. I told the Due de Polignac that I should have to relieve him of his post of Master of my Horse.
It was in any case almost a sinecure and one which cost me fifty thousand livres a year. I had created it for the sake of Gabrielle. I also relieved her lover, the Comte de Vaudreuil, of his post of Grand Falconer.
“This will make us bankrupt!” cried the infuriated Comte.
Better you than France,” I replied with some sharpness. I was beginning to see how foolish I had been in bestowing such gifts on these people; I was realising how they had battened on my careless generosity, which was in fact no generosity at all for I was giving away something which did not belong to me.
I felt these people were already turning from me—not Gabrielle, who had never asked for anything for herself, only favours for her family because they pressed her to; not the Princesse de Lamballe, who was a disinterested friend; and not my dear sister-in-law Elisabeth, who cared deeply for my children and so had made an even deeper bond between us. These were my true friends. But perhaps even at this stage the others had already begun to desert.
But there was one friend who had returned to France and of whom I was very much aware. This was Comte Axel de Fersen. He appeared at gatherings and I never had more than a discreet word or so with him. But I was conscious of a great serenity because he was there. I felt that he was awaiting that moment when I should give the sign and then he would be at my side.
The Dauphin was growing weaker. I was constantly in his apartments, watching over him. My anxiety for him could make me forget for a time these state affairs. Here was tragedy and one which was more real to me, more heartrending than the difficulties of France. I was writing to Joseph about him:
“I am worried about the health of my eldest boy. His growth is somewhat awry, for he has one leg shorter than the other and his spine is a little twisted and unduly prominent. For some time now he has been inclined to attacks of fever and he is thin and frail.”
I wanted to be with him the whole of the time, nursing him myself. But that was not possible. The Opera House had requested that the King and I attend a gala performance and Louis said that he thought it would be expected that we should show ourselves.
I dreaded it. I told him so. They wished to see him; they loved him, but they hated me. They were fed on the cruel lest lies about me. I hated the thought of going to the Opera House, which in itself would be a reminder of those days when I had danced so madly at the Opera balls.
“It is our duty to go,” said Louis sombrely. I went to the nurseries to show the children my gown; little Louis-Charles shrieked with delight and stroked the soft silk of my skirt.
“Beautiful beautiful Maman,” he said. And he insisted on showing me Moufflet’s latest tricks. Moufflet was the cleverest dog in the world and he wished he were his. My poor little Dauphin was lying in his bed, his misshapen body hidden; I wanted to weep as I bent over and kissed him. He put his arms about my neck and clung to me; he
