The Queen's Necklace.

ALTHOUGH the story of the "Queen's necklace" has often been related, it still possesses a double interest. On the one hand we desire to know the whole truth about an affair which, by putting the honour of the beautiful Marie Antoinette in question, struck at the heart of royalty, and contributed to precipitate the Revolution. On the other hand, the trial which ensued exhibited men such as they were in public and private life previous to that epoch: The brilliant and corrupt society of the end of the eighteenth century is painted in bold relief in this drama-a drama more original and varied than the Mariage de Figaro, and one which has for its principal actors the Cardinal de Rohan, Madame de Lamotte, and the charlatan Cagliostro.

Louis de Rohan, Cardinal, Grand Almoner, Bishop of Strasbourg, Prince of the Empire, and member of the French Academy, the real hero of the piece, was penetrated as little as any man in France with the spirit of his position. Gallant, magnificent, of a noble figure and graceful manners, he pleased and surprised by his inconsistencies. “Il n'était rien de ce qu'il devait être; mais il était aimable autant qu'on peut être hors de sa place et de son caractère." Such is the description given of him by Madame de Genlis. Under an agreeable exterior, however, raged a wild ambition and the fiercest passions, without principle or curb to restrain them. He had, moreover, wit and learning, and possessed a taste for the occult sciences. Of his embassy to Austria on the partition of Poland, no other souvenir remains than his pomp, his debts, and his public gallantries with the ladies of the court and others less distinguished. It is related of him at Vienna that, on the anniversary of the fête Dieu, he threw into disorder, with his hunting retinue, a religious procession which he met on the way. Recalled at the instance of Maria Theresa, he fell into disgrace. Louis XVI. could not tolerate a prelate so scandalised by his habits; Marie Antoinette felt for him an aversion, mingled with contempt, which she was at no pains to disguise. The prince had begun to despair of ever emerging from this mortifying disgrace, when he met Cagliostro and Madame de Lamotte. At this period Cagliostro was as celebrated as Voltaire, and was talked about as much as Beaumarchais. He pretended to be the high-priest of a kind of natural religion, whose devotees were to be pure as the rays of the sun; and in order to protect themselves against calumny, they were to have neither wives nor light pleasures, nor a fortune of more than 50,000 francs. Nothing about him was wanting to excite astonishment and curiosity. Every thing was bizarre and mysterious respecting his fortune, his birth, his manner of living, and his speeches. His success was prodigious. Fanaticism reached so high that not only was his portrait and that of his wife to be seen on fans, rings, snuff

boxes, and medals, but his bust was sculptured in marble, cast in bronze, and placed in the palaces of the noblest amongst the nobility. Under one of these busts this inscription, engraved in letters of gold, might be read, "The Divine Cagliostro." The greatest personages of the day, such as the Duke of Luxembourg, the Prince Soubise, were his familiars. The success of Cagliostro was a triumph for the Cardinal. He it was who had taken him by the hand, and as it were introduced him to the public. In his hôtel the most important and the most mysterious séances were held. He spoke of the great enchanter with respectful and eloquent admiration; an admiration which was not the effect of surprise and the illusion of a curiosity skilfully excited, but an admiration which existed for upwards of five years, and perhaps to the last, in the generous mind of the Cardinal.

Madame de Lamotte, the heroine of the drama, was descended, by Henry baron of Saint-Remy, from the royal house of Valois. It is not known by what means the family sank into their final degradation. It is related that the father of Madame de Lamotte, Jacques de SaintRemy, was a man of athletic figure, who lived by hunting, by depredations in the forests, and even by stealing fruit; whilst his children, half-naked and neglected, depended on the charity of the villagers; that in 1760 Jacques de Saint-Remy determined to abandon Fontelle and go to Versailles to coin money, on the strength of his name of Valois; that on the night of his departure he suspended his second daughter, a baby in swaddling-clothes, at the window of one of the inhabitants of the place who had most enriched himself with the spoils of his ancient seigneurie; that taking with him only his parchments, he set out on foot, dragging with him his eldest daughter Jeanne, his son, and his wife; that he arrived ill at Boulogne; and that having excited the pity of the Baroness de Choiseul, was enabled to die in a comfortable bed at the Hôtel-Dieu. Abandoned shortly afterwards by her mother, the little Jeanne went begging about the streets of Paris, crying, "Pity an orphan who is descended by the direct line from Henry II. king of France." One day, whilst selling flowers in the Champs Elysées, she attracted, it is said, the attention of the Countess of Boulainvilliers, the wife of the provost of Paris, who took her home, educated her, and obtained from the king for her and her sister a pension of 600 francs, and for their brother the Baron de Valois a pension of a thousand francs and a free admission into the Naval School. Subsequently she passed some time in the Abbey de Longchamps; but exhibited little taste for a convent life, even relaxed as was the discipline at the time. Shortly after she returned to Bar-sur-Aube, her native place, with her pension of 600 francs. There she met the Count de Lamotte, a handsome man, and of an honourable family, but with very equivocal pursuits, and steeped up to his ears in debt. To defray the expenses of the wedding, Mdlle. de Saint-Remy mortgaged two years' pension, whilst M. de Lamotte sold a horse and carriage which he had bought on

