Days of Splendor, Days of Sorrow (48 page)
Read Days of Splendor, Days of Sorrow Online
Authors: Juliet Grey
In banishing these dissenters Louis had exercised an ancient privilege permitted to all kings of France. But the tenor of the times had grown so disrespectful that no one, from the loftiest men in the kingdom to the lowliest
poissardes
in the fish market, thought twice about insulting the person of the sovereign and the very monarchy itself. No longer were the diatribes directed solely against me; nor could they be attributed to the lingering hatred of my Austrian heritage.
And just as I had been vilified by the diamond necklace verdict rather than vindicated by it, Louis was derided for exiling his cousin, whom the people transformed through the alchemy of seditious propaganda from a drunken debaucher into the victim of an arbitrary tyrant.
My husband became sick from the strain, falling ill with erysipelas, an ailment that turned his skin crimson and left him with a raging fever. The Finance Minister Loménie de Brienne suffered from the stress as well, losing his voice.
The spring of 1788 brought more devastating news. In April, the Parlement de Paris rescinded its promise to collect income tax from the clergy and nobility, hardly a surprise as the justices themselves came from those two Estates. But how could reform ever be affected and how could the burdens of the common people ever be eased unless the Parlement was willing to ratify the king’s edicts? Livid with their recalcitrance, on May 8, Louis summoned the magistrates to a
lit de justice
, at which he suspended not only the Paris Parlement for their insubordination, but the Parlements of the twelve other regions of France. To take their place in judicial matters, he set up plenary courts.
The Parlements declared their suspension illegal and harnessed
the power of the pen to proclaim that the king was endeavoring to circumvent the will of the people of France. It was the worst demagoguery imaginable, for it had been the
Parlements
that were vehemently opposed to levying taxes against those who could well afford to pay them, thus
relieving
the people of their already onerous burden!
Secretly encouraged by the members of the regional Parlements, violence erupted in the provinces. Anger flared in the marketplace at Grenoble, sparking a day of wanton destruction. An innocent hatter was bayoneted in the back. But Louis had given his maréchal orders not to use force against the rioters, believing it would only incite more unrest.
In my salon Mousseline and Louis Charles played with Odin, taking turns rolling a ball across the floor for the elkhound to fetch. “If I began my life again, I should spend even more time with my children,” I lamented to Léonard, as he dressed my hair one morning, liberally dusting it with powder to mask the encroaching strands of gray.
My
friseur
reminded me that I had used that nostalgic phrase many times recently.
“Because I have many regrets.” A Meissen figurine toppled noisily to the parquet. I turned in the direction of the sound and laughed at the mishap. So many other things were infinitely more fragile. “Every moment with one’s children is a precious one, and yet I have been accused of mourning our
petite ange
Sophie over-long. How,” I asked incredulously, brushing away a sudden tear, “is such a thing even possible?
Et le pauvre
dauphin—the
médecins
tell us that the curvature in his spine stems from a tubercular complaint. How many more sunrises will he see, and how dare I miss a single one of them in his company? Like my sister the Queen of Naples, I am a mother first.
“The Parlements have demanded that Louis summon a meeting of the Estates General,” I sighed. “Such an event has never happened in our lifetimes. Nor did the late king ever call them together. His Majesty reluctantly promised to set a meeting for next May, and so, for the first time since 1614, the three Estates will convene. At least it will give us plenty of time to research the etiquette,” I added gloomily. I scrubbed my hands through my hair.
“
Majesté, s’il vous plaît
, I must ask you to stop doing that,” Léonard chided gently. “You do it all the time now, and it is very bad for you. It is difficult for me to repair so much damage.”
I pressed his hand to my cheek. His long, tapered fingers felt cool against my face. “Ah,
mon cher ami
, what would I do without you?”
As the summer sun scorched the fields the treasury dried up as well. On August 15, the still-ailing Loménie de Brienne announced that the government would no longer honor its debts in cash, instead issuing promissory notes at 5 percent interest. Naturally, a hue and cry was heard across the land, as notes from a bankrupt treasury are worthless. Clearly, the archbishop of Toulouse was failing his duties as Comptroller General.
