VII. THE NIGHT OF GEMS--The "Affairs" Of The Queen's Necklace
Under the stars of a tepid, scented night of August of 1784, PrinceLouis de Rohan, Cardinal of Strasbourg, Grand Almoner of France, madehis way with quickened pulses through the Park of Versailles to amomentous assignation in the Grove of Venus.
This illustrious member of an illustrious House, that derived from boththe royal lines of Valois and Bourbon, was a man in the prime of life,of a fine height, still retaining something of the willowy slendernessthat had been his in youth, and of a gentle, almost womanly beauty ofcountenance.
In a grey cloak and a round, grey hat with gold cords, followed closelyby two shadowy attendant figures, he stepped briskly amain, eager toopen those gates across the path of his ambition, locked against himhitherto by the very hands from which he now went to receive the key.
He deserves your sympathy, this elegant Cardinal-Prince, who had beenthe victim of the malice and schemings of the relentless AustrianEmpress since the days when he represented the King of France at theCourt of Vienna.
The state he had kept there had been more than royal and royal inthe dazzling French manner, which was perturbing to a woman of MarieTherese's solid German notions. His hunting-parties, his supper-parties,the fetes he gave upon every occasion, the worldly inventiveness, thesumptuousness and reckless extravagance that made each of these affairsseem like a supplement to "The Arabian Nights' Entertainments," thesybaritic luxury of his surroundings, the incredible prodigality ofhis expenditure, all served profoundly to scandalize and embitter theEmpress.
That a priest in gay, secular clothes should hunt the stag on horsebackfilled her with horror at his levity; that he should flirt discreetlywith the noble ladies of Vienna made her despair of his morals; whilsthis personal elegance and irresistible charm were proofs to her of aprofligacy that perverted the Court over which she ruled.
She laboured for the extinction of his pernicious brilliance, andintrigued for his recall. She made no attempt to conceal her hostility,nor did she love him any the better because he met her frigidhaughtiness with an ironical urbanity that seemed ever to put her in thewrong. And then one day he permitted his wit to be bitingly imprudent.
"Marie Therese," he wrote to D'Aiguillon, "holds in one hand ahandkerchief to receive her tears for the misfortunes of oppressedPoland, and in the other a sword to continue its partition."
To say that in this witticism lay one of the causes of the FrenchRevolution may seem at first glance an outrageous overstatement. Yetit is certain that, but for that imprudent phrase, the need would neverhave arisen that sent Rohan across the Park of Versailles on that Augustnight to an assignation that in the sequel was to place a terribleweapon in the hands of the Revolutionary party.
D'Aiguillon had published the gibe. It had reached the ears of MarieAntoinette, and from her it had travelled back to her mother in Vienna.It aroused in the Empress a resentment and a bitterness that did notrest until the splendid Cardinal-Prince was recalled from his embassy.It did not rest even then. By the ridicule to which the gibe exposedher--and if you know Marie Therese at all, you can imagine what thatmeant--it provoked a hostility that was indefatigably to labour againsthim.
The Cardinal was ambitious, he had confidence in his talents and inthe driving force of his mighty family, and he looked to become anotherRichelieu or Mazarin, the first Minister of the Crown, the empurpledruler of France, the guiding power behind the throne. All this he lookedconfidently to achieve; all this he might have achieved but for theobstacle that Marie Therese's resentment flung across his path. TheEmpress saw to it that, through the person of her daughter, her hatredshould pursue him even into France.
Obedient ever to the iron will of her mother, sharing her mother'sresentment, Marie Antoinette exerted all her influence to thwart thisCardinal whom her mother had taught her to regard as a dangerous,unprincipled man.
On his return from Vienna bearing letters from Marie Therese to LouisXVI and Marie Antoinette, the Cardinal found himself coldly received bythe dull King, and discouraged from remaining at Court, whilst the Queenrefused to grant him so much as the audience necessary for the deliveryof these letters, desiring him to forward them instead.
The chagrined Cardinal had no illusions. He beheld here the handof Marie Therese controlling Marie Antoinette, and, through MarieAntoinette, the King himself. Worse followed. He who had dreamt himselfanother Richelieu could only with difficulty obtain the promisedposition of Grand Almoner of France, and this solely as a result of thepowerful and insistent influence exerted by his family.
He perceived that if he was to succeed at all he must begin by softeningthe rigorous attitude which the Queen maintained towards him. To thatend he addressed himself. But three successive letters he wrote to theQueen remained unanswered. Through other channels persistently he beggedfor an audience that he might come in person to express his regrets forthe offending indiscretion. But the Queen remained unmoved, ruled everby the Austrian Empress, who through her daughter sought to guide theaffairs of France.
Rohan was reduced to despair, and then in an evil hour his path wascrossed by Jeanne de la Motte de Valois, who enjoyed the reputationof secretly possessing the friendship of the Queen, exerting a sort ofback-stair influence, and who lived on that reputation.
