The Queen`s Confession

Extravagances

My longing for children was growing more and more intense. I had increased my little family of dogs, but although I loved them dearly they could not compensate me for my overwhelming desire to be a mother.

When my sister-in-law gave birth to a son I longed to be in her place.

When she called out in agony I wished that agony were mine. She lay exhausted yet somehow exalted-quite unlike the unattractive little creature I had known before this. The miracle had happened to her. She was a mother.

I heard her voice raised half hopefully half fearfully; and I could imagine her feelings when she received the answer.

“A little Prince, Madame …” —the words every Princess and Queen must wish to hear.

She answered: “My God! How happy I am! And how well I understood ! The child was well and healthy; the sound of his crying filled the apartment; it seemed the most magical sound in the world.

We left the apartment, I with my attendants, the chief of whom was the Princesse de Lamballe, my dear friend whom I had set up in place of Madame de Noailles. I grew fonder and fonder of my dear Lamballe every day and I did not know what I would do without her. I had now secured the services of Jeanne Louise Henriette Genet, the little lectrice

She was now Madame Campan, having married Monsieur Campan’s son. She was devoted and good and I did not know what I would do without her either, but of course she was not of the same rank as the Princesse, and had her re1e as one of my trusted attendants rather than a close friend who could accompany me to fetes and balls.

As we came out of the lying-in chamber and through the chateau we were met by a crowd of women from the Halles of Paris. It was the custom of the public to be present at the time of royal births, although it was only the Queen who must give birth publicly; at the births of lesser members of the royal family only the family need be present. But the fact that a royal child was being born was the nation’s concern, and although the people were not allowed to enter the Comtesse’s bedchamber they were in the chateau.

Thus as I walked through to my apartments, the Princesse de Lamballe beside me and Madame Campan a few paces behind, I found that the women from Les Halles were all about me. They looked at me with that frank curiosity to which I had grown accustomed. I tried hard not to wrinkle

my nose against the smell of fish—for these were the pois sardes, who above all the Paris traders were noted for their frankness of expression as they crowded about me, touching my clothes, my hands.

My hands fascinated them particularly: my fingers were so long and slender, the skin so soft and white, and of course they were aglitter with my beloved diamonds.

One woman thrust her face close to mine and, jerking her head towards the lying-in chamber, said: “You ought to be in there, Madame. You ought to be breeding heirs for France, not fondling your lady friends.”

I saw the Princesse flinch; and I believe my colour heightened a little, but I merely held my head high and tried to walk through the crowd.

“You should sleep with the King instead of dancing through the night and early morning.”

These women may have seen me riding home from the Opera at dawn when they were making their way to the markets.

Someone laughed.

“They say he can’t … is it true?”

The coarse laughter.

“You should see that he can, Madame. j This was becoming unbearable. The stench of these bodies, the insulting words which were growing more and more crude every moment!

Was it not enough that I had had to see my sister-in-law with her newly-born son in her arms? Must I now have to listen to coarse insults which I did not deserve?

Madame Campan was beside me. I saw her with calm dignity making a path, forcing a way through the crowd. My dearest Lamballe was not much use on such an occasion.

“The Queen is exhausted …” said Madame Campan.

The crude jest which followed that made me shudder; but I would have no more of it. After all, I was Queen of France. In my most regal manner I walked through that crowd of shouting women as though I could not see them, could not hear them, as though they did not exist. When I was in my apartment I heard their shouting behind me; I saw the tearful face of the Princesse, the calm one of Madame Campan.

I said: “Leave me … with Madame Campan.” And when the door shut on us I could restrain my sell no longer. I threw myself on to my bed and wept.

When I told my husband of the incident, he was saddened.

“It is so unfair … so unfair….” I stopped.

“Is it my fault?”

And seeing die stricken look on his face: “Is it our fault?”

He tried to comfort me and I whispered to him, “There is only one answer. The petite operation ” Yes,” he replied.

“Yes.”

I gripped his shoulders, my face alight with hope.

“You will …?”

“I will consider.”

I sighed. For so long he had been considering. It was nearly six years. What was he afraid of? The scalpel? Surely not. He was no coward. It was the indignity. The people would know;

they would speculate; they would watch. Even now, every time he came to my bedchamber they knew; they doubtless calculated the number of hours he spent there. It was this continual watchfulness which was ruining our lives. If only they would have left us alone I “You will.. you will see the doctors?”

He nodded. He wanted to give me all I asked; and I had made it clear that I wanted children above all things.

When he had left me I sat down and wrote to my mother:

“I have high hopes that I shall persuade the King to undergo that little operation which is all that is necessary.”

