influence him; but it was not strange that Marie Antoinette should fail to appreciate such refined subtlety.  She had looked forward to his taking a bold, straightforward course in defense of Royalist principles; and she could hardly believe in the honesty of a man who for any object whatever could seem to disregard or to despise them.  Her feelings may be shown by some extracts from one of her letters to the emperor written just after one of Mirabeau’s most violent outbursts, apparently his speech in support of a motion that the fleet should be ordered to hoist the tricolor flag.

“October 22d, 1790.

“We are again fallen back into chaos and all our old distrust.  Mirabeau had sent the king some notes, a little violent in language, but well argued, on the necessity of preventing the usurpations of the Assembly ... when, on a question concerning the fleet, he delivered a speech suited only to a violent demagogue, enough to frighten all honest men.  Here, again, all our hopes from that quarter are overthrown.  The king is indignant, and I am in despair.  He has written to one of his friends, in whom I have great confidence, a man of courage and devoted to us, an explanatory letter, which seems to me neither an explanation nor an excuse.  The man is a volcano which would set an empire on fire; and we are to trust to him to put out the conflagration which is devouring us.  He will have a great deal to do before we can feel confidence in him again.  La Marck defends Mirabeau, and maintains that if at times he breaks away, he is still in reality faithful to the monarchy ...  The king will not believe this.  He was greatly irritated yesterday.  La Marck says that he has no doubt that Mirabeau thought that he was acting well in speaking as he did, to throw dust in the eyes of the Assembly, and so to obtain greater credit when circumstances still more grave should arise.  O my God! if we have committed faults, we have sadly expiated them.[11]”

And before the end of the year, the royal cause had fresh difficulties thrown in its way by the perverse and selfish wrongheadedness of the emigrant princes, who were already evincing an inclination to pursue objects of their own, and to disown all obedience to the king, on the plea that he was no longer master of his policy or of his actions.  They showed such open disregard of his remonstrances that, in December, as Marie Antoinette told the emperor, Louis had written both to the Count d’Artois and to the King of Sardinia (in whose dominions the count was at the time), that, if his brothers persisted in their designs, “he should be compelled to disavow them peremptorily, and summon all his subjects who were still faithful to him to return to their obedience.  She hoped,” she said, “that that would make them pause.  It seemed certain to her that no one but those on the spot, no one but themselves, could judge what moments and what circumstances were favorable for action, so as to put an end to their own miseries and to those of France.  And it will be then,” she concludes, “my dear brother, that I shall reckon on your friendship, and that I shall address myself to you with the confidence with which I am inspired by the feelings of your heart, which are well known to me, and by the good-will which you have shown us on all occasions.[12]”