As a drowning man clutches at a straw, so the Cardinal-Prince Louis deRohan, Grand Almoner of France, Landgrave of Alsace, Commander of theOrder of the Holy Ghost, clutched at this faiseuse d'affaires to helphim in his desperate need.
Jeanne de la Motte de Valois--perhaps the most astounding adventuressthat ever lived by her wits and her beauty--had begun life by beggingher bread in the streets. She laid claim to left-handed descent fromthe royal line of Valois, and, her claim supported by the MarchionessBoulainvilliers, who had befriended her, she had obtained from the Crowna small pension, and had married the unscrupulous Marc Antoine de laMotte, a young soldier in the Burgundy regiment of the Gendarmerie.
Later, in the autumn of 1786, her protectress presented her to Cardinalde Rohan. His Eminence, interested in the lady's extraordinary history,in her remarkable beauty, vivacity, and wit, received the De la Mottesat his sumptuous chateau at Saverne, near Strasbourg, heard her story ingreater detail, promised his protection, and as an earnest of hiskindly intentions obtained for her husband a captain's commission in theDragoons.
Thereafter you see the De la Mottes in Paris and at Versailles, hustledfrom lodging to lodging for failure to pay what they owe; and finallyinstalled in a house in the Rue Neuve Saint-Gilles. There they kepta sort of state, spending lavishly, now the money borrowed from theCardinal, or upon the Cardinal's security; now the proceeds of pawnedgoods that had been bought on credit, and of other swindles practisedupon those who were impressed by the lady's name and lineage and thepatronage of the great Cardinal which she enjoyed.
To live on your wits is no easy matter. It demands infinite address,coolness, daring, and resource qualities which Madame de la Mottepossessed in the highest degree, so that, harassed and pressed bycreditors, she yet contrived to evade their attacks and to present acalm and, therefore, confidence-inspiring front to the world.
The truth of Madame de la Motte de Valois's reputation for influenceat Court was never doubted. There was nothing in the character of MarieAntoinette to occasion such doubts. Indiscreet in many things, HerMajesty was most notoriously so in her attachments, as witness herintimacy with Madame de Polignac and the Princesse de Lambelle. And thepublic voice had magnified--as it will--those indiscretions until it hadtorn her character into shreds.
The fame of the Countess Jeanne de Valois--as Madame de la Motte nowstyled herself--increasing, she was employed as an intermediary byplace-seekers and people with suits to prefer, who gratefully purchasedher promises to interest herself on their behalf at Court.
And then into her web of intrigue blundered the Cardinal de Rohan, who,as he confessed, "was completely blinded by his immense desire to regainthe good graces of the Quee
n." She aroused fresh hope in his despairingheart by protesting that, as some return for all the favours she hadreceived from him, she would not rest until she had disposed the Queenmore favourably towards him.
Later came assurances that the Queen's hostility was melting under herpersuasions, and at last she announced that she was authorized by HerMajesty to invite him to submit the justification which so long and sovainly he had sought permission to present.
Rohan, in a vertigo of satisfaction, indited his justification,forwarded it to the Queen by the hand of the Countess, and some dayslater received a note in the Queen's hand upon blue-edged paper adornedby the lilies of France.
"I rejoice," wrote Marie Antoinette, "to find at last that you were notin fault. I cannot yet grant you the audience you desire, but as soon asthe circumstances allow of it I shall let you know. Be discreet."
Upon the advice of the Countess of Valois, His Eminence sent a replyexpressive of his deep gratitude and joy.
Thus began a correspondence between Queen and Cardinal which continuedregularly for a space of three months, growing gradually moreconfidential and intimate. As time passed his solicitations of anaudience became more pressing, until at last the Queen wrote announcingthat, actuated by esteem and affection for him who had so long been keptin banishment, she herself desired the meeting. But it must be secret.An open audience would still be premature; he had numerous enemies atCourt, who, thus forewarned, might so exert themselves against him asyet to ruin all.
To receive such a letter from a beautiful woman, and that woman a queenwhose glories her inaccessibility had magnified a thousandfold in hisimagination, must have all but turned the Cardinal's head. The secrecyof the correspondence, culminating in a clandestine meeting, seemed toestablish between them an intimacy impossible under other circumstances.
Into the warp of his ambition was now woven another, tenderly romantic,though infinitely respectful, feeling.
You realize, I hope, the frame of mind in which the Cardinal-Prince tookhis way through that luminous, fragrant summer night towards the Groveof Venus. He went to lay the cornerstone of the proud edifice ofhis ambitions. To him it was a night of nights--a night of gems, hepronounced it, looking up into the jewelled vault of heaven. And in thatphrase he was singularly prophetic.