My mother wrote back that I must keep her informed, and I obeyed her.

I told her everything, but I do not think she could understand the effect this continuing situation was having on me. I was twenty; I was young, extremely healthy. It was not as though I lived the life of a normal virgin. There were these constant frustrating attempts which failed. I was restless and unhappy; I turned away from my husband and then towards him. He had seen the doctors; he had asked for all details of the necessary operation; he had examined the instruments which would have to be used, and bad come back to me.

I believe,” he said, ‘that in time this will right itself of its own accord.”

My heart sank. He could not face the operation. We were to go on in the old unsatisfactory way.

Every time he came to my apartments by way of the Oeil de Boeuf the crowds would be there watching him. The lampoons and chansons were increasing. We were no longer the young King and Queen who were going to create a Miracle and make France a land flowing with milk and honey; we had had the guerre des farines; we were an impotent young man and a frivolous young woman. The knowledge that while we were together those people were speculating on our actions disturbed us. We both began to dread these encounters. Yet we must do our duty. It was my idea that we should have a secret staircase built between the King’s bedchainber and mine so that he could visit me without anyone’s knowing when.

We did this and it comforted us, but the position was unchanged, and I knew it would be until he submitted to the petite operation.

I wrote to my mother:

“On the most unhappy point which troubles my dear mother, I am most unhappy to be unable to tell her anything new. This is certainly no fault of mine. I can only rely on patience and sweetness.”

But I was anxious for her to know that although my husband failed me in this one thing, in all other matters I had nothing of which to complain.

Oh yes, I was fond of Louis, but he was failing me.

There is really no excuse for the manner in which I behaved during the next phase of my life. I am sure it caused great consternation to my mother, who was watching so anxiously from afar. I can only plead the excuse of youth, my aroused senses which were never satisfied, the unhealthy atmosphere in which I lived.

I needed children. No woman was meant to be a mother more than I.

Every time I rode through the country and saw the little ones playing I would envy those humble cottage women with little ones clinging to their skirts. My entire being yearned for children. If any of my women had children I would ask that they be brought to me. I would romp with them and my dogs in a manner which Mercy felt was most unbecoming.

In the circumstances, what had I but the pursuit of perpetual amusement? I did not want time on my hands to meditate on my unsatisfactory life, I began to suffer from violent headaches and became feverish and giddy. Mercy called them ‘nervous affectation. ” He did not believe that I could be ill. In fact I looked extremely healthy; I had great vitality; I danced half the night. But I would sometimes find myself crying for little reason. It was most disturbing.

I longed for affection—demonstrative affection—which I could not get from Louis, and I was beginning to realise the danger of my mood. I was surrounded by handsome virile young men, who delighted to pay me compliments and who showed me in a hundred ways that they desired me.

Their courteous manners, their lingering glances excited me, and all the time I was aware of a warning voice—that sounded like my mother’s—continually ringing in my ears. This is danger. The children you bear will be Les Enfants de France. It would be criminal if they should have any father but the King.

I could not resist a little light flirtation. Perhaps Madame de Marsan was right and I was a coquette by nature; but I never allowed myself to be alone with any young man. I knew I was watched; that I was surrounded by people who hoped to see me rush to disaster; I knew that shocking things were written of me and that there were many people who believed perhaps that I did lead a scandalous life.

Mercy reproached me for my restlessness. I was never in bed before the dawn; I seemed to have an endless craving for excitement. I surrounded myself with the young and giddy members of the Court and had no time for those who could help and advise me.

I tried to explain to him. I felt I could be frank with Mercy. He at least would not supply the chanson news with material for their libels.

“I am perplexed by my strange position,” I cried in desperation.

“You have seen the way in which the King leaves me alone. I am afraid of being bored. I am afraid of myself. To prevent myself brooding I must have continual action. I must have novelty.”

He looked at me severely, and of course went straight to his apartment and reported to my mother what I had said.