Louis and I now met daily in his library. If France was a ship in a tempest-tossed sea, he saw the pair of us as her sextant and compass, of necessity navigating together through the gathering storm.
It was the twenty-fourth of August. The heat was oppressive, even with the window sashes raised. My taffeta bodice clung damply to my back and my coiffure could scarcely retain its curl. The king, stouter than he had ever been, perspired heavily in his gray silk suit.
“Why must everything be so difficult?” Louis groaned. “You managed to persuade Necker to return—”
“Despite the fact that we dislike one another and that Artois once called him a fornicating bastard,” I interrupted. “He doesn’t much care for you, either.”
“But the people love him. However, he will not work with the archbishop, nor will Brienne work with
him
.” The king mopped his brow with an exasperated swipe of his handkerchief.
“But they need each other,” I insisted. “Necker’s visions for France are too radical and may anger the people if they are implemented too quickly, or at all, for that matter. Loménie de Brienne’s less progressive outlook will rein him in.”
Louis unfurled my fan and began to cool himself. “The archbishop views our recall of Necker as a personal affront to his ability.” He began to pace about the carpet. “I fear,
ma chère
, that we must choose between the lesser of the two evils: the progressive Swiss or the ineffective cleric.”
The following day, Loménie de Brienne was dismissed and the mercurial Jacques Necker reinstated as France’s Côntroleur-Général of Finance. “Long live Necker,” the people cried when they heard the news. For a few shining moments, the nation rejoiced. The government’s stocks rose and there were celebrations in the streets. But then the mood grew dark. An effigy of the archbishop was burned in the Place Dauphine. Tens of thousands participated in the violence, wielding clubs and lobbing stones. Their swords drawn, the guardsmen attempted to repel them. France, it seemed, could not exult without going mad.
It had been my idea to recall Necker; I had convinced Louis that it was best for the nation if he rejoined the government. I prayed I had done the right thing.
Only to Axel could I confide my true feelings about the entire state of affairs. “It seems to be my fate to bring misfortune, and if Necker should fail, like his predecessors, or damage the king’s authority, I shall be hated even more than I am now. I am
blamed for every misfortune, but never ceded a scintilla of credit when anything good occurs. My happy days are over, since they made me into an
intrigante
.” I reclined on a yellow-striped sofa at le Petit Trianon, resting my head in his lap. The color lifted my spirits and the touch of his hand as he gently stroked my hair soothed my brow.
“There is nothing to be gained from blaming yourself,” he chided. “No matter what people may say, you and I know that you do nothing out of malice. If it would change anything, I would ride from house to house and tell every citizen in France the truth.” Odin padded over to us, demanding a caress.
“I am frightened,” I whispered.
I looked into Axel’s eyes; his expression had grown suddenly grave. “Now and always, I offer you my devotion.” He stroked the dog’s muzzle affectionately. “And while I cannot speak for my friend here, I would hazard that he is as loyal as I, and if necessary we would most willingly risk our lives to aid the Queen of France.”
Our Thoughts Divided
January 1789
My dearest Sophie,
Things grow steadily worse here. The queen is in a state of perpetual despair over the health of the dauphin. He has rickets as well as a malformed, protruding spine, and weighs significantly less than any boy of seven should.
The landscape of France is bleaker than ever. It has been an unseasonably cold winter; three weeks of thirteen-degree weather, without respite. It rarely snows here the way it does at home, but this season so much has fallen that the carters have been unable to remove the refuse, so it has been left to accumulate and stink. Garbage freezes in the gutters because it is too frigid for the water to wash it away, and the Seine has frozen as well. With the river a ribbon of ice no boats can traverse it, which of course means no grain can get through. No grain, no bread; and so the price of a single loaf has risen to
an astronomical fourteen sous, and countless poor are starving. Cheaper English goods are flooding the French markets, which makes things even worse. Workshops are shutting down, and so unemployment is rising. The stock market, which had briefly risen after Monsieur Necker resumed the financial reins, has returned to the sewers.
