Marie Antoinette and Her Son

by L. Mühlbach

CHAPTER IV.

THE QUEEN'S NECKLACE.

Directly after a page, arrayed in the attire of a miller's boy, had announced the Baron de Breteuil, the king with drew into his chamber and resumed his own proper clothing. He drew on the long, gray coat, the short trousers of black velvet, the long, gold embroidered waistcoat of gray satin; and over this the bright, thin ribbon of the Order of Louis-the attire in which the king was accustomed to present himself on gala-days.

With troubled, disturbed countenance, he then entered the little apartment where his chief minister, the Baron de Breteuil, was awaiting him.

"Tell me quickly," ejaculated the king, "do you bring bad news? Has any thing unexpected occurred?"

"Sire," answered the minister, respectfully, "something unexpected at all events, but whether something bad will be learned after further investigation."

"Investigation!" cried the king. "Then do you speak of a crime?"

"Yes, sire, of a crime-the crime of a base deception, and, as it seems, of a defalcation involving immense sums and objects of great value."

"Ah," said the king, with a sigh of relief, "then the trouble is only one of money."

"No, sire, it is one which concerns the honor of the queen."

Louis arose, while a burning flush of indignation passed over his face.

"Will they venture again to assail the honor of the queen?" he asked.

"Yes, sire," answered Breteuil, with his invincible calmness—"yes, sire, they will venture to do so. And at this time it is so infernal and deeply-laid a plan that it will be difficult to get at the truth. Will your majesty allow me to unfold the details of the matter somewhat fully?"

"Speak, baron, speak," said the king, eagerly, taking his seat upon a wooden stool, and motioning to the minister to do the same.

"Sire," answered the premier, with a bow, "I will venture to sit, because I am in fact a little exhausted with my quick run hither."

"And is the matter so pressing?" muttered the king, drawing out his tobacco-box, and in his impatience rolling it between his fingers.

"Yes, very pressing," answered Breteuil, taking his seat. "Does your majesty remember the beautiful necklace which the court jeweller, Bohmer, some time since had the honor to offer to your majesty?"

"Certainly, I remember it," answered the king, quickly nodding. "The queen showed herself on that occasion just as unselfish and magnanimous as she always is. It was told me that her majesty had very much admired the necklace which Bohmer had showed to her, and yet had declined to purchase it, because it seemed to her too dear. I wanted to buy it and have the pleasure of offering it to the queen, but she decisively refused it."

"We well remember the beautiful answer which her majesty gave to her husband," said Breteuil, gently bowing. "All Paris repeated with delight the words which her majesty uttered: 'Sir, we have more diamonds than ships. Buy a ship with this money!'" [Footnote: "Correspondence Secrete de la Cour de Louis XVI.">[

"You have a good memory," said the king, "for it is five years since this happened. Bohmer has twice made the attempt since then to sell this costly necklace to me, but I have dismissed him, and at last forbidden him to allude to the matter again."

"I believe that he has, meanwhile, ventured to trouble the queen several times about the necklace. It appears that he had almost persuaded himself that your majesty would purchase it. Years ago he caused stones to be selected through all Europe, wishing to make a necklace of diamonds which should be alike large, heavy, and brilliant. The queen refusing to give him his price of two million francs, he offered it at last for one million eight hundred thousand."

"I have heard of that," said the king. "Her majesty was at last weary of the trouble, and gave command that the court jeweller, Bohmer, should not be admitted."

"Every time, therefore, that he came to Versailles he was refused admittance. He then had recourse to writing, and two weeks ago her majesty received from him a begging letter, in which he said that he should be very happy if, through his instrumentality, the queen could possess the finest diamonds in Europe, and imploring her majesty not to forget her court jeweller. The queen read this letter, laughing, to her lady-in-waiting, Madame de Campan, and said it seemed as if the necklace had deprived the good Bohmer of his reason. But not wishing to pay any further attention to his letter or to answer it, she burned the paper in a candle which was accidentally standing on her table."

"Good Heaven! How do you know these details?" asked the king, in amazement.

"Sire, I have learned them from Madame de Campan herself, as I was compelled to speak with her about the necklace."

"But what is it about this necklace? What has the queen to do with that?" asked the king, wiping with a lace handkerchief the sweat which stood in great drops upon his lofty forehead.

