Days of Splendor, Days of Sorrow (42 page)

The prince de Rohan had been on edge since April; Comtesse de Lamotte-Valois had delivered the “slave’s collar” to the queen several weeks earlier and he had yet to see her wearing it. “Did you not assure me I would see it about her neck at Pentecost?” he murmured to Jeanne during one of their trysts.

Jeanne had cupped his face in her hands; giving him a lingering kiss, she convinced him that Her Majesty had changed her mind and now intended to surprise the king by donning the diamonds when he least expected to see them. The comtesse couldn’t admit, of course, that the cardinal would never see the necklace adorning the throat of Marie Antoinette. For as soon as Jeanne had taken possession of the brilliants, her husband and lover prized them from their settings with the intention of selling them to various jewelers. Rétaux had a close call when a suspicious merchant alerted the gendarmes and he was imprisoned while the authorities made some inquiries. Jeanne was terrified that their grand scheme might be smashed like a crystal decanter. But after the police determined that no shops had recently been
robbed, the trio exhaled a collective sigh and decided to alter their plans.

Within days the prince de Rohan received a letter in the queen’s hand, requesting him to take a holiday at his residence in Alsace, while Nicolas de Lamotte-Valois boarded a ship at Calais, bound for England, where he would retail the diamonds, a few at a time, to the London jewelers, claiming they had come from family heirlooms. Doubtless he would not be paid what they were worth; but, as they were not his to dispose of in the first place, and too much negotiation might raise eyebrows, the conspirators agreed that whatever the comte received would be quite an acceptable sum.

On the tenth of July, back in Paris with only three weeks to spare before he was due to deliver the first installment of 400,000 livres, the prince de Rohan summoned Herren Böhmer and Bassenge to the Palais Cardinal. His Alençon cuffs were limp with perspiration as he confessed, with a good deal of embarrassment, to an unavoidable delay, blotting his panicked brow with a fine cambric handkerchief throughout the interview.

Herr Böhmer’s narrow face was pale. “We have a written agreement, Your Eminence.”

“
Oui, oui, je sais
. I know that,” stammered the cardinal. What could he tell them? That it had been impossible to raise the funds? His eyes darted about the room at the silk tapestries, the oils and bronzes, the objets d’art of porcelain, crystal, and marble; treasures that had been in his family for decades, if not centuries. To part with a single one of them would sully the illustrious name of Rohan.

“Her Majesty has requested an additional discount,” said the prince, improvising wildly. “Consequently, until the adjusted sum has been agreed upon, she cannot honor the August first payment date.” The doubt and concern in the jewelers’ eyes as
they exchanged anxious glances prompted him to raise the stakes. “However, the queen has instructed me to inform you that to compensate for the lateness of the payment, she will remit the sum of seven hundred thousand livres shortly after the settlement of the revised price of the necklace.” De Rohan knew he was rambling. His throat felt tight. Was his excuse convincing? Beneath his red moiré soutane his legs were trembling.

“Monsieur le Cardinal, I cannot say that we are pleased to hear this.” Herr Böhmer held his ground. “We have ourselves borrowed a considerable sum of money agaist the sale of the necklace.”

“We have a lengthy association with the Crown and enjoy an excellent reputation as jewelers to the court,” added Herr Bassenge. “If we default on our own loan, our credit, as well as our credibility, will be irretrievably embarrassed.”

“We stand to be entirely ruined by it,” added his business partner bluntly. “In a word—bankrupted.”

“It is,
certainement
, an extremely delicate situation,” Bassenge interjected, “and we appreciate the difficult position in which you have been placed, Your Eminence. Perhaps, then, being businessmen of long standing with the queen, Herr Böhmer and I might have better luck were we to approach Her Majesty directly.”

The cardinal felt his gut plummet. Marie Antoinette had singled him out, relying upon his tact, discretion, and secrecy to complete this commission. What would this bode for his grand ambition to be named France’s Chief Minister? Moreover, what would she think of him now, believing he had failed her?

