In 1784, Joseph II. reigned alone.  Less prudent and less sensible than his illustrious mother, restless, daring, nourishing useful or fanciful projects, bred of humanity or disdain, severe and affectionate at the same time towards his sister the queen of France, whose extravagance he found fault with during the trip he made to Paris in 1777, he was now pressing her to act on his behalf in the fresh embarrassments which his restless ambition had just excited in Europe.  The mediation of King Louis XVI. between the emperor and the Dutch, as to the navigation of the Scheldt, had just terminated the incident pacifically:  the king had concluded a treaty of defensive alliance with Holland.  The minister of war, M. de Segur, communicated to the queen the note he had drawn up on this important question.  “I regret,” he said to Marie Antoinette, “to be obliged to give the king advice opposed to the desire of the emperor.”  “I am the emperor’s sister, and I do not forget it,” answered the queen; “but I remember above all that I am queen of France and mother of the dauphin.”  Louis XVI. had undertaken to pay part of the indemnity imposed upon Joseph II.; this created discontent in France.  “Let the emperor pay for his own follies,” people said; and the ill-humor of the public openly and unjustly accused the queen.

This direful malevolence on the part of public opinion, springing from a few acts of imprudence and fomented by a long series of calumnies, was about to burst forth on the occasion of a scandalous and grievous occurrence.  On the 15th of August, 1785, at Mass-time, Cardinal Rohan, grand almoner of France, already in full pontificals, was arrested in the palace of Versailles and taken to the Bastille.  The king had sent for him into his cabinet.  “Cardinal,” said Louis XVI. abruptly, “you bought some diamonds of Bcehmer?” “Yes, Sir.”  “What have you done with them?” “I thought they had been sent to the queen.”  “Who gave you the commission?” (The cardinal began to be uneasy.) “A lady, the Countess de la Motte Valois, . . . she gave me a letter from the queen; I thought I was obliging her Majesty. . . .  “The queen interrupted.  She had never forgiven M. de Rohan for some malevolent letters written about her when she was dauphiness.  On the accession of Louis XVI. this intercepted correspondence had cost the prince his embassy to Vienna.  “How, sir,” said the queen, “could you think, you to whom I have never spoken for eight years, that I should choose you for conducting this negotiation, and by the medium of such a woman?” “I was mistaken, I see; the desire I felt to please your Majesty misled me, and he drew from his pocket the pretended letter from the queen to Madame de la Motte.  The king took it, and, casting his eye over the signature:  “How could a prince of your house and my grand almoner suppose that the queen would sign Marie Antoinette de France?  Queens sign their names quite short.  It is not even the queen’s writing.  And what is the meaning of all these doings with jewellers, and these notes shown to bankers?”