"Sire, the court jeweller, Bohmer, asserts that he sold the necklace of brilliants to the queen, and now desires to be paid."

"The queen is right," exclaimed the king, "the man is out of his head. If he did sell the necklace to the queen, there must have been witnesses present to confirm it, and the keepers of her majesty's purse would certainly know about it."

"Sire, Bohmer asserts that the queen caused it to be bought of him in secret, through a third hand, and that this confidential messenger was empowered to pay down thirty thousand francs, and to promise two hundred thousand more."

"What is the name of this confidential messenger? What do they call him?"

"Sire," answered the Baron de Breteuil, solemnly—"sire, it is the cardinal and grand almoner of your majesty, Prince Louis de Rohan."

The king uttered a loud cry, and sprang quickly from his seat.

"Rohan?" asked he. "And do they dare to bring this man whom the queen hates, whom she scorns, into relations with her? Ha, Breteuil! you can go; the story is too foolishly put together for any one to believe it."

"Your majesty, Bohmer has, in the mean while, believed it, and has delivered the necklace to the cardinal, and received the queen's promise to pay, written with her own hand."

"Who says that? How do you know all the details?"

"Sire, I know it by a paper of Bohmer's, who wrote to me after trying in vain several times to see me. The letter was a tolerably confused one, and I did not understand it. But as he stated in it that the queen's lady-in-waiting advised him to apply to me as the minister of the royal house, I considered it best to speak with Madame de Campan. What I learned of her is so important that I begged her to accompany me to Trianon, and to repeat her statement before your majesty."

"Is Campan then in Trianon?" asked the king.

"Yes, sire; and on our arrival we learned that Bohmer had just been there, and was most anxious to speak to the queen. He had been denied admission as always, and had gone away weeping and scolding."

"Come," said the king, "let us go to Trianon; I want to speak with
Campan."

And with quick, rapid steps the king, followed by the minister Breteuil, left the mill, and shunning the main road in order not to be seen by the queen, struck into the little side-path that led thither behind the houses.

"Campan," said the king, hastily entering the little toilet-room of the queen, where the lady-in-waiting was—"Campan, the minister has just been telling me a singular and incredible history. Yet repeat to me your last conversation with Bohmer."

"Sire," replied Madame de Campan, bowing low, "does your majesty command that I speak before the queen knows of the matter?"

"Ah," said the king, turning to the minister, "you see I am right. The queen knows nothing of this, else she would certainly have spoken to me about it. Thank God, the queen withholds no secrets from me! I thank you for your question, Campan. It is better that the queen be present at our interview. I will send for her to come here." And the king hastened to the door, opened it, and called, "Are any of the queen's servants here?"

The voice of the king was so loud and violent that the chamberlain, Weber, who was in the little outer antechamber, heard it, and at once rushed in.

"Weber," cried the king to him, "hasten at once to Little Trianon. Beg the queen, in my name, to have the goodness to come to the palace within a quarter of an hour, to consult about a weighty matter that allows no delay. But take care that the queen be not alarmed, and that she do not suspect that sad news has come regarding her family. Hasten, Weber! And now, baron," continued the king, closing the door, "now you shall be convinced by your own eyes and ears that the queen will be as amazed and as little acquainted with all these things as I myself. I wish, therefore, that you would be present at the interview which I shall have with my wife and Campan, without the queen's knowing that you are near. You will be convinced at once in this way of the impudent and shameless deception that they have dared to play. Where does that door lead to, Campan?" asked the king, pointing to the white, gold-bordered door, at whose side two curtains of white satin, wrought with roses, were secured.

"Sire, it leads to the small reception room."

"Will the queen pass that way when she comes?"

"No, your majesty, she is accustomed to take the same way which your majesty took, through the antechamber."

"Good. Then, baron, go into the little saloon. Leave the door open, and do you, Campan, loosen the curtains and let them fall over the door, that the minister may hear without being seen."

A quarter of an hour had scarcely elapsed when the queen entered the toilet-chamber, with glowing cheeks, and under visible excitement. The king went hastily to her, took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Forgiveness, Marie, that I have disturbed you in the midst of your pleasures."

"Tell me, quickly," cried the queen, impatiently. "What is it? Is it a great misfortune?"