I had to have someone on whom to lavish my affections. I laved little Elisabeth and kept her with me whenever possible. Clothilde had now married and left us. My dearest friend was Marie Therese Louise, the Princesse de Lamballe. I found her enchanting, for she was so gentle, and sweet, although many thought her stupid. She had a habit of swooning which Vermond said was affectation; she would swoon with pleasure at a gift of flowers or with horror at the sight of shellfish. She confided in me that she had suffered so much through her marriage that it had made her afraid of her own shadow. Poor dearest Lamballe I During those days of uncertainty she was my closest companion. She was so devoted to me; she said she would be happy to be one of my dogs so that she could sit at my feet every day. We used to walk through the gardens arm in arm like two schoolgirls, which naturally shocked everyone who saw us for it was no way for a Queen to be seen in public. But the more frustrated I became, the more determined I was to show contempt for their etiquette. And then I met the Comtesse Jules. She was the loveliest j creature I had ever seen. She had large soulful blue eye and thick brown curling hair which she wore hanging about her shoulders. She wore no jewels; I discovered that she had none; but on the first day I saw her there was a red rose in her corsage. Her sister-in-law was the Comtesse Diane de Polignac, lady-in-waiting to the Comtesse d’Artois, and it was Diane i who had brought her to Court. As soon as I saw her I wanted to know who she was, and commanded that she be presented to me. She was twenty six at our first meeting but she looked as young as I. Her name was Gabrielle Yolande de Polastron, and at seventeen she had been married to the Comte Jules de Polignac.

I asked why I had not seen her at Court before, for I was certain that had she been there I should have noticed her. She answered frankly that she was too poor to live at Court; nor did she seem to care about this. My dearest Gabrielle (she was always known to others as the Comtesse Jules) was completely without ambition. Was that why I was so taken with her? She did not care for jewels; she did not care for honours; and she was a little lazy, I was to discover, and I found all this enchanting. As she talked to me she made me feel that I was not a Queen but a person, and that she was drawn to me as I was to her.

She was leaving Court shortly, she told me, but I said she must not do so. I would arrange that she stayed in Court. I felt we were going to be friends.

She did not express surprise; in fact it was not easy to persuade her to accept. She did not really believe that she would care for Court life.

But I was determined, and as the Polignacs were perhaps the most ambitious family at Court, they soon prevailed on Gabrielle to accept the honour which I was thrusting upon her.

This was a most important encounter, for it set up a change in my affairs.

I was no longer bored. I wanted Gabrielle to be with me constantly.

She enchanted me; she had a lover, the Comte de Vaudreuil; she told me about him, explaining that all ladies had lovers and their husbands had mistresses. It was the accepted state of affairs.

For ladies of the Court perhaps, but not for the Queen.

Vaudreuil I found to be a rather terrifying character. He was a Creole and, Gabrielle told me, entirely fascinating, although she was afraid of him. I would see how charming were his manners; but his jealous rages were violent. I was to discover that he was extremely ambitious, too.

The Princesse de Lamballe was naturally jealous of my new favourite, and was constantly criticising her, which I fear made me lose patience with her. But I was still fond of her and kept her about me, although I was completely fascinated by my adorable Gabrielle.

The Polignacs had formed themselves into a coterie, and their object was of course to make a nucleus about me; they would use me doubtless for their own ends, but I was too foolish to see this.

Everything I was doing was unwise, of course. My friend ships for women were noticed and commented on. I guessed that reports of these would be carried to my mother, and I was anxious to mention this to her before she did to me.

“Here we have a spate of lampoons,” I told her.

“No one at Court is spared, including myself. They have been generous in my case. They give me many illicit lovers, both male and female.”

My shrewd mother must have been wondering how she could bring pressure on my husband to end this trying situation.

By bestowing the post of equerry on the Comte Jules de Polignac I ensured that Gabrielle could be at Court and near me. I was now caught up in the gaiety of life. There was no more boredom. The Polignac set saw to that. I was mixing with gay young people and I was the gayest of them all. Gabrielle’s apartment was at the head of the marble staircase next to my own and I could see her without ceremony

Without ceremony I That was what I was always seeking I found these people so interesting and unusual. There was the Princesse de Guemenee, who had become governess after Madame de Marsan to the young Princesses. I had been very fond of her for some time; she was quite fascinating; she loved dogs as I did and I always enjoyed visiting her to see them there must have been twenty adorable little creatures who she swore had special powers which helped her to get into touch with the other world. She had left her husband the Prince de Guemenee and her lover was the Due de Coigny.

Coigny was charming, seeming old to me, being about thirty-eight years old; but his manners were exquisite and I was no longer so stupid as to believe that no one over thirty should come to Court. Then there was the Prince de Ligne, a poet, and the Comte d’Esterhazy, a Hungarian whom I felt justified in seeing because my mother had recommended him. There were also the Baron de Besenval and the Comte d’Adhemar, the Due de Lauzan, and Marquis de La Fayette, who was very young, tall and redheaded and whom I christened Blondinet.

All these people congregated in Gabrielle’s apartments and there I went to them to escape the stifling strain of etiquette in the petits appartements.

It was the Princesse de Lamballe who brought Rose Bertin to my notice.