On July 12, a strange letter was delivered while I was in my salon rehearsing my lines for
Le Barbier de Séville
with my lady-in-waiting, Madame Campan. In her youth, this handsome woman, three years my senior, with her broad face and intelligent, dark eyes, had been Mesdames
tantes’
reader and I found her to be an exemplary prompter, for she read aloud with tremendous sensibility.

The note read:

“
Regardez
, Henriette.” I showed the letter to Madame Campan. “Since you are so adept at solving the riddles in
Le Mercure de France
, perhaps you might assay this conundrum, for I haven’t the slightest idea what the gentlemen refer to.”

She could make neither head nor tail of the note either. Determining that the jewelers must have written it in error, I took it back to my escritoire, rolled it into a spill, and set it alight with the candle I kept illuminated on the desk to melt the sealing wax for my correspondence.

But the strange business reared its head again nearly a month later when Herr Böhmer, in a state of extreme agitation, rode out to Versailles and most vociferously insisted on an interview with me. After being shown to le Petit Trianon, with exquisite politeness he reminded me of the letter he had sent the previous month and, endeavoring to swallow his evident embarrassment, demanded the payment of the first installment on the diamond necklace that he claimed I had agreed to purchase from him for 1.6 million livres. “The ‘slave’s collar,’ ” he added, describing it in detail. “In short, Your Majesty, as you have possession of the necklace, and the Grand Almoner insists he does not have the necessary funds, I regret the unpleasantness of appealing to you directly.”

Then, taking my confusion for prevarication, the jeweler resorted to threats. “The time for pretense has passed, Madame. Deign to admit that you have my diamond necklace and render me assistance. If not, my bankruptcy will bring the whole affair to light!”

In great distress, reiterating that I had no idea what he was talking about and assuring him that I had neither the necklace nor the money, nor would I be blackmailed, I dismissed Herr Böhmer from my rooms. That same day the puzzle grew even more complex when the abbé Vermond confided that a few
hours earlier he had received a visit from Monsieur Saint-James, a prominent Parisian banker. Evidently, the prince de Rohan had approached him to request a loan of 700,000 livres in the queen’s name. As the sum was prodigious, Saint-James informed the cardinal that he would have to secure specific orders from Her Majesty before lending him so much money. Sensing that something was amiss, the banker contacted Vermond, aware that the abbé was my trusted confidant.

Events quickly spiraled out of control. Two days later Herr Böhmer returned to the palace in a state of increased agitation.

After affecting a low bow, he spilled the purpose of his errand in a torrent of words. “My dear Majesty,” he began, “it seems that we have all been the dupes of a forged contract.” He mentioned that a comtesse whose name I did not recognize had visited the jewelers’ shop in the rue Vendôme and informed Herr Bassenge that they had been the victims of a hoax involving the Grand Almoner’s acquisition of a diamond necklace, ostensibly on my behalf.

“Whyever would I authorize the prince de Rohan to do
anything
for me, let alone purchase a necklace that you say is worth nearly two million livres? I recall perfectly well that back in 1781 when you showed that very piece to the king in the hopes of selling it to him, he was quite taken with it, but I refused such an extravagance. ‘Our navy needs the money more than I require the diamonds. I have more than enough,’ I told His Majesty, and I am certain my reply was conveyed to you and to Herr Bassenge. In the past I have purchased several bracelets and a pair of earrings from you, and those are all the brilliants I desire. With the crown jewels at my disposal, and the pearls that belonged to Anne of Austria, which are larger than sugared almonds—” I broke off and began to tremble.

“And there are no remittances outstanding, messieurs. Her
Majesty’s account was settled in full with you long ago,” Madame Campan interjected, her color rising.

I demanded a written report within twenty-four hours detailing the entire sordid business. “I expect you to appear before me tomorrow with the document in your hands, Herr Böhmer. And bring this alleged contract as well.”