"No, Marie, but a great annoyance, which is so far a misfortune in that the name of your majesty is involved in a disagreeable and absurd plot. The court jeweller, Bohmer, asserts that he has sold a necklace to your majesty for one million eight hundred thousand francs."

"But the man is crazy," cried the queen. "Is that all your majesty had to say to me?"

"I beg that Campan will repeat the conversation which she had yesterday with Bohmer."

And the king beckoned with his hand to the lady-in-waiting, who, at the entrance of the queen, had modestly taken her seat at the back part of the room.

"How!" cried the queen, amazed, now first perceiving Campan. "What do you here? What does all this mean?"

"Your majesty, I came to Trianon to inform you about the conversation which I had yesterday with Bohmer. When I arrived I found he had just been here."

"And what did he want?" cried the queen. "Did you not tell me, Campan, that he no longer possesses this unfortunate necklace, with which he has been making a martyr of me for years? Did you not tell me that he had sold it to the Grand Sultan, to go to Constantinople?"

"I repeated to your majesty what Bohmer said to me. Meanwhile I beg now your gracious permission to repeat my to-day's interview with Bohmer. Directly after your majesty had gone to Trianon with the Duchess de Polignac, the court jeweller Bohmer was announced. He came with visible disquiet and perplexity, and asked me whether your majesty had left no commission for him. I answered him that the queen had not done so, that in one word she had no commission for him, and that she was tired of his eternal pestering. ' But,' said Bohmer, 'I must have an answer to the letter that I sent to her, and to whom must I apply?' 'To nobody,' I answered. 'Her majesty has burned your letter without reading it.' 'Ah! madame,' cried he, 'that is impossible. The queen knows that she owes me money.' "

"I owe him money!" cried the queen, horrified. "How can the miserable man dare to assert such a thing?"

"That I said to him, your majesty, but he answered, with complete self possession, that your majesty owed him a million and some five hundred thousand francs, and when I asked him in complete amazement for what articles your majesty owed him such a monstrous sum, he answered, 'For my necklace.'"

"This miserable necklace again!" exclaimed the queen. "It seems as if the man made it only to make a martyr of me with it. Year after year I hear perpetually about this necklace, and it has been quite in vain that, with all my care and good-will, I have sought to drive from him this fixed idea that I must buy it. He is so far gone in his illusion as to assert that I have bought it."

"Madame, this man is not insane," said the king, seriously. "Listen further. Go on, Campan."

"I laughed," continued Madame de Campan, "and asked him how he could assert such a thing, when he told me only a few months ago that he had sold the necklace to the Sultan. Then he replied that the queen had ordered him to give this answer to every one that asked about the necklace. Then he told me further, that your majesty had secretly bought the necklace, and through the instrumentality of the Lord Cardinal de Rohan."

"Through Rohan?" cried the queen, rising. "Through the man whom I hate and despise? And is there a man in France who can believe this, and who does not know that the cardinal is the one who stands the lowest in my favor!"

"I said to Mr. Bohmer—I said to him that he was deceived, that the queen would never make a confidant of Cardinal Rohan, and he made me this very answer: 'You deceive yourself, madame. The cardinal stands so high in favor, and maintains such confidential relations with her majesty, that she had sent, through his hands, thirty thousand francs as a first payment. The queen took this money in the presence of the cardinal, from the little secretary of Sevres porcelain, which stands near to the chimney in her boudoir.' 'And did the cardinal really say that?' I asked; and when he reaffirmed it, I told him that he was deceived. He now began to be very much troubled, and said, 'Good Heaven! what if you are right, what if I am deceived! There has already a suspicion come to me; the cardinal promised me that on Whit-sunday the queen would wear the collar, and she did not do so; so this determined me to write to her.' When now, full of anxiety, he asked what advice I could give him, I at once bade him go to Lord Breteuil and tell him all. He promised to do so, and went. But I hastened to come hither to tell your majesty the whole story, but when I arrived I found the unhappy jeweller already here, and he only went away after I gave him my promise to speak to- day with your majesty."

The queen had at the outset listened with speechless amazement, and as Campan approached the close of her communication, her eyes opened wider and wider. She had stood as rigid as a statue. But now all at once life and animation took possession of this statue; a glowing purple-red diffused itself over her cheeks, and directing her eyes, which blazed with wonderful fire, to the king, she said, with a loud and commanding voice, "Sire, you have heard this story. Your wife is accused, and the queen is even charged with having a secret understanding with Cardinal Rohan. I desire an investigation—a rigid, strict investigation. Call at once, Lord Breteuil, that we may take counsel with him. But I insist upon having this done."