The Duchesse de Chartres also recommended her. She was a grande couturiere with a shop in Rue Saint-Honore and was considered extremely clever.

As soon as she was brought to me she went into ecstasies about my figure, my colouring, my daintiness and natural elegance. All she needed to make her happy was to dress me. She brought with her some of the most exquisite materials I had ever seen in my life, and draped them around me, scarcely asking permission to do so. In fact she was completely lacking in that respect which I was accustomed to receive and she behaved as though dressmaking was of more importance than the Monarchy. I was not so much a Queen as a perfect model for her creations. She made me a gown which I thought the most elegant I had ever had. I told her so and the next day she had ‘discovered’ another material which was created for me; no one else should have it; if I did not, she would throw it aside. She would make up this material for no one but the Queen of France.

I was amused by her. She never waited in the anterooms but came straight in to my apartments. When one of my attendants referred to her as a dressmaker she was shocked.

I am an artist !’ she retorted.

And she was. She fascinated me with her talk of silks and brocades and colours; she came to me regularly with designs, and sometimes I would make a suggestion. If Madame had not been the Queen of Prance she would have been an artist! Now she must be content to show these masterpieces to the world I’ My clothes were becoming more and more elegant. There was no doubt about that. My sisters-in-law tried to copy me. Rose Berth would laugh secretly in my apartments.

“Have they the figures of Aphrodite? Do they walk as though on a cloud? Have they the grace and the charm of an angel?”

They had not, but they were rich enough to be allowed to make use of Rose Benin’s talents.

Between us she and I set the fashion of the Court. Whenever I entered a room everyone waited breathlessly to see what I was wearing. Then they would go to Rose Benin and beg her to copy it.

She chose her clients with care, she told me. This one was too thin, that one too fat, another completely ungainly.

“What do you think, Madame, a merchant’s wife had the impertinence to call at my establishment yesterday. Would I work for her? The arrogance. Although she was a very rich merchant’s wife, I said, ” I have not time to spare to talk to you, Madame. I have an appointment with Her Majesty”.”

It added a new interest to life; and when the bills came in I scarcely looked at the large figures at the bottom of the paper.

I just scrawled “Payes’ on the bottom.

Rose Benin was very contented with me—and I with her.

Oh, the folly of those days I I refused to see what was going on in the world about me. I did not listen when people talked of France’s uneasy relationship with England which might break into war at any moment. I had completely forgotten the guerre des farines. I danced until three or four in the morning, or played cards, and I was beginning to gamble heavily now.

I had done a great deal to abolish etiquette but I had naturally not been completely successful. When I awakened, one of my attendants would bring to my bed an album in which patterns of my dresses had been fixed. As soon as a new dress arrived this would be fixed into the album. My first task on awaking was to decide what I would wear for the whole of the day, and because of that I must have an account of all my engagements perhaps a reception in the morning, neglige for afternoon, and a sumptuous Benin gown for evening. Another attendant would stand by the bed holding a tray of pins, and when I had made my choice I would stick one of these into the elect. When I had made my choice the album would be taken away, the dresses brought out in readiness for when they would be needed.

The ceremony of getting up was tiresome. I thought longingly of the Trianon and determined to spend as much time there as possible. To awake in my own link room. What joy that was! To leap out of bed and look at my gardens which I was having made to my designs. Perhaps to run out with a robe thrown over my night attire. What fun, what joy to feel the dew on the cool grass with my bare feet. That was one of the joys at the Trianon.

How different from Versailles, where etiquette seemed to suffocate me and rob me of my natural vitality.

One winter’s morning my lever was carried to excess. To dress me I must have a lady of honour on one side and a tire woman on the other; and as if this was not enough my first femme de chambre must be in attendance besides two of the lower servants.

It was a lengthy business and on that cold morning I did not relish this. It was the tire-woman’s duty to put on my petticoat and hand me my gown and the lady of honour’s to perform the more intimate tasks of putting on my under clothes and pouring out the water in which I should wash. But when a Princess of the Royal Family was there, the lady of honour must allow her to give me my linen; and this had to be most scrupulously observed, because there might be occasions when two or three Princesses were present and if one usurped the duty of the other, thereby implying she was of higher rank, this would be a major breach of etiquette.

On this particular day I was undressed waiting for my undergarments to be handed to me and was just about to take them from the maid of honour when the door opened and the Duchesse d’Orleans came in. Seeing what was happening she took off her gloves and, receiving the garment from the maid of honour, handed it to me; but at that moment the Comtesse de Provence appeared.

