“I expect the sessions of the Estates to continue late. I might feel too tired to ride back to Paris in the middle of the night. At the same time, dearest, I would not want to be deprived of your company.”
“But you know that I am not fond of Versailles,” I said, sighing. “There is nothing there but the Court.”
“I know that I am being selfish, Belle, by asking you to keep me company in that dismal place, but you are the one who encouraged me to become a Representative.”
I looked into his eyes. “Would you not trust me if I stayed in Paris?”
“I would, Belle, of course, but do you not know that I cannot bear to be away from you?”
He bowed to the level of my waist to kiss my hand.
Villers rented in my name a fine house in Versailles, where I settled with Aimée, Manon, Miss Howard and my maids on the 1st of May. Only Junot, my footman, remained in Paris to mind my lodgings in my absence. Villers did not secure separate accommodations for himself in Versailles. He could be assumed to return to his Paris mansion at night. Appearances did not matter so much to me anymore. I had been his mistress for a year and a half, and those who were offended by my morals had already closed their doors to me.
On our first night in Versailles, Villers waited until we retired to present me with a pair of diamond bracelets in a trellis pattern. They were an inch wide and seemed as valuable as the earrings he had given me.
“I wanted to thank you for coming here with me,” he said, sitting on the bed by my side. “I know, my love, that you did so only to please me. Your sacrifice deserved a reward.”
He reached for my wrists and, after kissing each of them in turn, clasped the bracelets on them. I felt uneasy to wear this kind of jewellery in bed.
“Thank you, they are beautiful,” I whispered, staring at the bracelets.
“I had them made to your exact measurements, Belle. No other woman would have wrists delicate enough to wear them.”
“You are very generous, as usual. I hope that you did not feel obligated to pacify me. I must have seemed ungracious in my reluctance to come to Versailles.”
“You have never appeared ungracious, dearest. You made me very happy in accepting to accompany me. I wished to prove it.”
He caressed me through my chemise, gently at first, then more urgently. He slipped it over my head. I reached for the bracelets to unclasp them. He stopped me. “No, my love. I want to see you wearing them, nothing but them.”
The 4th of May had been set as the date of a grand procession of all the Representatives. The windows of my house offered an excellent view of the street on its path so I saw no occasion for Aimée and me to mingle with the crowd. I had invited the Duchess d’Arpajon to join us for that occasion. I am happy to have offered my dear friend this opportunity to behold the pageantry of the “Old Regime,” as it would soon be called. This would be, unknown to both of us, the last occasion for its ceremonies ever to be held.
Villers, with all of the other Representatives, had waited since eight in the morning in front of the Church of Saint-Louis. The royal couple did not join them until eleven. The Third Estate walked first, dressed in plain black suits, hats and stockings. The Nobility followed, swords to their sides, in black coats, white breeches, lace neckties, gold cloth waistcoats and hats à la Henri IV, turned up in front and decorated with white feathers. Villers, with his tall, slender frame, having for once removed his earrings, looked very handsome. Lauzun, who gallantly bowed to us as he walked past my windows, was nothing short of dashing in spite of the fact that he was now past the age of forty. The Clergy walked behind, wearing the habits of their functions. The dignitaries of the Church, the red cardinals and purple bishops, were the only colourful notes in the procession.
The gold-embroidered canopy sheltering the Holy Sacrament was next, followed by the King’s carriage and that of the Queen, wearing a dress of silver cloth and the Regent diamond, the largest of the Crown jewels. The King was saluted by endless acclamations, while not a single cry of Long live the Queen was heard. On the contrary, someone on the street shouted Long live the Duke d’Orléans as she passed. I saw her smart under the insult as one would under the lash, but almost immediately she recovered her disdainful composure.
