Mistress of the Revolution (29 page)

It was decided by the end of 1788 that the Estates General would be called in May of the following year. The price of bread, due to the meager harvest, had risen beyond the means of the poorest. The Parliament of Paris opened an investigation into the causes of the increase, without any result other than fueling the wildest rumours about the Queen’s schemes to starve the people.

Nonetheless the news of the upcoming election was greeted with a tide of enthusiasm and the three Orders, the Clergy, the Nobility and the Third Estate, talked of little else. All began drafting the famous
cahiers de doléances
, “booklets of complaints,” in which they set forth the unfairness of the current regime and the remedies they wished their representatives to implement.

All the talk was of the drafting of a Constitution for the Kingdom. The founding fathers of the young United States had written one the year before, but it was generally acknowledged that such a form of government was only suitable for smaller, less populated countries and could never be adapted to France, with her twenty-six million inhabitants.

Most reform-minded thinkers argued that the British model ought to be followed, with a King enjoying limited powers, and a dual Parliament. The higher chamber, similar to the House of Lords, could be assembled from a reunion of the Nobility and Clergy, and a House of Commons would be derived from the Third Estate. Villers and Lauzun often discussed the fact that, for the first time, French noblemen could aspire to hold public office not on the sole basis of royal favour, but thanks to the suffrage of their peers.

Villers proposed another journey to Normandy, to which I agreed. Our rides by the sea, under the light snows of January, sealed our reconciliation.

“I have been thinking, Belle, of becoming a candidate for the representation of the nobility of Normandy,” he said one day on the beach of Saint-Laurent. “But I will not decide on it without your approval.”

“It is an excellent idea, my dear. I will be happy to return here with you at the time of the election. Or, if you prefer not to be seen with me then, you may also come back by yourself. You would not want to be accused of immorality for flaunting your mistress before your constituents.”

“It is out of the question to leave you in Paris, Belle. I never want to be separated from you again. The nobility of Normandy will take me or leave me with whatever morality I can muster.”

His new life with me, happy as it seemed to make him, must have felt a bit dull. Nothing of a serious nature had occupied him since he had left the army years earlier. Now everyone sensed that great changes were in store for France. These times were heady, for Villers and other noblemen as well as for commoners. Politics was open to all. It would provide a fresh outlet to his energy and intelligence.

Villers remained full of attentions during the rest of our stay in Dampierre. On our last night there, our embrace was more tender than ever. We found comfort in each other’s arms. I fell asleep, content to feel him by my side.

I was awakened by a furious pull on my waist. My lips were forced open by other lips. I heard incoherent words, speaking of insatiable yearning, whispered in my ear by a hoarse voice. Heavy with sleep, I half opened my eyes. It was Villers’s voice, his hands, his lips. In the hearth the fire had crumbled into a heap of whistling embers, glowing red. It must have been the early hours of the morning. I moaned, still drowsy.

Suddenly I was wide awake. He was already upon me, inside me. He had not given me time to take our usual precautions.

I pushed him away. “What are you doing? Do you want me to become pregnant?”

He kissed me wildly. “Oh, I do,” he said, stopping to catch his breath. “Belle, my Belle, I want a child by you. I want it more than anything.”

I stared at him. “I have no intention of being disgraced to satisfy a whim of yours.”

“I will not disgrace you, my love. I will marry you. I will have the banns published tomorrow. Please.” He pulled me close again. “I beg you, Belle. Let me take you like this.”

“I cannot. The loss of my little boy left me dreadful memories. I do not wish for another child.” I ran my hand on his face. “Please, my dear, be sensible.”

He turned his back on me. I reached for his shoulder. He shrugged me off.

The next morning, Villers seemed happy and tender again. I wondered whether it had all been a dream. Although he was affectionate with Aimée and, in his own way, fond of his son, he had never before expressed any wish for offspring. He must have been driven by a desire to attach me in an irrevocable manner.

Upon our return to Paris, his behaviour changed. Before our separation, he had not seemed bothered by the attentions I received from others, and had even found them flattering. Now whenever other men spoke to me or even looked at me, I saw his jaw tighten and his fists clench. In particular he could barely bring himself to be polite to Lauzun.

