The Queen's Confession Part 39

We could only hope for help from Austria and Prussia now.

Madame Campan came back to me. I was very pleased to see her because I had always been fond of her and I liked her sound good sense. I remembered now how discreetly she had disapproved of the magnificent berlin which Axel had had made with such pride.

She was startled when she saw me. I saw her glance at my hair.

"It has turned white, Madame Campan," I said sadly.

"It is still beautiful, Madame," she answered.

I showed her a ring I had had mounted with a lock of hair. I intended to send it to the Princesse de Lamballe, whom I had commanded to go to London. She had left reluctantly and I wanted her to know how it pleased me to think of her in safety. I had the words "Bleached by sorrow" inscribed on the ring. It would be a warning to her not to return, for she had written to me telling me that she could not bear to stay away from me and that she believed that if I were in peril, so should she be.

"She was always a little stupid," I said to Madame Campan, "but the kindest and most affectionate of souls. I rejoice that she is not here."

My brother Leopold had died and his son Francis was now Emperor. He was twenty-four and I had never really known him; he showed little sympathy for my plight. He did not encourage those emigres who in his country were agitating against the revolutionaries of France; nor did he banish them.

The situation between France and Austria had become tense and eventually Louis was prevailed upon to declare war. It seemed like a nightmare to me. I remembered how my mother had worked to foster the alliance between France and Austria - and now here they were at war.

I was not dismayed. I could not become any more unpopular than I already was. And if my countrymen beat the French, their first task would be to restore the Monarchy.

I was exultant. I wrote to Axel: "G.o.d grant that vengeance will at length be taken for the provocations we have received from this country. Never have I been more proud than at this moment to have been born a German."

I was foolish perhaps. In truth, I had long forgotten that I was a German. I could scarcely speak the language. My husband was French; my children were French; and for years I had called this my country.

It was the French themselves who had refused to receive me. All I wanted was to go back to the old days; to be given another chance. I had learned bitter lessons and I now had the sense to apply them. I wanted to be left in peace to bring up my son to be a good King of France. That was all I asked.

The Princesse de Lamballe returned to Paris. While I embraced her I chided her.

"You were always a little fool," I told her.

"Yes, I know," she answered; and she laughed, and flung her arms about me and demanded to know how I thought she could be far away from me when she had to listen to all the terrible tales of what was happening in Paris.

June had come again. It was a year since we had attempted to escape. The summer weeks were the weeks of danger; then people congregated in the streets, in the Palais Royale; then it was easier to spread sedition.

Every effort seemed, to be made to humiliate the King; he was asked to sanction two decrees ordaining the deportation of priests and a formation of a camp of twenty thousand men outside Paris. Louis would have given way, but I urged him to apply the veto. This enraged the revolutionaries and I was to regret it afterwards, but I could not help deploring my husband's weakness.

The people had a new name for me: Madame Veto. They reminded themselves that I was the Austrian Woman and that they were at war with Austria. The members of the National a.s.sembly now believed that they would never conquer their enemies abroad until they had first dealt with those at home. I was the enemy - not the King.

Vergniaud, one of the leaders, was thundering warnings to the a.s.sembly.

"From where I speak," he declared, "I can see the dwelling place in which false counsellors lead astray and deceive the King who has given us the Const.i.tution ... I see the windows of the palace where they are hatching counterrevolutions and where they are contriving ways of sending us back to slavery. Let those who dwell in the aforementioned palace realize that our Const.i.tution guarantees inviolability to the King alone. Let them know that our laws will run there without distinction among the guilty, and that there is not any head proved to be criminal which can hope to escape pa.s.sing beneath the ax."

This was a direct attack on me. I was accustomed to them from the rabble; it was different when they came from the leaders of the Revolution.

It was the 20th June - the anniversary of our flight when the mob gathered about the Tuileries. They were shouting: "Down with the veto. The nation forever."

From the window I saw them - their filthy red caps on their heads; their knives and cudgels in their hands. These were the sans culottes ... the bloodthirsty mob, and they were already in the palace. My first thought was for the children. I ran upstairs where they were with Madame de Tourzel and the Princesse de Lamballe.

"They have the King," said the Princesse.

"I must go to him," I cried. "If he is in danger, I must be there." I turned to Madame de Tourzel. "Guard the children ..."

But one of the guards had come in and he barred the way. He said, "Madame, they are calling for you. It would madden them to see you. Stay here. Stay with the Dauphin and the Princesse."

My son was clutching at my skirts.