I sighed deeply, my irritation rising. There was I without my clothes, already delayed by the Duchesse d’Orleans, and now here was my sister-in-law, who would be deeply affronted if anyone but herself put on my clothes. I handed her the garment, folded my hands across my breasts and, with an expression of resignation, waited, grateful for only one thing:

there could not be a lady of higher rank than my sister-in-law to come and repeat this stupid performance.

Marie Josephe, seeing my impatience and that I was cold, did not stop to remove her gloves but put the shift over my head and knocked my cap off while doing so.

I could not contain myself.

“Disgraceful!” I muttered.

“How tiresome!”

Then I laughed to hide my irritation; but I was more determined than ever to put my foot through their silly etiquette. I understood that it was probably necessary on certain state occasions, but to carry it to these lengths was quite ridiculous.

Thus I revelled in bringing Rose Benin into my private apartments where no tradesman had been admitted before. And I spent more and more time at the Trianon.

The really great ceremony of the day was that of dressing my hair.

Naturally I employed the best hairdresser in Paris, which probably meant in the world. Monsieur Leonard was as important a personage in his way as Rose Bertin was in hers. Every morning he drove to Versailles from his establishment in Paris to dress my hair, and people used to come out to watch him in his splendid carriage drawn by six horses. No wonder there was growing discontent about my extravagance. As Rose Bertin invented new fashions for me alone, he invented new hair styles. My high forehead had been a cause of complaint years before, but now styles were worn to suit high foreheads, and hair styles gradually became more and more fantastic.

The hair was stiffened with pomades and made to stand straight up from the head then padded with hair of the same colour; as far up as eighteen inches from the forehead. Monsieur Leonard would then begin his original creation. He would create fruit, birds, even ships and landscape scenes with artificial flowers and ribbons.

My appearance was a constant topic of conversation throughout Versailles and Paris; it was written and joked about, while my extravagances were deplored.

Mercy, of course, was reporting; but my mother did not need him, to learn about this.

She wrote reprovingly:

I cannot refrain from commenting on a subject which many newspapers have brought to my notice. I mean your manner of hairdressing. I gather that from the roots on the forehead it rises as much as three feet and on top of that are feathers and ribbons. “

I replied that the lofty head-dresses were fashionable and that no one in the world thought them in the least strange.

She wrote back:

“I have always held that it is well to be in the fashion but one should never be outre in one’s dress. Surely a good-looking Queen, blessed with charm, has no need of such foolishness. Simplicity of attire enhances these gifts, and is much more suitable to exalted rank. Since as Queen you set the fashion, all the world will follow you when you do these foolish things. But I, who love my little Queen and watch her every footstep, must not hesitate to warn her of her frivolity.”

There was a different tone in my mother’s letters these days. She warned; she did not command; and constantly she was telling me that she advised me through her great love for me.

I should have paid more attention to her; but it was so long since I had seen her, and even her influence was beginning to wane. I no longer trembled at the sight of her handwriting; after all, if she was an Empress, I was the Queen—and the Queen of France. I was a woman now and could act as I pleased. I Continued to consult with Rose Benin; my dress bills were of enormous proportions and my hair styles grew more preposterous each day.

Moreover Artois and his cousin Chartres were encouraging me to gamble. We played faro, at which it was possible to lose a great deal of money. The money which the King gave me to pay my debts each week all seemed to go at the gambling table.

I had no sense of money; all I had to do was scribble “Payez’ on the bills which were presented to me and let my servants deal with the matter.

My husband was too indulgent. I think he understood that driving passion not to be bored, not to stop and think, and blamed himself for it. Always he must have been conscious of the shadow of the scalpel which he could not bring himself to face. He paid my debts and never lectured me; but he did try to curtail the gambling not for me only, but for the whole Court.

But what excited me more than anything more than clothes, gambling, dancing and hair styles were diamonds. How I loved those gorgeous sparkling stones; and they became me as no others did. They were cold yet full of fire; and I was too. I never once allowed a young man to be alone with me; I was frigid, it was said; but beneath the frigidity there was a brilliant fire which like a diamond could flash in certain circumstances.

I had many jewels some I had brought from Austria, and then there was the casket my grandfather had given me for a wedding present but a new jewel could always fascinate me. If the people grumbled at my extravagance, at least the tradespeople were delighted. The Court jewellers, Boehmer and Bassenge, who had come to France from Germany, were as delighted with me as Rose Bertin and Leonard were. They would present their beautifully-set stones to me, looking so delicious in their satin-and-velvet cases that I found them altogether irresistible. When they showed me a pair of diamond bracelets I was fascinated by them and I did not think of the price until I had decided I must have them.

