CHAPTER I.

THAT warmth of temperament, which afterwards led Marie to an almost unequal­led extreme of libidinous excesses, began very early to display itself. At an age when most children are strangers to sexual sensa­tions, and all are ignorant of their cause and tendency, Antoinette had become ac­quainted with the mysteries of love. Before ten years had revolved over her head, she was often surprized in giving practical les­sons to her sisters, and in many other acts of juvenile wantonness.

[Page 10]We cannot pretend to say with certainty on whom she deigned to bestow the en­joyment of her virgin charms. Her first amours were probably conducted with a circumspection which may have eluded dis­covery. It is, however, well known, that, at the age of fourteen, beauty was not thought the only circumstance in which she bore a resemblance to the goddess of love. Variety, even then, was talked of in the German court, as pleasing to Antoinette, and it was generally supposed not to have been wanting to her enjoyments.

What was suspected in Germany, was, afterwards, when she resided in France, fully established as a fact. Successively an­gered by what they considered an unmerited dismission, or proud of having been encir­cled in the arms of royalty, the favourites of Antoinette, from time to time, gratified their resentment or their vanity, by disco­vering their connexion with her.

[Page 11]The cardinal de Rohan was at this time ambassador at the court of Vienna. He be­came enamoured with the charms of Antoi­nette. Unprincipled in his morals, her­culean and handsome in his person, he dared to love, and he dared to hope. He im­proved the first opportunity of declaring his passion, and met with a reception, of which he had no great reason to complain. He was gently chidden for his presumption, and forbidden in the most unforbidding man­ner to persist; while the artful glances of her eyes contradicted every word that fell from her lips. This interview, as might be expected, added new heat to the ardent wishes of this illustrious hypocrite. A flame was now kindled in his bosom, which burnt till it produced his destruction. He now used every artifice of which he was master, to bring his design on her to a consummation. But all his exertions proved ineffectual; and he returned to France in disappointment, and almost in despair.

[Page 12]His want of success, at this time, was chiefly owing to a previous engagement on the part of Antoinette. A young German officer, with whom she accidentally became acquainted, being possessed of a person with which [...] was delighted, read his good fortune in her eyes, and instantly made some tender advances, which were received in the kindest manner. From this moment, a voluptuous intercourse commenced be­tween this happy couple, that existed for a length of time, far exceeding the duration of her subsequent amours. It was, how­ever, at last broken off by her departure for France; but she seemed, through life, to entertain an increasing fondness for the de­lightful tactics, in which she had been instructed by this military Adonis.

It was soon after the connexion between Antoinette and this officer was formed, that the cardinal made his declaration to her. We need not be surprized at the mildness of the answer he received: it was such as might [Page 13] be expected from such a woman. She was seldom displeased by solicitations of this kind, and, possessed of too much humanity to exercise the cruelty of repulsion, even when she did not grant, she hardly denied.

CHAPTER II.

IT is unnecessary here to detail the cir­cumstances which led to an union of the houses of Austria and Bourbon, by the marriage of Marie Antoinette with the dauphin, since Louis XVI. king of France. This pretended reconciliation was insin­cere on the Austrian side. When Antoinette was about to depart from Vienna for France, she entered into a league with her brother, Joseph II. emperor of Germany, against the liberty, property, and even the exis­tence of the people of France, solemnly [Page 14] swearing to accomplish, if possible, the de­struction of that nation, which she still viewed with the antipathy of a natural ene­my. And to this horrid engagement she proved faithful, as the sequel of these me­moirs will evince.

On her leaving Vienna, her mother, the great Maria Theresa, is said to have been transported with joy at the idea of the evils impending over France, in being subjected to a queen like Antoinette. Anticipating that ruin, which she doubted neither the in­clination nor the ability of her daughter to effect, she exclaimed, ‘Now am I re­venged on France!’

Marie Antoinette arrived in France in the year 1768. She was then in her seventeenth year. Her beauty, at all times incompara­ble, was now at its acmè. By the plenitude of her health, and the vivacity of her desires, her cheeks were flushed into a bloom, that, to the whiteness of a neck and bosom, which [Page 15] seemed animated alabaster, formed a contrast the most captivating. With her eyes she could do what she pleased; yet when left to themselves they beamed nothing but inno­cent frankness, angelic benevolence, and mild dignity. Her person, proportioned with the most striking symmetry, was tall and majestic. She might, in short, have been taken as a perfect model, for another Venus de Medicis. No one beheld her without admiration; and no one will read her history without detestation. Possessed of such charms, had she not wandered into every shameful excess, and committed every crime that could alienate affection, she had been adored by the people of France, who had long distinguished themselves by a blind attachment to their sovereigns.

Born for pleasures, and availing herself of that licentiousness of manners which reigned at court, Marie Antoinette, on her arrival, sacrificed nothing to etiquette. She entered alone, and whenever she judged [Page 16] proper, into the apartment of Louis XV. And under the pretext of shewing herself to a people, whom, she said, she loved, and whose affections she wished to obtain, she walked out ten times a day, without escort. Her first lady of honor, Madame de Noailles, presumed to represent to her the improprie­ty of such conduct. Her advice was, how­ever, turned to ridicule, and procured her the nick-name of Madame Etiquette.

Even the dauphin grew uneasy at that licentious gaity, and contempt of decorum, which were now daily exhibited in the con­duct of Antoinette. Happy had it been for France, if her conduct had excited in his breast that aversion which she merited. But possessed of every artifice of her sex, as well as all its charms, she knew how to captivate the most insensible; and she duped the heart of Louis into the most extravagant fondness, and inspired his bosom with the most impli­cit confidence.

[Page 17]Meanwhile, Madame, the cidevant coun­tess of Provence, conceived the most inve­terate hatred against Antoinette. She beheld her beauty with all the pangs and all the malevolence of envy; and equally hurt by the superiority of her charms and her pow­er, she secretly determined on revenge.

The countess d'Artois became also dissa­tisfied with Antoinette. The attentions which the husband of the former lavished on the latter, were beheld with jealous ap­prehension. The countess had indeed never been perfectly pleased with his behaviour. From their earliest connexion, she had found herself under the humiliating necessity of sharing his favors with the vilest of her sex.

Antoinette and these two women, whose dispositions bore a near resemblance to her own, were ever meditating mischiefs. Their husbands were all equally pusillanimous. Monsieur, the vainest and most pedantic [Page 18] man in the kingdom, devoted all his mo­ments to his favorite studies of literature. Destitute of sensibility, and a stranger to every social passion, he seemed as incapable of feeling as the mouldy volumes, to pore over which was his only delight and em­ployment. Philanthropic speculations, and the philosophy of humanity, had never gain­ed admittance to his thoughts. The count d'Artois was continually plunged in the most shameful debaucheries, and ran with unslackening pace the round of excesses, in daily dissipation and nocturnal riot. The temper of the dauphin was mild and phleg­matic; and his heart was fortunately inca­pable of acute sensation. His genius early discovered itself to be a mechanical one; and he always appeared to be happier in a forge than in a palace. While employed in the former, a lively fancy might have imagined him fabricating chains for the nation, which he was destined to govern. He, however, displayed less ingenuity in [Page 19] his attempts to fix them on his subjects, than in manufacturing them.

Maurepas was at this time president of the council. Equally indifferent to all po­litical events, he knew no solicitude except for his stomach. He was the most confirm­ed of epicures. Too careless for the mini­stry, and, at the same time, too amiable to be excluded from society; while he neglect­ed the former, he was the delight and the soul of the latter.

The count d'Artois, who possessed an handsome figure, and a countenance full of vivacity, now attracted the eyes of Marie Antoinette. The reputation which he had acquired among women, had excited, in her breast, a wish to know the validity of its foundation; and she determined to en­courage the attentions which he paid her. She had also another motive for favoring the advances of the count. She had become solicitous to experience maternal feelings, [Page 20] which she imagined must be delightful. She had also, on her departure from Ger­many, received an injunction from Maria Theresa, to become, if possible, a mother. By her cohabitation with Louis, her ferti­lity had not been rendered apparent. Whe­ther this circumstance was owing to impo­tence on his part, or to some physical con­trariety of temperament, we are unable to determine. Be this as it may, she consider­ed d'Artois as the man, in the world, best adapted to the gratification of all her wishes.

The assiduities of the count were now increased, and they were received with the highest complacency. His attachment to the queen was now talked of as having be­come mutual, and gave origin to much scandal. Nor were the reports which were circulated on this occasion confined to the court of France; they even reached the ears of the empress; and it may be well imagined that they suffered no diminution by transportation. She was not surprised at [Page 21] the crime, but she was alarmed by the im­prudence of her daughter. In order, how­ever, to obtain more accurate information on this subject than could be derived from common fame, she wrote to the cardinal de Rohan, requesting him to give her an account of the conduct of Antoinette. The desires which the latter formerly excited in his bosom, had yet suffered no abatement. He viewed the count d'Artois as a danger­ous and successful rival; and, anxious to ef­fect a dissolution of his connexion with Antoinette, he wrote an answer to Theresa, which rather magnified than palliated the fault of her daughter. Of this letter we insert a copy.

This letter, being afterwards found among the papers of the empress, was sent to An­toinette by her brother. This gave additi­onal force to that resentment which she had already conceived against its author: and in order to render her vengeance complete, she solicited for him the most eminent places, to make his fall the more humiliating

CHAPTER III.

AS variety was ever the passion of Antoi­nette, her connexion with the count now suffered an interval, which was occupied by a new and more pleasing object. The count Dillon, (often called the handsome Dillon) now returned to court, where he had formerly been a page. He now attract­ed every eye, and the queen was not the last on whom he made an impression. He was not permitted long to remain ignorant of the havock he had made in the heart of his sovereign; nor was the consummation of her ardent desires long postponed.

