Marie Antoinette and Her Son

Luise Muhlbach

Description

pubOne.info present you this new edition. It was the 13th of August, 1785. The queen, Marie Antoinette, had at last yielded to the requests and protestations of her dear subjects. She had left her fair Versailles and loved Trianon for one day, and had gone to Paris, in order to exhibit herself and the young prince whom she had borne to the king and the country on the 25th of March, and to receive in the cathedral of Notre Dame the blessing of the clergy and the good wishes of the Parisians.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 06 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9782819948490
• Langue: English

Extrait

BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
A HAPPY QUEEN.
It was the 13th of August, 1785. The queen, MarieAntoinette, had at last yielded to the requests and protestationsof her dear subjects. She had left her fair Versailles and lovedTrianon for one day, and had gone to Paris, in order to exhibitherself and the young prince whom she had borne to the king and thecountry on the 25th of March, and to receive in the cathedral ofNotre Dame the blessing of the clergy and the good wishes of theParisians.
She had had an enthusiastic reception, thisbeautiful and much loved queen, Marie Antoinette. She had driveninto Paris in an open carriage, in company with her three children,and every one who recognized her had greeted her with a cheerfulhuzzah, and followed her on the long road to Notre Dame, at whosedoor the prominent clergy awaited her, the cardinal, Prince Louisde Rohan, at their head, to introduce her to the house of the Kingof all kings.
Marie Antoinette was alone; only the governess ofthe children, the Duchess de Polignac, sat opposite her, upon theback seat of the carriage, and by her side the Norman nurse, in hercharming variegated district costume, cradling in her arms LouisCharles, the young Duke of Normandy. By her side, in the front partof the carriage, sat her other two children— Therese, the princessroyal, the first-born daughter, and the dauphin Louis, thepresumptive heir of the much loved King Louis the Sixteenth. Thegood king had not accompanied his spouse on this journey to Paris,which she undertook in order to show to her dear, yet curiousParisians that she was completely recovered, and that her children,the children of France, were blossoming for the future like fairbuds of hope and peace.
“Go, my dear Antoinette, ” the king had said to hisqueen, in his pleasant way and with his good natured smile— “ go toParis in order to prepare a pleasure for my good people. Show themour children, and receive from them their thanks for the happinesswhich you have given to me and to them. I will not go with you, forI wish that you should be the sole recipient of the enthusiasm ofthe people and their joyful acclamations. I will not share yourtriumph, but I shall experience it in double measure if you enjoyit alone. Go, therefore, my beloved Antoinette, and rejoice in thishappy hour. ”
Marie Antoinette did go, and she did rejoice in thehappiness of the hour. "While riding through Paris, hundredsrecognized her, hundreds hailed her with loud acclamations. As sheleft the cathedral of Notre Dame, in order to ascend into thecarriage again with her children and their governess, one would betempted to think that the whole square in front of the church hadbeen changed into a dark, tumultuous sea, which dashed its ragingblack waves into all the streets debouching on the square, and wasfilling all Paris with its roar, its swell, its thunder roll. Yes,all Paris was there, in order to look upon Marie Antoinette, who,at this hour, was not the queen, but the fair woman; the happymother who, with the pride of the mother of the Gracchi, desired noother protection and no other companionship than that of her twosons; who, her hand resting upon the shoulder of her daughter,needed no other maid of honor to appear before the people in allthe splendor and all the dignity of the Queen of France and thetrue mother.
Yes, all Paris was there in order to greet thequeen, the woman, and the mother, and out of thousands uponthousands of throats there sounded forth the loud ringing shout,“Long live the queen! Long live Marie Antoinette! Long live thefair mother and the fair children of France! ”
Marie Antoinette felt herself deeply moved by theseshouts. The sight of the faces animated with joy, of the flashingeyes, and the intoxicated peals of laughter, kindled her heart,drove the blood to her cheeks, and made her countenance beam withjoy, and her eyes glisten with delight. She rose from her seat, andwith a gesture of inimitable grace took the youngest son from thearms of the nurse, and lifted him high in the air, in order todisplay this last token of her happiness and her motherly pride tothe Parisians, who had not yet seen the child. The little hat,which had been placed sideways upon the high toupet of her powderedhead, had dropped upon her neck; the broad lace cuffs had fallenback from the arms which lifted the child into the air, and allowedthe whole arm to be seen without any covering above the elbow.
The eyes of the Parisians drank in this spectaclewith perfect rapture, and their shouting arose every moment like aburst of fanaticism.
