Chapter XXXIX: Touching the Princess Lamballe

It will easily be imagined that the event of which I am treating was the subject of conversation for fifteen days in the house of Duplay in which I was apprentice, in the place of Dumont.

Félicién, seeing that I entertained for Mdlle. Cornelie and Mdlle. Estelle only such affection as every well-educated man ought to have for women, drew in his nails and teeth, and became as good a comrade towards me as it was possible for him to be.

Still the revolution marched on with gigantic strides; the flight to Varennes having given it a terrible impetus.

On the 27th and 28th June, the Assembly promulgated the following decrees:—

“The gard du corps is disbanded.

“The King will be given a guard, under the command of the commander
of the Parisian National Guard, to contribute to his safety and
well being.

“The Queen will have a private guard of her own.

“Upon the events of the 21st of June, the Assembly will nominate
three commissioners, selected from their whole body, to receive the
declaration of the King and Queen.

“The sanction, the acceptance of the King, and all his legislative
and executive functions, are suspended.

“The ministers are authorized, each in his own department, and on
his own responsibility, to assume the executive power.”

The three commissioners were MM. Touche, Dandré, and Dupont.

There was, therefore, as can be readily seen, positive suspension of the functions of royalty.

This private guard of the Queen’s was a torment to her every day—every hour—every minute.

We have seen Prudhomme astonished that the Queen, having worn-out shoes, should require new ones, and that she should consider it indecent to leave open the doors of her bath and her bed-room.

In fact, the National Guard, frightened of the responsibility placed on their shoulders, literally kept the Queen in eyesight, and compelled her to keep open the doors of her bathing and bed-room. Once, the Queen, inspired with a natural feeling of modesty, having drawn the curtains of her bed the man on guard drew them back, for fear that she should escape by the staircase. On another occasion, the King having come to visit her about one in the morning, and having shut the door of the apartment—not of the Queen, but of his wife—the sentinel thrice opened it, saying, “Shut it as often as you like; I shall open it every time that you shut it!”

Happily, in this misery, the Queen found a friend. This friend was the Princess de Lamballe whose history is so well known that it is needless for me to touch upon it.

She was, however, through all vicissitudes, a faithful and affectionate friend to the Queen.

About the commencement of 1791, after the death of Mirabeau, the political horizon became so black that the King and Queen, the Count de Fersen, and Madame Elizabeth, all counselled the Princess to fly to Sardinia. Even the Pope, Pius the Sixth himself, insisted that she should visit Rome, to rejoin the friends of the King, who having raised in the Assembly the famous storm concerning the right of emigration sustained by Mirabeau, had happily crossed the frontier; but she firmly rejected all such proposals.

The Duc de Penthièvre who loved her as if she were his daughter, and the Duchess of Orleans, who admired her courage, wished by some means to force her to leave France. The Duc persuaded Louis the Sixteenth to write to the Court at Turin, in order that the King of Sardinia, as head of the family, should interpose his influence to compel the Princess to return to his dominions.

Here is the reply of the Princess de Lamballe:—

“SIRE AND RESPECTED COUSIN,—

“I do not remember that any of our illustrious ancestors of the
House of Savoy, before or after the great Charles Emmanuel,
of illustrious memory, ever disgraced themselves by an act of
treachery. I should do so were I to quit the Court of France at
this critical juncture. You will excuse my refusing your truly
royal invitation. The shedding of blood, and the madness of the
States, alike command that one and all should unite their efforts
for the preservation of the King and Queen and the royal family of
France. It is impossible to shake my resolution. I have determined,
once and for all, never to abandon, at a moment when they are
forsaken by their oldest servants, those who have none to look to
but me.

“In happier days, your Majesty can count on my obedience; but
to-day, as the Court of France is open to the persecutions of its
most atrocious enemies, I beg humbly the right of following my own
instincts of right. At the most brilliant epoch of the reign of
Marie Antoinette, I felt the warmth of royal favor, and can I now
abandon her? To do so, sire, would be to set the seal of eternal
infamy not only on my brow, but on those of all my relations; and I
fear that more than all other torments.”

It was then that the Queen employed a _ruse_ to get her to quit France.

She had been sent once before on a mission from the Queen to England; and the inherent grace of the family of Savoy—the same which made the Duchess of Burgundy so powerful over Louis XIV—enabled her to obtain from the King and Queen of England a promise never to forsake the King and Queen of France.

The moment to recall that promise to the English Court had arrived. The Queen desired the Princess de Lamballe to set out for London, and continue the negotiations already so happily commenced. She therefore left Paris, and reached England, stopping at Calais, at the famous “Hotel Dessein,” immortalized by Sterne in his “Sentimental Journey.”

It was whilst in London that the Princess learnt the flight to Varennes, the return of the royal family, and their imprisonment in the Tuileries. She sent a young English girl, in whom she had the utmost confidence, to Paris.

This messenger appeared close to the Queen. She had come in the name of the Princess, to learn the exact situation in which the family were placed.

The Queen sent her a letter, and a ring, enclosing a lock of her hair, as white as if her years numbered eighty.

On the ring was inscribed, “Whitened by sorrow.”

I give, underneath, an exact copy of the letter:—

“MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—

“The King is about to accept the Constitution. In a short time,
he will be solemnly proclaimed. A few days since, I held a secret
consultation in your apartment, with some of our most trusty
friends, among whom were Alexandre Lameth, Duport, Barnave,
Montmarni, Bertrand de Malville. These two last combated against
the counsel of those of the Ministry, and others, who advised
the King to accept the Constitution immediately, and without
restrictions; but they formed too feeble a minority for me to
decide, as they wished to pray the King to pay heed to their
opinion. All the others seemed to think that the contrary measure
would re-establish tranquillity, weaken the party of the Jacobins,
our enemies, and enlarge greatly the number of our partizans in
the nation. Your absence compelled me to call Elizabeth to our
aid, to clear the Pavilion of Flora of spies. She did not acquit
herself very well. Poor Elizabeth! you cannot expect much cunning
or circumspection in a woman so little accustomed to the intrigues
of a Court, and to the dangers which surrounded us. They try to
persuade us that we are in no danger. Would that it were so, and
that I could again open my arms and heart freely, to receive my
best friend! Although these are the most ardent aspirations of my
heart, nevertheless, my dear, my very dear Lamballe, pay heed to
nothing but your own inspirations. Some people say that they see
the future brilliant as the sun at mid-day. For my part, I confess,
it seems covered with clouds. I cannot see future events with all
the security that I could wish. The King, Elizabeth, myself,—in
fact, all the family—wish much to see you; but we should be
horrified at the thought of dragging you into the midst of events
equally fearful as those you have already witnessed.

“Reflect, then, and act as you think best. If we cannot see you,
send us the result of your conferences with the Precipice.[1]
Your young English friend will bring you plenty of letters. Will
you have them sent to their respective addresses as quickly as
possible, either by her, or in any other way that you may consider
more fitting?
“Your affectionate
“MARIE ANTOINETTE.”

On receiving this letter, the Princess left London, where she was in safety, and, without the slightest hesitation, returned to the Tuileries, to take her place by the side of the Queen.

But whilst Madame de Lamballe was at London, great events were taking place in Paris. The letter which we have quoted, although undated, is virtually dated, through the fact that the Queen speaks of the King’s accepting the Constitution; and it was on the 3rd of September only that a deputation from the National Assembly presented the Act of the Constitution for the acceptance of the King.

Let us now retrace our steps a little, and throw a glance at that terrible day, the 17th of July—day of the Champs de Mars—day of the red flag, which in 1848, furnished to M. de Lamartine, one of his most wonderful oratorical efforts.