The Queen`s Confession

The Arrival of Madame Royale

Each day I thought of my new hopes. I longed for a sign that I was pregnant. I tried hard to follow Joseph’s instructions and considered what would please my husband. He was equally attentive. At least we both desired the same thing. I dreamed about my own little Dauphin.

When I had him I would ask nothing more of life. My desire for a child was a burning intensity.

That August I gave a fete at Trianon, setting up a fair in the gardens with stalls; I allowed the shopkeepers of Paris to bring their stalls in to the gardens and I myself took on the re1e of limonadiere and was

dressed as a waitress in the most delightful muslin and lace specially created for me by my ever-accommodating Rose Benin. Everyone declared that they had never seen such a limonadiere and they hurried to be served by me. I and my ladies felt it was the greatest fun in the world to serve lemonade.

The King was constantly at my side and everyone noticed how tenderly we behaved towards each other.

All through that year I hoped and dreamed and nothing happened. I began to wonder whether it ever would. I would have little Armand brought to me each morning; he de lighted me for he had grown very affectionate and his great blue eyes would look so mournful when I had to leave him;

but he always made me long more than ever for a child of my own.

Perhaps, I thought gloomily as the year came to its close, even though our marriage has been consummated it may not be fruitful.

I was in despair. I sought the old pleasures to console myself. Artois was always at my side, determined to bring me out of my solemn mood, he told me, and make me enjoy life again. Let us disguise ourselves; let us go to the Opera ball.

It was carnival time and I longed to go to the ball, but when my husband asked me if I were going I said No, because I believed he would prefer I did not. He hastily replied that he would not dream of keeping me from my pleasure and that I should go to the ball as long as I was accompanied by the Comte de Provence. So I started dancing again. I began visiting the Princesse de Guemenee’s apartment and playing heavily. Joseph’s warnings were forgotten and I was back with the old bad habits.

We played games and tricks together and on each other. Artois was always playing practical jokes and I and the Prince de Ligne decided to play one on him. We often had music in the Orangerie, and very high up in a niche on the wall there was a bust of Louis XIV. When the concert was over and we were leaving the Orangerie, Artois always bowed low to this statue and cried: “Bonsoir, Gran’pere.” I thought it would give him a shock if the statue answered, so I arranged that we should get a ladder and the Prince de Ligne should climb up to the statue; we would then remove the ladder and the Prince would answer Artois in deep serious tones.

We were convulsed with laughter thinking how alarmed Artois would be believing that he had called the shade of his great and formidable ancestor from his grave by his frivolous raillery.

However, the Prince refused at the last moment because he had been told by one of his friends that someone had decided to carry the joke a bit further by refusing to bring the ladder back by which he would descend, so that he would not-be able to get down.

The Prince had no great desire to spend the night high up in the Orangerie with the bust of Louis XIV, and the joke fell through. But that was the sort of life we were leading.

And when I was in the depth of my despair believing I should never have a child, to my great joy I guessed I might be pregnant. I was so excited I could scarcely go about my normal affairs. I was terrified that I might be wrong; and I was determined I was not going to say anything until I was sure. Everyone had watched me expectantly at first, now they ceased to do so; and I was glad of it.

I did not want to do anything but dream about the child. I pretended to be ill one of my ‘nervous affectations’ so that I should be alone to think.

“Monsieur Ie Dauphin,” I said to myself a hundred times a day.

I studied my body but there was no difference as yet. I was very careful getting in and out of my bath lest I should slip. My bath was shaped like a sabot and for the sake of modesty I wore a long flannel gown buttoned to the neck when I sat in it; and when I came out I always made one of the two bathing women in attendance hold a cloth in front of me so that my attendants should not see me. Now I felt this to be doubly necessary. Not that my body had changed one little bit.

The weeks passed and I clung to my secret and at last I felt convinced. I was certain I had felt the child move within me.

My husband should be told first. I was so excited that I did not know how to break the news. I knew he would be overcome with emotion too.

Did he not desire this as much as I did?

I went to his apartments. I was half laughing, half crying.

He rose when he saw me and came towards me in consternation.

Laughing I cried: “Sire, I have come to lodge a complaint against one of your subjects.”

He was startled. What has happened “He has kicked me.”

“Kicked you I’ Indignation and horror.

I burst out laughing.

“In the womb,” I answered.

“He is young yet, so I hope Your Majesty will not be too severe.

He looked at me, wonder dawning on his face. The child had not kicked;

he was too young yet; but perhaps I imagined that I could feel him moving, I wanted him so much.