Villers insisted on the benefits of a more retired life for my health and that of Aimée. He wished me to spend most of my time in his company at Vaucelles, with the Duchess as our sole guest. He attempted to dissuade me from attending entertainments I had no intention to renounce. He even objected to my meeting Emilie, who, he said, was a bad influence. I had concealed from him that it was to her that I owed the disclosure of his last known infidelity. I knew that he would never have forgiven her.

Villers had once promised never to hit me, but his temper seemed unpredictable whenever I was in company. My suspicions may have been unfair to him, but I could not help being influenced by my past experience of marital corrections. Moreover, my escape to the Duchess’s, which had no adverse consequences for me, would have been a different matter had I been married. Villers, had he been my husband, could have me jailed as a runaway wife. I would have been separated forever from Aimée.

All those considerations led me to the conclusion that it would be more prudent to continue reaping the wages of sin rather than to become the new Countess de Villers. We are indeed strange creatures. What I had so dearly wished for a year earlier now seemed a step to be avoided.

Villers was well regarded by his peers in Normandy. He was elected a Representative of the Nobility to the Estates General in March of 1789. So were Orléans in Chartres, Lafayette in Auvergne and Lauzun in Quercy. All would be part of that famous assembly entrusted with the task of resolving the intractable budget crisis and restoring France to prosperity and happiness.

I taught Aimée, now three years old, to skate on the Seine, which had frozen solid during that terrible winter. My maids found unruly crowds, angered by the price of bread, massed in front of the bakeries. The populace cursed the Farmers General for increasing their enormous wealth by taxes on food at this time of famine. The wall built for their benefit now felt like a noose around the neck of the starving city. Wrapped in my furs, my stomach full, I could not help thinking of those who were cold and hungry. I asked Villers to forego my New Year’s Day present and use the money to relieve the suffering of the poor, both in Normandy and in Paris.

The concerns of the day in Versailles were the ceremonies for the opening of the Estates General, the design of uniforms for each of the three orders and the protocol to be followed. The Estates General had not convened since 1614, and such details had been lost in the fog of time. Passionate debates were held under the Queen’s direction. She insisted that proper attention be paid to distinctions of rank. Of particular import was the question whether the Representatives of the Third Estate should greet the arrival of the King on their knees. At the same time, the Duke d’Orléans spent 1,000 francs a day to feed the poor, which earned him the title of Protector of the People in Paris and caused him to be reviled as an opportunist and a rabble-rouser in Versailles.

I had intended to stay in Paris during the time of the meeting of the Estates General, which I did not anticipate to last more than a few months. Villers joined me one afternoon while I was reading
Paul and Virginia,
a new novel the Duchess had recommended. It recounted the adventures of a young noblewoman separated by her family from her suitor, a commoner. I had never told the Duchess, or anyone except Hélène, of my first love. Now I found this melancholy romance too close to my own story. I was not sorry to have my reading interrupted by Villers’s visit.

“Belle,” he said, “we have things to discuss. I will rent a house for you in Versailles for the duration of the Estates General.”

I put away my book. “Why do we need a house in Versailles? You will be less than an hour away from Paris on horseback. You could return here every night, my dear.”

“I expect the sessions of the Estates to continue late. I might feel too tired to ride back to Paris in the middle of the night. At the same time, dearest, I would not want to be deprived of your company.”

“But you know that I am not fond of Versailles,” I said, sighing. “There is nothing there but the Court.”

“I know that I am being selfish, Belle, by asking you to keep me company in that dismal place, but you are the one who encouraged me to become a Representative.”

I looked into his eyes. “Would you not trust me if I stayed in Paris?”

“I would, Belle, of course, but do you not know that I cannot bear to be away from you?”

He bowed to the level of my waist to kiss my hand.

Villers rented in my name a fine house in Versailles, where I settled with Aimée, Manon, Miss Howard and my maids on the 1st of May. Only Junot, my footman, remained in Paris to mind my lodgings in my absence. Villers did not secure separate accommodations for himself in Versailles. He could be assumed to return to his Paris mansion at night. Appearances did not matter so much to me anymore. I had been his mistress for a year and a half, and those who were offended by my morals had already closed their doors to me.

On our first night in Versailles, Villers waited until we retired to present me with a pair of diamond bracelets in a trellis pattern. They were an inch wide and seemed as valuable as the earrings he had given me.

“I wanted to thank you for coming here with me,” he said, sitting on the bed by my side. “I know, my love, that you did so only to please me. Your sacrifice deserved a reward.”