By an avenue of boxwood and yoke-elm he entered into an open glade,in the middle of which there was a circle where the intended statue ofVenus was never placed. But if the cold marble effigy of a goddess wereabsent, the warm, living figure of a queen stood, all in shimmeringwhite amid the gloom, awaiting him.
Rohan checked a moment, his breath arrested, his pulses quickened. Thenhe sped forward, and, flinging off his wide-brimmed hat, he prostratedhimself to kiss the hem of her white cambric gown. Something--a rosethat she let fall--brushed lightly past his cheek. Reverently herecovered it, accounting it a tangible symbol of her favour, andhe looked up into the proud, lovely face--which, although but dimlydiscernible, was yet unmistakable to him protesting his gratitude anddevotion. He perceived that she was trembling, and caught the quiver inthe voice that answered him.
"You may hope that the past will be forgiven."
And then, before he could drink more deeply of this cup of delight,came rapid steps to interrupt them. A slender man, in whom the Cardinalseemed to recognize the Queen's valet Desclaux, thrust through thecurtains of foliage into the grove.
"Quick, madame!" he exclaimed in agitation. "Madame la Comtesse andMademoiselle d'Artois are approaching!"
The Queen was whirled away, and the Cardinal discreetly effaced himself,his happiness tempered by chagrin at the interruption.
When, on the morrow, the Countess of Valois brought him a blue-borderednote with Her Majesty's wishes that he should patiently await apropitious season for his public restoration to royal favour, heresigned himself with the most complete and satisfied submission. Hadhe not the memory of her voice and the rose she had given him? Soonafterwards came a blue-bordered note in which Marie Antoinette advisedhim to withdraw to his Bishopric of Strasbourg until she should judgethat the desired season of his reinstatement had arrived.
Obediently Rohan withdrew.
It was in the following December that the Countess of Valois's goodoffices at Court were solicited by a new client, and that she firstbeheld the famous diamond necklace.
It had been made by the Court jewellers of the Rue Vendome--Bohmer andBassenge--and intended for the Countess du Barry. On the assembling ofits component gems Bohmer had laboured for five years and travelled allover Europe, with the result that he had achieved not so much a necklaceas a blazing scarf of diamonds of a splendour outrivalling any jewelthat the world had ever seen.
Unfortunately, Bohmer was too long over the task. Louis XV diedinopportunely, and the firm found itself with a necklace worth twomillion livres on its hands.
Hopes were founded upon Marie Antoinette's reputed extravagance. Butthe price appalled her, while Louis XVI met the importunities of thejeweller with the reply that the country needed a ship of war moreurgently than a necklace.
Thereafter Bohmer offered it in various Courts of Europe, but alwayswithout success. Things were becoming awkward. The firm had borrowedheavily to pay for the stones, and anxiety seems to have driven Bohmerto the verge of desperation. Again he offered the necklace to theKing, announcing himself ready to make terms, and to accept payment ininstalments; but again it was refused.
Bohmer now became that pest to society, the man with a grievance that hemust be venting everywhere. On one occasion he so far forgot himselfas to intrude upon the Queen as she was walking in the gardens of theTrianon. Flinging himself upon his knees before her, he protested withsobs that he was in despair, and that unless she purchased the necklacehe would go and drown himself. His tears left her unmoved to anythingbut scorn.
"Get up, Bohmer!" she bade him. "I don't like such scenes. I haverefused the necklace, and I don't want to hear of it again. Instead ofdrowning yourself, break it up and sell the diamonds separately."
He did neither one nor the other, but continued to air his grievance;and among those who heard him was one Laporte, an impecunious visitor atthe house of the Countess of Valois.
Bohmer had said that he would pay a thousand louis to any one who foundhim a purchaser for the necklace. That was enough to stir the needyLaporte. He mentioned the matter to the Countess, and enlisted herinterest. Then he told Bohmer of her great influence with the Queen, andbrought the jeweller to visit her with the necklace.
Dazzled by the fire of those gems, the Countess neverthelessprotested--but in an arch manner calculated to convince Bohmer of thecontrary--that she had no power to influence Her Majesty. Yet yieldingwith apparent reluctance to his importunities, she, nevertheless, endedby promising to see what could be done.
On January 3d the Cardinal came back from Strasbourg. Correspondencewith the Queen, through Madame de Valois, had continued during hisabsence, and now, within a few days of his return, an opportunity wasto be afforded him of proving his readiness to serve Her Majesty, and ofplacing her under a profound obligation to him.
The Countess brought him a letter from Marie Antoinette, in which theQueen expressed her desire to acquire the necklace, but added that,being without the requisite funds at the moment, it would be necessaryto settle the terms and arrange the instalments, which should be paid atintervals of three months. For this she required an intermediary who inhimself would be a sufficient guarantee to the Bohmers, and she ended byinviting His Eminence to act on her behalf.