"Maman, stay with us. Stay with us," he cried. And the guard bade me stand by the wall with my children and Madame de Tourzel and the Princesse de Lamballe and some of the other women who had come running to join us. He put a table before us as a sort of barrier.

Elisabeth said: "They have come for you. I will go. They will think I am you ... and that will give you a chance to get away with the children."

I protested and the guards would not let her go. "There is nothing to be done, Madame, but stay here. The mob is all over the palace. They are surrounding it. There is no way out. To move from here would endanger yourself and do no good to anyone."

She reluctantly came back to stand behind the table. The National Guard, I realized, had come to protect us. One of them put a red cap on my head and another on the Dauphin which was so large that it covered his face.

We could hear the shouts coming from the room in which they held the King.

I was struck with terror wondering what was happening to my husband. I learned later how once more he won their respect. It is difficult to understand how a man who could not make up his mind, who was laughed at for a fool, could so quell a mob determined to kill him.

It was that extraordinary calm, that ability to look death in the face with indifference. They were never allowed to see my fear, but I showed it in my contempt for them. Louis never lost his tenderness for them. However vile they were, they were his children. His was the true courage.

The guards called out that it was their duty to defend the King with their lives and they intended to do their duty.

But what were a few guards against such a mob?

"a bas le veto!" they cried.

But the guards reminded them that the King's person should not be harmed. It was in the Const.i.tution.

"I cannot discuss the veto with you," said Louis calmly, "though I shall do what the Const.i.tution demands."

One of the mob strode forward, his knife in his hand.

"Have no fear, Sire," said one of the guards. "We will defend you with our lives."

The King smiled gently. "Put your hand on my heart," he said. "Then you will perceive whether I am afraid or not."

The man did so and cried that he was astonished that any man could be so calm at such a time.

None of them could doubt that the King's pulse was absolutely normal and they could not fail to be astonished.

Disconcerted in the face of such extraordinary courage, they did not know what to do, so one of them held out his red cap on the edge of his pike and with a natural gesture, which could only have been inspired, Louis took it and put it on his head.

The mob was silent for a while. Then they cried: "Vive le Roi!"

The danger was over for the King.

But they had never felt much rancor against the King. They rushed from the room and came to the Council Chamber, where I stood behind the table holding my children close to me.

A group of guards immediately placed themselves about the table.

They stared at me.

"That's the one. That's the Austrian woman."

The Dauphin was whimpering; the red cap was suffocating him. One of the guards saw my look and took the cap off the child's head. The women protested, but the soldier cried: "Would you suffocate a harmless child?"

And the women ... for they were mostly women ... were ashamed and did not answer. I felt relieved then. I could feel my son clutching my skirt hiding his face against me to shut out the horror of all this.

It was so hot; the crowded room was stifling. "Oh, G.o.d," I prayed. "Let death come quickly."

I would welcome it, for if we all died together, there could be no more suffering like this.

The soldiers had unsheathed their bayonets; the mob eyed them warily; but they were shouting obscenities about me; and I prayed again: "Oh, G.o.d, close my children's ears." I could only hope that they did not understand.

A man who was carrying a toy gibbet from which hung a female doll approached the table. He chanted: "Antoinette a la lanterne".

I held my head high and pretended not to see him.

One woman tried to spit at me. "Wh.o.r.e!" she cried. "Vile woman."

My daughter moved closer to me as though to protect me from this creature. My son clung tighter.

I looked into the woman's face and said: "Have I ever done you any harm?"

"You have brought misery to the nation."

"You have been told so, but you have been deceived As the wife of the King of France and the mother of the Dauphin, I am a Frenchwoman. I shall never see my own country again. I can be happy or unhappy only in France. I was happy when you loved me."

She was silent and I saw her lips moving; there were tears in her eyes.

I was aware too of the stillness about us. Everyone was quiet, listening to me as I spoke.

The woman looked at my child and lifted her eyes to me and said: "I ask pardon, Madame. I did not know you. But I see you are a good woman."

Then she turned away weeping.

That incident gave me courage. The people must be made aware that they had been fed on lies, for when they came face to face with me they knew they were false.

Another woman said: "She's only a woman ... with children."

That provoked ribald comments; but something had happened. The woman's tears had driven murder out of the room. They wanted to get away.

We stood behind the table for a long time and it was eight o'clock before the guards cleared the palace and we made our way over the debris of broken doors and furniture to our apartments.

I guessed that Axel would hear of this new a.s.sault and be anxious, so I sat down to write to him at once.

"I am still alive, though by a miracle. The twentieth was a terrible ordeal. But do not be anxious about me. Have faith in my courage."

