XIX. 1785. Feb.–Aug. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE VANISHES!

The gigantic swindle it must be confessed had been effected in a masterly manner. Weeks, and even months, passed by, and no one seemed to entertain the slightest suspicion that any fraud had been perpetrated. But this was only the calm that precedes the storm. The crown jewellers, Böhmer and Bassenge, made it no secret that they had succeeded in disposing of their Necklace. They, however, gave out that it had been purchased by the Sultan of Turkey for a favourite sultana. Böhmer afterwards stated that they did this at the request of the cardinal, who had received the queen’s commands to that effect. Of course Madame de la Motte was the real person who caused this report to be spread to allay impertinent curiosity. The cardinal, flattering himself that he had placed his sovereign under an obligation, was expecting both favour and power, and was confiding these hopes rather incautiously to his friends. The De la Mottes were openly living in almost Oriental luxury. Nobody would have supposed that any great wrong had been done.

On the 3rd of February, two days after the Necklace had been delivered to the cardinal, he met Böhmer and Bassenge at Versailles. “Well,” said he to them, “have you made your very humble acknowledgments to her majesty for having purchased your Necklace?” The jewellers, careless upon this point now the Necklace was fairly off their hands, had not done so; the cardinal upbraided them with their neglect, a fact admitted at the trial.⁠[141]⁠

Months glide by without the slightest suspicion arising, although the grand almoner is somewhat puzzled at the queen never wearing the Necklace in public. Every time he meets the jewellers he repeats his inquiry whether they have humbly thanked the queen, and renews his very earnest recommendation for them to do so. At length, in the last week of June, after the countess has more than once hinted to him that the queen thinks the Necklace dear, the cardinal receives a letter written in her majesty’s name by the forger Villette, complaining of the excessive price of the jewel, and demanding a reduction of 200,000 livres, in which case 700,000 instead of 400,000 livres would be paid on the 1st of August, “otherwise,” the letter went on to say, “the article will be returned.”⁠[142] The crown jewellers murmur, as well they might, at this unexpected demand, but rather than be again burthened with the Necklace, after consulting with Saint-James, they give an unwilling consent to the new arrangement. When all is finally settled, by the advice of the cardinal they address to the queen the following letter, the very words of which are dictated by the grand almoner himself:

“Madame,

“We are extremely happy to think that the last arrangements which have been proposed to us, and to which we have submitted with respectful zeal, will be received as a new instance of our submission and devotedness to your majesty’s commands, and we feel truly rejoiced to think that the most beautiful set of diamonds in the world will be worn by the best and greatest of queens.

“Böhmer and Bassenge.

“July 12, 1785.”⁠[143]⁠

When the above letter was written, some slight feelings of uneasiness respecting the Necklace had taken possession of the minds of the two partners; for Marie-Antoinette had appeared in public on several occasions when such an ornament might very properly have been worn, but without displaying it. Böhmer had sought interviews with the queen, who had carefully avoided him, fearing to be again pestered with his importunities, and, since his threat of committing suicide, regarding him as partially deranged.

The cardinal, as we have already remarked, was perplexed by the circumstance that the queen did not wear the Necklace, and still more so by the freezing aversion she continued to manifest whenever they met in public. The fictitious letters too had become more rare, as well as much briefer than heretofore, and very cold. The apprehension mutually shared by the cardinal and the crown jewellers may be traced in the letter just quoted, in which “the most beautiful set of diamonds in the world” is pointedly alluded to, and something like a hint given that they ought to be “worn by the best and greatest of queens.”

