第127章 MEDITATIONS AT VERSAILLES(7)
He is said to have been such a smart journeyman blacksmith, that he might, if Fate had not perversely placed a crown on his head, have earned a couple of louis every week by the making of locks and keys.Those who will may see the workshop where he employed many useful hours: Madame Elizabeth was at prayers meanwhile; the queen was making pleasant parties with her ladies.Monsieur the Count d'Artois was learning to dance on the tight-rope; and Monsieur de Provence was cultivating l'eloquence du billet and studying his favorite Horace.It is said that each member of the august family succeeded remarkably well in his or her pursuits; big Monsieur's little notes are still cited.At a minuet or syllabub, poor Antoinette was unrivalled; and Charles, on the tight-rope, was so graceful and so gentil, that Madame Saqui might envy him.The time only was out of joint.O cursed spite, that ever such harmless creatures as these were bidden to right it!
A walk to the little Trianon is both pleasing and moral: no doubt the reader has seen the pretty fantastical gardens which environ it; the groves and temples; the streams and caverns (whither, as the guide tells you, during the heat of summer, it was the custom of Marie Antoinette to retire, with her favorite, Madame de Lamballe): the lake and Swiss village are pretty little toys, moreover; and the cicerone of the place does not fail to point out the different cottages which surround the piece of water, and tell the names of the royal masqueraders who inhabited each.In the long cottage, close upon the lake, dwelt the Seigneur du Village, no less a personage than Louis XV.; Louis XVI., the Dauphin, was the Bailli; near his cottage is that of Monseigneur the Count d'Artois, who was the Miller; opposite lived the Prince de Conde, who enacted the part of Gamekeeper (or, indeed, any other role, for it does not signify much); near him was the Prince de Rohan, who was the Aumonier; and yonder is the pretty little dairy, which was under the charge of the fair Marie Antoinette herself.
I forget whether Monsieur the fat Count of Provence took any share of this royal masquerading; but look at the names of the other six actors of the comedy, and it will be hard to find any person for whom Fate had such dreadful visitations in store.Fancy the party, in the days of their prosperity, here gathered at Trianon, and seated under the tall poplars by the lake, discoursing familiarly together: suppose of a sudden some conjuring Cagliostro of the time is introduced among them, and foretells to them the woes that are about to come."You, Monsieur l'Aumonier, the descendant of a long line of princes, the passionate admirer of that fair queen who sits by your side, shall be the cause of her ruin and your own, and shall die in disgrace and exile.You, son of the Condes, shall live long enough to see your royal race overthrown, and shall die by the hands of a hangman. You, oldest son of Saint Louis, shall perish by the executioner's axe; that beautiful head, O Antoinette, the same ruthless blade shall sever." "They shall kill me first,"says Lamballe, at the queen's side."Yes, truly," replies the soothsayer, "for Fate prescribes ruin for your mistress and all who love her." "And," cries Monsieur d'Artois, "do I not love my sister, too? I pray you not to omit me in your prophecies." In the diamond-necklace affair.
He was found hanging in his own bedroom.
Among the many lovers that rumor gave to the queen, poor Ferscu is the most remarkable.He seems to have entertained for her a high and perfectly pure devotion.He was the chief agent in the luckless escape to Varennes; was lurking in Paris during the time of her captivity; and was concerned in the many fruitless plots that were made for her rescue.Ferscu lived to be an old man, but died a dreadful and violent death.He was dragged from his carriage by the mob, in Stockholm, and murdered by them.
To whom Monsieur Cagliostro says, scornfully, "You may look forward to fifty years of life, after most of these are laid in the grave.
You shall be a king, but not die one; and shall leave the crown only; not the worthless head that shall wear it.Thrice shall you go into exile: you shall fly from the people, first, who would have no more of you and your race; and you shall return home over half a million of human corpses, that have been made for the sake of you, and of a tyrant as great as the greatest of your family.Again driven away, your bitterest enemy shall bring you back.But the strong limbs of France are not to be chained by such a paltry yoke as you can put on her: you shall be a tyrant, but in will only; and shall have a sceptre, but to see it robbed from your hand.""And pray, Sir Conjurer, who shall be the robber?" asked Monsieur the Count d'Artois.
This I cannot say, for here my dream ended.The fact is, I had fallen asleep on one of the stone benches in the Avenue de Paris, and at this instant was awakened by a whirling of carriages and a great clattering of national guards, lancers and outriders, in red.
His MAJESTY LOUIS PHILIPPE was going to pay a visit to the palace;which contains several pictures of his own glorious actions, and which has been dedicated, by him, to all the glories of France.
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