Destitute of wit, and unamiable in his manners, count Dillon was recommended by nothing but beauty. Such is the portrait of the hero of the day. The insinuating [Page 25] queen had, however, the art to make her unsuspecting husband the friend of this un­principled and ungrateful villain. When he played, the king condescended to be his banker, and heaped on him many distin­guishing favors. A glaring indiscretion, however, between the lovers at length alarmed the king. The queen gave a ball, at which she scarcely danced except with Dillon. At length, pretending fatigue, she threw herself into a chair, and presently af­ter complained of a most intolerable palpi­tation of the heart. The count ran, in a fright, to her assistance; and, unconscious of the presence of the company, thrust his hand into her bosom, the seat of the com­plaint. As inattentive as the count to the company which gathered round in mute as­tonishment at his temerity, the queen forgot to remove the welcome intruder. The king at last said something expressive of surprise and displeasure, and Dillon retired. She, however, with an embrace, and a few ten­der words, appeased his indignation, and re­moved [Page 26] his suspicions. Even Dillon himself was by her artful management, soon rein­stated in the favor and confidence of Louis. For some time subsequent to this reconci­liation, the lovers lived in the happiest and most secure familiarity.

But the time when Dillon was to re­turn to his regiment at length arrived, and the lovers were forced to feel the pangs of separation. In vain did Antoinette solicit a dispensation for the colonel, representing to M. Mayenne how necessary this officer was in her balls and promenades. He was obliged to depart, but madame de Guéme­née soon dried the tears of Antoinette; and some ladies of the camp as quickly consoled M. Dillon.

About this time happened the death of Louis XV. sirnamed the Well-Beloved; and the husband of Antoinette succeeded to the throne of France, by the title of Louis XVI. Our heroine now found herself in [Page 27] possession of that sovereignty, for which she had waited, from the first moment of her arrival in France, with the most im­patient expectation. Regardless of deco­rum, she made no effort to conceal the joy which she felt at this event. The grateful tear of filial affection could not indeed have been expected to flow from the eyes of such a woman; but the appearance, at least, of grief would have been assumed on this occasion, had she not lost all respect for decency. But far from that, her balls and entertainments now became more gay, superb and frequent. The circle of her pleasures was enlarged, and she daily plunged into new excesses. The unparal­leled licence of her conduct excited the in­dignation of the virtuous, and it scandalized even the least scrupulous. The princess de Marsan, and madame de Maurepas, pre­sumed to represent to Antoinette the im­propriety of such proceedings, and remon­strated against them in strong, though re­spectful [Page 28] terms. This however produced only ridicule and resentment on the part of the queen.

CHAPTER IV.

IN 1775 the court went to Rheims, where the ceremony of the consecration of Louis XVI. was performed. Notwithstanding the low situation of the finances, and the remonstrances of her husband, who preach­ed nothing but economy, Antoinette caused the preparations for this journey to be of the most expensive kind. The most mag­nificent equipages, with personal ornaments the most superb and costly, were provided by her direction. And as the public treasury was already too much exhausted to answer these enormities of expence, she had re­course [Page 29] to a number of usurers, from whom very large sums were obtained, by promises of most extravagant gratuities from the pub­lic coffers, as soon as they should be filled by monies extorted from the nation.

The evening previous to their departure, Louis, with tears of tenderness, pathetically exhorted Antoinette to a conduct which should contradict all that scandal which had been circulated in consequence of her le­vities and misconduct. Ever prompt to dis­semble, she embraced him with pretended af­fection, and solemnly declared she would be guided by his counsel. Her language ap­peared to be that of truth and sweetness; but her perfidious heart was full of falsehood.

Behold our heroine now at Rheims, plung­ed into a sea of licentiousness. On her ar­rival at this place, she wholly separated her court from that of the king's, and rendered it a pantheon of pleasure. Here prudish mo­desty found no admission; decency and [Page 30] sobriety were considered as impertinents, and the first in merit was the first in vice. Feats of gallantry were the splendid achieve­ments of those who were most emulous of glory; and the business of all was intrigue. Here Antoinette, instead of appearing like the august queen of an amiable nation, be­came a Venus, in real life, surrounded with her nymphs and votaries. Neither did she forget that her husband was a Vulcan, and as such he was treated. The young due de Coigny was chosen as her favorite Mars; and, if we except the circumstance of the net, the whole of this poetic fable, even to the nudity of the happy couple, was realized.

Such was the state of Antoinette and her court, during her residence at Rheims. Even that transparent veil, which she had earlessly thrown over her adulterous amours at Versailles, was now laid aside; and the constraint of secrecy was no longer consi­dered as compatible with the dignity of royal wantonness. All regard for reputa­tion, [Page 31] all apprehension of publicity was now dismissed; and even her loosest moments were scarce guarded from the general eye by the umbrage of privacy.

L' Isle d' Amour, a small but delightful island, situated in the river near Rheims, was the favorite scene of her anti-conjugal gambols. She indeed rendered it the resi­dence of the deity whose name it bears, and fixed unequivocal propriety to its appella­tion. It became, in fact, another Cyprus; and, as the presiding power was present to regulate her sacrifices, it may be well pre­sumed they were neither few nor small.

On the evening of the ninth of June, 1775, Antoinette gave a most brilliant sup­per at this favorite Isle. The king received a slight invitation to this nocturnal feast, but as she wished and expected, he refused to go. This infamous night was destined to voluptuous excesses, to which she was ap­prehensive his presence might have given [Page 32] some constraint. From this banquet all ce­remony and etiquette were banished; and every guest, of either sex, followed the ex­ample of the queen, and drank like true Germans. Immediately after supper the at­tendants were dismissed, and on a signal given by Antoinette, the lights were extin­guished. All now wandered at hazard in the adjacent grove, in order to give, as chance might happen to pair them, a pro­miscuous consummation to these baccha­nalian orgies. Antoinette, who undoubted­ly should be recorded by the faithful histo­rian as the original inventor of this refined species of revelry, was not disappointed of that pleasure which she expected to derive from the execution of this ingenious pro­ject. By an artful address, she now tasted all the raptures of that sudden variety, the enjoyment of which she had anticipated. The inexpressible transports of this night are known to have afforded her a source of delightful recollection, and to have long been [Page 33] the favorite topic of her confidential con­versations.

The king, although he did not suspect the infidelity of Antoinette, disapproved these nocturnal riots. The next day he spoke of her conduct as light and improper; and ended his sermon, so disagreeable to her, by an express interdiction of her visits to the Isle d' Amour. She complained of this tyranny, as she termed it, of her royal spouse; but the surly monarch was peremp­tory, and she was obliged to yield obedi­ence.

The pompous ceremony of consecration being over, the court returned to Versailles. The celebrated Montansier, who was a ma­nager of theatrical exhibitions in this city, being overwhelmed with debt, had at this time formed the plan of a fraudulent bank­ruptcy. This circumstance being commu­nicated to the queen, she undertook to patronize this retailer of licentious pleasure. [Page 34] She extricated her from the labyrinth in which she was involved, by paying all her debts; and she even extended her bounty so far as to enable la Montansier to continue her business. The lewd and indecent plays which were introduced to the public by this manager, were happily calculated to please the taste of Antoinette; she became a constant attendant on them. She, on these occasions, was usually accompanied by her assiduous brother-in-law, the count d'Artois. The king beheld these irregularities with painful anxiety; and often besought the queen, with tears in his eyes, to desist from courses of life so destructive to domestic felicity, and so productive of public infamy. Find­ing every remonstrance ineffectual, he at length determined to enforce a reformation by different and more spirited means.

One night Antoinette and d'Artois, re­turning from Trianon, as usual, at a very late hour, on presenting themselves at the gate of the castle, were refused admittance [Page]

[Page 35] by the centinel. Enraged at this unexpect­ed detention, the count had recourse to exe­crations and menaces, both of which proved equally ineffectual. The guard remained inflexible, alledging, in justification of his conduct, that he had received his orders from the king's own mouth, and it was his duty and determination to execute them. Antoinette then discovered herself, and in a transport of rage, demanded, ‘if he dared to oppose the passage of the queen?’ The soldier answered, that orders had been given him indefinitely, and without exception, to suffer no person whatever to enter the palace by that gate after a certain hour; and those who should oppose his obedience to these orders, would do it at the peril of their lives. In fine, the illustrious couple were reduced to the necessity of returning to the theatre of Montansier, in order to avail them­selves of a private passage leading from thence to the palace. They were obliged even to solicit a light from the soldiers in the salle-des-gardes. The next morning, [Page 36] Antoinette complained bitterly to the king, of the unprecedented rudeness with which she had been treated by the audacious cen­tinel. The surly monarch, shrugging up his shoulders, replied, that he himself had given the guard his orders, not wishing his house to be disturbed by profligate revellers after he was in bed.

Antoinette sighed for revenge on the au­thor of this mortifying and ridiculous ad­venture, and determined to avail herself of the surest means of procuring it, by perse­vering in her licentious excesses.

