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were growing richer and richer—and all because of the wicked Austrian bitch.

The Parisians' dark view of the Queen was intensified in the late summer of 1785, when the details of a prolonged and very damaging scandal involving the Cardinal de Rohan, Grand Almoner of France, a fabulously expensive collar of diamonds, and a clever swindler began to come to light.

The central figure in the scandal was the Cardinal, a worldly, witty and gullible man in his fifties. As Prince de Rohan he belonged to the highest nobility of France, as Cardinal he participated in the highest councils of the Church, as Grand Almoner he held one of the most visible posts of honor at Versailles, where he was often to be seen going to and from the chaf)el and presiding there in his scarlet silk robes. His vices were equally grand and visible. His boundless vanity led him to squander money on his own magnificence, buying elaborate painted coaches and keeping a huge retinue of servants in scarlet liveries trimmed with gold lace. His lust was said to rival that of the late Louis XV, and like Louis he kept a large and well stocked harem—in addition to his numerous conquests among the women of the court. Antoinette's brother Leopold summed him up succinctly by saying that he was "without religion or morals."

Antoinette had been hearing complaints about the Cardinal ever since her earliest years at the French court. Rohan had been sent as ambassador to Austria in the early 1770s, and no worse envoy to the hard-working, highly moral Maria Theresa could be imagined. He offended the Empress by riding, booted and spurred, through the middle of religious processions, by setting up a private brothel and by turning his ill-mannered servants loose on the Viennese. He ran up gigantic debts, led the heir to the throne astray with stories of the high life in Paris, and had the temerity to smuggle in silk and sell it, contrary to the customs regulations, at his mansion. Maria Theresa called Rohan "a bad lot," "perfectly incorrigible." In her letters to Antoinette she urged again and again that he be recalled, as he was dishonoring France and alienating the Austrians. Besides, she added, he was fundamentally ignorant of affairs, a frivolous man of no substance and trivial interests. Toward his sexual exploits—he had managed to bewitch, if not to seduce, all the women of Vienna, "young and old, beautiftil and ugly"—she felt nothing but disgust. ^

Maria Theresa's excoriation of Rohan left a strong impression on her daughter, and when Rohan returned from Vienna and in time became Grand Almoner she refused to have anything to do with him. Her antipathy was so pronounced that everyone noticed it—and as usual those who hated Antoinette whispered that it was only a pretense, and that Rohan was in truth another of her secret lovers. The Cardinal himself, however, knew that her coldness was genuine and saw in it a formidable barrier to his further advancement.

This, and his intrinsic gullibility and lack of judgment, made Rohan a ripe victim for charlatans and swindlers, and Versailles was fiiU of these. Among the most celebrated was Giuseppe Bal-samo, a magician and hypnotist who called himself the Comte de Cagliostro and made extravagant claims about himself and his abilities. He said, and many believed him, so powerful was his hypnotic persuasiveness, that he was several thousand years old, that he had overcome illness and death and could help others overcome them, that he could cure any ailment, create wealth and confer power in worldly affairs. He posed as the Grand Copt of the order of Egyptian Masonry and enrolled many credulous followers in his lodges.^ Rohan believed that the magician could unblock his path to advancement at court, could reconcile him with Antoinette and make him one of the King's ministers.

But there was yet another, equally crafty charlatan in the Cardinal's circle. She was Jeanne de Saint-Remy, who called herself Comtesse de la Motte-Valois. Jeanne's father had in fact been a descendant of the Valois Kings, but had died penniless, leaving his two children to be raised by their peasant mother who beat them and exploited them. Jeanne had grown into a clever imposter who, together with her soldier husband, posed as an habituee of the royal court and pretended to enjoy the Queen's friendship. An accomplice, Retaux de Villette, forged Antoinette's signature on letters that Jeanne used to enhance her credibility. She obtained an introduction to the Cardinal, and eventually became his mistress. When he confided to her his ambitions to become a royal minister and above all to enter the Queen's good graces, Jeanne saw a way to become very rich.