“I am too distracted to rehearse any more,” I told Madame Campan after the jeweler had left. What I dared not admit to my lady-in-waiting was how alarmed I was made by his visit. I had to confide in someone and I was too frightened to speak to Louis, so I wrote to my brother in Vienna, telling Joseph, “I feel sure that the cardinal has used my name like a vile and clumsy counterfeiter. In all probability, temporarily pressed for money, he assumed he would be able to pay the jewelers the first installment before anyone discovered the fraud he had perpetrated.”

But nothing prepared me for the contract Herr Böhmer showed me the following day, visiting me in the privacy of la Méridienne. My hands shook as I read it, for I had never seen such a calumny. “Madame Campan,
s’il vous plaît
, summon the baron de Breteuil,” I said weakly. The jeweler and I sat in silence while the minutes ticked by inexorably, as we waited for the king’s Minister of the Household to arrive.

The burly Louis-Auguste le Tonnelier, baron de Breteuil, impulsive and passionate, had seen much in his fifty-five years. Having served as France’s ambassador to Imperial Russia, he had sparred with Catherine the Great and had no qualms about making his opinions known in a stentorian baritone that echoed off the plastered walls. He also had no love for the pompous cardinal, as each was angling for the same plum ministerial appointment.

As he perused Herr Böhmer’s recitation of events the baron’s face grew more florid by the moment. “And you say you have never met this comtesse de Lamotte-Valois?” he asked me pointedly.

“Not only have I never met her, I have never heard of her.” I sniffed. “There are thousands of people milling about Versailles every day—any woman can gain entry. And, it seems, anyone can go about calling themselves a comtesse, or any other member of the nobility as long as there are people gullible enough to believe them.” According to Herr Böhmer, it was this soi-disant comtesse who had informed the jewelers that they had handed the cardinal their priceless necklace on the basis of a false contract with a forged signature. How she ascertained this, I knew not.

“And you do not have the necklace?” the baron asked me.

“I do not have it, nor have I ever wanted it, nor did I enter into any arrangement to purchase it,” I replied tensely.

Brandishing the purported contract, the baron declared, “I’ll wager that this paper is the single greatest crime perpetrated against the Crown in memory! Regrettably, this is far too grave a matter to conceal between us.”

My stomach grew weak when he insisted that everything be shared with the king.

Louis’s habit of dithering angered me even more. Before he would take the matter in hand he insisted on speaking with one of the cardinal’s kinsmen, sending for the prince de Soubise on August 14, to determine what role the Grand Almoner had played in this increasingly confusing charade. But as things transpired, Soubise was nowhere near Versailles. The jewelers wanted their money, and I demanded prompt answers. Consequently, Louis would have to confront the cardinal directly.

The following day, August 15, was a sacred one—the Feast of the Assumption as well as my name day. And the cardinal had a leading role to play in the proceedings. I could scarcely bring myself to look at His Arrogance, adorned for High Mass with an alb worth 10,000 livres, created with millions of infinitesimal petit point stitches depicting the Rohan arms and device.

Before Mass, Louis invited the cardinal into his private study.
Also present were a trio of high-ranking ministers—baron de Breteuil; the comte de Vergennes, France’s Foreign Affairs minister; and the Keeper of the Seals, Monsieur de Miromesnil, all clad in their finest silk suits and long waistcoats heavily embroidered with gold and silver bullion.

“Please be seated, Your Eminence.” The king’s manner was as mild and even-tempered as ever; mine, on the other hand, was swarming with metaphorical hornets. Louis unlocked his desk and removed Herr Böhmer’s statement, sworn to and notarized by a Parisian official.

After showing the document to the Grand Almoner, Louis inquired, “Monsieur le prince, did you purchase the necklace the jeweler alludes to?”

As he glanced about the room at the cluster of ministers, I could see that it was an effort for the cardinal to maintain his composure. “I did, Sire—on behalf of the queen.”

“But what could possibly have induced you to indulge in this fantasy?” I interrupted. “Are we on such intimate terms that I have made you my errand boy?
Non!
I have not addressed a single word to you since your return from Vienna a decade ago, not even across the font when you baptized my children. No man at court has incurred my displeasure as much as you have done!”