About this time the queen was declared to be pregnant; and this event gave birth to an infinite variety of opinions. The wise ones themselves knew not with certainty where the suspicion ought to be fixed; but most circumstances seem to have united to point out the duke de Coigny as a parental agent in this affair. Her pregnancy was dated from a time when she was known to have had an appointment with this healthy and [Page 37] handsome young nobleman. At a certain ball she had been suddenly missed, and, as after­wards appeared, was about the same time seen to enter a retired apartment with him. The king, however, was the greatest dupe. He indeed flattered himself that he was the father of the child, and congratulated him­self with rapturous delusion, on the expecta­tion of the offspring which was hastening to the world. The courtiers favored the deception, and applauded the fond credulity of this father in imagination. The delivery of the queen, when it arrived, was slow, painful, and dangerous. Vermont her ac­coucheur, however, saved her life by a blood-letting, which he performed in con­tradiction to the opinion of other gentle­men of the faculty, who had been consulted on this occasion. Meantime her lovers, ap­prehensive that in this state of agony she might make unfortunate discoveries, were filled with the utmost confusion. The duke de Coigny particularly, shewed marks of the greatest anxiety, and made, in his dis­tress, [Page 38] a spectacle at once diverting and piti­able. The labor, however, at length ended happily; on which the king leaped about in an ecstasy of joy, pressing the hand of Ver­mont, and calling him his guardian angel. In imitation of the example of Henry IV. he exhibited the infant to the assembly, with an air of inexpressible satisfaction, and ad­dressing himself to M. d'Algire, president of the parliament, exclaimed, ‘Behold this child, my dear friend, and acknowledge in it the semblance of its father!’

CHAPTER V.

WHEN the queen recovered from her illness, a different round of amusements was introduced at Versailles. This consisted of balls and promenades, particularly nocturnal ones. Every fine evening the court as­sembled [Page 39] on the terrace before the palace. Here persons of all ranks were collected; even the vilest and lowest women of Ver­sailles were not excluded. In these scenes of riot, the actors were generally in mas­querade. This species of disguise, with the security of night, often veiled transactions which might well retire from the beams of day, and with which the historian declines to stain his page. The gardes-françaises, were, on these occasions, instructed to play airs, which being lasciviously tender, were happily calculated to influence the looser passions. Biron, an officer in the gardes-du-corps, took particular pains to acquaint him­self with what passed at these meetings, and he afterwards took equal pains to make it public. It would be tedious to relate the various adventures of Antoinette during this summer.

The next that we shall notice is her fa­mous one with a clerk of the secretary at war. He was natural son to a certain coun­tess, [Page 40] who, if any credit be due to fame, would have found it difficult to ascertain his father. By her patronage he had ob­tained the place, which he now occupied under the secretary. The desires of the queen were no sooner excited, than she re­solved on [...] immediate gratification. In order to effect this, one Campan, a valet de chambre, to whom the office of the queen's confidential ambassador was not a new one, was ordered to introduce the clerk into her closet. Accustomed to transactions of this nature, this adroit procurer executed the orders of Antoinette with expedition and success. An interview soon took place; the clerk could not sufficiently congratulate himself on this unexpected felicity, and An­toinette was but too happy in the possession of a lover, whom nature seemed to have en­dowed with abilities suited to her desires. When the unthinking ecstasy of their first interviews gave way to reflection, it occur­red to the queen, that by the frequent visits of this favorite scrivener to her apartment, [Page 41] suspicions might be exolted, equally fatal to him and to her. On this occasion, she had immediate recourse to the advice of her pri­vy-counsellor Campan; and the following artifice was finally determined to be put in practice. The clerk was to be furnished from time to time with pieces of music, under a pretext of copying which for the queen, he made her frequent and unsuspect­ed visits. By this ingenious contrivance, the happy couple continued their clandes­tine meetings, for some length of time, in security; but, by some accident, the count d'Artois was at length led to suspect their connection, and accused the queen of it. It might be imagined, that on this occa­sion she would have had recourse to those acts of deception, in which she had ac­quired an unrivalled proficiency. But far from that, she frankly acknowledged her extravagant fondness for this handsome Hercules; believing her gallant brother-in-law too liberal in his sentiments to censure her with severity. She, at the same time, [Page 42] expressed her apprehensions that the amour might be discovered by the king, and requested the advice of fraternal friendship, concerning its future management. D'Ar­tois wholly disapproved the connection, and insisted on her never seeing the clerk again. Such was her situation with the count at this time, that she found herself under the necessity of consenting to a strict compliance with his wishes. She therefore declared she would be entirely guided by his counsel, and desired him to dispose of the young man at his own pleasure. The count was pleas­ed with this commission, which he executed but too faithfully. In a few days afterwards the clerk was assassinated on the road which leads from Paris to Versailles.

CHAPTER VI.

THE winter which followed this adven­ture was, like the preceding, sacrificed at the shrine of licentious dissipation. It was, however, if possible, more luxurious and expensive. La Bertin and Guimard were now preferred to the honourable place of the queen's private ministresses. La Ber­tin was a milliner, and Guimard an opera girl. Of all the celebrated priestesses of Ve­nus, never were any more deeply versed in her arts and mysteries than these. Having practised with unremitting assiduity from early life, they had now attained to almost unrivalled eminence. Antoinette, ever the patroness of this species of merit, determin­ed to reward that abundance of it which she discovered in this virtuous couple. It appeared to her a kind of injustice, that ta­lents [Page 44] worthy to be subservient only to royal luxury, should be prostituted to plebeian pleasure. She therefore raised them to the rank of her confidential friends. Happy had it been for France, had Louis XVI. discovered as much sagacity as Antoinette in the choice of his ministers. Sully, Col­bert, and Richlieu, for management and fi­nesse, were scarce to be compared with La Bertin and Guimard. While the amours of the queen were under the direction of these machiavelian females, they were veiled from the public eye with the most artful secrecy. It cannot therefore be expected, that we should give a particular account of them.

So capricious however was Antoinette, that even the most important services could not long secure her favour. She soon grew tired of practising what she termed the ti­mid caution of La Bertin and Guimard. Impatient of the restraints of that secrecy to which they advised, she gradually cooled [Page 45] in her friendship towards them, and at length dismissed them from her service.

About this time, Madame Jules de Polig­nac was brought to bed. The court, on this occasion, passed several days in revelry and rejoicings. The queen was supposed to pay the utmost attention to her friend la Polig­nac, to keep continually at her bed-side, and to become, in fact, her nurse. She was lodged in an apartment of Vaudreuil, at Pa­ris. Those who were unacquainted with the intrigues of court, thought it very singu­lar, that la Polignac had not been lodged in the palace of Versailles, which would have appeared at once more natural and decent. Let such be informed, that it was infinitely more convenient that she should be with Vaudreuil. The daily visits of the queen to Paris were owing to other motives than those of female friendship. Madame la Polignac had been familiar with Van­dreuil, and she had become the mother of a son. La Polignac was however used with [Page 46] tenderness and generosity. The queen made her a present of a box of jewels, va­lued at 80,000 livres, and the king, influ­enced by her example, forgot his usual par­simony, and gave her an equal sum in silver. She was also presented with the duchy of Mayenne, worth the trifling sum of 1,400,000 livres. To this last piece of liberality Mr. Neckar presumed to make some opposition. But he found this only gave displeasure, and recollecting the fall of Mr. Turgot, he pru­dently determined to comply with the royal whim of the moment. He therefore only advised that instead of the duchy in question, the lady should be put in possession of nearly its value in ready money. This proposal, being satisfactory to the parties concerned, was immediately put in execution.

Meantime the very frequent passings and repassings of the queen from Versailles to Paris which had taken place, gave much uneasiness to the Parisians. Accustomed to respect the decency of majesty, and to view [Page 47] with awe the splendor of sovereignty, they could not contemplate without indignation such shameful degradations of royalty, and such a waste of favors on one so undeserving. La Polignac became more than ever the ob­ject of public hatred. The scandalous pro­fusion with which the national treasury had been poured into her lap, could not but ex­cite the anger of those from whom it had been previously extorted for very different purposes. The queen was surrounded by the family of this favorite, and she had loaded all its members with innumerable favors. The ascendency which la Polig­nac now acquired is at once surprising and incredible. A few weeks after the birth of her child she was attacked by a dangerous in­disposition, on which occasion the queen dis­covered the utmost concern, and caused some apartments near her own to be prepared in the most elegant and expensive manner for the accommodation of la Polignac. She was immediately removed thither, and till she recovered none could have access to her ex­cept [Page 48] Vaudreuil and the queen. On the re­establishment of her health, it was thought highly convenient, that she should still con­tinue to occupy those apartments. Here was found as convenient a rendezvous as could be wished, for the meetings of the queen and her privy council. Here they assembled to debate on the most important points of policy. Here were discussed and determined, in the last resort, peace and war, finance, policy, the disgracing of mi­nisters, or the degree of confidence which might be placed in them, and, in short, all affairs of state were agitated and managed in this cabinet. The king was sometimes admitted into this assembly, to ratify their ridiculous decisions; but the honor of en­tering into their consultations was never ac­corded to him. The queen had acquired such an ascendency over him, that her so­licitations were very seldom ineffectual.

Sometimes the king, astonished at the propositions and decisions of this female ca­bal, [Page 49] refused the sanction of his authority, till he should consult the ancient Compte. On these occasions he was usually stopped, and imprisoned in the arms of Antoinette, until he was forced to grant his consent; either being melted into compliance by her affected tenderness, or apprehensive of being stifled with embraces, if he persisted in his refusal. But, if he sometimes escaped, the queen immediately caused something to be said to the mentor of her royal lord, which induced him to give such advice alone as accorded with her wishes.

Vaudreuil and Besenval, and some other men, were admitted to these conferences. Madame Jules de Polignac, Madame de Grammont, and Madame Desmaine were three principal female members; the latter of whom acted the part of minister of foreign affairs.

It may not be improper in this place, to give a slight sketch of the characters of some [Page 50] of those, who thus directed the movements of France, and treated the most important affairs of state with as much levity, as the fold of a garment, or the change of a fashion.

CHAPTER VII.