This letter was delivered by Böhmer to Marie-Antoinette with a diamond epaulette and buckles which the king had ordered of the crown jewellers as presents to the Duke d’Angoulême on the day of his christening. The queen, who had just returned from mass, went at once into her library, where Madame Campan was present. “She held the note in her hand; she read it to me,” says Madame Campan, “observing that as I had in the morning guessed the enigmas in the Mercure, I could no doubt discover the meaning of this, which that madman Böhmer had just handed to her. These were her very words. The note contained a request not to forget him,⁠[144] and expressions of his happiness at seeing her in possession of the most beautiful diamonds that could be found in Europe. As she finished reading the note she twisted it up and burnt it at a taper which was standing lighted in her library for sealing letters, and merely recommended me, when I should see Böhmer, to request an explanation of it. ‘Has he assorted some new ornaments?’⁠[145] added the queen. ‘I should be very vexed if he has done so, for I don’t intend to make use of his services any longer.’”⁠[146]⁠

In the middle of the month of July, but a very short time before the first instalment fell due, the countess, feeling the necessity for gaining time, called upon the Cardinal de Rohan, and told him that the queen would be constrained to devote the 700,000 livres, which she had put aside for the payment of the moiety of the purchase-money due on the 1st of August, to other purposes. She begged that the cardinal would see the jewellers and obtain a postponement, which the queen thought could not be at all difficult,⁠[147] until the 1st of October. The cardinal received this message with evident consternation, whereupon Madame de la Motte, to reassure him, told him that she had seen in the queen’s hands notes to the amount of 700,000 livres, which her majesty had designed for the payment of the instalment in question, and a day or two afterwards she would appear to have brought him a letter from the queen on the subject.⁠[148] There is no help for it—for needs must when such a charioteer as the countess drives—so the cardinal does as he is bid, somewhat out of temper, it is true, by this time with her majesty’s unbusiness-like ways, which bid fair, he tells the jewellers, “to turn his head.” Böhmer and Bassenge show such evident signs of dissatisfaction at this new variation of the contract, that to quiet them the prince feels constrained to tell them a fib, namely, that he had himself seen in the queen’s hands the 700,000 livres in question. This statement he repeats to Baudard de Saint-James, whose interest in the matter we know, and who makes it his business to be kept informed of any hitches that arise in this troublesome Necklace affair. Prompted, no doubt, by Madame de la Motte, the cardinal seems to have hinted to the financier that it would be a good opportunity for him to secure the queen’s favour, and with it the cordon rouge, of which Saint-James was particularly ambitious, by lending her majesty this 700,000 livres, for the payment of the first instalment. Saint-James was not unwilling; still he was over cautious, and said that on hearing one word from the queen the amount should be forthcoming.⁠[149] Georgel says that the reason the affair fell through was because the forger Villette was, as will afterwards appear, away at that particular juncture at Bar-sur-Aube, and the written word consequently was not forthcoming until it was too late,⁠[150] owing to which lucky accident Saint-James saved his 700,000 livres, which the countess would certainly have spirited away in her usual fashion if the chance had only been afforded her.

After consulting with their most pressing creditors, Böhmer and Bassenge gave a reluctant consent to the postponement asked for; but while the affair is still under consideration, the countess, getting alarmed, brings the cardinal 30,000 livres, which she tells him the queen has sent as interest on the retarded payment. Thirty thousand francs as interest on seven hundred thousand francs for two months, or at the rate of nearly twenty-six per cent., and the client, too, a queen! Madame de la Motte had evidently foreseen the famous axiom of Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington, though in an inverted form. With her, bad security implied high interest.

This 30,000 livres, we are told by the Abbé Georgel, only confirmed the most credulous of mortals in the conviction he entertained of the entire truth of all that Madame de la Motte had asserted. He at once hastened to the jewellers, who accepted the amount, not as interest, but on account of the principal. A few days afterwards, namely, on the 3rd of August, Böhmer, who occasionally visited the father-in-law of Madame Campan, went down to his country-house at Crespy—whether or not by invitation from Madame Campan does not appear—when Madame Campan repeated to him all that the queen had desired her to say. Böhmer, she tells us, seemed petrified, and asked how it was that the queen had been unable to understand the meaning of the letter he had presented to her.