This brought protests from my mother. I hear that you have bought bracelets which have cost two hundred and fifty thousand livres, with the result that you have thrown your finances into disorder and are in debt. This deeply disturbs me, particularly when I con template the future. A Queen degrades herself by decking herself out in this ostentatious manner, and still more so by lack of thrift. I know how extravagant you can be, and I cannot keep quiet about this matter because I love you too well to flatter you. Do not lose through your frivolous behaviour the good name you acquired when you arrived in France. It is well known that the King is not extravagant, so blame will rest on you. I hope I shall not live to see the disaster that will ensue unless you change your ways. ” The warning continued, for news of my gambling debts bad reached her.

Gambling is without doubt one of the worst pleasures. It attracts bad company and provokes gossip. Let me beg of you, my dear daughter, do not give way to this passion. Let me beg of you to stop this habit.

If I do not hear that you accept this advice I shall be forced to ask the King’s help in this matter so that I may save you from greater misfortune. I know too well what consequences will ensue, and you will lose caste not only with the people of France, but abroad also which will distress me deeply, for I love you so tenderly. “

I wanted to please her and tried to for a while, but soon I was slipping back into the old ways. When Mercy reproached me I answered:

“I do not think my mother can understand the difficulties of life here.”

I think he, who was closer at hand, did, as did the Abbe Vermond.

Perhaps this made them a little less severe in condemning my follies.

The Trianon was a delight. I was laying out the gardens afresh with the help of the Prince de Ligne, who had made for himself one of the loveliest gardens in France at Bel Oeil. There was a fashion for everything English at this time. Frenchmen tried to dress like Englishmen in long coats cut close and thick stockings, with stock hats not at Court of course, where they were most elaborately attired, but we noticed this in the streets of Paris. Signs were hung outside shops:

“English spoken here’; lemonade-sellers now sold punch, and everyone was drinking Ie the. Artois had introduced horse-racing to France and I often went with him to the races. It was another excuse for gambling. So of course I must have an English garden at the Trianon. I was planning a little temple in the gardens which was to surround an exquisite statue of Eros by Bouchardon. I decided on Corinthian pillars about the statue and I would call it the Temple of Love. It became clear to me that the Prince de Ligne was in love with me; and I was sad about this because I enjoyed his company so much and I dared not allow that friendship to develop.

My feeling for him must have been noticed, for my mother wrote and said that she thought it wrong that he should spend so much time in Versailles, so I told him to join his regiment for a while and then come back. I was surprised bow sorry I was that he must go away.

But it was clear to me that I had to be careful.

Mercy came to me-and spoke to me Severely. I had made many new friends; I was constantly in their company. They seemed to him to be people of questionable morals. Was I being wise?

I looked at him slyly, because I knew that he had a mistress, an opera singer, Mademoiselle Rosalie Levasseur; he had lived with her for years, and although theirs was a very respectable relationship, as far as it could be in the circumstances, it was one without benefit of clergy.

I did not mention this. I contented myself with a lighthearted rejoinder that one must enjoy oneself while one was young.

“When I grow older I shall be more serious; then my frivolity will disappear.”

I was surprised that old Kaunitz understood my position far better than my mother or my brother. He wrote to Mercy:

“We are young yet, and I fear we shall be so for a very long time.”

This time was difficult for my husband too. The kingly bearing he displayed at the time of the guerre des farines seemed to have disappeared; be asserted himseu in odd ways. He liked to fight with his attendants, and often I would go to his apartments and see him wrestling on the floor. He always got the better of his opponents, for he was much stronger than they were; this must have given him the feeling of superiority he needed to feel.

He was the absolute antithesis of everything that I was. He did not complain of my extravagance, but he was so thrifty that he was almost mean; there was no subtlety about him. Sometimes he would fix one of his friends by his expression and walk towards him so that the poor man had to retreat until he was standing against a wall. Then Louis would find he had nothing to say and would laugh loudly and walk away.

His appetite was voracious. I have seen him eat for break fast a chicken and four cutlets, several slices of ham and six eggs all washed down with half a bottle of champagne. He worked at the forge which he had had installed on the top story and there he would hammer away and make boxes of iron, and keys. Locks were his passion. He had a work man up there named Gamain who treated him as though he were a fellow-worker and even jeered at his efforts, all of which Louis took in the utmost good humour, declaring that in the forge Gamain was a better man than he was.

At his coucher he was as impatient of etiquette as I was and would take his cordon bleu and throw it at the nearest man. Stripped to the waist he would scratch himself before the courtiers and when the noblest present tried to help him into his nightgown he would run round the room leaping over the furniture, forcing them to chase him which they did until they were out of breath. Then he would take pity on them and allow them to put on his nightgown. The nightgown on, and his breeches loosed, he would engage them in conversation, walking about the room with his breeches about his ankles so that he was obliged to shuffle.