credit. Thus provided, they went to Paris to seek their fortune. Madame de Lamotte, who reckoned on the éclat of her name to obtain credit and favour, soon understood that, "in a country like France, there were only two ways of demanding alms: at the church-door, or in a carriage." Penetrating sometimes into good society, where she strove to form connexions; mingling occasionally with that crowd of petty intriguers who lived from day to day on imaginary credit and hung about the court, she attached herself to whatever might place her amongst this mendicant class. Into every hand she thrust her petition and knocked at every door; she sought and obtained an audience of the old Marshal de Richelieu. She went to Luciennes to introduce herself to Madame du Barry; prayed her to receive her as a companion; and placed in her hands a memoir which she had signed Marie Antoinette de France de Saint-Remy de Valois, femme du Comte de Lamotte. She wearied out with her solicitations the comptroller-general, the lieutenant of police, and the ladies who were said to be basking in the sunshine of the court, in order to obtain, if not useful assistance, at least some louis. One day she pretended to faint in the waiting-room at Madame Elizabeth's. Madame, informed that a lady of quality was dying of hunger in her ante-chamber, sent her maids-of-honour to her, gave her some money, and had her pension raised to 1500 francs. Madame de Lamotte, encouraged by this, tried on new games of the kind; but without success; for she was never admitted into the presence of the queen. Excited, sick with pride and envy, bitter against Marie Antoinette for not receiving her, devoid of any moral principle, it may easily be imagined what she became after two years of this life of flattery and prayers addressed in vain to the powerful, of continual affronts and a daily struggle against the pecuniary embarrassments which beset her. She lost, with the hope of succeeding by honest means, whatever modesty and scruples remained to her. As her mind grew profoundly morose, her natural talent for intrigue became thoroughly developed. She greedily received the thousand reports, true or calumnious, which were in circulation respecting the courtiers, and especially the Queen. She knew how a position might be made in the world by speculating on the weaknesses of the great; and she determined to profit by her knowledge. She had, in a word, all that was wanted to become a dangerous character, a mauvaise citoyenne; so much the more dangerous indeed because she was fascinating.

About the year 1781, Madame de Lamotte was first introduced to the Cardinal at Saverne by the Countess Boulainvilliers. The Cardinal received warmly this young woman, interesting by her age, her figure, her spirit, and especially by the contrast of her poverty with the greatness of her pedigree. He felt astounded at the misery in which the court left the descendants of Henry II., and promised his influence to support their complaints. Shortly afterwards, Madame de Lamotte received 2400 francs from the funds of the Grand Al

monry. Gratitude and her incessant wants often renewed her visits, and the impression which she made upon the Cardinal became more and more deep. The pride of the prince was flattered-not less than his gallantry at the idea of protecting, in a woman so agreeable, a lady so illustrious. He entered into her views, gave her advice, directed her course. He also confided to her the bitterness of his position, the unjust prejudices of Marie Antoinette against him, and his vain attempts to explain his conduct. He revealed to her how impatiently he endured the coldness and disdain of the Queen, of that “woman of proud beauty and of seductive grace;" and gave her an insight into his own strong passions, which were so much the fiercer as they had to be curbed and restrained.