“I read it myself,” replied Madame Campan, “and I could make nothing of it.”

Böhmer observed that he was not surprised at that, as there was a certain mystery in the affair respecting which she was ignorant, but of which he would inform her fully if she would accord him a private interview.

“When I had got rid of the persons who required my presence in the drawing-room,” says Madame Campan, “I went with Böhmer down one of the garden-walks.” Here the promised explanation was given, on hearing which Madame Campan was “so struck with horror,” “so absorbed in grief,” that a storm of thunder and rain came on while they were talking together without exciting her attention. During this conversation Böhmer stated that the queen, having changed her mind respecting his “grand Necklace,” and having determined to purchase it, had employed the Cardinal de Rohan as her agent in the transaction.

Madame Campan at once told the crown jeweller that he was deceived, for the queen had never spoken to the cardinal since his return from Vienna, and there was not an individual at court less favourably looked upon than the grand almoner.

“You are deceived yourself, madame,” replied Böhmer; “the queen must see him in private, for it was to his eminence that she gave 30,000 livres which were paid me on account; she took them in his presence⁠[151] out of the little secrétaire of Sèvres porcelain next the fireplace in her boudoir. This the cardinal told me himself.”

Böhmer further stated that he had in his possession all the notes signed by the queen, and that he had even been obliged to show these to various bankers in order to induce them to grant him an extension of time for his payments.

Madame Campan, thunderstruck at what she heard, assured poor Böhmer that he was the victim of a detestable plot; whereupon the jeweller confessed that he began to feel alarmed, as the cardinal had declared to him that the queen would be certain to wear the Necklace on Whit Sunday, and he, Böhmer, was greatly astonished when he saw that she did not have it on. On asking Madame Campan what she thought he ought to do, she advised him to go at once to the Baron de Breteuil, and tell him candidly all that had passed, and be ruled entirely by him. Instead of doing this Böhmer hurried off to the cardinal. What transpired at this interview is not known, but the following memorandum, in the grand almoner’s handwriting, was said to have been found in a drawer at the Hôtel de Strasbourg at the time a search was made for the cardinal’s papers:

“On this day, 3rd August, Böhmer went to Madame Campan’s country house, and she told him that the queen had never had the Necklace, and that he had been cheated.”

Böhmer must have spoken to the cardinal beforehand of his contemplated visit to Crespy, for the cardinal admitted that, having regard to the queen’s injunction to keep her name a perfect secret in the affair of the Necklace, he had urged Böhmer not to speak to Madame Campan on the subject, and in the event of any questions being asked him to say the Necklace had been sent abroad.⁠[152]⁠

The half-crazy jeweller next hastened to the Little Trianon, but failed in obtaining an interview with Marie-Antoinette. A day or two afterwards, the queen having sent for Madame Campan to rehearse with her the part of Rosina, which she was to play in Beaumarchais’ comedy, “The Barber of Seville,” at her private theatre at the Little Trianon, took an opportunity of asking her why she had sent Böhmer to her (who had been to speak to her, saying that he came at Madame Campan’s request), when she did not wish to see him.

“The expression,” remarks Madame Campan, “which this man’s name produced on my features must have been very marked, for the queen observed it, and commenced questioning me. I begged her to see him; I assured her that it was necessary to her tranquillity; that an intrigue was being carried on of which she was ignorant; that it was a grave one, since agreements signed by her had been shown to people who had lent money to Böhmer. Her surprise and annoyance were great. She made me relate several times the whole of my conversation with him, and complained bitterly of the vexation she felt at the circulation of forged notes signed with her name; but she could not conceive how the cardinal could be involved in the affair. This was a labyrinth to her, and her mind was lost in it. She ordered me to remain at Trianon, while she sent off a courier to Paris, under a pretext which I have now forgotten. He returned the next morning, the very day of the representation of the comedy, which was the last amusement the queen allowed herself in this retreat.”⁠[153]⁠