It was the Due de Lauzan who made me realise how dangerously Louis and I had drifted apart. At a party at the house of the Princesse de Guemenee, Lauzan appeared in a very splendid uniform and on his helmet was the most magnificent heron’s plume. I thought it very beautiful and impulsively said so. The very next day a messenger came from the Princesse de Guemenee with the feather and a note from the Princesse which said that the Due de Lauzan had begged her to implore me to accept it.

I was embarrassed, but I knew that to return the feather would be to wound him deeply, and impulsively decided that I would wear the feather once and then lay it aside.

Monsieur Leonard used it for my head-dress, and when Lauzan saw it his eyes gleamed with pleasure.

The next day he presented himself at my apartment and begged an interview. Madame Campan was in attendance and I granted the interview as I should have done to anyone. He wished, he said, to speak to me privately if I would so honour him.

I glanced at Madame Campan; she knew the signal. She would go into the anteroom and leave the door open, because she knew that I was never alone with men.

When she had disappeared he threw himself on to his knees and began kissing my hands.

“I was overcome with joy,” he cried, ‘when I saw you wearing the aigrette. It was your answer the answer I longed for. You have made me the happiest man in the world. “

“Stop,” I said.

“Are you mad. Monsieur de Lauzan?”

He stumbled to his feet, the colour draining from his face. He said:

“Your Majesty was gracious enough to show me by our token …”

“You are dismissed,” I told him.

“But you …”

“Will you go. Monsieur de Lauzan? Immediately! … Madame Campan come here please!”

She was there as I knew she would be.

There was only one thing Lauzan could do. He bowed and retired.

I said to Madame Campan: “That man shall never again come within my doors.”

I was shaking with apprehension. I was both angry and alarmed. I knew that I was to blame in a way. I had behaved coquettishly; and I had been so foolish as to wear the plume. Why could not these people understand that I merely wanted to be amused I Lauzan never forgave me. His feelings for me were indeed strong and if he could not be my lover he could at least become my enemy. He was that—in the years when I so needed friends.

There were times when I longed to escape from the Court; and there was the Petit Trianon waiting to welcome me; but sometimes I felt as though I wanted to get far away;

I wanted to ride out in my calash and be alone—which was strange for me. Not that I was alone. There was ceremony even when I went riding informally in this way;

I must have my coachman and postilions.

We rode through villages and I looked out at the children at play—beautiful creatures whom I should have been so happy to call mine; as we rode along, suddenly one of these littles ones ran out of a cottage and almost under the horses’ hoofs. I cried out, the coachman pulled up sharply; the little boy lay sprawled in the road.

Is he hurt? ” I cried, leaning out.

The child began to scream wildly as one of the postilions picked him up.

He kicked furiously, and the postilion grinned.

“I cannot think much ails him. Your Majesty. But he’s frightened.”

“Bring him to me.”

He was brought. His clothes were ragged but not unclean;

he stopped crying as I took him, and looked up at me wonderingly. He had large blue eyes and light-coloured waving hair. He was like a little cherub.

“You are not hurt, darling,” I said.

“And there is nothing to fear.”

A woman had come out of the cottage; two children, older than the little boy, ran after her and I caught a glimpse of others.

“The boy …” began the woman; and she looked at me in astonishment.

I was not sure if she knew who I was.

“Jacques, what are you doing?”

The little boy on my lap turned his head from her and nestled closer to me. That decided me. He was mine. Providence had given him to me.

I beckoned to the woman and she came closer to the calash.

“You are his mother?” I asked.

No, Madame. His grandmother. His mother my daughter died last winter.

She has left five children on my hands. ” I was exultant.

“On my hands!” It was significant.

I will take little Jacques. I will adopt him. I will bring him up as my child. “

“He is the naughtiest of them all. One of the others …”

“He is mine,” I said, for I loved him already.

“Give him to me and you will never regret it.”

“Madame … you are …”

“I am the Queen,” I said. She dropped a clumsy curtsy and I added:

‘you shall be rewarded. ” And my eyes filled with tears at her gratitude, for like my husband I loved to help the poor when I was made aware of the difficult lives they led.

“And this little one shall be as my own child.”

The little one sat up suddenly and began to cry: “I don’t want the Queen. I want Marianne….”

“His sister, Madame,” said his grandmother.

“He is very wayward. He will run away.”

I kissed him.

