The Queen's Confession Part 13

"Yes, of course," I agreed, and I was thinking: Pale blue and pale cherry for the bedroom. My bedroom! A single bed where there will not be room for my husband ...

Louis was looking apologetic. "Turgot has told me that I must look to my own expenses and that my first duty is to the people. He said: 'Your Majesty must not enrich those he loves at the expense of the people.' And I agreed with him wholeheartedly. I am fortunate to have found such an able minister."

"So fortunate," I agreed. No stiff satin, I thought. No heavy brocade. That is suitable for Versailles. But for my darling Trianon ... soft silks in delicate shades.

"Are you listening?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Louis. I agree with you that Monsieur Turgot is a very good man and we must economize. We must think of the poor people."

He smiled and said that he knew I would be beside him in all the reforms he intended to make because he knew that I cared about the people as much as he did.

I nodded. It was true. I did want them all to be happy and pleased with us.

I wrote to my mother that day: "Monsieur Turgot is a very honest man, which is most essential for the finances."

I realize now that it was one thing to have good intentions and another to carry them out. Monsieur Turgot was an honest man, but idealists are not always practical and luck was against him because the harvest that year was a bad one. He established internal free trade, but that could not keep the price of corn down because of the shortage. Moreover, roads were bad and the grain could not be brought to Paris. Turgot met this situation by throwing on the market grain from the Royal Granaries, which had the effect of bringing down the price, but as soon as it was used up, the price rose again and the people were more discontented than ever.

Then there was a distressing rumor that in various parts of the country people were starving and there was murmuring against Turgot.

The news got worse. Riots broke out at Beauvais, Meaux, Saint-Denis, Poissy, Saint-Germain; and at Villers Cotterets a crowd collected and started to raid the markets. Boats on the Oise which were carrying grain to Paris were boarded and sacks of corn were split open. When the King heard that the raiders had not stolen the precious grain but thrown it into the river, he was very disturbed.

He said gravely: "It does not sound like hungry people, but those determined to make trouble."

Turgot, who was suffering acutely from the gout and had to be carried to my husband's apartments, was constantly there.

I had been at Le Trianon reveling in the paintings of Watteau which adorned the walls and deciding that I should not attempt to alter the carved and gilded paneling, and I returned to find my husband preparing to leave for the hunt He had spent many hours in close consultation with Turgot and he told me that he wanted to get away for a while to think about the depressing situation. Then Turgot and Maurepas had left for Paris, for word had come to them that organized agitators were planning to lead raids on the markets there. My husband decided to take a short respite; in any case he could always think more easily in the saddle.

I was in my apartments when the King came bursting in on me.

"I had just left the Palace when I saw a mob," he said. "They are coming from Saint-Germain and are on their way to the Versailles market."

I felt the blood rus.h.i.+ng to my face. The mob ... marching on Versailles. Old Maurepas and Turgot away in Paris and no one to send them away. No one ... that was ... but the King.

He looked pale but resolute. "I find it hard to bear when the people are against us," he said.

Then I thought of that moment when we had known we were King and Queen of France and how we had both cried out that we were too young, and I forgot the Trianon; I forgot everything but the need to stand beside him, to support him, to will him to be strong. I took his hand and he pressed my fingers.

"There is no time to be lost," he said. "Action, prompt action is necessary." Then the old look of self-doubt was in his face. "The right action," he added.

The Princes of Beauvau and de Poix were in the chateau and he sent for them ... poor subst.i.tutes for Maurepas and Turgot. He briefly explained the situation. He said: "I will send a message to Turgot and then we shall have to act."

I knew he was praying silently that the action he took would be the right one. And I prayed with him.

He sat down and wrote to Turgot: "Versailles is attacked ... You can count on my firmness. I have ordered the guards to the marketplace. I am pleased with the precautions you have taken in Paris, but it is what could happen there that alarms me most. You are right to arrest the people of whom you speak, but when you have them, remember I wish there to be no haste and many questions. I have just given orders what shall be done here, and for the markets and mills of the neighborhood."