The next day witnessed the opening session of the Estates General in the Salle des Menus Plaisirs, “Hall of the Small Pleasures,” a vast ballroom within the Palace of Versailles. A dais had been prepared on which the King and Queen were to sit under a canopy. All morning the Representatives, one by one, had been assigned their seats in the cavernous room. The Clergy and the Nobility occupied the sides, while the Third Estate had been placed at the far end. It had as many members as the other two Orders together. The King, true to his character, had hesitated whether to accept or reject this measure. He supported and resisted in turn each position, before yielding to the majority view and agreeing to double the number of Representatives of the Third Estate. Altogether, over 1,000 Representatives were assembled, and as many spectators in the galleries behind the higher Orders.
I sat with the Duchess and the other ladies of the Court in one of the balconies that flanked the throne. My hair had been dressed, under Villers’s supervision, in an array of loose ringlets and braids woven with the strings of pearls he had given me.
“It is not in fashion now,” he said, “but you are beautiful enough to make it so after today.”
I wore a new Court gown of white satin, made according to his specific directions. My bracelets circled my wrists and the briolettes of my diamond earrings brushed against my bare shoulders. Villers did not like me to wear necklaces, which, he said, interrupted the line of my throat and covered too much of its flesh.
“Look around us,” the Duchess remarked. “All of the ladies of the Court are wearing their finest jewels, but they look tawdry compared to you in your white gown. You simply outshine everyone else.”
Their Majesties arrived at noon. The King opened the session with a speech that lasted less than five minutes, counting the many interruptions by cheering Representatives. Again no voice was raised to cry Long live the Queen. I almost pitied her, but my feelings of compassion, as often when she was concerned, soon disappeared. The King, at the end of his speech, removed his hat as a sign of respect for the assembled Representatives. She turned to him with a frown and whispered to his ear, her opinion of his gesture unmistakable.
I marveled at her insolence in questioning the King’s authority on so solemn an occasion. After some hesitation, he put his hat back on. The Nobility, accustomed to the Court’s etiquette, followed the King’s example. There was more confusion among the Third Estate, until some of its Representatives chose to remove their hats for the rest of the session, followed by the rest of their colleagues.
That awkward moment was followed by a speech by Monsieur Necker, the Comptroller General of the Finances. His tinny little voice soon gave way and a clerk endowed with better lungs droned on for three hours. My eyes were welling up with tears of boredom by the time it was over. The King rose, greeted by renewed acclamations. He took the Queen’s hand in his to present her to the Estates and solicit their cheers. She made a deep curtsey, which at last drew scattered cries of Long live the Queen. It appeared to those of us close by that she left the room in tears. Unlike mine, hers were not caused by the tedium of Monsieur Necker’s speech.
The Estates started work the next day. Villers had hired a private secretary, Monsieur Renouf, nearly sixty and owlish. Renouf, under his master’s direction, prepared reports on each session of the Estates, which Villers in turn sent to his constituents in Normandy every few days. As their elected Representative, he felt much responsibility towards them and wished to repay their trust by keeping them informed of all developments.
Villers would join me for dinner immediately after the sessions closed for the day. He was more affectionate than ever towards Aimée. He sat her in his lap and took an interest in the progress of her studies. There was nothing s
he dreaded more than to disappoint him. Every night she would ask me to rehearse her lessons one more time in anticipation of his arrival. She insisted that many a page of handwriting be discarded as unworthy of his perusal and started afresh. She was almost four years old and, while Miss Howard continued her instruction in English, I taught her to read and write French. The hours of the day that were not dedicated to study were spent in long walks with Aimée in the woods of Versailles, now in all the splendour of their spring foliage, where we would gather bouquets of blue hyacinths.
“Look at me, my love,” said Villers one night after dinner. “I have become a regular bourgeois now. I work all day and come home to your bed every night.”
“You make it sound like a chore.”
“On the contrary, Belle, I have never been so content, except maybe for the times we spent together in Normandy. The only thing that could add to my happiness would be to make you my wife.”
I smiled. “Then, my dear, the picture of the Count de Villers, a reformed libertine, would indeed be complete. I would, I suppose, bear you a child once a year. You would also wear a flannel waistcoat and drink a cup of herb tea every night before bed.”