WE begin with Vaudreuil. Vaudreuil inherited nothing from his father, who was a good man, but his name. He had been commandant of St. Domingo. Possessed of an ambitious and intriguing disposition, but, at the same time, neither sagacious nor ac­tive, he courted fortune long in vain. He, at length, grew weary of the fruitless pur­suit, entirely neglected business, and gave himself up to pleasure. Fortune, as if soften­ed by neglect, now loaded him with favours, and placed him high in preferment. He [Page 51] was introduced at court by a gentleman of the Helvetic cantons, not unknown in the catalogue of royal favors.

Besenval was one of those, whose minds are always governed by the circumstances of the moment. Incapable of permanent ideas, or extensive views, he varied with every va­riation of affairs, and traversed to every puff of air. Ambitious, insensible, and vain, the meanest of sycophants, and the most un­blushing of hypocrites, he deserted entirely the urbanity of his fellow-citizens, to prac­tize knavery in courts. It is this Besenval, who, with unparalleled effrontery, pre­sumed to put his merit in competition with that of the virtuous veteran d'Affry, whose place had excited his envy. Although his ambition was in some measure disap­pointed, yet he succeeded so far as to pro­cure d'Affry, through the compte d'Artois, a multitude of mortifications, which the honest old soldier felt the more sensibly, from his being conscious that he did not me­rit [Page 52] them; and, at the same time, being unable either to repulse or revenge them. They were inflicted by the authority of the queen, and by the hand of d'Artois.

Dillon, Coigny, and Vermont, whom we have before mentioned, had a voice in their councils. The illustrious Campan was also admitted; and he was indeed an important member, although suspected to be the son of a footman, of the house of Ventadour, of which even himself had once the honor of wearing the livery. This hero, so worthy the favor of a great princess, was the per­petual secretary of this honorable committee. To this second Bonneau, who was indeed more artful than the first, the queen owed the new invention of giving her orders, and managing her assignations, by music. This contrivance was considered by its author, as a chef d'oeuvre. It was this chevalier of the order of St. Lazarus, who used to carry music to be copied, to wait an answer at the [Page 53] stair-case head, introduce the copyist, and guard the door.

At length, some matters which had been agitated in this cabinet, by chance, took air. This was wholly attributed to Madame de Chatillon, who was supposed to have placed an improper confidence in the marquis d'En­tragues, with whom she had been familiar­ly acquainted at Besençon. This cunning courtier had determined never to discover this intrigue; but some things which had accidentally escaped him, had excited suspicions in the bosom of his friend the prince de Montbarry. This minister, who had long shewed his displeasure at the licen­tiousness of the queen, and the treacheries of the compte d'Artois, was now hated by the courtiers of both parties. He had taken the liberty of criticising with severity the minis­terial measures of Maurepas, and his private life was examined with as little ceremony as his public.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE queen was now a second time declared pregnant. This event was disclos­ed in a manner surprisingly singular. The queen cordially detested M. de Maurepas; nor was she fonder of the ancient countess, his wife, or their relations, the abbé de Verry, and madame Seguin. Not ignorant of this circumstance, the antique couple conducted themselves accordingly, aiming at that neutral tenor of conduct which neither solicited the friendship of the queen, nor furnished her with a pretence for anger. At the moment when the breach was ima­gined to be wider than ever, Antoinette went to the house of the count, and caused herself to be announced. ‘Good morning, papa, cried she, on seeing the count, you are undoubtedly astonished at this [Page 55] visit, but I flatter myself that when we part you will not be dissatisfied with it.’

Madame de Maurepas, who was in the apartment, now arose to withdraw, that she might not incommode the business of that private interview with her husband, which appeared to be the object of this visit. The queen, perceiving her intention, prevented her departure. "My dear countess," said she, ‘you must not leave me. I have need of your friendship as well as that of your worthy husband. The secret which I am about to confide to him, must also be entrusted to you. I must on this occasion solicit you both to become my parents, protectors and counsellors. But before we proceed to my affairs, let us begin by consigning our past animosities to eternal oblivion, and uniting ourselves in the firmest bonds of amity. I must frankly acknowlege, that I have sometimes con­ducted myself unworthily towards you; but this was wholly owing to the disad­vantageous [Page 56] impressions concerning you which were forced on my mind by your unprincipled enemies. Here you behold the only origin of that unmerited indif­ference, with which I have sometimes treated you. Had, I known you better, I had esteemed you more, I am now un­deceived, and I shall confide to you, with­out reserve, the most important of secrets.’

"Know then," continued she, ‘I am pregnant! . . . . You appear to be rejoiced at this event, but it fills my bosom with anxiety and alarm. I must explain my­self; it is painful to be explicit; but your goodness encourages me, and I will pro­ceed without reserve.—The king, mis­trustful of his own impotence, has con­ceived unhappy suspicions concerning this event. These suspicions have been strengthened and increased by the caustic raillery of Monsieur and Madame, who have not spared their royal brother on this occasion. My husband, my infant, and [Page 57] myself have been handled with equal se­verity by their unmerciful wit. The countess d'Artois is also my enemy; and her stupid clamours may do me much in­jury. But I may set all their malice at defiance, if you are my friends; let me believe this, and my tortured bosom will recover its former tranquillity. If you prove inflexible, and remain unmoved at my distress, I am lost forever!’

Versed in all the arts of dissimulation, and acquainted with every avenue to the heart, Antoinette, as she uttered these last words, affected to faint, and sunk apparently insen­sible from her chair. This completed her victory. The count and his wife ran about the apartment like distracted persons, and recovered not the use of their reason till the queen was restored to life by the attendants, who had rushed in, on being alarmed by the cries of this pair of reverend dupes. The attendants were then dismissed, and the count and countess, drowned in tears, threw [Page 58] themselves at the feet of the queen, declar­ing that they were entirely at her devotion, and swearing eternal fidelity.

After these assurances, and not till then, Antoinette came entirely to herself; and without quitting that melting modulation of voice, which she had assumed in the former part of her narration, she thus continued it with all the pathos of dissembled grief.

‘Believe me, my friends, I am the inno­cent victim of the falsehood of others, and my own credulity. I am betrayed by the perfidious counsels of the artful Besenval. He insinuated that the people of France were scandalized at my levity, and dissa­tisfied with my sterility. He then inti­mated that the only means of recovering their respect and conciliating their af­fection, was, to present the people with a prince, and the throne with a successor. I at first imagined these representations des­titute of foundation; but he caused Vau­dreuil [Page 59] and Coigny, to whom he knew I sometimes entrusted my domestic chag­rins, to reason with me in the same man­ner. They never approached me without representing my husband and my people displeased that I had you borne no son. They painted to my view in colors the most alarming, the humility of divorce, and the horrors of proscription. I was at length overcome. But, conscious as I was of the inefficacy of conjugal endearments, I found myself compelled to have recourse to infidelity. I was not led to the com­mission of this error by wantonness; but driven, as I imagined, by necessity. It was therefore a mistake of the judgment, not a crime of the heart. Your goodness will deem me not wholly inexcusable, al­though I have been betrayed into a mo­mentary weakness. I have thus frankly told you the origin of my present situation You alone can represent it in a proper light to the king; you alone can preserve me from ruin!’

[Page 60] ‘Blessed be thy offspring, illustrious princess! exclaimed the countess, all shall be well. We lament what has hap­pened, but it is irrevocable. It is not for as to censure so amiable a sovereign. It is rather our duty to guard her reputation in the moment of danger. Go, my dear count, now is the time to avail yourself of that ascendency, which you have ac­quired over the mind of the king. Go, and make an effort to render yourself wor­thy of the confidence reposed in you by our august queen.’

Marie Antoinette was too cunning not to seize on this moment of enthusiasm. Fall­ing on the neck of the countess, she embrac­ed her with tears of gratitude, and insisted on her coming with the count her husband, to sup with her at court that evening, when the count might have an opportunity of ex­ecuting with the king those friendly offices which he had promised in her favor. They accepted the invitation, and appeared at [Page 61] court accordingly. During supper they were treated with the most distinguishing atten­tions, and the warmest marks of reconcilia­tion and esteem. To the courtiers this un­expected event was an astonishing and in­scrutible paradox. All were ignorant of its cause, and the presumptions formed con­cerning it, were all wide from reality.

When the rest of the court retired, the count remained with the king; and after a most artful preface, for the fabrica­tion of which he was well qualified, an­nounced the pregnancy of the queen. At first a frown appeared on the monarch's brow; but the persuasive eloquence of Maurepas dissipated the gathering storm, and at length prevailed on him to believe he had a second time become a parent. In or­der to account for the conduct of Marie An­toinette on this occasion, it is necessary to inform the reader, that Louis had been led to entertain suspicions concerning her former pregnancy, which she had found [Page 62] it difficult to obviate. Languishing with her own unsatisfied desires, and enraged by the provoking temperance of her husband's passions, she had often reproached him with want of sensibility, and intimated her con­viction of his impotence. He had been an eye witness to much of the levity of her con­duct: and the busy crowd by which he was surrounded had often filled his ears with in­sinuations, that her career of licentiousness had not stopped short of the extreme of infi­delity. The scruples caused by these cir­cumstances were, however, at length over­come by the artful Maurepas.

The day succeeding this farce, the court assumed a new appearance. The credulous monarch publicly declared the joyful news, nor did he attempt to conceal the transports with which it inspired him. He no longer saluted the gallants of his wife, with the ma­lignant glances of silent jealousy; but in the fulness of his heart embraced all he met, [Page 63] proclaiming, in a voice of ecstasy, the glad tidings.

The Austrian heroine, being delivered from all her fears, pursued her ordinary round of licentiousness with increased ardor. Wholly absorbed in his delightful dream of paternity, the monarch no longer viewed her conduct with suspicious vigilance; he was, besides, too grateful to offer the authoress of his felicity the unkindness of constraint. He ceased to listen to the insinuations of the enemies of Antoinette, and regarded their representations against her as the offspring of falsehood and calumny. That strong aver­sion with which all men turn from the idea of a deficient virility, strengthened his cre­dulity, and shut his ears against conviction. On all those glaring facts, which, armed in all the energy of demonstration, from time to time, stood forth to encounter his delusion, he obstinately closed his eyes.

