He sent a messenger to Boehmer to tell him that the Queen had decided against the necklace.
When Boehmer received the message he was distraught.
‘We are ruined,’ he said to his partner. ‘We have borrowed so heavily to buy the stones. We have wasted four years on the necklace. Unless we can sell it we are ruined. I was counting on the Queen.’
‘Who would have believed she could resist it?’ cried Bassenge. ‘Who will buy it now?’
‘God knows! The price of it puts it out of the market. There is no one but the King and Queen who could afford the necklace. Many have seen it and admired it – but of course must consider it right out of their reach. There is only one thing to do if we are to be saved. I must start at once. I must visit all the Courts of Europe in the hope of finding a buyer.’
So the Queen did not have the diamond necklace. Instead a hundred couples, who were about to marry, were given a dowry besides new clothing, and money was distributed throughout the country; pardons were granted to certain criminals and many debtors were forgiven their debts. There were fireworks and illuminations in the Capital, wine flowed from fountains and all were admitted free into the Comédie Française. It seemed that the popularity of the Queen had been regained, for everywhere she went now she was acclaimed by shouts of ‘Vive la Reine!’
But her enemies were as strong as ever. The aunts continued to receive their visitors at Bellevue.
‘And how long do you think this reformation will last, eh?’ demanded Adelaide of her sisters.
They waited to hear from Adelaide how long, but they knew of course that Adelaide had already decided it should be of the shortest possible duration.
Josèphe and Thérèse continued to watch the Queen closely. The fond mother would soon become the frivolous Queen again, they were sure. For one thing she still kept her favourites about her. The Polignacs were as strong as ever. Gabrielle was the most favoured person in the whole of the Court.
‘In the old days it was the King’s mistresses,’ said Josèphe; ‘now it is the Queen’s friends.’
‘The people should be told that,’ cried Adelaide.
Her sisters nodded. They knew that Adelaide and Josèphe and others with them would see that remark was repeated throughout Paris.
The Comte de Vaudreuil, who was Gabrielle’s lover, had lost money in the West Indies owing to the American war, and Gabrielle begged the Queen to help her lover; the result was that the Comte was found a sinecure at Court which was a charge on public funds to the tune of 30,000 livres a year. Gabrielle’s lovely young daughter was affianced to the Duc de Guiche. The King must give her a dowry of 800,000 livres because the Queen so wished to please her dear friend Gabrielle; then, of course, the bridegroom must have his gifts also. There must be a command in the company of Guards, an estate and a pension for Monsieur de Guiche.
Gabrielle had been made a Duchesse and had been given estates at Bitche, and ever since she had been known throughout Paris as Bitchette.
Other members of the Polignac family were not forgotten. Even Gabrielle’s husband’s father, the old Vicomte de Polignac, who was far from brilliant, was sent to Switzerland as ambassador.
The Queen’s enemies made sure that the people knew of her follies; they were determined that her new-found popularity should not last. She lost this completely when, after a slight attack of measles, she decided to recuperate at the Petit Trianon.
‘This,’ she declared, ‘is what I must do, for the King has never had measles, so I must keep right away from him.’
‘Your Majesty must not be dull during convalescence,’ Gabrielle told her. ‘That would considerably retard your recovery. I for one shall be with you.’
‘If you have not had the measles, Gabrielle …’
‘Measles or not,’ said Gabrielle, ‘I shall be there.’
Four gentlemen of the Court came forward to say that they had also had measles. They said it so glibly that it was quite clear that they were not at all sure whether they had or not, but that they considered an attack little to pay for the intimate society of the Queen.
So with the Queen and a few – a very few – of her ladies went the Ducs de Coigny and de Guines, the Baron de Benseval and the Comte Esterhazy; and there at Petit Trianon they made her convalescence merry. Her bedroom was the centre of the gaiety, and it soon became known throughout Paris that the Queen entertained these men in her private bedchamber.
Now all the old scandals were revived. The people in the streets were inventing scandals and singing songs about her once more.
Mercy wrote frantically to Maria Theresa. Maria Theresa’s instructions came promptly in reply.
Mercy visited Petit Trianon and, as a result, the four gentlemen were commanded not to enter the Queen’s bedchamber after eleven o’clock in the day.
But the damage was done.
The finances of the country were in a tragic state.
Turgot had been replaced by Clugny de Nuis and, when the latter died, by Jacques Necker, the Genevese banker.
Necker was very popular and there was delight throughout the country on his appointment. A great deal had been heard about the Déficit, and it was firmly believed that Necker was the man who would put France on her feet again.
Necker, accustomed to dealing with finance, was horrified to discover that the national deficit was some 20,000,000 livres a year, and that owing to the American war – for France was supporting the settlers – the debt was increasing rapidly. He dared not inflict more taxes for he understood that the people would have risen in revolt if he had. Instead he resorted to loans.
With the borrowed money it seemed that Necker was succeeding. He was cutting down expenses throughout the country. He had believed in the beginning that if he could make France prosperous he would be able to repay the loans when the time came for repayment.
This he failed to do. The war was virtually over and he realised that his only means of repaying the loans was through further taxation. This he could shelve for a little while; so, determined not to throw the nation into a panic, he published a little booklet which he called Compte Rendu, and in this he set out details of the national income and the national expenditure. As he falsely included the loans as income he was able to show, instead of a deficit, a credit balance of 10,000,000 livres.
There was general rejoicing and the cry went up: ‘Long live Necker! He is the saviour of France!’
Antoinette was joyfully pregnant again.
James Armand stood behind her chair, listening to her talking about the new baby which was coming. ‘This time,’ said the Queen, ‘it must be a boy.’
It was a pleasure now to write to her mother. It was a pleasure to open her letters. Maria Theresa would forget to scold if there was a Dauphin on the way.
It was, however, but a few months after the child was conceived when she had her miscarriage. She was very sad about this, and wept often, but when she was assured again and again by her friends that she would almost certainly be pregnant again, her spirits lifted.
James Armand stood by the bed smiling his satisfaction. At least for the present there would be no other rival to be set beside the little girl in her cradle.
Antoinette laughed at him and told him he was a wicked little subject of the King. James Armand laughed with her. He cared not for the King, he told her; he was the Queen’s little boy.
‘Now,’ she said to Gabrielle, ‘there will be more letters from my mother. I shall be told that I must at all costs avoid le lit à part. Poor Mother, this will be a great shock to her. Ah, Monsieur James, is it not strange that what rejoices you will fill my dear mother with dismay?’