The Queen`s Confession (38 page)

he sought nothing for himself. He had his ministers—Maurepas, Turgot who was replaced by Necker in his turn replaced by Calonne-but none of these ministers was great enough to carry us safely over the yawning abyss which was widening rapidly beneath our very feet. Dear Louis, who wanted to please.

But it was so difficult to please everyone. And what did I do? I was the tool of ambitious factions and did nothing to help my husband, who wanted to please me and wanted to please his ministers, and vacillated between the two. That was his crime: not cruelty, not indifference to the suffering of others, not lechery—not all those crimes which had undermined the Monarchy and set the pillars on which it was erected mouldering to dust: it was vacillation, in which he was helped by a giddy thoughtless wife.

This affair of the play was characteristic of Louis’s weakess and my frivolity.

When Figaro was banned everyone became greatly interested in it. When Beaumarchais declared that only little men were afraid of little writings, how clever that was! And how well he understood human nature I There was no one who wished to be thought a ‘little man,” and his supporters were springing up everywhere. Gabrielle told me that her family believed the play should be performed. What sort of society was this where artists were not allowed to speak their minds I The play could not be performed, but what was to prevent people’s reading it?

“Have you read Figaro’?” It was the constant question asked everywhere. If you had not, if you did not burst into immediate praise, you were a ‘little man or woman. ” Clever Beaumarchais had said so.

There was one section of society which placed itself firmly behind Beaumarchais. Catherine the Great and ler son the Grand Duke Paul expressed their approval of the play and declared they would introduce it into Russia. But the most important supporter was Artois. I think he longed for us to play it and therefore he was determined to see it performed. He was as lighthearted as I, and even went so far as to order a rehearsal in the King’s own theatre—Menus Plaisirs. Here my husband showed himself firm for once. As die audience was beginning to arrive he sent the Due de Villequier to forbid the performance.

Shortly afterwards the Comte de Vaudrcuil, that most forceful lover of Gabrielle’s, declared that he could see no

reason why the play should not be performed privately, and gathered together actors and actresses from the Comedie Francaise, and the play was put on in his chateau at Gennevilliers. Artois was there to see it performed. Everyone present declared it a masterpiece and demanded to know what was going to happen to French literature if its most important artists were muzzled.

Beaumarchais made fun of the censorship in the play itself:

“Provided I don’t speak in my writings of authority, of religion, of politics, of morality, of the officials of influential bodies, of other spectacles, of anyone who has any claim to anything, I can print anything freely, under the inspection of two or three censors.”

This was, many people were declaring, not to be tolerated. France was the centre of culture. Any country which failed to appreciate its artists was committing cultural suicide.

Louis was beginning to waver, and I repeated all the arguments I had heard. If certain offensive passages were removed . “Perhaps,” said the King. They would see.

It was a half-victory. I knew that he could soon be persuaded.

I was right. In April 1784 in the theatre of the Comedie Francaise, Le Manage ie Figaro was performed and there was a stampede to get tickets. Members of the nobility stayed all day in the theatre to make sure of their places, and all through the day the crowd collected and when the doors were open they rushed in; they were standing in the aisles; but they listened spellbound to the performance.

Paris went wild with joy over Figaro; he was being quoted all over the country.

A victory for culture! What the nobility did not realise was that it was a step farther in the direction of the guillotine.

I believed that I had been right to add my voice to those who persuaded the King. I wished to show my appreciation of Beaumarchais and to honour him, so I suggested that my little company of friends should

perform his play Le 284 Barbier de Seville at the Trianon, in which I myself would play Rosine.

At the beginning of August in that year 1785, five months after the birth of my adorable little Louis-Charles, I was at the Trianon; and I intended to stay there undl the festival of Saint Louis, and. while I was there to play in Le Barbier de Seville.