He rose and came to sit by my side on the sofa. “Nothing wrong with any of it. Why wait to be married? I should begin to do all of these things already, Belle, so as to deprive you of any reason to persist in your refusal.” He put his arm around my waist and pressed his lips upon mine. “Now, about that notion of fathering a child…”
The first sessions of the Estates had been dedicated to the verification of the Representatives’ powers. The elections for Paris, delayed because of poor organization and the constant unrest in the capital, were still being held, almost two months after they had been completed in the provinces. Thus the Estates commenced without any Representatives from Paris.
Aimée and I, along with the entire Court, went into mourning at the beginning of June. The little Dauphin, Louis-Joseph, heir to the throne, had died of consumption. The disease had settled in his spine and bones. The poor child, tortured by an iron corset, had been so deformed that he had not been seen at Court for almost a year. He had been kept in the château de Meudon, a few miles away, where he had surrendered his soul to God. He was not the first of the royal children to die. Little Madame Sophie, his younger sister, had passed away a year earlier. She had been conceived around the same time as my poor little boy. The death of the infant princess, who was of no account to anyone, had met with the indifference of both the Court and her family. The Dauphin, heir to the throne, was another matter. His birth had been eagerly anticipated for over ten years after his parents’ marriage and greeted by such joy that his death seemed a cruel mockery of happier times. It was a bad omen. I could not help but feel sorrow for the Queen’s loss. I took Aimée to the Church of Saint-Louis in Versailles to light a candle and pray for the repose of both children’s souls. The second son of the royal couple, Louis-Charles, a few months older than Aimée, became the new Dauphin.
The sad tidings from the Court had not prevented the Estates from continuing their sessions. The Representatives of the Clergy, in majority parish priests and commoners, had by the end of June joined the Third Estate. Together they now called themselves the National Assembly and had sworn not to dissolve before they had written a Constitution for the Kingdom. Villers was furious at those of his fellow noblemen who still insisted on holding separate sessions.
“The imbeciles represent less than one percent of the population, and they think they can refuse to join the Third Estate! What do they expect? That the King, prompted by the Queen, will support their position? He will abandon the nobility, as he has abandoned every cause he has ever defended. If we noblemen do not join the National Assembly, the Revolution will happen without us, and that will mean against us.”
Everyone was now speaking of the “Revolution” as a matter of course. It was already a fact that admitted of no discussion. The King declared the deliberations of the National Assembly void in their entirety. He also threatened to dissolve the Estates General if they persisted in their position to meet as a single body. Nonetheless, a minority of the noblemen, forty-seven of them, led by the Duke d’Orléans and including Villers, Lauzun and Lafayette, seceded from the rest of their Order and joined the Third Estate.
Two days later, as Villers had predicted, the King reversed his position and invited the holdovers from the Nobility and the Clergy to join the National Assembly. He was thus placing himself at the head of the Revolution, or, depending on one’s opinion, trailing it.
At the same time, the King ordered the regiments of the French army that were composed of foreigners, mostly Swiss and Germans mercenaries, altogether 20,000 men, to surround Paris. No one doubted that his real goal was to crush the capital if it showed any sign of siding with the new Assembly. Public opinion blamed that decision, which was to have such momentous consequences, on the Queen’s influence. The bourgeois of Paris, meanwhile, started a militia, called the National Guard, to protect the city against the anticipated attack.
45
One night at the beginning of July, Villers came home from the National Assembly earlier than usual.
“Pack your things, Belle,” he said. “I am taking you and Aimée to Vaucelles tonight.”
“What is happening?”
“A German regiment has already set camp in the park of the Palace, and another has taken its quarters at the Orangerie there. The royal family is preparing to leave Versailles for a fortified city close to the Austrian border. You know what it means. The King will seek the help of Emperor Joseph, the Queen’s brother, while the Swiss and German regiments are going to attack Paris and the Assembly here in Versailles. The Count d’Artois, the King’s youngest brother, has publicly stated that all the Representatives of the Third Estate are going to be hanged. He is only saying aloud what the others are thinking.” Villers took me in his arms. “I have been selfish to keep you here so long, my love. I would never forgive myself if any harm befell you.”