"And your will is law, madame," said the king, directing an affectionate glance at the excited face of the queen. "Come out, Breteuil!"

And as between the curtains appeared the serious, sad face of the minister, the king turned to his wife and said: "I wished that he might be a secret witness of this interview, and survey the position which you should take in this matter."

"Oh, sire!" exclaimed Marie Antoinette, extending her hand to him, "so you did not for an instant doubt my innocence?"

"No, truly, not a moment," answered the king, with a smile. "But now come, madame, we will consider with Breteuil what is to be done, and then we will summon the Abbe de Viermont, that he may take part in our deliberations."

On the next day, the 15th of August, a brilliant, select company was assembled in the saloons of Versailles. It was a great holiday, Ascension-day, and the king and the queen, with the entire court, intended to be present at the mass, which the cardinal and the grand almoner would celebrate in the chapel.

The entire brilliant court was assembled; the cardinal arrayed in his suitable apparel, and wearing all the tokens of his rank, had entered the great reception room, and only awaited the arrival of the royal pair, to lead them into the church. The fine and much admired face of the cardinal wore today a beaming expression, and his great black eyes were continually directed, while he was talking with the Duke de Conti and the Count d'Artois, toward the door through which the royal couple would enter. All at once the portal opened, a royal page stepped in and glanced searchingly around; and seeing the towering figure of the cardinal in the middle of the hall, he at once advanced through the glittering company, and approached the cardinal. "Monseigneur," he whispered to him, "his majesty is awaiting your eminence's immediate appearance in the cabinet."

The cardinal broke off abruptly his conversation with Lord Conti, hurried through the hall and entered the cabinet.

No one was there except the king and queen, and in the background of the apartment, in the recess formed by a window, the premier, Baron Breteuil, the old and irreconcilable enemy of the proud cardinal, who in this hour would have his reward for his year long and ignominious treatment of the prince.

The cardinal had entered with a confident, dignified bearing; but the cold look of the king and the flaming eye of the queen appeared to confuse him a little, and his proud eye sank to the ground.

"You have been buying diamonds of Bohmer?" asked the king, brusquely.

"Yes, sire," answered the cardinal.

"What have you done with them? Answer me, I command you."

"Sire," said the cardinal, after a pause, "I supposed that they were given to the queen."

"Who intrusted you with this commission?"

"Sire, a lady named Countess Lamotte-Valois. She gave me a letter from her majesty, and I believed that I should be doing the queen a favor if I should undertake the care of the commission which the queen had the grace to intrust to me."

"I!" cried the queen, with an expression of intense scorn, "should I intrust you with a commission in my behalf? I, who for eight years have never deigned to bestow a word upon you? And I should employ such a person as you, a beggar of places?"

"I see plainly," cried the cardinal, "I see plainly that some one has deceived you grievously about me. I will pay for the necklace. The earnest wish to please your majesty has blinded your eyes regarding me. I have planned no deception, and am now bitterly undeceived. But I will pay for the necklace."

"And you suppose that that ends all!" said the queen, with a burst of anger. "You think that, with a pitiful paying for the brilliants, you can atone for the disgrace which you have brought upon your queen? No, no, sir; I desire a rigid investigation. I insist upon it that all who have taken part in this ignominious deception be brought to a relentless investigation. Give me the proofs that you have been deceived, and that you are not much rather the deceiver."

"Ah, madame," cried the cardinal, with a look at once so full of reproach and confidence, that the queen fairly shook with anger. "Here are the proofs of my innocence," continued he, drawing a small portfolio from his pocket, and taking from it a folded paper. "There is the letter of the queen to the Countess Lamotte, in which her majesty empowered me to purchase the diamonds."

The king took the paper, looked over it hastily, read the signature, and gave it, with a suspicious shrug of the shoulders, to his wife.

The queen seized the letter with the wild fury of a tigress, which has at last found its prey, and with breathless haste ran over the paper. Then she broke out into loud, scornful laughter, and, pointing to the letter, she looked at the cardinal with glances of flame.