CHAPTER IX.

THE pregnancy of the queen meantime advanced, which was not, however, ac­cording to the etiquette of court, declared in the fifth month, on account of the sarcasms which it was apprehended this event might produce. Madame, particularly, spared no­body; and the most perfect hatred always existed between her and the queen.

The joy occasioned by this pregnancy suffered some interruption from the recur­rence of an inconvenience to which the queen had long been subject. It consisted in what is termed in medical language, a prolapsus uteri, caused by the unbounded ex­cess to which she gave herself up, in the enjoyment of her favorite Tribades. This circumstance was attributed however to want [Page 65] of skill in the queen's accoucheur, Vermond. He nevertheless kept in favor, as well as his brother, the abbè de Vermond, who used to entertain, in his queen, the taste of depravity and the privation of morals!

The duc de Nivernois, the gamblers of the court, the bankers Chalabre and Poincot, the wanton Juers, the little Campan, with a number of musicians and singers, composed the society to which Marie Antoinette gave the preference. Such is the dignity which the throne of France was to receive from the daughter of Maria Teresa.

The wicked counsels which had been given her by Joseph II. on her departure from the German court, she kept constant­ly in mind. But, to render their execution practicable, it was necessary to remove a minister who had always been declared her enemy.

[Page 66]She was not, indeed, ignorant of the mean; of disembarrassing herself from a refractory minister.—By the death of the aged Maure­pas, she had proved the infallibility of the receipt. But suspicions had arisen; and a second use of poison might have opened the eyes of France.

The troubles of the emperor, from day to day, increased; and he in vain attempted to calm the minds of his subjects, who de­tested his oppression, and seemed inclined to disengage their necks from the odious yoke of tyranny. His treasury needed fresh supplies▪ but he had no other resource than the queen of France. She, with the assist­ance of the comptroller Joliete-Fleury, caus­ed a number of very considerable sums to be privately transmitted to the emperor.

This minister being disgraced, Antoinette endeavored to get him replaced by means of a creature who was one of her confidents; but her hopes could not be accomplished. [Page 67] Dormesson proved intractable; and she found herself deprived of the means of suc­couring her brother, at the very moment when the villain Calonne was in possession of he tinances, and could squander them at pleasure. This merciless blood-sucker, this soul of corruption, who was insensible to the cries of pain, and sported with the public misery, was quite the proper person to second her destructive schemes.

CHAPTER X.

CHARLES Philip d'Artois had, for some time, behaved with unusual coolness to his sister-in-law. His passion for her be­came weakened by her intrigues. It was not till fear removed her other lovers that [Page 68] he resumed his place. Impelled by the most alarming apprehensions of discovery, they had successively forsaken her; while she in vain employed wanton looks, and expressive touches, to prevent their departure. Their ardor having abated, they shrunk away with horror, at the idea of being caught in the arms of the queen. She therefore clung to her brother-in-law, who, less fearful of the dangers of the connection, supplied the place of Coigny, Dillon, Vaudreuil, &c.

The wife pretended, that of this return of tenderness the Dauphin was the offspring. And this suspicion was even circulated in the ballads of the day.

The voluptuous d'Artois, a man of little refinement in his pleasures, was intimately connected with the duc de Chartres, then Philip Capet, or d'Orleans. They col­lected in their travels nothing except an ample stock of vices and follies. English customs, manners, and fashions made such [Page 69] an impression on the frivolous minds of these opera-knights of scandalous adventures, that, when they returned to France, they made it their only business to ape the manners of the people of Great Britain. The courtiers, those vile sycophants, in their turn, copied d'Artois and de Chartres: and, in a short time, all became English in the court and in the city; the king, and the egotist, Stanislaus-Xavier, only excepted.

Every day, new races at Vincennes, on the plain of Sablons, added a new varnish to the follies of these princes. The French people, whose morality is pleasure, flocked in multitudes to these diversions, as if they went there to be spectators of some import­ant event: even mechanics universally de­serted their shops, to behold the ridiculous spectacle of princes dressed like English grooms. On the vigor and intrepidity of these valiant Jockies hung the fate of for­tunes! These two unworthy branches of the blood of the Bourbons acquired as much [Page 70] glory by such ruinous parties, as by their famous exploits at Gibraltar, and in the af­fair of Ouessant.

Habited like an Amazon, and mounted on a superb palfry, Marie Antoinette show­ed herself the friend of their pleasures, be­cause they favored her own. But before entering into particulars, I ought to give my readers an anecdote which must forever establish the economical character of Louis XVI.

The French monarch, who now for once through complaisance left his forge, and suffered himself to be conducted to a race, was supplied by his spouse with wherewithal to interest himself in it. At first, however, he refused to bet; but seeming at length to yield to the importunity of the queen, he answered her, with that simplicity which characterised him, and an unmeaning smile,

This was, at that time, attri­buted to the parsimony of Louis. It was, however, a discreet lesson to fools, who ruin themselves by being too deeply inter­ested in these amusements.

When the races were scarce finished, An­toinette used to depart, like a flash, for Trianon, where she did not long wait to be joined by her voluptuous brother-in-law; and these clandestine interviews usually ter­minated in the most luxurious excesses. They both laid aside all reserve, and gave an unbounded loose to every wantonness which their inflamed imaginations, and their in­ebriated senses could suggest.

It will be imagined from the good under­standing which now reigned between these illustrious and incestuous lovers, that Charles Philip occupied all the thoughts of his sister-in-law. But constancy was not the favorite virtue of the queen of France.

[Page 72]In order to escape the prying vigilance of that surrounding suspicion which continually watched her amorous adventures, our he­roine frequently made a specious pretence of indisposition. She now declared, that the air of a court but ill agreed with her situ­ation, and that solitude had become neces­sary, as well to the health of her body, as the tranquillity of her mind. Her physi­cians, being bribed for that purpose, pub­licly asserted, that a temporary retirement into the country would be extremely proper, and that this removal was rendered indis­pensable by its probable utility. Laden with this passport of the faculty, to which Louis blindly subscribed, she fled from the dangers with which she was surround­ed at court, to revel in certain temples, where she presided in quality of high priestess.

The comte d'Artois was certainly not addicted to jealousy. He never loved with an ardor sufficient to give birth to this hate­ful passion. The appearance of it, how­ever, [Page 73] he was sometimes induced to assume, by his self-love. While Antoinette was engaged in these shameful adventures, d'Ar­tois, one day, accused her of what he cal­led infidelity. The queen, wholly ignorant of the female art of blushing, heard him without the least emotion. She then, with that effrontery which is so natural to her, discovered to the compte her peculiar taste for variety, and particularly expatiated on her fondness for the charming Fersenne; and, in fine, intimated that d'Artois had become indifferent to her. This frankness of An­toinette was not displeasing to Charles Phi­lip. There is sometimes an astonishing harmony, between souls of congenial base­ness.

CHAPTER XI.

THE handsome Fersenne, a colonel in the regiment of Royal Swedes, was now the happy man. He had long been enamoured of the queen, and she had rewarded his earliest advances with such tender and ex­pressive glances, that he was convinced he was not to languish a long time for the pos­session of the object of his desires.

One day as Fersenne, absorbed in this ten­der and delightful reverie, sauntered about the orange-grove of the château de Versail­les, he was observed by Antoinette. Their eyes soon met, and she looked a signal, which left him no further room to doubt his happiness. Returning to her apartment, she meditated only on the means of effecting [Page 75] an happy issue to this charming adventure; and, for this purpose, she sent one of her pages to her favorite colonel, with a small box, in which was enclosed the following billet.

The queen did not wait long for an an­swer. The box was returned by the same post. On opening it, the queen found the following.

Punctual to the moment, Fersenne was introduced to an apartment in which Antoi­nette already waited his arrival with the most lively impatience. Her intimate con­fidant, Bazin, was the Mercury of this inter­view. This vile and cringing valet was accustomed to this office. Little did he think himself disgraced by the title of pimp, provided it were to an illustrious personage.

From this period their interviews be­came frequent, and continued for a length of time, which exceeded the usual duration of the amours of Antoinette. Her taste for change, however, returned, and she sighed for a successor to the exhausted Fersenne.

She was hesitating on whom to bestow this place, when the countess Valois de la Motte was presented to the queen by la Mi­sery, her first femme de chambre. This un­fortunate [Page 78] countess appeared at court, to solicit the possession of the territory of Fon­tété, which had been enjoyed by her ances­tors.

Antoinette affected to patronise her de­mand, guided, as she pretended, by a prin­ciple of equity. It was, however, with a view of acquiring a claim to her gratitude, that Antoinette interested herself in this affair. She therefore used her influence with Colonne, to obtain a trifling augmen­tation of the pension, which the countess already received from the court. By the addition of 700 livers to the 800, which had before been granted to enable her to sup­port with proper dignity the name of Valois, the queen hoped to accomplish her designs.

The cardinal de Rohan had not yet re­nounced the projects which his passion for Antoinette had formerly inspired. He still watched all her movements, and intercept­ed all her looks. He early discovered her [Page 79] intentions respecting la Motte, before they were even suspected by the latter. This he immediately communicated to the coun­tess, hoping, by this office of apparent friend­ship, to render her subservient to his views.

In the progress of this affair, Antoinette was insensibly conducted towards that ven­geance which she had long secretly me­ditated against the cardinal. But his de­struction did not prove so complete as she wished it to have been. A scaffold was the fate which her humanity intended him.