That invitation the Cardinal, who had been waiting ever since themeeting in the Grove of Venus for an opportunity of proving himself,accepted with alacrity.
And so, on January 24th, the Countess drives up to the Grand Balcon, thejewellers' shop in the Rue Vendome. Her dark eyes sparkle, the lovely,piquant face is wreathed in smiles.
"Messieurs," she greets the anxious partners, "I think I can promise youthat the necklace will very shortly be sold."
The j
ewellers gasp in the immensity of the hope her words arouse.
"The purchase," she goes on to inform them, "will be effected by a verygreat nobleman."
Bassenge bursts into voluble gratitude. She cuts it short.
"That nobleman is the Cardinal-Prince Louis de Rohan. It is with himthat you will arrange the affair, and I advise you," she adds in aconfidential tone, "to take every precaution, especially in the matterof the terms of payment that may be proposed to you. That is all,I think, messieurs. You will, of course, bear in mind that it is noconcern of mine, and that I do not so much as want my name mentioned inconnection with it."
"Perfectly, madame," splutters Bohmer, who is perspiring, although theair is cold--"perfectly! We understand, and we are profoundly grateful.If--" His hands fumble nervously at a case. "If you would deign, madame,to accept this trifle as an earnest of our indebtedness, we--"
There is a tinge of haughtiness in her manner as she interrupts him.
"You do not appear to understand, Bohmer, that the matter does not atall concern me. I have done nothing," she insists; then, melting intosmiles, "My only desire," she adds, "was to be of service to you."
And upon that she departs, leaving them profoundly impressed by hergraciousness and still more by her refusal to accept a valuable jewel.
On the morrow the great nobleman she had heralded, the Cardinal himself,alighted at the Grand Balcon, coming, on the Queen's behalf, to see thenecklace and settle the terms. By the end of the week the bargain wasconcluded. The price was fixed at 1,600,000 livres, which the Queen wasto pay in four instalments extending over two years, the first fallingdue on the following August 1st.
These terms the Cardinal embodied in a note which he forwarded to Madamede la Motte, that they might be ratified by the Queen.
The Countess returned the note to him next day.
"Her Majesty is pleased and grateful," she announced, "and she approvesof all that you have done. But she does not wish to sign anything."
On that point, however, the Cardinal was insistent. The magnitude ofthe transaction demanded it, and he positively refused to move furtherwithout Her Majesty's signature.
The Countess departed to return again on the last day of the monthwith the document completed as the Cardinal required, bearing now thesignature "Marie Antoinette de France," and the terms marked "approved"in the Queen's hand.
"The Queen," Madame de la Motte informed him, "is making this purchasesecretly, without the King's knowledge, and she particularly begs thatthis note shall not leave Your Eminence's hands. Do not, therefore,allow any one to see it."
Rohan gave the required promise, but, not conceiving that the Bohmerswere included in it, he showed them the note and the Queen's signaturewhen they came to wait upon him with the necklace on the morrow.
In the dusk of evening a closed carriage drew up at the door of Madamede la Motte Valois's lodging on the Place Dauphine at Versailles. Rohanalighted, and went upstairs with a casket under his arm.
Madame awaited him in a white-panelled, indifferently lighted room, towhich there was an alcove with glass doors.
"You have brought the necklace?"
"It is here," he replied, tapping the box with his gloved hand.
"Her Majesty is expecting it to-night. Her messenger should arrive atany moment. She will be pleased with Your Eminence."
"That is all that I can desire," he answered gravely; and sat down inanswer to her invitation, the precious casket on his knees.
Waiting thus, they talked desultorily for some moments. At last camesteps upon the stairs.
"Quick! The alcove!" she exclaimed. "You must not be seen by HerMajesty's messenger."
Rohan, with ready understanding, a miracle of discretion, effacedhimself into the alcove, through the glass doors of which he could seewhat passed.
The door was opened by madame's maid with the announcement:
"From the Queen."
A tall, slender young man in black, the Queen's attendant of that othernight of gems--the night of the Grove of Venus--stepped quickly into theroom, bowed like a courtier to Madame de la Motte, and presented a note.
Madame broke the seal, then begged the messenger to withdraw for amoment. When he had gone, she turned to the Cardinal, who stood in thedoorway of the alcove.
"That is Desclaux, Her Majesty's valet," she said; and held out to himthe note, which requested the delivery of the necklace to the bearer.
A moment later the messenger was reintroduced to receive the casket fromthe hands of Madame de la Motte. Within five minutes the Cardinal was inhis carriage again, driving happily back to Paris with his dreams of aqueen's gratitude and confidence.
Two days later, meeting Bohmer at Versailles, the Cardinal suggested tohim that he should offer his thanks to the Queen for having purchasedthe necklace.