He reached for my wrists and, after kissing each of them in turn, clasped the bracelets on them. I felt uneasy to wear this kind of jewellery in bed.

“Thank you, they are beautiful,” I whispered, staring at the bracelets.

“I had them made to your exact measurements, Belle. No other woman would have wrists delicate enough to wear them.”

“You are very generous, as usual. I hope that you did not feel obligated to pacify me. I must have seemed ungracious in my reluctance to come to Versailles.”

“You have never appeared ungracious, dearest. You made me very happy in accepting to accompany me. I wished to prove it.”

He caressed me through my chemise, gently at first, then more urgently. He slipped it over my head. I reached for the bracelets to unclasp them. He stopped me. “No, my love. I want to see you wearing them, nothing but them.”

The 4th of May had been set as the date of a grand procession of all the Representatives. The windows of my house offered an excellent view of the street on its path so I saw no occasion for Aimée and me to mingle with the crowd. I had invited the Duchess d’Arpajon to join us for that occasion. I am happy to have offered my dear friend this opportunity to behold the pageantry of the “Old Regime,” as it would soon be called. This would be, unknown to both of us, the last occasion for its ceremonies ever to be held.

Villers, with all of the other Representatives, had waited since eight in the morning in front of the Church of Saint-Louis. The royal couple did not join them until eleven. The Third Estate walked first, dressed in plain black suits, hats and stockings. The Nobility followed, swords to their sides, in black coats, white breeches, lace neckties, gold cloth waistcoats and hats
à la
Henri IV, turned up in front and decorated with white feathers. Villers, with his tall, slender frame, having for once removed his earrings, looked very handsome. Lauzun, who gallantly bowed to us as he walked past my windows, was nothing short of dashing in spite of the fact that he was now past the age of forty. The Clergy walked behind, wearing the habits of their functions. The dignitaries of the Church, the red cardinals and purple bishops, were the only colourful notes in the procession.

The gold-embroidered canopy sheltering the Holy Sacrament was next, followed by the King’s carriage and that of the Queen, wearing a dress of silver cloth and the
Regent
diamond, the largest of the Crown jewels. The King was saluted by endless acclamations, while not a single cry of
Long live the Queen
was heard. On the contrary, someone on the street shouted
Long live the Duke d’Orléans
as she passed. I saw her smart under the insult as one would under the lash, but almost immediately she recovered her disdainful composure.

The next day witnessed the opening session of the Estates General in the
Salle des Menus Plaisirs
, “Hall of the Small Pleasures,” a vast ballroom within the Palace of Versailles. A dais had been prepared on which the King and Queen were to sit under a canopy. All morning the Representatives, one by one, had been assigned their seats in the cavernous room. The Clergy and the Nobility occupied the sides, while the Third Estate had been placed at the far end. It had as many members as the other two Orders together. The King, true to his character, had hesitated whether to accept or reject this measure. He supported and resisted in turn each position, before yielding to the majority view and agreeing to double the number of Representatives of the Third Estate. Altogether, over 1,000 Representatives were assembled, and as many spectators in the galleries behind the higher Orders.

I sat with the Duchess and the other ladies of the Court in one of the balconies that flanked the throne. My hair had been dressed, under Villers’s supervision, in an array of loose ringlets and braids woven with the strings of pearls he had given me.

“It is not in fashion now,” he said, “but you are beautiful enough to make it so after today.”

I wore a new Court gown of white satin, made according to his specific directions. My bracelets circled my wrists and the
briolettes
of my diamond earrings brushed against my bare shoulders. Villers did not like me to wear necklaces, which, he said, interrupted the line of my throat and covered too much of its flesh.

“Look around us,” the Duchess remarked. “All of the ladies of the Court are wearing their finest jewels, but they look tawdry compared to you in your white gown. You simply outshine everyone else.”

Their Majesties arrived at noon. The King opened the session with a speech that lasted less than five minutes, counting the many interruptions by cheering Representatives. Again no voice was raised to cry
Long live the Queen
. I almost pitied her, but my feelings of compassion, as often when she was concerned, soon disappeared. The King, at the end of his speech, removed his hat as a sign of respect for the assembled Representatives. She turned to him with a frown and whispered to his ear, her opinion of his gesture unmistakable.