“Can it be?” whispered my husband.

I nodded; then he embraced me; and we remained clinging to each other for some minutes.

We were so happy; yet we both wept.

I wrote to my mother:

“Madame, my dear Mother, my first impulse, which I regret not having followed some weeks ago, was to write to you of my hopes. I stopped myself when I thought of the sadness it would cause you if my hopes proved false….”

I no longer wanted to dance. It would be bad for the child. I wanted to sit and dream. I wrote again to my mother:

“There are still moments when I think it is only a dream, but this dream goes on and I think I need no longer doubt….”

Had I ever been so happy? I did not think so. A child . all of my own!

I was a little absent-minded when Armand came to sit on my bed. I did not see him. I saw another child. My own . my baby Dauphin.

I was writing to my mother frequently of all my hopes, how I was going to care for my Dauphin, what I was preparing for him. I was taking care of myself. I took quiet walks in the gardens of Versailles and Trianon; I liked to sit and talk in the petits appartements, listening to gentle music and doing a little needlework. I was planning my baby’s clothes. I wanted to do so much for him myself. I could not wait for him to be born. I wrote to my mother:

“The manner in which they are brought up now is much less constricting. Babies should not be swaddled. They should be in a light cradle or carried in one’s arms. I learn that they should be out of doors as soon as possible so that they can grow accustomed to fresh air by degrees, and they end by being in it almost the whole of the day. I believe it to be good and healthy for them. I have arranged for my baby to be lodged downstairs, and there shall be a little railing separating him from the rest of the terrace. This will teach him to walk early How I longed to have him with me. I was impatient of the waiting.

The discomforts of pregnancy did not worry me in the least. I welcomed them. I was never tired of talking of babies and I gathered about me those people who had had them so that they could talk of their experiences.

But how long the waiting seemed I I began to grow so weary of it; sometimes I was almost sick with longing for my child.

My baby was due in December and the summer seemed endless; and then a strange event occurred which for a short while made me less aware even of my coming baby.

It was August and I was in the crowded salon with my husband and brothers-and sisters-in-law, and I was beginning to feel a little tired. I knew I only had to catch Louis’s eye and he would dismiss the assembly. He was always so ] solicitous of my health and terrified, as

I was, that the baby . might be jeopardised. Then it happened. He was some little distance from us and neither my husband nor his brothers knew him. But I did. I took one look at that unusual and most handsome face, at the contrast of fair hair and dark eyes, and I was trans ported back to an Opera ball at which as Dauphine I had danced disguised . until I had revealed myself.

“Ah,” I cried, impulsively.

“Here is an old acquaintance ” Madame. ” He was standing before me, bowing low over my hand. I felt his lips against my fingers and I was happy.

“Comte de Fersen,” I said thoughtlessly.

He was delighted that I should remember him. Others watching me were they not always watching me? were surprised and naturally would not let the matter pass.

He had changed a little since we had last met; but then so had I. We had both become more mature. I asked him to tell me what had happened to him after the Opera ball.

He had been to England, he said, and after that to Northern France and Holland, before returning to the Chateau of Lofstad, which was his home in Sweden.

“And you were happy to be home.”

He smiled; he had the most charming smile I had ever seen.

“The Court of Sweden seemed a little dull after that of France.”

I was pleased, loving compliments.

“But it is your home,” I reminded him.

“I had been so long away … Brussels … Berlin, Rome, London, Paris in particular Paris.”

“I am pleased that our capital pleased you He looked steadily at me and said: ” There is something here that . enchants me. “

I was excited. I knew what he meant.

“You have a family, though … a large family?”

“A younger brother and three sisters, but they were always away from home. They all held posts at Court.”

“Naturally. But I know what it means to live in a large family and leave it….”

I dared not talk to him much longer for we were being noticed. He was courtier enough to realise this.

I said conspiratorially: “We will talk together again.” Being thus dismissed he bowed and I turned to my sister-in-law who was standing beside me. Marie Josephe would be beside me at such a time. I was sure she had listened to every word.

What strange days they were. I don’t think I had ever been so happy in the whole of my life. I would wake in the night and put my hands on my body to feel the child; and I would picture my little boy lying in my arms or I would be teaching him to walk and say “Maman.”

Then I would think of Comte Axel de Fersen, with his strangely beautiful face and his ardent eyes. Of course I was happy. I had never carried a child before; I had never before known a man with whom I felt so completely at peace. I had strange thoughts—perhaps women do during pregnancy. I wished that I lived in a little house with a husband like Axel de Fersen and babies . lots of them. I believed that if I could do that, I should ask for nothing else. What were gambling, dancing, practical jokes, glorious silks and brocades, fantastic head-dresses, diamonds . a crown . what would all these things amount to when compared with that simple life of complete contentment?