Bohmer sought an opportunity for this in vain. None offered. It was alsoin vain that he waited to hear that the Queen had worn the necklace.But he does not appear to have been anxious on that score. Moreover,the Queen's abstention was credibly explained by Madame de la Motte toLaporte with the statement that Her Majesty did not wish to wear thenecklace until it was paid for.
With the same explanation she answered the Cardinal's inquiries inthe following July, when he returned from a three months' sojourn inStrasbourg.
And she took the opportunity to represent to him that one of the reasonswhy the Queen could not yet consider the necklace quite her own was thatshe found the price too high.
"Indeed, she may be constrained to return it, after all, unless theBohmers are prepared to be reasonable."
If His Eminence was a little dismayed by this, at least any nascentuneasiness was quieted. He consented to see the jewellers in the matter,and on July 10th--three weeks before the first instalment was due--hepresented himself at the Grand Balcon to convey the Queen's wishes tothe Bohmers.
Bohmer scarcely troubled to prevent disgust from showing on hiskeen, swarthy countenance. Had not his client been a queen and herintermediary a cardinal, he would, no doubt, have afforded it fullexpression.
"The price agreed upon was already greatly below the value of thenecklace," he grumbled. "I should never have accepted it but for thedifficulties under which we have been placed by the purchase of thestones--the money we owe and the interest we are forced to pay. Afurther reduction is impossible."
The handsome Cardinal was suave, courtly, regretful, but firm. Sincethat was the case, there would be no alternative but to return thenecklace.
Bohmer took fright. The annulment of the sale would bring him face toface with ruin. Reluctantly, feeling that he was being imposed upon, hereduced the price by two hundred thousand livres, and even consented towrite the Queen the following letter, whose epistolary grace suggeststhe Cardinal's dictation:
MADAME,--We are happy to hazard the thought that our submission withzeal and respect to the last arrangement proposed constitutes a proofof our devotion and obedience to the orders of Your Majesty. And we havegenuine satisfaction in thinking that the most beautiful set of diamondsin existence will serve to adorn the greatest and best of queens.
Now it happened that Bohmer was about to deliver personally to the Queensome jewels with which the King was presenting her on the occasion ofthe baptism of his nephew. He availed himself of that opportunity, twodays later, personally to hand his letter to Her Majesty. But chancebrought the Comptroller-General into the room before she had opened it,and as a result the jeweller departed while the letter was still unread.
Afterwards, in the presence of Madame de Campan, who relates the matterin her memoirs, the Queen opened the note, pored over it a while, andthen, perhaps with vivid memories of Bohmer's threat of suicide:
"Listen to what that madman Bohmer writes to me," she said, and read thelines aloud. "You guessed the riddles in the 'Mercure' this morning. Iwonder could you guess me this one."
And, with a half-contemptuous shrug, she held the sheet in the flameof one of the tapers that stood a
light on the table for the purpose ofsealing letters.
"That man exists for my torment," she continued. "He has always some madnotion in his head, and must always be visiting it upon me. When nextyou see him, pray convince him how little I care for diamonds."
And there the matter was dismissed.
Days passed, and then a week before the instalment of 350,000 livreswas due, the Cardinal received a visit from Madame de la Motte on theQueen's behalf.
"Her Majesty," madame announced, "seems embarrassed about theinstalment. She does not wish to trouble you by writing about it. ButI have thought of a way by which you could render yourself agreeable toher and, at the same time, set her mind at rest. Could you not raise aloan for the amount?"
Had not the Cardinal himself dictated to Bohmer a letter which Bohmerhimself had delivered to the Queen, he must inevitably have suspected bynow that all was not as it should be. But, satisfied as he was by thatcircumstance, he addressed himself to the matter which Madame de laMotte proposed. But, although Rohan was extraordinarily wealthy, he hadever been correspondingly lavish.
Moreover, to complicate matters, there had been the bankruptcy of hisnephew, the Prince de Guimenee, whose debts had amounted to some threemillion livres. Characteristically, and for the sake of the familyhonour, Rohan had taken the whole of this burden upon his own shoulders.Hence his resources were in a crippled condition, and it was beyond hispower to advance so considerable a sum at such short notice. Nor did hesucceed in obtaining a loan within the little time at his disposal.
His anxieties on this score were increased by a letter from the Queenwhich Madame de la Motte brought him on July 30th, in which Her Majestywrote that the first instalment could not be paid until October 1st; butthat on that date a payment of seven hundred thousand livres--half ofthe revised price--would unfailingly be made. Together with this letter,Madame de la Motte handed him thirty thousand livres, interest on theinstalment due, with which to pacify the jewellers.
But the jewellers were not so easily to be pacified. Bohmer, at theend of his patience, definitely refused to grant the postponement orto receive the thirty thousand livres other than as on account of theinstalment due.