There was a frightening hailstorm a few weeks ago but the people have conveniently forgotten about the king’s twelve-million-franc lottery to benefit the families ruined by the national disaster. They talk only of his avarice and his insensitivity, which, if you knew His Majesty, are qualities one could scarce attribute to him.
What they conveniently remembered was the grand gesture made by the king’s cousin, the duc d’Orléans, who sold his finest paintings and donated the eight million francs he received for them to charity.
Taking advantage of the increasing discontent with the monarchs and the ministers and courtiers who are loyal to them are two distinct factions: the increasingly literate populace who have read and appreciated the writings of such
philosophes
as Voltaire and Rousseau, as well as those who ascribe to American ideals, and have swallowed the belief that all men have rights and are equal under God; and those who have been antagonized by the court in the past—a cabal led by none other than the duc d’Orléans. I fear for the sovereigns. Philippe d’Orléans is not merely powerful, but dangerous. For all his democratic posturing, I believe that his deepest desire is to wear the crown himself.
As with my previous letters, I trust you will also burn this one.
Your affectionate brother,
Axel
The king had begun to seek the advice of men who had their fingers on the pulse of the people, among them a lawyer who was also a talented botanist—such accomplishments were de rigueur in our enlightened society—named Lamoignon de Malesherbes. Both of them were avid students of world history, and the evident malaise among the representatives of the three Estates in advance of May’s assembly was a subject of some concern.
“Pause, Sire, for a moment or two, to consider the predicament of Charles the First of England,” urged Monsieur Malesherbes. “Your position, like his, lies in the conflict between the earlier customs of authority, and the present demands of the citizens.” With a faint smile, he added, “Fortunately, in this case, religious disagreement is not involved.”
“
Ah, oui
, we are indeed fortunate. One can thank heaven for that,” Louis readily agreed, taking the commoner’s arm in an unprecedented gesture of equality. “So the ferocity will not be the same.”
“Besides, the gentler ways of our time guarantee you against the excesses of those days. I can assure you that things will not reach the stage they did with Charles the First; but
Majesté
, although France is a nation of high-principled idealists, I cannot answer for the absence of any other forms of excess, and you must turn your mind to preventing them.”
Their conversation sent shivers along my spine. My husband had always been an assiduous student of the life of this particular British monarch, although he had never countenanced the possibility of civil war until now. He took Malesherbes’s words to heart and grew determined to make the gathering of the Estates General a resounding success. To ensure that it would be truly representative of the entire nation, Louis decided that the Third Estate should, for the first time, be comprised of as many deputies as the first two Estates combined, ignoring the suggestion of the Princes
of the Blood who insisted that the Estates should be constituted just as they had been in 1614, with each order possessing the same numerical strength, which of course would mean that the clergy and nobility would always outnumber the populace two to one.
“What matter if my authority suffer, provided my people are happy,” my husband declared. His words, published in every newspaper in France, elevated his popularity and banished our fears.
On May second, before the assemblage formally convened, etiquette demanded that they be received by the king in the Royal Chamber at the Château de Versailles. In accordance with protocol, both doors were open to admit the nobility; only one door was open for the clergy to file through; and the portals remained shut in the face of the Third Estate, which had to request permission to enter.
The folderol commenced on the morning of May 4, when the royal family rode in state from the palace to the church of Notre Dame in the town of Versailles. Our cavalcade left the palace precisely at ten. Cherub-cheeked pages in bright liveries re-created from the reign of the venerated Henri IV, complete with white goffered neck ruffs and billowing breeches, led the way, followed by the falconers with their majestic hooded birds sporting tinkling bells on their leather jesses. Thousands had turned out to witness the pageantry and to see their king and queen ride by in their respective coaches, even as they anticipated the dawn of a new era and the possibility of a Constitution or a similar document granting all men equality in the sight of God.