The collar on which the queen had so pertinaciously fixed her affections, was at length obtained. Lexclaux, her secret mes­senger, was charged with its delivery. She received it with transport; and, in that moment, swore to make it the instrument of the cardinal's ruin. It was not her in­tention to have involved the countess de la Motte in those misfortunes which afterwards overwhelmed her. These were produced [Page 80] by an unforseen concurrence of circum­stances. Concerning this event, there were, in Paris, almost as many opinions as per­sons.

It is impossible to represent in their true colours, all the horrors which were produced by this wicked action of Antoinette. One of its effects, however, (dreadful as it is) must not be omitted. In consequence of this affair, the two shoulders of the countess de la Motte were marked and branded with four scandalous lines of verse, (with which we shall not disgrace our page) on the 10th of July, 1786, by virtue of a decree of the parliament.

It was necessary, in order to complete the purpose of Marie Antoinette, that these diamonds should be entirely at her own dis­posal; and this was, in a short time ef­fected. The benefactions which she was now enabled to bestow on her favorites appeared the more generous, because they [Page 81] were valuable; and they were conferred with a better grace, as they cost her no­thing.

By these benefactions was the unfortu­nate countess de la Motte afterwards con­ducted to an infamous post, to suffer that undeserved mark of ignominy which she received from the hand of a public execu­tioner.

The nicest artifice, and the most exqui­site hypocrisy, were now necessary to ex­tricate our heroine from a situation so cri­tical. Had the baseness of her conduct been discovered, she would have been covered with shame and infamy. But on this oc­casion, governed by her ordinary principles, she made a sacrifice of innocence, to add a few moments to the existence of her already expiring honor. She therefore availed her­self of every precaution, and folded her atrocity in the most impenetrable veil that [Page 82] the most unprincipled and artful of minds could form.

Conscious that the smallest degree of con­fidence on this subject might prove destruc­tive, the queen conducted herself with the strictest reserve. In vain did the crafty and sagacious baron de Breteuil endeavor to draw from her the secret, by confident demands, or by insidious inquiries. With unshaken firmness she persevered in denying that this toy had ever been in her possession. She uniformly asserted that she knew as little of the matter as la Motte. These declarations she continued to repeat, till la Motte was lost!

The queen thus escaped a process, the whole infamy of which was due to her alone. Her name was no longer mentioned but as having been abused; and an universal in­dignation was expressed against those sup­posed impostors, who had dared to defame [Page]

[Page 83] their sovereign, in hopes to screen their guilty heads from justice.

A sentence, which violated every prin­ciple of law and equity, was now pro­nounced, and innocence was its victim.

Notwithstanding the silence which was enjoined with regard to this affair by the mi­nisterial inquisition, the queen was not the less defamed in the opinion of the public. She, however, lost nothing of her security. She still kept in possession three hundred and fifty-six diamonds, of the collar which she had so handsomely obtained; and from which she still hoped one day to display a set of bracelets similar to those worn by the queen of England. The tricks and in­trigues of the count de Vergennes, in the course of this iniquitous affair, taught the queen how necessary it was to beware of him. And, as crimes cost her nothing, she now meditated one against him, the exe­cution of which soon followed.

[Page 84]The ill success of the emperor's own af­fairs, together with the turn which the affair of the collar had taken in France, had now rendered him inconsolable. All his projects were now disappointed. Although he had before received a sufficient number of proofs of the wickedness of his sister, and of the imbecility of the cardinal de Ro­han; yet his false policy had persuaded him that his ambition might be satisfied, and his views fulfilled by the assistance of this minister, who would not have hesitated to second that confusion in the state which the emperor meditated, and of which he knew how to profit.

Mean time the mind of Antoinette was wholly occupied by the most execrable of designs; and anticipated the glory to be acquired by its execution. One of her enemies was however yet alive. Plans were formed to bring about his expulsion from court. Accusations, founded in truth, were in vain sought for, to occasion his [Page 85] banishment; and the efforts of calumny served only to brighten his triumph.

She had in her possession the famous re­ceipt of Catharine de Medicis. The aged Maurepas had fallen a victim to its fatal effects; even in the moment, when the queen professed a sincere reconciliation, and swore to receive his advise ever after with the highest deference. But she embraced only that she might strangle. She deter­mined to bestow on Vergennes a similar dose; and the execrable Polignac was fixed on as her assistant in the commission of this crime. For this purpose, a reconciliation with this infamous woman became necessary. This the artful Antoinette effected without difficulty. The fatal poison was artfully prepared, and speedily given. The count de Vergennes was seized with a mortal languor, and soon expired.

The reconciliation between the queen and Polignac furnished matter for much [Page 86] slander. The infamous attachment of An­toinette became the subject of public conver­sation and universal censure. But she laugh­ed at sarcasm, and listened to her own infamy without blushing.

The emperor still nourished the hope of effecting an intestine division in France. He communicated his projects to his sister; and she seconded them with all her influence.

Jules de Polignac became the favorite of Antoinette, and the soul of all her plea­sures. They were now inseparable com­panions, and all the moments which the queen could snatch from the company of Louis were devoted to this libidinous duch­ess. She punished the indolence of the king by the most abominable commerce, which she now scarce took pains to conceal from him.

Sometimes the count d'Artois joined in their leud orgies; but the queen feared [Page 87] his approach. She knew that able gamesters do not play for nothing. The royal family must already have been considerably aug­mented; but for the abortive nostrums given to Antoinette by Polignac. And the queen determined that future recourse to their aid should be unnecessary.

Her conduct in the meantime continued to be a subject of popular animadversion; and from day to day epigrams, pasqui [...]ades, and ballads were published, which proved the infamous depth to which she had sunk in the estimation of France. Of this gene­ral censure she could not long remain ig­norant. When she discovered it, the ha­tred which she had conceived against France was increased; and from that moment she swore its destruction.

The means were easy. The minister had long foretold the ruin which she had meditated. One circumstance was now wanting, and this hastened to arrive.

[Page 88]Deluded by appearances, Louis slept in fancied security.

The princes of the blood royal of the house of Bourbon had given frequent proofs of decided patriotism, and were in possession of the public esteem. But she considered them as so many weathercocks which might be turned at pleasure by the lightest wind. She thought nothing more easy than to discover their sentiments, and subject them to her own management.

During this time she suffered much from the jealous, fierce, and impetuous temper of the duchess de Polignac, which had now arisen to an insupportable excess.

The time of Antoinette was at this period divided between the gratification of her looser wishes, her services to the emperor, and her attentions to the princes of the blood. The first of these occupations was always her highest concern. Her brother now [Page 89] stood in need of immediate supplies, which she undertook to procure him. And to make the princes subservient to her wishes, it was necessary to flatter their ambition. The soul of Antoinette was alone capable of executing a project so perfidious and so destructive as that in which she was en­gaged.

D'Artois, without being envious of the crown, had lavished upon it all his cares. But the birth of a duke of Normandy, which was indeed the effect of his own exertions, caused him to shed tears of rage. And now was formed the most horrid and detestable of triumvirates. The members mutually engaged their several dependents, and swore the destruction of the people, and the total ruin of France. The prince d'Artois en­tered fully and cordially into this plot. He had peculiar reasons for becoming an enemy to his countrymen. On his return from his glorious expedition to Gibraltar, they had unmercifully loaded him with the most [Page 90] insupportable raillery. He still felt the dis­graceful wounds which his honor had re­ceived, and he sighed for revenge.

An unexpected resistance from a parlia­ment, on whose assistance this league had placed much dependence, caused the com­mencement of this enterprize to prove abor­tive. The intractability of the parliament was at first supposed to be a mere feint. The league persuaded the royal lion to roar, in order to frighten this disobedient and ri­diculous areopagus to its duty. But the par­liament still continued refractory; the Pa­risians also mutinied and invested the Palais. The inregisterment of the extravagant edict which had been dictated by Louis, was now entrusted to d'Artois, who began the business by giving the most incontestible proofs of his ferocious and sanguinary character, and ended it with the same paltroonery as at Gibraltar. He mounted the grand escalier, swearing like a demoniac, his mouth foam­ing and his eyes flashing with rage. But [Page 91] this ebullition of his spirits was soon cooled, and the hero descended fearfully, precipi­tately, and shamefully. He flew to his car­riage, but too happy to have escaped the vengeance of an audacious hand which had been raised against him.

On his return to Versailles, he assured the king that he in future might take on himself the trouble of causing his will to be exe­cuted.

The capital remained in a state of agita­tion and alarm. The corps de garde were attacked and defeated; and soon after fol­lowed the famous genuflexion before the statue of Henry IV. This spectacle drew tears from all who reflected how much his reign differed from the present.

The league beheld with secret satisfaction these troubles and dissensions, which pre­saged those calamities to the production of which they aspired. Sensible, however, of [Page 92] the necessity of circumspection, they waited in silence for the arrival of the first favor­able occasion, of which they determined to profit. During this interval Antoinette be­stowed her time on a new species of amuse­ment.

As hobby-horses were fashionable at court, Antoinette now made choice of one for herself, and hers was a buffoon. That illustrious punster, the Marquis de Bièvre, was elevated to this honorable post. He had recommended himself to the queen by nu­merous insipid epigrams, which he had made at his leisure, and distributed among the courtiers; a set of beings, who, as they were destitute of learning and taste, were incapable of a just appreciation of literary merit, and from whom it need not be sur­prising that his senseless performances re­ceived the tribute of admiration and applause.