The Cardinal departed in vexation. Something must be done at once,or his secret relations with the Queen would be disclosed, thusprecipitating a catastrophe and a scandal. He summoned Madame de laMotte, flung her into a panic with his news and sent her away to seewhat she could do. What she actually did would have surprised him.Realizing that a crisis had been reached calling for bold measures, shesent for Bassenge, the milder of the two partners. He came to the RueNeuve Saint-Gilles, protesting that he was being abused.
"Abused?" quoth she, taking him up on the word. "Abused, do you say?"She laughed sharply. "Say duped, my friend; for that is what hashappened to you. You are the victim of a swindle."
Bassenge turned white; his prominent eyes bulged in his rather pastyface.
"What are you saying, madame?" His voice was husky.
"The Queen's signature on the note in the Cardinal's possession is aforgery."
"A forgery! The Queen's signature? Oh, mon Dieu!" He stared at her, andhis knees began to tremble. "How do you know, madame?"
"I have seen it," she answered.
"But--but--"
His nerveless limbs succumbing under him, he sank without ceremony toa chair that was opportunely near him. With the same lack of ceremony,mechanically, in a dazed manner, he mopped the sweat that stood in beadson his brow, then raised his wig and mopped his head.
"There is no need to waste emotion," said she composedly. "The Cardinalde Rohan is very rich. You must look to him. He will pay you."
"Will he?"
Hope and doubt were blended in the question.
"What else?" she asked. "Can you conceive that he will permit such ascandal to burst about his name and the name of the Queen?"
Bassenge saw light. The rights and wrongs of the case, and who mightbe the guilty parties, were matters of very secondary importance. Whatmattered was that the firm should recover the 1,600,000 livres for whichthe necklace had been sold; and Bassenge was quick to attach full valueto the words of Madame de la Motte.
Unfortunately for everybody concerned, including the jewellersthemselves, Bohmer's mind was less supple. Panic-stricken by Bassenge'sreport, he was all for the direct method. There was no persuading him toproceed cautiously, and to begin by visiting the Cardinal. He tore awayto Versailles at once, intent upon seeing the Queen. But the Queen,as we know, had had enough of Bohmer. He had to content himself withpouring his mixture of intercessions and demands into the ears of Madamede Campan.
"You have been swindled, Bohmer," said the Queen's lady promptly. "HerMajesty never received the necklace."
Bohmer would not be convinced. Disbelieving, and goaded to fury, hereturned to Bassenge.
Bassenge, however, though perturbed, retained his calm. The Cardinal,he insisted, was their security, and it was impossible to doubt thatthe Cardinal would fulfil his obligations at all costs, rather than beoverwhelmed by a scandal.
And this, no doubt, is what would have happened but for that hasty visitof Bohmer's to Versailles. It ruined everything. As a result of it,Bohmer was summoned to wait instantly upon the Queen in the mater ofsome paste buckles.
The Queen received the jeweller in private, and her greeting proved thatthe paste buckles were a mere pretext. She demanded to know the meaningof his words to Madame de Campan.
Bohmer could not rid himself of the notion that he was being trifledwith. Had he not written and himself delivered to the Queen a letterin which he thanked her for purchasing the necklace, and had not thatletter remained unanswered--a silent admission that the necklace was inher hands? In his exasperation he became insolent.
"The meaning, madame? The meaning is that I require payment for mynecklace, that the patience of my creditors is exhausted, and thatunless you order the money to be paid, I am a ruined man!"
Marie Antoinette considered him in cold, imperious anger.
"Are you daring to suggest that your necklace is in my possession?"
Bohmer was white to the lips, his hands worked nervously.
"Does Your Majesty deny it?"
"You are insolent!" she exclaimed. "You will be good enough to answerquestions, not to ask them. Answer me, then. Do you suggest that I haveyour necklace?"
But a desperate man is not easily intimidated.
"No, madame; I affirm it! It was the Countess of Valois who--"
"Who is the Countess of Valois?"
That sudden question, sharply uttered, was a sword of doubt throughthe heart of Bohmer's confidence. He stared wide-eyed a moment at theindignant lady before him, then collected himself, and made as plain atale as he could of the circumstances under which he had parted withthe necklace Madame de la Motte's intervention, the mediation of theCardinal de Rohan with Her Majesty's signed approval of the terms, andthe delivery of the necklace to His Eminence for transmission to theQueen.
Marie Antoinette listened in increasing horror and anger. A flush creptinto her pale cheeks.
"You will prepare and send me a written statement of what you have justtold me," she said. "You have leave to go."
That interview took place on August 9th. The 15th was the Feast of theAssumption, and also the name-day of the Queen, therefore a gala day atCourt, bringing a concourse of nobility to Versailles. Mass was to becelebrated in the royal chapel at ten o'clock, and the celebrant, as bycustom established for the occasion, was the Grand Almoner of France,the Cardinal de Rohan.
