It has been truly said, that the virtues of the unfortunate Louis XVI. were an anachronism in the dissolute court that surrounded him. The most short-sighted observer could behold the gathering storm, and foresee that a national convulsion was drawing nigh. In taking a retrospective view of the past, no confidence could be placed in the present, and futurity was involved in a fearful gloom. Despotism had been concentrated under the sway of Louis XI. and Louis XIV; but, during the reign of Louis XV, the parliament had recovered the power usurped by his predecessor, who let no opportunity escape of showing for that assembly, his sovereign contempt. A struggle for power now commenced between the parliament, the clergy, and the court; and the people, exhausted by war and taxation, calmly looked on, until they were roused by the contending factions to throw the weight of brute force into the scale of the doubtful preponderance. At this period, pregnant with future events of vital moment, the parliament persecuted the clergy, which in turn opposed their vexations; and both parties set at defiance the authority of the court, which appeared to be sunk into a state of luxurious apathy, and calmly looked on the approaching storm, without having recourse to any prudential measures to meet its impetuosity.
While the country was thus torn by discord, no harmony prevailed in the palace. The monarch had selected a minister who could not agree with his consort, and opposed all his measures, until Turgot succeeded him. Turgot, a virtuous upright man, endeavoured to operate a reform, but all parties who had thriven on corruption soon drove him from the helm of public affairs. Necker sought to pursue the reform that his predecessor had planned, and for a moment seemed to inspire confidence, until the upper classes, uniting their efforts against him, compelled the unwelcome speculator to resign his post; and, finally, the active enterprising Calonne, failed in re-organizing the wreck of the empire.
To use the language of a French writer, “Louis XVI. was not sufficiently understood by the nation, but was too well understood by the court.” Thus he was exposed at the same time to popular prejudices against him and to patrician hostility, and rendered answerable for the errors of his predecessors. An apparent calm reigned in the nation, but it was that gloomy sultry tranquillity that precedes a storm. The mind of every class of the community was too deeply absorbed in reflection to admit of the influence of private differences. The practice of duelling, meanwhile, seemed to be confined to the soldiery. The sword was no longer worn as a mark of distinction in society; and this weapon of a gentleman, which in former times was always at hand, and drawn on the spur of the moment, was now laid aside, and only sought for with premeditation.
This pacific period was of short duration. The pales which had divided society into castes were gradually overthrown, and rank no longer became an excuse for refusing satisfaction to an inferior.
One of the first affairs of honour under this monarch was the celebrated duel that took place between the Comte d’Artois[16] and the Prince de Condé. At a ball given at the Opera on Shrove Tuesday in the year 1778, the Comte d’Artois appeared, giving his arm to Madame de Carrillac,—both masked. The Duchesse de Bourbon (Princess of Orleans) recognised them, and followed them, addressing the parties in a sarcastic style, which, although warranted by the usages of a masquerade, were not the less offensive. The hostile feelings of the duchess were attributed to two most powerful motives. Madame de Carrillac had been the mistress of her husband, whom she had quitted for the Comte d’Artois, to whom the duchess herself was not indifferent. Madame de Carrillac, thus annoyed by the duchess, contrived to effect her escape through the crowd; when the duchess with unbridled fury endeavoured to tear off the mask from the count, who, forgetting at the moment his usual gallantry and the privileges of the fair sex, crushed the mask of the duchess on her face, and rushed out of the ball-room.
This adventure was hushed up for a few days, when the duchess stated to her numerous guests at her supper-table that the conduct of the Comte d’Artois had been that of a ruffian, and that she had felt disposed at the time to call in the guard to apprehend him. All the women at court whom the count had slighted, rose up in arms against him, the brutality of his conduct became the subject of conversation in every circle, and the general opinion was, that he could not avail himself of his rank to refuse the satisfaction that such a public insult to a woman demanded. It was of course concluded that it became indispensable on the part of the Duke de Bourbon to call out the offender.
Howbeit, the King ordered the Duke and Duchess de Bourbon to attend him in his closet, where they met the Count d’Artois; when he commanded that no notice should be taken by any of the parties of what had occurred. The duke wished to enter into some explanation, but was instantly silenced by the monarch.
This decision did not satisfy the duchess and the ladies of the court. The Baron de Besenval was sent for by the Queen, who asked him what her brother was to do under existing circumstances: the baron replied that he saw no other alternative than a duel; to which Marie Antoinette replied, “I am of the same opinion, and the King agrees with me; but do you think that my brother will adopt this course?” Besenval replied, “that the count was ignorant of all that was said on the subject; but that he should consider it his duty to make him acquainted with the public opinion, as he would rather see him dead than dishonoured;” adding, “that, as it was an affair of great moment, he would previously consult with De Crussel, captain of the prince’s guards.” “Do so,” replied the Queen, “and settle this affair between you.”
Besenval having met De Crussel at the Comte Jules de Polignac’s, it was decided that a meeting should take place; it being at the same time proposed, that, so soon as swords were drawn and crossed, De Crussel should produce an order from the King to separate the combatants. With this suggestion Besenval would not comply, justly observing, “Pray, gentlemen, are you going to make the prince play in a farce? I never will consent to such an arrangement;” to which De Crussel replied, “that it was quite sufficient for the prince to go to the ground, and that the sovereign had then the right to prevent bloodshed.” This opinion was also that of Polignac and Vaudreuil, who were present.
Besenval lost no time in seeking for the Comte d’Artois, to acquaint him with all that had taken place, when a meeting was decided. The following day the count went to the Bois de Boulogne, attended by De Crussel, who had placed the prince’s best sword in the carriage. Arrived at the wood, they perceived the Duke de Bourbon surrounded with several gentlemen: upon seeing him the count alighted, and stepping towards him said, “I understand, sir, that the public say that we are seeking each other?” to which the duke replied, taking off his hat, “I am here, sir, to receive your commands:” to which polite reply the count answered, “I am here, sir, to fulfil yours.”