Now we were living in a damaged palace and I felt we were on the edge of disaster. As the weather grew hotter I was aware of the rising tension. The a.s.sault on the Tuileries would not be an isolated attack, I was sure of that.

I ordered Madame Campan to have a padded under-waistcoat made for the King so that if he should be attacked at any time, there might be time for the guards to rescue him. It was made of fifteen folds of Italian taffeta - and comprised a waistcoat and a wide belt. I had had it tested; it resisted ordinary dagger thrusts and even shots fired at it were turned off.

I was afraid that someone would discover it and I wore it myself for three days before I had an opportunity of getting the King to try it on. I was in bed when he did so and I heard him whisper something to Madame Campan. It fitted him and he wore it, and when he had gone, I asked Campan what he had said.

She was reluctant, but I said: "You had better tell me. You should understand that it is as well for me to know everything."

She answered: "His Majesty said: 'It is only to satisfy the Queen that I submit to this inconvenience. They will not a.s.sa.s.sinate me. Their schemes have changed. They will put me to death in another way.'"

"I think he is right, Madame Campan," I said. "He has told me that he believes that what is happening here is an imitation of what once happened in England. The English cut off the head of their King Charles I. I fear they will bring him to trial. But I am a foreigner, my dear Madame Campan, not one of them. Perhaps they will have less scruples where I am concerned. They will very likely a.s.sa.s.sinate me. If it were not for the children ... I should not care. But the children, my dear Campan, what will become of them?"

Dear Campan was too full of sense to deny what I said. She was so practical that she immediately set about making me a corselet similar to the King's waistcoat.

I thanked her, but I would not wear it.

"If they kill me, Madame Campan, it will be fortunate for me. It will at least deliver me from this painful existence. Only the children worry me. But there are you and kind Tourzel and I do not believe that even those people would be cruel to little children. I remember how moved that woman was. It was because of the children. No, even they would not harm them. So ... when they kill me, do not mourn for me. Remember I shall go to a happier life than I suffer here."

Madame Campan was alarmed. All during that sultry July she refused to go to bed. She would sit in my apartment dozing ready to leap up at the first sound. I believe she saved my life on one occasion.

It was one o'clock in the morning when I started out of a doze to find Madame Campan bending over me.

"Madame!" she whispered. "Listen. There is someone creeping along the corridor."

I sat up in bed startled. The corridor pa.s.sed along the whole line of my apartments and was locked at each end.

Madame Campan dashed into the anteroom where the valet de chambre was sleeping. He too had heard the footsteps and was ready to rush out. In a few seconds Madame Campan and I heard the sounds of scuffling.

"Oh, Campan, Campan!" I said, and I put my arms about the dear faithful creature. "What should I do without friends such as you? Insults by day and a.s.sa.s.sins by night. Where will it end?"

"You have good servants, Madame," she said quietly.

And it was true, for the valet de chambre at that moment came into the bedroom dragging a man with him.

"I know the wretch, Madame," he said. "He is a servant of the King's toilette. He admits taking the key from His Majesty's pocket when the King was in bed."

He was a small man and the valet de chambre was both tall and strong and for this I had to be grateful, otherwise it would have been the end of me that night. The miserable wretch no doubt thought to earn the praise of the mob for doing something which they were constantly screaming should be done.

"I will lock him up, Madame," said the valet de chambre.

"No," I said. "Let him go. Open the door for him and send him away from the palace. He came to murder me and if he had succeeded, the people would be carrying him about in triumph tomorrow."

The valet obeyed me and when he returned, I thanked him and told him that I was grieved that he should be exposed to danger on my account. To this he replied that he feared nothing and that he had a pair of very excellent pistols which he carried always with him for no other purpose but to defend me.

Such incidents always moved me deeply and I said to Madame Campan as we returned to my bedroom that the goodness of people such as herself and the valet would never have been appreciated by me but for the fact that these terrible times brought it home to me.

She was touched, but she was already making plans to have all the locks changed the next day and she saw that the King's were too.

Now the great Terror was upon us. It was as though a new race of men had filtered into the capital - small, very dark, lithe, fierce, and bloodthirsty - the men of the south, the men of Ma.r.s.eilles.

With them they brought the song which had been composed by Rouget de Lisle, one of their officers. We were soon to hear it sung all over Paris and it was called the Ma.r.s.eillaise. Bloodthirsty words set to a rousing tune; it could not fail to win popularity. It replaced the until now favorite ca Ira and every time I heard it, it made me s.h.i.+ver. It haunted me. I would fancy I heard it when during the night I woke from an uneasy doze, for I was scarcely sleeping during these nights.