I marveled at her insolence in questioning the King’s authority on so solemn an occasion. After some hesitation, he put his hat back on. The Nobility, accustomed to the Court’s etiquette, followed the King’s example. There was more confusion among the Third Estate, until some of its Representatives chose to remove their hats for the rest of the session, followed by the rest of their colleagues.

That awkward moment was followed by a speech by Monsieur Necker, the Comptroller General of the Finances. His tinny little voice soon gave way and a clerk endowed with better lungs droned on for three hours. My eyes were welling up with tears of boredom by the time it was over. The King rose, greeted by renewed acclamations. He took the Queen’s hand in his to present her to the Estates and solicit their cheers. She made a deep curtsey, which at last drew scattered cries of
Long live the Queen
. It appeared to those of us close by that she left the room in tears. Unlike mine, hers were not caused by the tedium of Monsieur Necker’s speech.

The Estates started work the next day. Villers had hired a private secretary, Monsieur Renouf, nearly sixty and owlish. Renouf, under his master’s direction, prepared reports on each session of the Estates, which Villers in turn sent to his constituents in Normandy every few days. As their elected Representative, he felt much responsibility towards them and wished to repay their trust by keeping them informed of all developments.

Villers would join me for dinner immediately after the sessions closed for the day. He was more affectionate than ever towards Aimée. He sat her in his lap and took an interest in the progress of her studies. There was nothing she dreaded more than to disappoint him. Every night she would ask me to rehearse her lessons one more time in anticipation of his arrival. She insisted that many a page of handwriting be discarded as unworthy of his perusal and started afresh. She was almost four years old and, while Miss Howard continued her instruction in English, I taught her to read and write French. The hours of the day that were not dedicated to study were spent in long walks with Aimée in the woods of Versailles, now in all the splendour of their spring foliage, where we would gather bouquets of blue hyacinths.

“Look at me, my love,” said Villers one night after dinner. “I have become a regular bourgeois now. I work all day and come home to your bed every night.”

“You make it sound like a chore.”

“On the contrary, Belle, I have never been so content, except maybe for the times we spent together in Normandy. The only thing that could add to my happiness would be to make you my wife.”

I smiled. “Then, my dear, the picture of the Count de Villers, a reformed libertine, would indeed be complete. I would, I suppose, bear you a child once a year. You would also wear a flannel waistcoat and drink a cup of herb tea every night before bed.”

He rose and came to sit by my side on the sofa. “Nothing wrong with any of it. Why wait to be married? I should begin to do all of these things already, Belle, so as to deprive you of any reason to persist in your refusal.” He put his arm around my waist and pressed his lips upon mine. “Now, about that notion of fathering a child…”

The first sessions of the Estates had been dedicated to the verification of the Representatives’ powers. The elections for Paris, delayed because of poor organization and the constant unrest in the capital, were still being held, almost two months after they had been completed in the provinces. Thus the Estates commenced without any Representatives from Paris.

Aimée and I, along with the entire Court, went into mourning at the beginning of June. The little Dauphin, Louis-Joseph, heir to the throne, had died of consumption. The disease had settled in his spine and bones. The poor child, tortured by an iron corset, had been so deformed that he had not been seen at Court for almost a year. He had been kept in the château de Meudon, a few miles away, where he had surrendered his soul to God. He was not the first of the royal children to die. Little Madame Sophie, his younger sister, had passed away a year earlier. She had been conceived around the same time as my poor little boy. The death of the infant princess, who was of no account to anyone, had met with the indifference of both the Court and her family. The Dauphin, heir to the throne, was another matter. His birth had been eagerly anticipated for over ten years after his parents’ marriage and greeted by such joy that his death seemed a cruel mockery of happier times. It was a bad omen. I could not help but feel sorrow for the Queen’s loss. I took Aimée to the Church of Saint-Louis in Versailles to light a candle and pray for the repose of both children’s souls. The second son of the royal couple, Louis-Charles, a few months older than Aimée, became the new Dauphin.

The sad tidings from the Court had not prevented the Estates from continuing their sessions. The Representatives of the Clergy, in majority parish priests and commoners, had by the end of June joined the Third Estate. Together they now called themselves the National Assembly and had sworn not to dissolve before they had written a Constitution for the Kingdom. Villers was furious at those of his fellow noblemen who still insisted on holding separate sessions.