I stayed with him, and I was gratified that that seemed to please him.

"What alarms me is," he said, "that this should appear to be an organized riot. It is not the people. The situation is not as bad as that. There is nothing that we could not set to rights ... given time. But this is organized ... planned ... the people are being incited against us ... why?"

I thought of how the people had cheered me when I first went to Paris and Monsieur de Brissac had said two hundred thousand people had fallen in love with me; I thought of the people cheering us in the Bois de Boulogne.

"The people love us, Louis," I said. "We may have our enemies, but they are not the people."

He nodded and again I realized by the way he looked at me that he was glad I was there.

That was a terrible day. I could eat nothing; I felt faint and slightly sick. The waiting was terrible and when I heard the sounds of shouting approaching the chateau I was almost relieved.

That was my first glimpse of an angry mob. There they were in the grounds - unkempt, in rags, brandis.h.i.+ng sticks and howling abuse. I stood a little way back from the window watching. Someone threw something; I could see it on the balcony. It looked like moldy bread.

Louis said he would speak to them and bravely he stepped on to the balcony. There was a moment's silence and he cried: "My good people ..."

But his voice was drowned in their shouting. He turned to me and I saw the tears in his eyes.

"You tried. You did your best," I a.s.sured him, but I could not comfort him. He was sad and depressed, but he was like a different man from the Louis I had known before. There was a resolution about him. I knew that he would not be afraid whatever happened and that he had one purpose: to bring cheap bread to his people.

I saw the guards come into the courtyard led by the Prince de Beauvau. No sooner had he appeared than the mob turned on him; they threw flour at him ... the precious flour needed for bread ... and he was covered in it from head to foot.

"We shall march on the chateau," cried a voice in the crowd.

The Prince cried: "What do you want the price of bread to be?"

"Two sous," was the answer.

"Then, two sous shall it be," said the Prince.

There was a wild shout of triumph and the people turned to rush to the bakers demanding bread at two sous. Thus ended the riots at Versailles; but several of those who had been arrested turned out to be not starving peasants at all but men of substance - one of them was Artois' chief cellarer; and some of the sour bread of which the people had complained was picked up and turned out to be bread mixed with ashes.

This was very disturbing indeed.

Louis wrote at once to Turgot: "We are peaceful now. The riot was beginning to be violent, but the troops calmed them. The Prince de Beauvau asked them why they had come to Versailles and they replied that they had no bread ... I have decided not to go out today, not through fear but so that all may be calm and settle down. Monsieur de Beauvau tells me that a foolish compromise was made which was to let them have bread at two sous. There is no other thing to do, he says, but let them have it at this or its present price. The bargain is made now, but precautions should be made to prevent their believing they can make laws. Give me your advice on this."

Turgot returned at once to Versailles. "Our consciences are clear," he told the King; "but the current price of bread must be restored or there will be disaster."

In spite of Turgot's precautions there were riots in Paris; the Chief of Police Lenoir was dilatory; it may have been that he did not wish to show himself against the rioters.

This was all very alarming; Lenoir refusing to do his duty, and more bread being found which had been turned moldy by a special process. Turgot acted promptly and dismissed Lenoir, replacing him by a man named Albert who was a supporter of his and immediately went into action. Arrests were made and order was restored; the entire Parlement was summoned to Versailles, where the King received them.

"I must stop this dangerous brigandage," he said. "It could quickly become rebellion. I am determined that neither my good town of Paris nor my kingdom shall suffer. I rely on your fidelity and submission when I am determined to take measures which ensure that during my reign I shall not have to take them again."

He was determined, as he had told me, before receiving the Parlement, that order should be brought back to his kingdom, and that the real culprits of this rising should be discovered and dealt with.

But the riots in Paris continued; and once again those who were arrested proved to be not poor people in need of bread but men and women with money in their pockets.

Louis was very distressed.

"This is a plot," he told me, "a plot against us. That is what disturbs me so."

"But you are behaving like a true King, Louis. I have heard it said again and again. They tell me that the manner in which you spoke to the Parlement has won everyone's admiration."