It was at this period that Madame de Lamotte began to propagate the report of her relations with the Queen. She told the Cardinal that Marie Antoinette, having seen her at Madame Elizabeth's, had read her petition with interest, and promised her her royal favour; shortly after this, she added that the Queen had condescended to receive her, and that she had been privately admitted into her Majesty's boudoir. The Cardinal, too dissipated to calculate, too amorous to distrust, too vain to imagine he could be deceived, listened and believed; and went so far as to write an elaborate apology and to intrust it to Madame de Lamotte. Some days after, the latter brought a reply written on a small sheet of paper embroidered with blue vignettes, in which Marie Antoinette is made to say: "I have read your letter; I am charmed no longer to find you guilty. I cannot yet grant you the audience you desire; when circumstances shall permit, I will advise you. Be discreet." Letters and answers succeeded one another; and during the months of May, June, and July 1784, a correspondence took place between the Cardinal and Madame de Lamotte-a correspondence which included many pretended letters of the Queen.

These little notes with the blue vignettes, which gradually became less and less cold and reserved, stirred up all the passions which fermented in the heart of the Cardinal. However, if they made him hope every thing, no favour had as yet been accorded him. On the contrary, they pointedly impressed upon him that he must have patience, and that the time was not yet arrived when he could publicly, in the eyes of the King and of the court, receive tokens of his return to grace; and, indeed, at Versailles the Queen continued to display towards him the same contemptuous indifference. This waiting drove him to despair. Unquestionably he never doubted the authenticity of the correspondence; but the sentiments which the letters portrayed in such vivid colours, were they real? It was true he could not pass publicly from so deep and long a disgrace into sudden and marked favour; but was there not some way to give him to understand that he was pardoned, and-it must be said, since he dared to think it himself-that he was loved? Perhaps a secret interview might not be refused him? The tone of the letters encouraged

him to ask it. At first his fair correspondent hesitated; but at last promised; and the interview took place in the park of Versailles on the 11th August.

On that day, about ten o'clock in the evening, just when it was growing dark and the nearest objects could scarcely be distinguished, a group descended towards the Bosquet de Vénus. It consisted of M. and Madame de Lamotte, one Rétaux de Villette, and a Mdlle. d'Oliva; Madame de Lamotte in a black domino and Mdlle. d'Oliva in a shawl thrown over her head. Villette and Lamotte lagged behind. Madame de Lamotte went away for a moment, whilst Oliva remained in the shade alarmed and embarrassed. Soon after, conducted by Madame de Lamotte, the Cardinal Prince de Rohan appeared, disguised, and followed by a confidential friend, the Baron de Planta. The prince bowed as Oliva presented him with a rose, saying: "You know what that means." The Cardinal took the rose and was about to reply, when a footstep was heard approaching; and Madame de Lamotte, who had gone away for a moment, ran up to them, and in a low and hurried voice said: "Make haste, make haste away!" Villette, rushing up to the side of Mdlle. d'Oliva, whispered, "Madame Elizabeth and Madame le Comtesse d'Artois are coming."

Two hours after, at the Belle-Image inn, the actors in this scene, so lightly played, were supping gaily at the expense of the unfortunate Cardinal.

This interview was decisive for him; he wished to see, and he had seen. Henceforth no more doubts, no more suspicions, no more arrièrepensées. From this time he reflected not, neither did he open his eyes; his good sense, his clear-sightedness, his coolness, abandoned him altogether. The dreams of his diseased imagination took a bodily existence and enveloped him as in a cloud. He fell under the dominion of a thought which ruled him pitilessly; he became the blind instrument of a woman who led him captive by every passion of his heart. Henceforth, urged by an irresistible force, he marched onward without looking around him, without seeing or hearing, his eyes incessantly fixed upon that exquisite "image of the Queen presenting him with a rose." He marched onward to his ruin, calm and confident.

August had not passed when Madame de Lamotte demanded 60,000 francs "for a poor and respectable family, in which," she said, "the Queen was interested." The Cardinal immediately borrowed the sum of a Jew, and sent it to Madame de Lamotte by the faithful Planta. In November a new demand was made for a loan of 100,000 francs, in the name of the Queen. This fresh sum was raised in the name of the Cardinal by the baron, who was even authorised to sell some property if additional aid were required.

Madame de Lamotte thus passed suddenly from poverty to opulence. To regulate this transition, however, she went to Bar-sur-Aube and sojourned there some time. Still she was impatient to display her