After the queen had made choice of this son of dullness for a president, she selected [Page 93] from the herd of sycophants which sur­rounded her, a number of members, quali­fied, in different degrees, by talents of a similar nature, and formed what she deno­minated a cabinet of wit, or bureau d'esprit. The wit of this society consisted wholly of puns; and it was in fact resolved at one of their meetings, that any member who should speak a certain number of minutes without making a pun, should be considered as hav­ing committed a crime, for which the pe­nalty of being stiled leze-fantasie should be incurred. By the force of royal example, the rage for punning became at length so prevalent, that it was visible in public writ­ings of the most serious and important kind. Puns might be found in edicts, proclama­tions of the king, bills of taxation, and even in arrêts of the council. But the worst pun of all was the royal majesty itself.

The queen was for a while in raptures with this select society; and most of its members shared the felicity of being led to [Page 94] Trianon by the allurements of their royal patroness. But as nothing could boast the power of pleasing her for any great length, she soon neglected this favorite coterie, and their meetings became less frequent, and in fine were thought of no more.

CHAPTER XII.

ABOUT this time the minister, Ca­lonne, became obnoxious to the queen. Being either unable or unwilling to supply her with the enormous sums which she from day to day demanded from the national trea­sury, he had ventured on giving a denial to some requests of this nature. This auda­cious [Page 95] conduct excited her resentment, and caused her to meditate his ruin. Versed in all the arts of intrigue, and indefatigable in the pursuit of revenge, she scon discovered the means of effecting his disgrace. She caused private information to be given him, by some of her creatures, that a certain rival, anxious to obtain the place in the mi­nistry which Calonne occupied, had deter­mined on his assassination. This treache­rous fiction was communicated in a manner which gave it a face of probability, and carried with it a conviction that produced the desired effect. The minister, prudently esteeming it a less misfortune to resign his employment than to be deprived of his life, retired from office with fearful precipitation.

Archbishop Brienne, an impious and un­principled character, succeeded Calonne as financier. His administration soon proved how destitute of discernment was that sove­reign who elevated him to this illustrious employment. He managed the national trea­sury [Page 96] like a patrimony in which himself pos­sessed a sole and individual propriety. All his actions were devoted to one purpose, that of increasing his own estate. Antoinette and d'Artois found him the most inconvenient person in the world to have the management of the treasury; for the sums which he em­bezzled from it were embezzled only for himself.

Louis, whose confidence in his mini­ster was unbounded, submitted to his wife and brother the whole management of the most important affairs of his council. He, from time to time, without examina­tion or thought, put the royal signature to every decree which was presented to him. When he demanded if his people were hap­py, he was always answered in the affirma­tive, and he gave himself no further concern about the matter. Every murmur of the nation was intercepted in its passage to the ears of the monarch; and as he did not hear the groans of his subjects, he suspected not [Page 97] the pains they suffered. He was indeed sometimes aroused to a little uneasiness when he contemplated the wretched situation of his finances, of which he could not be kept wholly ignorant; but he was soon lulled to sleep again by the artifices of those by whom he was surrounded.

As, during the administration of Briennes, Antoinette and d'Artois were denied that access to the national treasury, by which their enormous expenditures had before been supported, they now found themselves under the necessity of having recourse to private frauds. There was in Paris at this time, one M. Pinet, who, by a variety of scanda­lous means, had acquired immense riches. To him repeated applications were made for large sums, which were not obtained without great difficulty, and many promises, of which the queen was sufficiently lavish, of most extravagant gratuities, to be paid, together with the principal, at a short credit. These sums were quickly expended in riot [Page 98] and dissipation by Antoinette and her beloved brother-in-law; and when the time of pay­ment arrived they had nothing to remit. But the mind or the queen, ever fertile in expedients, soon devised the means of being extricated from this difficulty: she gave the word, and Pinet suddenly disappeared, and was heard of no more. Several others are said to have suffered a fate similar to that of Pinet; and this inhuman traffic was carried on for some years. This pair of royal rob­bers drained the purses of many citizens of Paris and Versailles, who had been im­mensely rich. They began these negocia­tions with smiles and promises of favor, and usually ended them with death or the Bastille. Most of these deluded money-lenders, after discovering how much they had been duped, complained, with an imprudent bitterness, of the injuries they had suffered. Le Noir and his cabal were at this time wholly at the devotion of the queen and her brother-in-law. Le Noir was governor of the Bastille, and he hesitated not to grant lettres de ca­chet [Page 99] whenever they were demanded for the purpose of silencing audacious murmurs. The papers of the person imprisoned fell of course into the hands of le Noir, and he, from time to time, disposed of them as di­rected by his royal mistress.

This torrent of iniquity swelled to a most enormous height, and in its course bore down compassion, humanity and justice; ru­ined many of the most valuable citizens, and destroyed many of the first estates in France. This mode of rasing money became, how­ever, so notorious at length, that it could no longer be practised.

D'Artois, that illustrious knave, fertile in expedients, suggested one to our heroine, which, in the event, proved very advanta­geous to this luxurious pair. He put her in mind of the ascendency which she had over her husband, and the advantages that might be derived from it. Infected by the inebriety of the tumultuous passions of those [Page 100] by whom he was surrounded, the king had almost lost sight of himself. He had become less severe in his economy, which he now frequently relaxed in favor of good cheer. He had, in short, either to dissipate the gloom of anxiety, or gratify a depraved ap­petite, contracted an habit of drinking to considerable excess. In the moments of in­toxication, his fondness for his faithful An­toinette was redoubled, and in the ardor of affection, inspired at once by love and wine, he could refuse nothing to the idol of his soul. By the advice of d'Artois, Antoinette prevailed on her royal spouse, in one of these paroxysms, to sign a paper containing a solemn abdication of his kingdom. This, however, was extorted from him with great difficulty, and the queen, in effecting it, brought into exercise every artifice of which she was mistress. Tears, caresses and threats were alternately employed for some time in vain; but at length Louis was overcome, and suffered the pen to be put into his hand, which, being guided by Antoinette, reluc­tantly [Page 101] made the important signature. When the king recovered from his intoxication, he recollected with shame and distress the fatal folly of which he had been guilty the preceding evening, and flew to the queen with anxious haste, intending, if possible, to persuade her to resign the instrument he had executed, almost in a state of insensibi­lity. This was what she wished and ex­pected; she had now an opportunity of taking the advantage of his fears, which she improved to its utmost bounds. She at first peremptorily refused to part with the writ­ing, and every argument of Louis proved ineffectual, till he offered her an enormous sum of money to be paid from his treasury in exchange for it. This proposal prevailed on her, and a compromise took place. The stipulated sum was actually paid, and di­vided between Antoinette and the contriver of this admirable plot. This event also operated in their favor with Brienne, who now no longer remained intractable. He began, like Calonne, to perceive that he [Page 102] could not enjoy the fruits of his villainies in safety without consenting to a division of them. His ill-gotten treasure, while it secretly delighted his archiepiscopal bosom, made him tremble with apprehensions of discovery and punishment. He therefore cordially entered into the measures of An­toinette and d'Artois, and paid from the treasury, without objection, the enormous sums demanded, resting his hopes of impu­nity in case of extremity, on the king's sig­nature, which was given into his possession. It must have appeared surprising to Louis, that the fondness of his wife should have redoubled at the moment when he had least reason to expect it. This was in fact the case; and his suspicions were from day to day increased by her frequent solicitations for orders on the treasury, which were al­ways enforced by a profusion of caresses, and of these at other times she had of late been sufficiently parsimonious. Being thus aroused to some vigilance, the monarch at length discovered the collusion between the [Page 103] queen, d'Artois and Brienne. He was now confirmed in his opinion, and immediately dismissed Brienne from office: he also be­haved to Antoinette for a while with unu­sual coldness; but he could never prevail on himself to treat her with that contempt she deserved.

Our pair of royal libertines being now once more reduced to extremity, entered upon the execution of a plot which they had often contemplated, and from which human nature revolts. This had been at­tempted once before, but unsuccessfully, at the time of the catastrophe of the Palais de Justice. D'Artois now made every possible exertion to rally the male-contents. The moment that his sister-in-law informed him that they could no longer have access to the treasury, he employed himself, in com­pliance with her advice, in laying the foun­dation of the most detestable of aristocracies. All the Polignacs, as will readily be ima­gined, were imitated, and the favorite Jules [Page 104] was particularly commissioned to bring over the princes of the blood, over whom she had much influence. The pleasures of Ma­ria Antoinette now suffered an interval. The management of her creatures, the de­struction of the throne, and the establish­ment of that despotism for which she labor­ed, occupied all her thoughts. Besenval, Broglie, d'Autichamp, and many others, entered with ardor into this infernal league. Madame Jules de Polignac neglected nothing that could expedite the completion of this monstrous association. She promised pen­sions, places, and dignities with unlimited profusion; nor did she hesitate at prostitu­tion where she imagined it would prove the most powerful bribe. By these various means she added considerable numbers to the league. She persuaded not only the princes of the blood royal, Conde, Conti, Bour­bon, &c. but also a great many male-contents of the clergy, several disgraced courtiers and noblemen who had been displaced by the king.

[Page 105]Antoinette was unanimously named chief of this horrible conspiracy. There could not indeed be a more proper leader than this inhuman woman, who might well be stiled a fourth fury. The prince de Lambisc was appointed general, and Besenval his aid. D'Artois, Conde, Conti, and Bourbon were elected as a council to advise with An­toinette in the regulation of measures, and the rest were to act in obedience to their directions. After the cabal had, in the opinion of Antoinette, d'Artois, and the council, become sufficiently numerous, the following articles, being previously prepar­ed for the purpose, were subscribed and so­lemnly sworn to, at one of their meetings, by every member.

CHAPTER XIII.