"I always find it easier to talk to fifty men than to one," he said with his shy smile.

I cried: "You will discover who made this plot, and then all will be well. I think the French are happy to understand that they have a strong King whom they can trust."

He was delighted and murmured: "You jump to conclusions. It is not all over yet."

Nor was it. As he and I pa.s.sed out of his room we saw a notice pinned on the door. I read it and gasped. It said: "If the price of bread does not go down and the Ministry is not changed, we will set fire to the four corners of the Chateau of Versailles."

I stared at it in horror. I looked at my husband, who had turned pale.

"Louis," I whispered, "it is as though they hate us."

"It is not the people," he cried. "I will not believe it is the people."

But he was shaken. And so was I. It was like a cold wind blowing through the palace.

Albert reported that he had made many arrests. A wigmaker and a gauze maker had been caught stealing and it was decided to make an example of them. They were hanged on two gallows eighteen feet high so that they could be an example to the rioters.

Louis was distressed.

"I wish they could find the ringleaders," he said again and again. "I do not wish the people who have only been led away to be punished." If he could, he would have pardoned those two men, but Turgot insisted that there must be an example; and certainly the hanging of these two men sobered the people. The rioting died down; the insurrection "La Guerre des Farines" was over.

It was clear that some organization, some secret band of men, was using the grain shortage to build a revolution. Fortunately the resolution of the King and the prompt action of Turgot, the replacement of Lenoir by Albert and the solidarity of the Parlement had avoided that.

Everyone was speculating as to who could have been behind it. Some said it was the Prince de Conti, whom Max had so offended when he had visited us. It was whispered that he hated me and my family so much that he wished to bring down the Monarchy.

It seemed ridiculous, but it was true that the riots had started in Pontoise and he had a house there.

There were all sorts of whispers; I listened for a while. I even heard that Conti was a member of a secret organization suspected of all kinds of subversive activities.

We ought to have been thankful for a grim warning; we should not have rested until we found out the truth of these rumors. Surely it could not have been difficult had we really tried.

But we were all too thankful that "La Guerre des Farines" was over to wish to resurrect causes. We wanted to forget it.

CHAPTER 10.

"It is very surprising and so comforting to be so well received after the revolt and in spite of the price of bread, which is still dear. But it is characteristic of the French to be carried away by evil suggestions and then return immediately to good sense. When we hear the people's acclamations and see these proofs of their affection, we are all the more committed to work for their good."

-Marie Antoinette to Maria Theresa "I am sorry you could not share the satisfaction I have felt here. It is my duty to work for a people who give me so much happiness. I shall give myself up to this absolutely."

-Louis XVI to Maurepas Coronation A MONTH HAD ELAPSED since the last of the bread riots and everyone was talking about the Coronation. Coronations were rare events with such long-lived Kings as Louis XIV and Louis XV, both of whom had reigned for so many years. Louis XVI was dreading it, of course, for it was the sort of occasion he preferred to avoid. He would be extremely clumsy at the most significant moments; and he hated dressing up. Moreover the ceremony would be archaic, the same that had been carried out since the earliest days of the French Monarchy. Louis would have given a great deal to escape it.

Mercy and my mother were hoping that I would be crowned too and to tell the truth I did not share my husband's horror of the ceremony. I should have been in my element, a glittering figure, receiving the homage of my subjects, and was secretly disappointed when it was decided that there was to be no coronation for me.

"It would mean even more expense," said Louis, "at a time when there is urgent need for economy everywhere. There will be Clothilde's wedding and the lying-in of Artois' wife ..."

He looked sheepish; the delicate subject was being raised again. I felt unhappy too. Artois was the first of the brothers to be a father. How I envied my sister-in-law! I had thrown myself wildly into making changes at Le Trianon hoping to forget my envy. Lucky, lucky woman! What did it matter if she were small and ugly and squinted and had a long thin nose? She was to be a mother!

"So," said Louis, "you will not be crowned with me. I know you do not wish it. And how I wish that I could avoid the fuss."