She told Rohan that she would use her influence with her "friend" the Queen on his behalf, and after a time convinced him that she was succeeding in breaking down Antoinette's prejudice

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against him. He was overjoyed—and wanted her to arrange an audience for him. A genuine audience with the Queen being an impossibility, Jeanne staged a make-believe meeting, hiring a Paris prostitute to impersonate the Queen. Rohan, who was beside himself with eagerness, did not question the odd circumstances of the "audience" Jeanne told him she had arranged, which was to be held at midnight in the gardens of Versailles. In the dark the Cardinal believed that the pretty veiled woman who handed him a rose and murmured cryptically "You know what this means" was in fact Antoinette. He probably also believed, given his monstrous conceit, that she was in love with him.

The Cardinal could not wait to give proof of his devotion to his sovereign lady, and Jeanne was not slow to convey to him the Queen's requests. She asked him for money, first sixty thousand livres, then more. And then a unique opportunity arose for Jeanne to enrich herself beyond her wildest dreams.

For years the crown jeweler, Bohmer, had been trying to persuade Antoinette to buy a fabulous necklace he had made, a heavy collar of diamonds with long hanging pendants. In all, the necklace contained some five hundred and forty gems, and was worth 1.6 million livres. It was inconceivable that anyone but the Queen could afford such a costly bauble—yet Antoinette had lost her taste for diamonds and could not be persuaded to buy the necklace. Bohmer heard of the Comtesse de la Motte-Valois, and of her vaunted intimacy with the Queen. Through an intermediary he approached her and offered her a thousand louis if she could convince Antoinette to buy the neckalce. Seizing her opportunity, Jeanne told the jeweler that the Cardinal, acting for the Queen, would make the purchase, which he did soon thereafter. The necklace was handed over to Rohan, who gave it to Jeanne, never doubting that she would deliver it to her friend Antoinette. (In fact she gave it to her husband, who went to England to dispose of the diamonds one by one.) A few months later, when Bohmer demanded payment, the truth of the swindle came to light.

Antoinette learned, first to her surprise and then to her horror, that Bohmer had delivered to her, via Cardinal Rohan, a necklace she had never ordered, and that the first installement of the payment for that necklace was past due. Rohan, she declared, had used her name "like a low and inept forger." He was a liar and a cheat. Everyone knew he was deeply in debt; out of desperation

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he had taken advantage of his court position to try to bilk the Queen.

Rohan was summoned to the King's cabinet to face his sovereign and several officials. Antoinette was also present. Lx)uis questioned him, and as it became clear that he had been deceived by the clever Jeanne, he grew pale and looked as if he would faint. He protested that "a lady called the Comtesse de la Motte-Valois" had taken advantage of him. He promised the angry Antoinette that he would pay for the necklace—an impossibility, given his debts and the enormous bill from Bohmer—and insisted that he thought "by carrying out this commission he was paying court to Her Majesty."

Nothing Rohan said was sufficient to exculpate him. In front of the entire court, then assembled for the procession to the chapel for midday Mass, the Cardinal was arrested and taken off to the Bastille. Jeanne was arrested the following day and, though she denied her guilt and tried to convince her accusers that Cagliostro had been Rohan's ally in stealing the necklace, she too was unconvincing. The police inquiry uncovered damning evidence against the Countess. She and her husband, before his departure for England, had grown rich overnight, buying cartloads of furniture, engaging a large staff of servants, entertaining lavishly. Only the sale of the diamonds could explain this sudden wealth, therefore Jeanne had to be guilty.

Contemporaries interpreted the scandal according to their prejudices. The police were convinced that Rohan was guilty of nothing more than gullibility. Rohan's enemies blamed him, and saw Jeanne as his accomplice. But the majority of people, at court and outside of it, blamed Antoinette. She was extravagant, she loved diamonds; therefore it followed that she must have staged the entire affair of the necklace in collusion with the Cardinal, who was probably her lover. His arrest was merely a ploy to make her look innocent, when in fact she was the one who belonged in the Bastille.