But at ten o'clock a meeting was being held in the King's cabinet,composed of the King and Queen, the Baron de Breteuil, and the Keeper ofthe Seals, Miromesnil. They were met, as they believed, to decide upon acourse of action in the matter of a diamond necklace. In reality, thesepuppets in the hands of destiny were helping to decide the fate of theFrench monarchy.
The King, fat, heavy, and phlegmatic, sat in a gilded chair by anormolu-encrust
ed writing-table. His bovine eyes were troubled. Twowrinkles of vexation puckered the flesh above his great nose. Beside,and slightly behind him, stood the Queen, white and imperious, whilstfacing them stood Monsieur de Breteuil, reading aloud the statementwhich Bohmer had drawn up.
When he had done, there was a moment's utter silence. Then the Kingspoke, his voice almost plaintive.
"What is to be done, then? But what is to be done?"
It was the Queen who answered him, harshly and angrily.
"When the Roman purple and a princely title are but masks to cover aswindler, there is only one thing to be done. This swindler must beexposed and punished."
"But," the King faltered, "we have not heard the Cardinal."
"Can you think that Bohmer, that any man, would dare to lie upon such amatter?"
"But consider, madame, the Cardinal's rank and family," calmlyinterposed the prudent Miromesnil; "consider the stir, the scandal thatmust ensue if this matter is made public."
But the obedient daughter of Marie Therese, hating Rohan at her mother'sbidding and for her mother's sake, was impatient of any such wiseconsiderations.
"What shall the scandal signify to us?" she demanded. The King looked atBreteuil.
"And you, Baron? What is your view?"
Breteuil, Rohan's mortal enemy, raised his shoulders and flipped thedocument.
"In the face of this, Sire, it seems to me that the only course is toarrest the Cardinal."
"You believe, then--" began the King, and checked, leaving the sentenceunfinished.
But Breteuil had understood.
"I know that the Cardinal must be pressed for money," he said. "Everprodigal in his expenditure, he is further saddled with the debts of thePrince de Guimenee."
"And you can believe," the King cried, "that a Prince of the House ofRohan, however pressed for money, could--Oh, it is unimaginable!"
"Yet has he not stolen my name?" the Queen cut in. "Is he not proven acommon, stupid forger?"
"We have not heard him," the King reminded her gently.
"And His Eminence might be able to explain," ventured Miromesnil. "Itwere certainly prudent to give him the opportunity."
Slowly the King nodded his great, powdered head. "Go and find him. Bringhim at once!" he bade Breteuil; and Breteuil bowed and departed.
Very soon he returned, and he held the door whilst the handsomeCardinal, little dreaming what lay before him, serene and calm, acommanding figure in his cassock of scarlet watered silk, rustledforward into the royal presence, and so came face to face with the Queenfor the first time since that romantic night a year ago in the Grove ofVenus.
Abruptly the King launched his thunderbolt.
"Cousin," he asked, "what purchase is this of a diamond necklace thatyou are said to have made in the Queen's name?"
King and Cardinal looked into each other's eyes, the King's narrowing,the Cardinal's dilating, the King leaning forward in his chair, elbowson the table, the Cardinal standing tense and suddenly rigid.
Slowly the colour ebbed from Rohan's face, leaving it deathly pale. Hiseyes sought the Queen, and found her contemptuous glance, her curlinglip. Then at last his handsome head sank a little forward.
"Sire," he said unsteadily, "I see that I have been duped. But I haveduped nobody."
"You have no reason to be troubled, then. You need but to explain."
Explain! That was precisely what he could not do. Besides, what wasthe nature of the explanation demanded of him? Whilst he stood strickenthere, it was the Queen who solved this question.
"If, indeed, you have been duped," she said scornfully, her colour high,her eyes like points of steel, "you have been self-duped. But even thenit is beyond belief that self-deception could have urged you to thelengths of passing yourself off as my intermediary--you, who should knowyourself to be the last man in France I should employ, you to whom Ihave not spoken once in eight years." Tears of anger glistened in hereyes; her voice shrilled up. "And yet, since you have not denied it,since you put forward this pitiful plea that you have been duped, wemust believe the unbelievable."
Thus at a blow she shattered the fond hopes he had been cherishing eversince the night of gems--of gems, forsooth!--in the Grove of Venus; thusshe laid his ambition in ruins about him, and left the man himself halfstunned.
Observing his disorder, the ponderous but kindly monarch rose.
"Come, my cousin," he said more gently, "collect yourself. Sit down hereand write what you may have to say in answer."
And with that he passed into the library beyond, accompanied by theQueen and the two Ministers.