“Not from me,” I said, but he tried to wriggle away from me. I signed to Campan to take the name of the woman and to remind me that something should be done; and then I gave orders to return to the palace.

Little Jacques kicked all the way and kept screaming that he wanted Marianne and his brother Louis. He was a bright little fellow.

“You do not know, darling, what a happy day this is for you,” I told him, ‘and for me. “

I told him of the toys he should have . a little pony of his own.

What did he think of that? He listened and said:

“I want Marianne.”

“He is a faithful little fellow,” I said.

“Not to be bribed.”

And I hugged him, which made him wriggle more than ever. His little woollen cap fell off and I was enchanted, for he was much prettier without it. I thought how delightful he would look in the clothes I should plan for him. We should soon discard that red frock and the little sabots.

When we reached the palace there was some astonishment to see me hand in hand with a little peasant boy, who was now too bewildered by all he saw to continue with his tears.

The Queen’s latest folly, was what they called it. But I did not care.

At last I had a child even though he was not of my flesh and blood. I found a nurse for him immediately-the wife of one of my menservants who had children of her own and whom I knew to be a good mother. I gave orders that he was to be suitably dressed as became his new station in life. And then with Madame Campan’s help I set about making arrangements to send my little darling’s brothers and sisters to school.

Those were the happiest days I had known for a long time, and when I saw my little one in a white lace-trimmed frock with a rose-coloured sash trimmed with silver fringe, and a little hat decorated with a feather, I thought he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

I embraced him; I wept over him; and this time he did not object; he lifted those wondering and most beautiful blue eyes to my face and called me “Maman.”

I called him Armand. That was his family name and it seemed more suitable at Court than Jacques. Every morning he was brought to me; he would sit on my bed before my lever; and we would breakfast together; sometimes we would dine together too. The King would join us and he grew quite fond of little Armand.

I was the only one who could tame his. waywardness. He liked to sit on the bed and play with the feathers and ornaments of my head-dresses.

When I was most elaborately dressed for some ball or banquet I would go and show myself to him.

If I loved him, he loved me too. It did not occur to me that a child could be capable of deep emotion—perhaps deeper than my own.

No one could doubt that die state of affairs between my

husband and myself was unsatisfactory. Although he never showed anything but kindness for me it was clear that he preferred the company of others to mine. He spent more time with Gamain than with me. I was completely outside political affairs; he showed clearly that, indulgent as he was towards me—permitting my extravagances, often paying my debts, practising, as it seemed, parsimony to counterbalance my extravagance, even allowing me to bring a peasant child into the family circle—he was not going to allow me to interfere in political affairs.

The uneasiness of my mother. Mercy, Vermond and Kaunitz was apparent.

And my mother had her enemies in Europe, the chief of whom was Frederick of Prussia—known as the Great to so many, and to my mother as the Monster.

Frederick had his spies everywhere, so he was well informed of the King’s inability to consummate our marriage, and an idea occurred to him that an experienced woman might achieve what a frivolous young girl had failed to do. Such a woman was the well-known actress of the Comedie Francaise, Louise Contat. She was more than beautiful; a woman of sensitivity, understanding and great charm, she was sought after by many a nobleman.

Such a mistress, Frederick the Great was certain, could greatly help the King. In any case it was worthy of a try. And it should be ascertained before the liaison was encouraged that the delectable Contat would be the friend of Prussia.

But for the vigilance of Vermond and Mercy I have no notion what would have grown out of this; but of one thing I am sure: my husband would never have been unfaithful.

Mercy was, however, soon writing to my mother. What a flutter there must have been in the Hofburg! I imagined the conferences between Joseph and my mother. Joseph had grown more pompous than ever, and as head of the family, believed it was his duty to castigate his family and keep it in order.

He had visited Naples to see Caroline, and her conduct did not please him. Poor Caroline ! What had the years done to her? She was creating scandal in Naples with the husband to whom she had gone so reluctantly.

Joseph had plenty to lecture her about. Caroline’s excuse was that she never entertained a lover until she was pregnant by her husband. As though as long as she secured the rightful succession nothing else mattered. Maria Amalia had been creating scandal in Parma ever since she had been there. And here was I in France, with the eyes of the world on me, frivolous and extravagant, but at least faithful to my husband—although rumour accused me of a hundred obscenities.

And now there was a possibility of my place in my husband’s affections being taken by a brilliant and attractive actress who would be eternally grateful to my mother’s greatest enemy for putting her in this exalted position.

Action must be taken without fail. It should have been long before.

My brother Joseph was coming to Versailles to discover the true state of affairs for himself and to see what could be done about them.