Rohan was tried at the end of May 1786 and Antoinette, who by this time was seven months pregnant with her fourth child, fiilly expected that he would be found guilty, if not of theft, then of knowing participation in fraud. The trial was a great cause celi-brCf with Rohan's partisans wearing hats of "cardinal red" and proclaiming that their hero was being persecuted like the early

Christian saints and martyrs. Pamphlets sprang up, predictably blackening Antoinette and championing Rohan. Suddenly the reprobate Cardinal was seen as a guileless innocent, victimized by the wicked Queen; his former lovers (a group that included many of the great ladies of the court) were among his loudest defenders, grateful to him for having destroyed their love letters just as the investigation began. Rohan had become a symbol, he represented all those who saw themselves as injured by Antoinette's extravagance. To take his side was to strike a blow against the Queen, and there were many eager to injure her in any way they could.

Among them were the lawyers of the parlement, who demanded that Rohan be acquitted, and the judges, who treated him like a prince. After eighteen hours of deliberation the complaint against the Cardinal was dismissed. Jeanne, alias the Comtesse de la Motte-Valois, was sentenced to be branded and imprisoned (she escaped ten months later), her absent husband was condemned to the galleys. Cagliostro was exonerated.

Thousands of people cheered the Cardinal when the verdict was made known, and more cheers went up when he emerged from the Bastille. Louis made him give up his court post as Almoner and forced him to leave Paris for his abbey at Chaise-Dieu, but his legal vindication overshadowed these minor humiliations. More important, a major insult had been delivered to the Queen.

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ARDINAL Rohan was acquitted on May 31, 1786. The following day Antoinette wrote a cri de coeur to the Comtesse de Polignac.

"Come and weep with me, come and console your friend. The judgment that has just been pronounced is an atrocious insult. I am bathed in tears of grief and despair."

Antoinette was nearly eight months pregnant, and throughout her pregnancy she had been under great strain. The investigation into Cardinal Rohan's culpability, the worsening fiscal crisis, the endless calumnies printed about her by her numberless enemies demoralized and weakened her. For the past month she had had to restrict her activities somewhat, complaining that she did not have the physical strength to maintain her usual routine.^ There must have been women at Versailles who watched the progress of the Queen's pregnancy with apprehension, shaking their heads and remarking that such a tense and troubled gestation would result in harm to the child.

Antoinette worried over her children, just as she worried over her husband who, year by year, found it harder and harder to cope with all that was awry with his government and looked to her for solace and advice. Her daughter Ther^se, whom she called Mousseline, was now seven years old, a miniature lady dressed in flowing robes, her hair curled and carefully if simply dressed. Mousseline was a temperamental child, with a selfish streak, much attached to her mother; Antoinette took pains to prevent her from giving herself airs. To this end, she brought another little girl into

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the Princess's household, the daughter of one of the maids, and gave orders that this child, whom she renamed Ernestine, should be treated in exactly the same way that Mousseline was. The two girls wore the same clothes, ate their meals together, took their lessons together. No special deference was shown to Madame Royale, and far from resenting this loss of superiority, Mousseline became very fond of Ernestine and loved her like a sister. One imagines the two children playing with their bewigged dolls, with doll-sized plumed hats, taffeta gowns and high-heeled satin shoes supplied by Rose Bertin.

Antoinette's older son, the dauphin, was now nearing five years old, a sad figure in his sailor suits and long baby curls. His spine was twisted, one shoulder was much higher than the other, and he was small for his age. He seemed exceptionally vulnerable to fevers and debilitating diseases, and he did not put on weight like a healthy child.^ He had developed a serious look, perhaps because of the pain he had to endure, perhaps because he was introverted by nature. He knew that his spinal deformity—which worsened markedly as he grew older—worried his mother. The sight of him brought tears to her eyes, according to the Princesse de Lamballe; when Antoinette supped with her son, she wept so freely that she could hardly eat.