I can be honest with myself now and say that if I could have had that I should have been happy. I see myself now as an ordinary. woman, not clever, unsubtle, sentimental, a woman who was meant most of all to be a mother.

But I had been miscast in the role of Queen.

It was a pleasure to discover more and more of Axel de Fersen. His love of music delighted me. I sent him invitations to concerts; sometimes I would invite him with a few intimate friends. I would play the harpsichord to them and sometimes sing. I had not a very good voice but it was pleasant enough, and everyone applauded me naturally whenever I sang. But the singing was for him, though we could never be alone together since we were watched at every turn. I remember my brother Joseph’s warning about my sister-in-law Marie Josephe. She was not a Piedmontese for nothing, he had said; and she was certainly constantly setting people to spy on me. She was a jealous woman. Provence could not get children; and his one hope and hers had been that I should die childless and leave the way to the throne clear for them. Now I was with child; there might be many more children once we had proved we could have them. And they were naturally disconsolate.

But although Axel and I were not alone together we did enjoy many conversations. He made me see his affectionate mother; his father, for whom he had a deep respect and who, he admitted, was a little parsimonious and wondered when his son was going to give up wandering about Europe and settle down to a career. He even told me of Mademoiselle Leyel, a Swedish girl who lived in London and to whom he had been sent to pay court.

“Her vast fortune greatly appealed to my family,” he said gravely.

“And to you?” I asked.

I am not averse to a large fortune “And she is beautiful?”

“She is reckoned so.”

“I am interested in your adventure in London. Tell me more.”

“I was a guest in her parents’ luxurious mansion.”

“That must have been most pleasant.”

No,” he said.

“No. ” But why not? “

“Because I was an unenthusiastic wooer.”

“You surprise me.”

“Surely not. I was pursued by a dream. Something happened to me once years before … in Paris. In the Opera House there.”

I was afraid to speak to him for I was very much aware of my two sisters-in-law silently watching.

“Ah I And did you not ask for her hand?”

“I asked her. It was my father’s wish, and mine to please him.”

“So you are to marry this rich and handsome woman?”

“By no means. She refused me.”

“Refused you?”

“Your Majesty sounds incredulous. She was wise. She sensed my inadequacies.”

I laughed lightheartedly.

“We should not have cared for you to go to London … so soon. You have only just arrived in Paris.”

And so the days passed. Great events were happening to us but I paid no heed to that. It was only later that I gave them a thought.

Throughout the Court the conflict between England and her colonists in America, was being talked of and with great glee, because it delighted all Frenchmen to see their old enemies the English in trouble. Although in Paris English habits were followed slavishly there was an inherent hatred for our neighbours on the other side of the Channel.

Frenchmen could not forget the defeats and humiliations of the Seven Years War and all they had lost through that to the English; and ever since 1775, at the beginning of our reign, we had been applauding the Americans; in fact there were many Frenchmen who believed that France should declare war on England. Some time before, I remember my husband’s telling me that if we declared war on England it was very likely that this might bring a reconciliation between England and her colonies; after all, they were all English and they might well stick together if a foreign power attacked. Louis never wanted war.

“If I went to war,” he said, “I could not do my people all the good I wished.”

Nevertheless when America declared Independence on July 4th 1776 we were delighted and wished the settlers well. I remember three American deputies coming to France at that time; Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane and Arthur Lee. How solemn they were! How Sombre with their suits of cloth and their unpowdered hair. They stood out oddly among our exquisite dandies, but they were received everywhere and were quite the fashion and when the Marquis de La Fayette left for America to support the colonists many Frenchmen followed him. They were pressing the King to declare war, but Louis continued to stand out against it although we sent help secretly to America in the form of arms, ammunition and even money. At this time, however, the battle between our Belle Poule and the British Arethusa occurred, and Louis was reluctantly obliged to declare war against England—at least at sea.

I had listened to what Axel had told me about the American fight for independence; he was a fervent supporter of freedom; and I repeated his arguments to my husband. It was one of those rare occasions when I interested myself in state affairs.

Louis was anxious to please me at this time, and I do believe my voice, added to that of the others, was to some extent instrumental in bringing him to the decision to declare war at sea.