A NEW constitution was, soon after, established by the people, and Antoinette, although she secretly cursed the measure, had the policy to be apparently pleased, and to comply with the wishes of the people. Her engagements in political matters, how­ever, caused no abatement in her fondness for riot, luxury and dissipation. She found means to solace herself even under the mor­tification of her greatest disappointments. Mothier and La Fayette were successively the generals of the people. Antoinette found them both extremely useful in affording an alleviation to the burthen of her griefs; and each of them performed the charitable task of giving consolation to this distressed lady.

[Page 118]One day, as Antoinette and La Fayette were consulting on measures to re-establish her in the opinion of the public, they wander­ed into the Bosquet-de-Saint-Cloud. Warm­ed by the charms which the queen exposed to his view, and emboldened by his politi­cal consequence, the marquis presumed to make her some proposals of a tender na­ture. She recollected how much she owed to Fayette, and she was too just to prove ungrateful. He, in short, found her as con­descending as he could expect, and was proceeding to the consummation of his wishes, when they were most unseasonably interrupted by a page, who had attended them on the walk, and now came to present the queen a nest of beautiful young birds, which he had just found in the grove at some distance from the happy scene. His arrival, as may be easily imagined, was not very pleasing to either of the lovers, and he was ordered, with some severity, to retire immediately. This command was instant­ly obeyed, and the scene soon became too tender for description.

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CHAPTER XIV.

ALL the enormous dilapidations of An­toinette, her innumerable amorous intrigues, her vices, her haughtiness, and barbarity, all these obtained the pardon of the French nation. In spite of the distressed situation to which they had been reduced by the shameful irregularities and inhuman plots of their queen, a queen who no longer de­served the title, she was yet suffered to live unpunished. But the generosity of her peo­ple could make no impression on her unfeel­ing heart. A stranger to every good, to every grateful sentiment, she was unable to arrest herself in that headlong career of vice with which she had set out in life, even when she found herself ready to plunge into the gulph of ruin, which she had prepared [Page 120] for her subjects. The commission of every species of crimes was so incorporated with her constitution, that she neither knew com­punction, nor was capable of repentance; and she persevered in guilt till the eyes of her people were forced open. Such became the publicity of her vices, and so conspicu­ous was the bitterness of her enmity to the nation to which she ought to have perform­ed the part of a parent and protectress, that longer submission to so vile a sovereign would have forever characterised France as the most abject and despicable of nations.

After the revolution, the dispotic club, of which Maria Antoinette was chief, did not entirely neglect their operations: the mem­bers of which it was composed continued to draw from her a contagion of sentiment, which was industriously spread, and poisoned many.

To what period, unhappy people, do you procrastinate the day of your tranquillity? [Page 121] How long will you suffer men, or rather demons, who, while they style themselves the fathers of their country, aim the po­niard of death at its bosom, to enter your councils and legislatures? How long shall a Mauri, a Casalès, a Duval, insult your weakness, or rather your negligence, with impunity? How long will ye continue blind in the choice of your leaders, and gild the shoulders of those whose hearts are rot­ten? How long will you suffer yourselves to be made beasts of burthen by the dregs of your former government, who wait but for a favorable opportunity to tear in pieces the hand that reaches to them the bread of nou­rishment, or leads them to the heights of pre­ferment and office. Imitate the statuary, who at his pleasure breaks the idol which he made. But in breaking yours, let it be so done that the scattered pieces shall never be­come re-united.

One of those writers, who, through fear, or affected modesty, pretends to aim at the [Page 122] greatest impartiality, speaks of Antoinette in the following manner:—

‘I shall say but little of Marie Antoinette. Once, perhaps, too much adored, and now too much calumniated, she appears neither to merit the extravagant eulogi­ums which have been lavished on the Dauphine, ^* nor the atrocious imputations which have been heaped on the queen. This must, however, be left for posterity to determine. I shall not examine parti­cularly into her attachment to a brother, to which, perhaps, may be owing some part of the present exhausted state of our finances, and the new sacrifices which have been made by France to the house of Austria. I shall only say, that it is extremely difficult, not to say impos­sible, entirely to divest ourselves of every sentiment of tenderness for the country where we are born; for the parents who have caressed, protected and nourished us in our helpless infancy; and for those who [Page 123] have earliest awakened in our bosoms those soft affections which constitute the happiness of mankind. It is difficult to forget the tender connexions of daughter, of sister, of parent, and even those who only owe their birth to the same soil; and it seems, that, were it practicable, it would do no honor to the soul capable of doing it. What then can be done to escape the dangers to which a state is exposed by the marriage of its monarch to a foreign queen? Let him chuse a wife from his own nation. Such an alliance may at first appear unworthy the blood royal, for there being but one sovereign, he must marry a subject. But now that the king is no more than the first citizen, he can­not dishonor himself by giving his hand and his heart to a free citizen, who by her virtues and accomplishments merited the love of her nation. This would un­doubtedly excite the ambition of the fa­mily from which the queen might be cho­sen. This to be sure is an evil, but far [Page 124] from being equal to those we have always suffered from alliances with foreign fami­lies. In the former case, it is easy to re­sist the machinations of a single family; but in the latter, we must combat with empires.’

‘The one sometimes gives occasions to domestic quarrels; the other frequently to wars, and almost always to very ruinous sacrifices. In the former case, the nation­al assembly should confine the ambition of the family preferred: in the latter, the in­fluence of a queen, whose heart is in­imical to the nation, must always prove active and dangerous. I have thought it might be useful to render this idea public. It is at least important enough to merit dis­cussions.’ ^*

"Of Marie Antoinette I shall say no­thing—." It is thus our impartial [Page 125] writer sets off.—As for me, I shall say all that ought to be said. I shall say, that the shocks given to our empire by its earliest sovereigns were less violent than those it has received from its more cruel enemy, Marie Antoinette. I shall say, that it was by her hand that M. de Vergennes died empoisoned. It was she who always aimed at the destruction of France, that, on its ruins, she might enjoy the barbarous sa­tisfaction of seeing her brother's empire enlarged. It was she who forced the count d'Artois to become the assassin of his brother, after having been the defiler of his bed. I shall say, that thousands have been subservient to her pleasures, and have almost all of them been afterwards sacri­ficed by her own hand. It was she, who, during their nocturnal orgies, blew up in their hearts the flame of civil war. It was she, who, laying aside her aversion to the national habit, did not blush to grant her favors to general Mothier, in order to con­cert with him her schemes of vengeance. [Page 126] It was through her influence that the assassin Bouillé was named to the expedition of Nancy. It was she who cried, at the in­stant she contemplated the innumerable victims of her barbarity, ‘Why have not twenty-three millions suffered the same fate, that this odious nation might be extirpated from the face of the earth?’ Her own hand armed the che­valiers of the poniard. By her hand was prepared the poison with which Mirabeau died. Her murderous insinuations inhu­manized the heart of her husband—a weak prince, but naturally good. It was by her pernicious counsels that the nuisance of the Chapelle was projected. In short, all our intestine quarrels, the invasions which are preparing on all sides, and in me word, all our calamities, past, present, and to come, derive their origin from the righteous hand of Antoinette.

"It is," continues our impartialist, ‘for posterity to judge.’—Was it then for [Page 127] posterity to pronounce the fate of Mandrin, Cartouch, and la Lescombat, whose crimes are the crimes of infancy compared with those of our heroine? Let us, in this place, quote a trifling adage which proves the ve­racity of the people, as much as it paints their weakness. ‘Little villains are pu­nished, while great ones are respected.’— Let us follow this writer a little further— ‘I shall not inquire whether some part of the present exhausted situation of our finances be not owing,’ &c. He will not inquire whether those immense quantities of gold and silver which have been trans­mitted to the same brother, have contributed to exhaust our finances! In the name of common sense, if this be not worthy of in­quiry, what is!

Pursuing our impartial author a little further, we find, that in conformity with his opinion, a woman ought to sacrifice to pa­ternal affection, even the duties of wife and mother! This is similar to the logic of our [Page 128] higher clergy, who see nothing sacred in the Holy Evangelists when they correspond not with their own inclinations. Yet an apostle, when speaking of the duties of the marriage state, has formally declared, ‘A man shall forsake his father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.’ And have women received a dispensation from what was prescribed to men? In order to favor the ambitious designs of her own paternal family, shall a woman, with impunity, contrive the destruction of her household, and those about her? Shall she, without being cited to the tribunal of public opinion, betray her husband, and devote her chil­dren to ruin? No; even the woman in pri­vate life, who is capable of such conduct, is a monster of iniquity; and the queen, who hesitates not to soil the majesty of a throne, to prostitue her own person, and plot the destruction of twenty-three millions of peo­ple, is ten thousand times more criminal, and deserves to be extirpated from that socie­ty whose ruin she contemplated. It is un­doubtedly [Page 129] highly proper, that the first ma­gistrate of a free people chuse his wife from among his fellow-citizens.

Even now, while I write, there are com­motions in every section of the capital. Every soldier is flying to his arms. And why? I demand the reason why? It is be­cause General Bleuit solicits a dismission? And why does he solicit a dismission from a place in which his self-love is so amply gratified? It is because the people had the insolence to oppose the departure of the king for St. Cloud, who from thence might have gone elsewhere. As the appetite some­times increases by eating, the desire of tra­velling may redouble with the sight of dif­ferent places. The people had then the in­solence to despise the orders of a general they had chosen, and the same people now present themselves in a body, at his hotel, to beg he will have the goodness to continue to abuse them. Perhaps this request, how­ever, may be intended only to detain him in [Page 130] office till the new constitution be fully esta­blished.

Here are hounded the principal events of the life of our heroine. Vigilant for the information of our fellow citizens, we assure them that nothing of importance in the future life of Antoinette shall escape our observa­tion, and so soon as we shall be furnished with sufficient matter, we will communi­cate it to them in another volume.