As always, I was happier there than anywhere else. I remember walking round the gardens to look at the flowers and to see what progress my workmen had made—there were always changes being made at the Trianon—and pausing close to the summer house to look at my theatre with its Ionic columns, supporting a pediment on which a carved cupid held a lyre and a wreath of laurels. I remember the thrill I always experienced when I entered the theatre and the joy I took in its white and gold decorations. Above the curtain concealing the stage were two lovely nymphs holding my coat of arms and the ceiling had been exquisitely painted by Lagrenee. It looked very small with the curtain hiding the stage—that . stage which was my pride and delight—and which was enormous, large enough for the performance of any play;

and if the space provided for the audience was small, well, it was a family affair, so we did not need the space of an ordinary theatre.

What I enjoyed most at the Trianon—apart from acting-was what were called the Sunday balls. Anyone could attend if suitably dressed. I had said that mothers with children and nurses with their charges were to be presented to me and I enjoyed talking to these guardians of the little ones about their charming ways and their ailments. I talked to the children and told them about my own. I was happiest then.

Sometimes I would take part in a square dance, passing from partner to partner, to let the people know that the Trianon was conducted without the formality of Versailles.

I was particularly happy at that time, having no idea that a storm was about to break. Why should I have had? It all began so simply.

The King was giving a present of a diamond epaulet and 285 buckles to his nephew, the Due d’Angouleme, son of Artois, and had ordered these through Boehmer and Bassenge, the Court jewellers; he asked them to deliver them to me.

After the manner in which Boehmer had behaved about his diamond necklace before my little daughter I had ordered that he was not to come into my presence but should deal with my valet de chambre.

I was with Madame Campan rehearsing my part in The Barber when the epaulet and buckles were delivered to me. The valet de chambre who brought them told me that Monsieur Boehmer had delivered a letter for me at the same time as he had brought the jewels.

I sighed as I took it. I was really thinking of my part.

“That tiresome man,” I said.

“I do believe he is a little mad.”

One of the women was sealing letters by a lighted wax taper and I went on talking to Madame Campan: “Do you think that I put enough emphasis into that last sentence? Do you think she would have said it in that way? Try it show me how you would do it, dear Campan.”

Campan did it excellently. What a way she had with words! Not that she looked in the least like Rosine . my dear serious Campan I “Excellent!” I said, and opened the letter. I ran my eye over it yawning slightly. Boehmer always made me want to yawn.

“Madame, ” We are filled with happiness and venture to think that the last arrangements proposed to us, which we have carried out with zeal and respect, are a further proof of our sub mission and devotion to Your Majesty’s orders and we have real satisfaction in thinking that the most beautiful diamonds in existence will belong to the greatest and best of Queens. “

I looked up and gave the letter to Madame Campan.

“Read it and tell me what that man means.” She read it and was as mystified as I was.

“Oh dear!” I sighed, taking the letter from her.

“That man was born to torment me. Diamonds 1 He thinks of nothing else. If he had not sold that wretched necklace of his to the Sultan of Turkey he would be pestering me about that, I am sure. Now apparently he has some more diamonds which he would like me to buy. Really, Campan, when next you see him, tell him that I do not like diamonds now and that I will never buy any more as long as I live. If I had the money to spare I would rather add to my property at Saint Cloud by buying the land around it. Now do be careful to impress this on him. Tell him what I have told you and make him understand.”

“Would Your Majesty wish me to make a point of seeing him?”

“Oh no, there is no need for that. Just speak to him when the opportunity arises. To talk to him specially might set some other notion going in his crazy head. He will get an obsession with emeralds, doubtless, if he thinks I no longer care for diamonds. But do make it clear to him … without making it seem as though I have specially commanded you to do so.”

“He visits my father-in-law frequently, Madame. It may well be that I shall meet him some time at his house.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” I smiled at her.

“You are so discreet… so reliable. I am thankful for that, dear Madame Campan.”

I was still holding Boehmer’s letter and looked down at it with distaste.

Then I held it in the flame of the taper and watched it bum.

“Now, I said, ‘no more of Monsieur Boehmer and his diamonds.”

How mistaken I was!