I was wildly enthusiastic for the Americans against the English; but when someone asked my brother Joseph for his opinion, he answered: “I am a Royalist by profession.” Mercy repeated this remark to me; it was a warning, reminding me that I was giving wholehearted support to those who were rebelling against Monarchy. The rights or wrongs of the dispute were neither here nor there. Kings and Queens who believed it was right and proper for subjects to rebel against them in any circumstances—were they taking a risk? It seemed my brother Joseph thought so; and he was more experienced than I. The weather during that summer was very hot and I began to feel my pregnancy. Unable to take much exercise I liked to sit on the terrace in the cool of evening often by the light of the moon or in starlight.

We had had the terrace illuminated with fairy lights and an orchestra played every night in the orangerie. The public were allowed to walk about freely in the gardens and they made full use of this-particularly during the warm summer evenings.

I and my sisters-in-law would sit on the terrace together and for these occasions we always wore simple white gowns perhaps of muslin and cambric and big straw hats with light veils over them to shield our faces. Thus we were often unrecognised and now and then people would sit beside us and talk to us without knowing who we were.

This of course resulted now and then in unpleasant incidents A young man came and sat beside me once in the gloom and made advances. I had spoken to him without realising his intentions and had to get up and walk abruptly away for he had made it clear that he knew he was speaking to the Queen.

Such incidents were extremely unpleasant, particularly as my sisters-in-law were nearby and would probably report, perhaps to the aunts, who now criticised everything I did and made much of every little happening, or to the Sardinian Ambassador, who would be pleased to embellish the story and spread it abroad. It was sure to be said that I encouraged amorous strangers. They were making up the most scandalous stories about me now; in fact it seemed to be a favourite pastime.

I decided as the autumn came that I would retire more and more from the public. I had every reason for doing so. So I kept more and more to my own apartments surrounded only by my most intimate friends like my dearest Madame de Polignac, the Princess de Lamballe and the Princesse Elisabeth, who as she grew older was becoming more and more close to me.

Axel de Fersen was frequently at my gatherings; we sang, played music and talked. They were very pleasant days. As for my husband, he was in a state of constant anxiety and I would laugh at him, for ten times a day he would come to my apartments to ask anxiously how I was feeling; and when he was not asking me he was summoning the doctors and accoucheurs demanding to know that everything was as it should be.

The ordeal of birth! It stays with me now. For any woman, giving birth to her first child is a frightening, though, I admit, exalting, experience. But with a Queen it is all that and a public spectacle at the same time. I might be giving birth to the heir of France, and therefore all France had a right to see me do it.

The town of Versailles was full of sightseers. It had been impossible to get a room anywhere since the first week of December. Prices shot up. Well what could one expect? They were all determined to see me give birth to my child.

It was a cold December day the 18th, I remember well when my pains started. Immediately all the bells of the town started to ring to let everyone know that I was in labour. The Princesse de Lamballe and my ladies-in-waiting hurried to my bedchamber; my husband came in some consternation. Our marriage had been such a topic of conversation for so many years that he feared there would be even greater interest than there usually was over a royal birth. He himself fastened the great tapestry screens about my bed with cords.

“So,” he said, ‘that they should not be easily overthrown. ” How right he was to take this action! When he had done this he dispatched guardsmen to Paris and Saint-Cloud to summon all the Princes of the Blood Royal, who, tradition demanded, should be present at the birth.

No sooner had the Princes arrived than the spectators stormed the chateau and many of them forced their way into the bedchamber. An effort, I gather, was made to prevent too many entering the room, but there were at least fifty people all determined to see a Queen in labour.

My pains were growing more and more frequent. I tried to console myself; this was the moment for which I had longed all my life; this was becoming a mother.

I had arranged with the Princesse de Lamballe that she should let me know, without speaking, the sex of my child, and I was aware of her close to my bed during the agonising hours that followed. The heat was tremendous for the windows had been caulked up to keep out the cold night air; but we had not bargained for such a crowded lying-in chamber. Packed close together so that there was no room for anyone to pass between them, some standing on benches to get a better view, leaning heavily against the tapestry screens so that, but for my husband’s foresight in using those thick cords, they would have collapsed on to the bed, the spectators whispered together. I felt I could not breathe;

I was grappling not only with the ordeal of birth but with the fight for breath. The smell of vinegar and essences mingled with that of sweating bodies and the heat was unbearable.

All through the night I fought to give birth to my child . and for my life; and at half past eleven on the morning of December 19th my child was born.

I lay back exhausted; but I must know whether the child was a boy. I looked at the Princesse; she was near the bed; she shook her head, in the arranged signal.