“How beautiful she is! ” resounded everywhere fromthe mass. “What a wonderful arm! What a beautiful neck! ”
A deep flush mantled the face of Marie Antoinette.These words of praise, which were a tribute to the beauty of thewoman, awoke the queen from the ecstasy into which the enthusiasmof her subjects had transported her. She surrendered the childagain to the arms of his nurse, and sank down quickly like afrightened dove into the cushions of the carriage, hastily drawingup at the same time the lace mantle which had fallen from hershoulders and replacing her hat upon her head.
“Tell the coachman to drive on quickly, ” she saidto the nurse; and while the latter was communicating this order,Marie Antoinette turned to her daughter. “Now, Therese, ” askedshe, laughing, “is it not a beautiful spectacle our people takingso much pleasure in seeing us? ”
The little princess of seven years shook her proudlittle head with a doubting, dark look.
“Mamma, ” said she, “these people look very dirtyand ugly. I do not like them! ”
“Be still, my child, be still, ” whispered thequeen, hastily, for she feared lest the men who pressed thecarriage so closely as almost to touch its doors, might hear theunthinking words of the little girl.
Marie Antoinette had not deceived herself. A man ina blouse, who had even laid his hand upon the carriage, and whosehead almost touched the princess, a man with a blazing, determinedface, and small, piercing black eyes, had heard the exclamation ofthe princess, and threw upon her a malignant, threateningglance.
“Madame loves us not, because we are ugly and dirty,” he said; “but we should, perhaps, look pretty and elegant too, ifwe could put on finery to ride about in splendid carriages. But wehave to work, and we have to suffer, that we may be able to pay ourtaxes. For if we did not do this, our king and his family would notbe able to strut around in this grand style. We are dirty, becausewe are working for the king. ”
“I beg you, sir, ” replied the queen, softly, “toforgive my daughter; she is but a child, and does not know what sheis saying. She will learn from her parents, however, to love ourgood, hard- working people, and to be thankful for their love, sir.”
“I am no 'sir, ' ” replied the man, gruffly; "I amthe poor cobbler
Simon, nothing more. "
“Then I beg you, Master Simon, to accept from mydaughter, as a remembrance, this likeness of her father, and todrink to our good health, ” said the queen, laying at the same timea louis-d'or in the hand of her daughter, and hastily whispering toher, “Give it to him. ”
The princess hastened to execute the command of hermother, and laid the glistening gold piece in the large, dirty handwhich was extended to her. But when she wanted to draw back herdelicate little hand, the large, bony fingers of the cobbler closedupon it and held it fast.
“What a little hand it is! ” he said, with aderiding laugh; “I wonder what would become of these fingers ifthey had to work! ”
“Mamma, ” cried the princess, anxiously, “order theman to let me go; he hurts me. ”
The cobbler laughed on, but dropped the hand of theprincess.
“Ah, ” cried he, scornfully, “it hurts a princessonly to touch the hand of a working man. It would be a great dealbetter to keep entirely away from the working people, and never tocome among us. ”
“Drive forward quickly! ” cried the queen to thecoachman, with loud, commanding voice.
He urged on the horses, and the people who hadhemmed in the carriage closely, and listened breathlessly to theconversation of the queen with the cobbler Simon, shrank timidlyback before the prancing steeds.
The queen recovered her pleasant, merry smile, andbowed on all sides while the carriage rolled swiftly forward. Thepeople again expressed their thanks with loud acclamations, andpraised her beauty and the beauty of her children. But MarieAntoinette was no longer carried beyond herself by these words ofpraise, and did not rise again from her seat.
While the royal carriage was disappearing in thetumult and throng of the multitude, Simon the cobbler stoodwatching it with his mocking smile. He felt a hand upon his arm,and heard a voice asking the scornful question:
“Are you in love with this Austrian woman, MasterSimon? ”
The cobbler quickly turned round to confront thequestioner. He saw, standing by his side, a little, remarkablycrooked and dwarfed young man, whose unnaturally large head was setupon narrow, depressed shoulders, and whose whole appearance madesuch an impression upon the cobbler that the latter laughedoutright.
“Not beautiful, am I? ” asked the stranger, and hetried to join in the laugh of the cobbler, but the result was amere grimace, which made his unnaturally large mouth, with itsthick, colorless lips, extend from one ear to the other, displayingtwo fearful rows of long, greenish teeth.
“Not beautiful at all, am I? Dreadfully ugly! ”exclaimed the stranger, as Simon's laughter mounted higher andhigher.
“You are somewhat remarkable, at least, ” repliedthe cobbler. “If I did not hear you talk French, and see youstanding up straight like one of us, I should think you were themonstrous toad in the fable that I read about a short time ago.”
“I am the monstrous toad of the fable, ” replied thestranger, laughing. “I have merely disguised myself today as a manin order to look at this Austrian woman with her young