Madame Campan left Versailles for a few days to stay at her father-in-law’s country estate at Crespy. I missed her because no one else—not even Gabrielle or Elisabeth—was as good as Madame Campan at rehearsing with me, and I made up my mind that I should call her back very soon. I was

obsessed by the play. It was going to be the best we had ever done.

Rosine was a perfect part for me. I liked to read Beaumarchais’s description of her:

“Imagine the prettiest little woman in the world, gentle, tender, lively, fresh, appetising, nimble of foot, slender-wasted with rounded arms, dewy mouth; and such hands, such feet, such teeth, such eyes..” The aunts said: Was that a fitting description of the Queen of France? It sounded to them more like a coquette. It was undignified of the Queen of France to ape commoners on the stage.

I laughed at them. Louis was a little uneasy, but I could always bring him to my way of thinking. He knew how much I wanted The Barber to be played, and that I should have been heartbroken if I had not taken part in it. So he refused to listen to the aunts’ criticism, and was only de lighted to see me so happy over my part. After all, had I not only just given him another son?

Madame Campan had not been gone more than a few days when Monsieur Boehmer presented himself at the Trianon and begged for an audience with me, saying that Madame Campan had advised him to see me without delay.

One of my women came to me to tell me this, adding that be seemed very agitated.

I could not understand why he should come if Madame Campan had delivered my message correctly. But of course she had, and he, construing it that I was no longer interested in diamonds, had come with emeralds or sapphires or some such stones. He had worried me with his diamonds; I was not going to allow him to repeat the performance with other jewels.

“I will not see Monsieur Boehmer,” I said.

“I have nothing to say to him. He is mad. Tell him I will not see him.”

A few days after that, I decided that I must have Campan to help me with my part, so I sent for her. If I had not been so immersed in the production for I liked to do more than play the most attractive parts and I would supervise the costumes and scenery and plan the decor I

should have noticed that Madame Campan was very uneasy. 288 When I had run through my part, however, I did say to her: “That idiot Boehmer has been here asking to see me and saying that you advised him to come. I refused to see him, but what does it mean? What could he want? Have you any idea?”

She burst out: “Madame, a very strange thing happened at my father-in-law’s house. I wanted to speak to you of it as soon as I was admitted to your presence. Have I your per mission to tell you all?”

“Please do so.”

“When Monsieur Boehmer came to dine with my father-inlaw, I thought it would be an excellent opportunity to pass on your message to him.

Madame, I cannot describe his astonishment. Then he stammered out that he had written a letter to you and had had no reply. I understood it was the one which had come with the King’s gift to Monsieur d’Angouleme. I told him I had seen it and it had not seemed very comprehensible. He replied that he supposed it would not be to me but that the Queen would understand. Other guests were arriving and it was my duty to help receive them, so I. tried to excuse myself, but Monsieur Boehmer asked me if I would allow him to talk to me later.

His manner was so extraordinary that I said we would take a walk in the gardens at a suitable moment and then he could tell me what he wished to. “

“The man is quite mad, I am sure of it.”

“Madame, his such an extraordinary story, but he swears it is true.”

“Pray go on ” He said: “The Queen owes me a large sum of money” “

“I’m sure that is not true. His account has been settled.”

“Madame, he went on: ” The Queen has bought my diamond necklace”.”

“Oh, no! Not that thing again. The Sultan of Turkey has it.”

“He says that is not so, Madame. That was merely a tale he was asked to put about. I told him that he must be dreaming. I said: ” The Queen refused to buy the necklace long ago, and as a matter of fact I

knew that His Majesty 289 had offered to buy it for her and sdll she refused it” He said: ” She changed her mind”.”

“Oh, Campan, what does all this nonsense mean?”

“I do not know, Madame, but Boehmer tells a very strange story. He assured me that you had bought the necklace. I replied that it was impossible. I had never seen it among your jewels. Boehmer said that he had been told you were to wear it on Whit-Sunday and was very surprised that you did not.”