Alone, Rohan staggered forward and sank nervelessly into the chair. Hetook up a pen, pondered a moment, and began to write. But he did notyet see clear. He could not yet grasp the extent to which he had beendeceived, could not yet believe that those treasured notes from MarieAntoinette were forgeries, that it was not the Queen who had met him inthe Grove of Venus and given him the rose whose faded petals kept thoseletters company in a portfolio of red morocco. But at least it was clearto him that, for the sake of honour--the Queen's honour--he must assumeit so; and in that assumption he now penned his statement.
When it was completed, himself he bore it to the King in the library.
Louis read it with frowning brows; then passed it to the Queen.
"Have you the necklace now?" he asked Rohan.
"Sir, I left it in the hands of this woman Valois."
"Where is this woman?"
"I do not know, Sire."
"And the letter of authority bearing the Queen's signature, which thejewellers say you presented to them--where is that?"
"I have it, Sire. I will place it before you. It is only now that Irealize that it is a forgery."
"Only now!" exclaimed the Queen in scorn.
"Her Majesty's name has been compromised," said the King sternly. "Itmust be cleared. As King and as husband my duty is clear. Your Eminencemust submit to arrest."
Rohan fell back a step in stupefaction. For disgrace and dismissal hewas prepared, but not for this.
"Arrest?" he whispered. "Ah, wait, Sire. The publicity! The scandal!Think of that! As for the necklace, I will pay for it myself, and so payfor my credulous folly. I beseech you, Sire, to let the matter end here.I implore it for my own sake, for the sake of the Prince de Soubiseand the name of Rohan, which would be smirched unjustly and to no goodpurpose."
He spoke with warmth and force; and, without adding more, yet conveyedan impression that much more could be said for the course he urged.
The King hesitated, considering. Noting this, the prudent, far-seeingMiromesnil ventured to develop the arguments at which Rohan had hinted,laying stress upon the desirability of avoiding scandal.
Louis was nodding, convinced, when Marie Antoinette, unable longer tocontain her rancour, broke into opposition of those prudent measures.
"This hideous affair must be disclosed," she insisted. "It is due to methat it should publicly be set right. The Cardinal shall tell the worldhow he came to suppose that, not having spoken to him for eight years,I could have wished to make use of his services in the purchase of thisnecklace."
She was in tears, and her weak, easily swayed husband accounted herjustified in her demand. And so, to the great consternation of all theworld, Prince Louis de Rohan was arrested like a common thief.
A foolish, indiscreet, short-sighted woman had allowed her rancour tooverride all other considerations--careless of consequences, careless ofinjustice so that her resentment, glutted by her hatred of the Cardinal,should be gratified. The ungenerous act was terribly to recoil upon her.In tears and blood was she to expiate her lack of charity; very soon shewas to reap its bitter fruits.
Saint-Just, a very prominent counsellor of the Parliament, one of themost advanced apostles of the new ideas that were to find full fruitionin the Revolution, expressed the popular feeling in the matter.
"Great and joyful affair! A cardinal and a queen implicated in a forgerya
nd a swindle! Filth on the crosier and the sceptre! What a triumph forthe ideas of liberty!"
At the trial that followed before Parliament, Madame de la Motte, aman named Reteaux de Villette--who had forged the Queen's hand andimpersonated Desclaux and a Mademoiselle d'Oliva--who had used herstriking resemblance to Marie Antoinette to impersonate the Queen in theGrove of Venus were found guilty and sentenced. But the necklace was notrecovered. It had been broken up, and some of the diamonds were alreadysold; others were being sold in London by Captain de la Motte, who hadgone thither for the purpose, and who prudently remained there.
The Cardinal was acquitted, amid intense public joy and acclamation,which must have been gall and wormwood to the Queen. His powerfulfamily, the clergy of France, and the very people, with whom he had everbeen popular, had all laboured strenuously to vindicate him. And thusit befell that the one man the Queen had aimed at crushing was the onlyperson connected with the affair who came out of it unhurt. The Queen'sanimus against the Cardinal aroused against her the animus of hisfriends of all classes. Appalling libels of her were circulatedthroughout Europe. It was thought and argued that she was more deeplyimplicated in the swindle than had transpired, that Madame de la Mottewas a scapegoat, that the Queen should have stood her trial with theothers, and that she was saved only by the royalty that hedged her.
Conceive what a weapon this placed in the hands of the men of the newideas of liberty--men who were bent on proving the corruption of asystem they sought to destroy!
Marie Antoinette should have foreseen something of this. She might havedone so had not her hatred blinded her, had she been less intent uponseizing the opportunity at all costs to make Rohan pay for his barbedwitticism upon her mother. She might have been spared much had she butspared Rohan when the chance was hers. As it was, the malevolent echoesof the affair and of Saint-Just's exultation were never out of herears. They followed her to her trial eight years later before therevolutionary tribunal. They followed her to the very scaffold, of whichthey had undoubtedly supplied a plank.