"That is not my handwriting, that is not my signature!" cried she, furiously. "How are you—sir, a prince and grand almoner of France— how are you so ignorant, so foolish, as to believe that I could subscribe myself 'Marie Antoinette of France?' Everybody knows that queens write only their baptismal names as signatures, and you alone have not known that?"

"I see into it," muttered the cardinal, pale under the look of the queen, and so weak that he had to rest upon the table for support, "I see into it; I have been dreadfully deceived."

The king took a paper from his table and gave it to the cardinal. "Do you confess that you wrote this letter to Bohmer, in which you send him thirty thousand francs in behalf of the queen, in part payment for the necklace?"

"Yes, sire, I confess it," answered the cardinal, with a low voice, which seemed to contradict what he uttered.

"He confesses it," cried the queen, gnashing her teeth, and making up her little hand into a clinched fist. "He has held me fit for such infamy—me, his queen!"

"You assert that you bought the jewels for the queen. Did you deliver them in person?"

"No, sire, the Countess Lamotte did that."

"In your name, cardinal?"

"Yes, in my name, sire, and she gave at the same time a receipt to the queen for one hundred and fifty thousand francs, which I lent the queen toward the purchase."

"And what reward did you have from the queen?"

The cardinal hesitated; then, as he felt the angry, cold, and contemning look of the queen resting upon him, the red blood mounted into his face, and with a withering glance at Marie Antoinette, he said:

"You wish, madame, that I should speak the whole truth! Sire, the queen rewarded me for this little work of love in a manner worthy of a queen. She granted me an appointment in the park of Versailles."

At this new and fearful charge, the queen cried aloud, and, springing forward like a tigress, she seized the arm of her husband and shook it.

"Sire," said she, "listen to this high traitor, bringing infamy upon a queen! Will you bear it? Can his purple protect the villain?"

"No, it cannot, and it shall not!" cried the king. "Breteuil, do your duty. And you, cardinal, who venture to accuse your queen, to scandalize the good name of the wife of your king, go."

"Sire," stammered the cardinal, "sire, I—"

"Not a word," interrupted the king, raising his hand and pointing toward the door, "out, I say, out with you!"

The cardinal staggered to the door, and entered the hall filled with a glittering throng, who were still whispering, laughing, and walking to and fro.

But hardly had he advanced a few steps, when behind him, upon the threshold of the royal cabinet, appeared the minister Breteuil.

"Lieutenant," cried Breteuil, with a loud voice, turning to the officer in command of the guard, "lieutenant, in the name of the king, arrest the Cardinal de Rohan, and take him under escort to the Bastile."

A general cry of horror followed these words, which rolled like a crashing thunder-clap through the careless, coquetting, and unsuspecting company. Then followed a breathless silence.

All eyes were directed to the cardinal, who, pale as death, and yet maintaining his noble carriage, walked along at ease.

At this point a young officer, pale like the cardinal, like all in fact, approached the great ecclesiastic, and gently took his arm.

"Cardinal," said he, with sorrowful tone, "in the name of the king, I arrest your eminence. I am ordered, monseigneur, to conduct you to the Bastile."

"Come, then, my son," answered the cardinal, quickly, making his way slowly through the throng, which respectfully opened to let him pass—" come, since the king commands it, let us go to the Bastile."

He passed on to the door. But when the officer had opened it, he turned round once more to the hall. Standing erect, with all the exalted dignity of his station and his person, he gave the amazed company his blessing.

Then the door closed behind him, and with pale faces the lords and ladies of the court dispersed to convey the horrible tidings to Versailles and Paris, that the king had caused the cardinal, the grand almoner of France, to be arrested in his official robes, and that it was the will of the queen.

And the farther the tidings rolled the more the report enlarged, like an avalanche of calumnies.

In the evening, Marat thundered in his club: "Woe, woe to the Austrian! She borrowed money of the Cardinal de Rohan to buy jewels for herself, jewels while the people hungered. Now, when the cardinal wants his money, the queen denies having received the money, and lets the head of the Church be dragged to the Bastile.

"Woe, woe to the Austrian!"

"Woe, woe to the Austrian!" muttered brother Simon, who sat near the platform on which Marat was. "We shall not forget it that she buys her jewels for millions of francs, while we have not a sou to buy bread with. Woe to the Austrian!"

And all the men of the club raised their fists and muttered with him, "Woe to the Austrian!"