And it occurred to him that there was one person who was preventing this: the Queen.
For she was now the King’s chief adviser, and Mirabeau knew that the King with his high ideals was not the man to make the necessary decision.
Mirabeau thereupon began courting the Queen’s attention, and the letters he wrote to Louis were intended to flatter her.
‘The King has but one man to support him,’ he wrote. ‘That is his wife. The only safeguard for her lies in the reestablishment of royal authority. It pleases me to fancy that she would not care to go on living without her crown; and of this much I am certain, she will not be able to save her life if she does not save her crown. She must show moderation and must not believe she will be able, whether by the aid of chance or intrigue, to overcome an extraordinary crisis with the help of ordinary men and ordinary measures.’
Still his letters were ignored.
He knew this was due to the Queen. The winter passed; the spring came; the brooding quiet continued, but Antoinette – a prisoner in the Tuileries – did not believe that it had come to stay.
With the coming of the summer it was decided that the royal family must leave the Tuileries, for the hermit-like life they were leading was having its effect upon their health. The King had grown fatter and more unwieldy; he did not hunt now, and a daily game of billiards did not give him the exercise to which he was accustomed. The Queen was pale, and the children had suffered from the many colds they caught in the draughty lamp-lit corridors.
There was only a little protest when it became known that the family intended to go to Saint-Cloud for the summer. The Orléanists made an attempt to rouse the mob, but this failed and, when the carriages left the Tuileries for Saint-Cloud, the people gathered about them, shouting: ‘Bon voyage au bon Papa.’
There was respite at Saint-Cloud. There was a new freedom. Fersen was with the royal party. He talked long and earnestly to the King and Queen.
‘You must escape,’ he said. ‘You cannot go back to the Tuileries. From a distance you could come to terms with the revolutionaries. I am certain that it is wrong to allow yourselves to be the people’s prisoners.’
Louis, who could never make up his mind about most things, was adamant on this point. He would not run away. He would stay with his people.
The Queen looked at him sadly. ‘Where the King is,’ she repeated, ‘there must the Queen remain.’
Fersen was indefatigable. He roamed the countryside, sounding opinion. He made plans for escape, always hoping that Louis would accept them.
The city of Rouen, he discovered, was loyal. Why should not the King go to Rouen, set up his Court there and in dignity set forth the conditions on which he would return? He should take with him loyal soldiers. Fersen was for action; and again and again Louis let his chances slip through his fingers.
Fersen was now urging the Queen to receive Mirabeau.
‘He is the cleverest man in France,’ he declared. ‘He can do much for you. I beg you, do not continue to ignore him. Do not turn such a man, who offers friendship, into an enemy.’
‘Have you forgotten that he was one of the leaders of the conspiracy? Have you forgotten the October outrages?’
‘I shall never forget those days as long as I live,’ declared Fersen. ‘But, my dearest, this is not the time to remember past slights. Your life is at stake.’
‘And yours,’ she said quietly, ‘while you stay with us. What need is there for you to stay here? You are not even a French man. You can go where you will … No one will question you. Why do you stay here, daily risking your life?’
‘I think you know,’ he answered.
‘Oh, go, Axel … please go. Let me know that you are safe.’
‘When I go,’ he said, ‘I shall take you with me.’
She could only feel exultation. There had always been that about Axel which gave her new courage.
‘See Mirabeau,’ he insisted. ‘Ask his help. He will work for you with all that knowledge of events, all that brilliance which he once gave to others. Let me arrange a meeting. I think it should be secret. Mirabeau wishes to see you before he sees the King. He is sure that if he can succeed in persuading you, you will persuade the King.’
‘You have arranged this meeting?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I have arranged it. He will come in secret to the gardens of Saint-Cloud, for it will not do for your enemies to know that he is with you yet. Let it be in the Palace grounds at a lonely spot at eight on this Sunday morning, when the Palace sleeps.’
‘You would arrange my life,’ she said.
‘I love you,’ said Fersen. ‘At this time there is one thing I care more about than anything else in the world … your safety.’
‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘when I am with you, I can even believe that one day I shall be free from my troubles. You have decided that it shall be so, and you could not fail.’
She came out into the Palace grounds that sunny July morning. It was very quiet, and she was able to slip into the copse without being seen. She thought then: If Louis had wished it we could have escaped from Saint-Cloud. But of course Louis did not wish it. He would not run away.
The man was waiting for her. She shuddered with horror when she saw his face. That extremely ugly countenance, that look of brute strength, reminded her of faces she had seen about her carriage during the October ride.
‘Your Majesty,’ said Mirabeau, bowing deeply, ‘at last I have this pleasure, this chance to tell you all that I can do to bring you back your royal dignity.’
She did not want to look at his face and he was aware of this, for even those women who eventually loved him so passionately had been horrified by his looks in the first instance. In time the Queen would be accustomed to his ugliness, and it would mean as little to her as it did to him.
But if his face was ugly, his voice was golden; he was an impassioned speaker; he had again and again swayed the Tiers Etat to his way of thinking; now he used all his persuasive charm on the Queen. He did not seek to cover up the terrible position in which the royal family was placed; he discussed possibilities – hideous possibilities – with frankness which made her flinch, and which she realised were no exaggeration.
The result of that meeting was that he pledged himself to fight on two fronts. He would continue to speak to the National Assembly. He would work for the King and the Nation; and because he was a man of superhuman powers he would weld the two together.
When he went back to his coach he said to his nephew who, disguised as his coachman, had driven him to Saint-Cloud: ‘The Queen is good and she is noble. I can save her, and I will.’
As soon as the summer was over, the people demanded the return of the royal family to the Tuileries. They suspected there were plots for their escape, and wished to keep them close.
Adelaide’s spirit was broken, and her sister followed her in this as she had all her life.
Victoire would wander about the gloomy corridors murmuring: ‘We used to say “Poor Sophie!” “Poor Louis!” But it would seem that they were the fortunate ones. They have gone to Heaven, and we are left behind.’
Antoinette went to the King and said to him: ‘We cannot go from here, Louis. I understand how you feel about that. But is there any reason why the aunts should stay?’
‘No,’ said Louis after a pause. ‘I do not think it is necessary for them to stay. They shall go.’