Thus I spent those days of July 1789, which were to have such a bearing on the fate of France and Europe, in the safety of Vaucelles. Villers stayed with me the first night since there was no session of the Assembly on the morrow, which was a Sunday. He spent the following day teaching me how to load, aim and shoot a firearm, and insisted on leaving his best pair of pistols with me.
Villers left Vaucelles on the 13th to rejoin the Assembly. He had asked me, because he was leaving at dawn, not to rise to see him on his way. Yet I did. I kept him embraced a long time before letting him go. His eyes were red when he bid me good-bye. We did not speak much but parted with great regret and a sense of foreboding. So much had happened in the two months since the Estates General had convened and the future seemed very uncertain. All our grievances were forgotten in the sorrow of not knowing whether we would ever see each other again. He went on horseback to attract less attention than in a carriage. His plan was to reach Versailles through country roads without entering Paris, while trying to avoid the foreign troops massed to the south of the capital.
I spent that day in great anxiety and sent Lemoyne, one of the lackeys, to gather news in Paris. He had to turn around at the gates for no one was allowed to enter the city.
“I spoke to the guards at the Charenton Gate, Madam,” he said. “Crowds have attacked the prisons and freed all the French Guards jailed for mutiny. They won’t obey their Colonel anymore. The King’s ready to have all the members of the Assembly arrested in Versailles. They also say that all the noblemen who have joined the Third Estate are going to be beheaded for treason. That means My Lord too, doesn’t it?”
I thanked Lemoyne and gave him a silver écu of three francs for his pains. The following day, the 14th of July of the year 1789, was my twentieth birthday. I did not know whether Villers was arrested, sentenced to death or already executed. I was too anxious to read or sit down to any occupation. In an attempt to keep busy, I went for a walk with Aimée in
the park. Around five in the afternoon, as we were headed for the river, we heard a booming noise.
“Listen, Mama,” she said, “thunder. Why cannot we see the beautiful golden dragon?”
This was the name she gave lightning. I said nothing to disabuse her of this idea, although I knew that we were hearing the rumbling of a different kind of storm, one of far longer duration and greater import.
Again I sent Lemoyne, the lackey, to Paris. He returned before dark, flushed with excitement.
“The city gates are still closed, Madam,” he said, “but the guards told me that the people stormed the Bastille.”
“It is impossible, Lemoyne. How could the fortress, with its drawbridges and huge walls, be taken by force?”
“That’s what they said, My Lady.”
I went to bed uncertain of what to believe. When Manon helped me dress the next morning, I noticed that she was unusually silent. I saw her several times open her mouth and then close it without uttering a word.
“What is it, Manon?” I asked at last.
“I heard from Junot’s niece, My Lady.”
“Junot, my footman?”
“Yes, My Lady. He was injured in Paris yesterday.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
Manon blushed and looked down. “Please, My Lady, don’t be angry.”
I sighed, wondering what misdeed Junot, a man of mature years and placid temper, could have committed. “Tell me about it. Then I can decide whether to be angry.”
“Well, Madam, yesterday morning, a huge crowd, over 20,000 strong, went to the Invalides, close to Your Ladyship’s lodgings. There’s an arsenal within the veterans’ hospital.”
I frowned. “I know. Are you telling me that Junot joined those people?”
“Yes, My Lady. But everything was peaceful. The French Guards took the lead and seized all the guns, pikes and sabres. We need some real soldiers, with real weapons, to defend Paris against those foreign mercenaries. Remember, three days ago, the Royal German Regiment shot at a peaceful crowd and killed a poor old man at the Tuileries. No wonder, their Colonel, the Prince de Lambesc is cousin to the Queen, and she—”
Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel Page 29