But it was decided that there must be a coronation, so on the 5th of June I with my brothers- and sisters-in-law left for Rheims. It was midnight when we saw the city in moonlight. The people leaned out of their windows - those who were not lining the streets - and they cheered us wildly; they were almost as enthusiastic as the people of Paris had been when I first had officially entered their city.

As we had arrived the day before the King, I was thrilled to see his entry. His carriage was eighteen feet high and we saw him receive the keys of the city from the Duc de Bourbon, who was the Governor of Champagne.

Long before the King was due to arrive at the Cathedral, I had taken my place in a gallery near the high altar so that I could have a good view of the proceedings, and never before in my life had I been so moved.

I knew that at seven o'clock the quaint ceremony of bringing the King had begun and that the Bishops of Beauvais and Laon had headed the procession, which had arrived at his apartments. The Grand Chorister then knocked on the door and was asked by the Grand Chamberlain: "What is your wish?"

"We wish for the King," was the answer.

"The King sleeps."

This little exchange was repeated twice and then the Bishop said: "We ask for Louis XVI, whom G.o.d has given us to be King."

Then the door of the apartment would be opened and Louis would be seen lying on the state bed in all his gorgeous coronation robes.

Then after the blessing and sprinkling of holy water the journey to the Cathedral would begin.

I shall never forget seeing my husband as he came to the high altar. He was in gold and crimson, his mantle was of silver cloth and his velvet cap decorated with diamonds and plumes. There were times when he, being so deeply conscious of his state, was indeed a king, dedicated, n.o.ble. I had glimpsed this during the Guerre des Farines, when he had faced a murderous mob without fear. He might be shy of great gatherings, awkward in company, embarra.s.sed by our situation in the bedchamber, but he was a brave man.

I watched the sprinkling from la Sainte Ampoule, which had been handed down from the days of Clovis, the first King of the Franks; and after that there followed the coronation oath. The sword was presented to the King and he knelt at the altar. Then he was prepared for the anointing and afterward dressed in his robes of purple velvet decorated with fleurs-de-lis. He sat on his throne while the crown of Charlemagne was placed on his head. I had never before seen such splendor. I kept thinking that that crown had been worn by all the Kings of France and I thought of my grandfather, who had been very young when it had been placed on his head - young and so handsome, far more so than this present Louis; and I remembered him as I had last seen him, lying on his deathbed ... his lips cracked, his eyes wild, and the horrible smell of death in the apartment.

Louis glanced up at me. For several seconds he kept his eyes on my face, as though he had forgotten the solemn ceremony, everything but ourselves; and I felt that too. It was a wonderful moment. A turning point in our lives, I thought afterward. We were together - as one person. And although I felt no great and surging pa.s.sion for my husband, I knew that I loved him and that he loved me. It was a quiet devotion, a bond that was nonetheless strong because it was pa.s.sionless.

I realized suddenly that the tears were running down my cheeks.

The doors were flung open and people surged into the Cathedral. I could smell the incense; I heard the exclamation as birds were let loose as a symbol of peace. The guns began their salute and the sounds of trumpets and drums mingled.

I joined the royal procession from the Cathedral; and as we came out the shouts of "Vive le Roi" filled the air. Everyone was happy on that day.

I wrote to my mother: The coronation was a great success in all ways. Everyone was delighted with the King and he with them ... I could not keep my tears from flowing ... It is very surprising and so comforting to be so well received after the revolt and in spite of the price of bread, which is still dear. But it is characteristic of the French to be carried away by evil suggestions and then to return immediately to good sense. When we hear the people's acclamations and see these proofs of their affection, we are all the more committed to work for their good.

My husband came to me while I was writing this and I showed it to him.

He still seemed a little shy in my presence and we were both deeply conscious of that scene in the Cathedral.

"It was a wonderful experience," he said. "I felt as though G.o.d had spoken to me."

I nodded.

"I have written to Maurepas and this is what I have said." I read the letter which had the same theme as mine.