A girl! I felt a sick disappointment . and then . I was fighting for my breath.

I was aware of faces about me . a sea of faces . those of the Princesse de Lamballe, the accoucheur, the King.

Someone shouted: “My God, give her air. For God’s sake move away ..and give her air. “

Then I fell into unconsciousness.

I heard from Madame Campan afterwards what happened. None of the women could force their way through the crowds to bring the hot water. Air was absolutely necessary, for all the doctors agreed I was on the point of death by suffocation.

“Clear the room!” shouted the accoucheur. But the people refused to move. They had come to see the show and it was not yet over.

“Open the windows! For God’s sake open the windows!”

But the windows had been pasted all round with strips of paper and it would take hours to remove it that they might be opened.

There were moments in my husband’s life when he was indeed a King among men, and this was one of them. He pushed his way through the crowd and with a strength which no one would have thought possible in one man, he wrenched open the windows and the cold fresh air rushed into the room.

The accoucheur told the surgeon that I must be bled immediately, without hot water since it was unobtainable, and an incision was immediately made in my foot. Madame Cam-pan told me afterwards that as the blood streamed forth I opened my eyes and they all knew that my life had been saved.

Poor Lamballe fainted—as might have been expected-and had to be carried out; the King ordered that the room be cleared of all spectators, but even then some of them refused to go and the valets de chambres and the pages had to drag them out by their collars.

But I was alive, I had given birth to a child—albeit a daughter.

When I was conscious of what was going on I was aware of the bandage about my foot, and I asked why it was there.

The King came to my bedside and told me what had happened. Everyone seemed to be weeping and embracing each other.

“They are rejoicing,” he told me, ‘because you have recovered. We feared . “

But he could not go on. After a pause he said: “It shall never happen again. I swear it.”

The child . ” I said.

And the King nodded. The child was brought to me and laid in my arms;

and from the moment I saw her, I loved her and I would not have had her different in any way.

My happiness was complete.

“Poor little one,” I said, ‘you may not be what we wished for, but you are not on that account less dear to me. A son would have been rather the property of the State; you shall be mine. You shall have my undivided care, shall share all my happiness and console me in my troubles. “

I named her after my mother. She was called Marie Therese Charlotte; but she was known from the beginning throughout the Court as Madame Royale.

Couriers were dispatched. My husband himself wrote at once to Vienna; and throughout Paris there was general rejoicing, with processions and bonfires; the sky was so bright that all through the night it was like day; and the sounds of fireworks and gun salutes filled the palace.

Everything was going as it should, after that first ordeal when I had been unable to breathe in that overpopulated room. The people crowded round the palace to demand how I was and bulletins were issued daily.

I was tremendously happy. I had my baby and the people were so interested in my welfare that they demanded constant news of my health. The King was in ecstasies. He was so delighted to be a father; he kept coming into the nursery to see his daughter and marvel at her.

“What a darling she is!” he kept murmuring under his breath.

“Look at these fingers…. She even has nails, ten of them, and they are perfect . perfect’ I laughed at him but I felt exactly the same. I too wanted to look at her all the time, to marvel at her; my own daughter, my very ownl We were young. We would have many children yet. The next would be a Dauphin. I was certain of it.

Meanwhile the birth of Madame Royale must be celebrated.

A strange incident occurred a few days after the birth of my baby. The Cure of the Madeleine de la Cite called at the palace and asked to see Monsieur Campan. When alone with Monsieur Campan the Cure produced a box which he said had been given to him in the confessional, so he could not reveal the name of the person who had given it to him.

Inside the box was a ring, which, so the confession ran, had been stolen from me that it might be used in sorcery to prevent my having children.

Monsieur Campan brought the ring to me, which I recognised as one I had lost seven years ago.

“WE should try to discover who has done this,” said Monsieur Campan.

“Oh, let it be. I have the ring, and the sorceries were not successful. I do not fear them.”

“Madame, would you not wish to know one who was such an enemy?”

I shook my head.

“I would prefer not to know those who hate me so much.” I could see that Monsieur Campan did not agree with this and thought we should have made some endeavour to discover our enemies, but my dislike of trouble prevailed and I gave orders that the matter should be forgotten.

Perhaps once again I was wrong. Perhaps had I pursued the inquiries

Monsieur Campan thought I should make, I might have discovered some enemies who were living very close to me.

I quickly forgot all about the ring; there were so many other more amusing things to occupy me. The King and I were to go to Paris for my churching. On this day one hundred poor girls were married and I gave them all a dowry. When I arrived at the church they were all assembled there with their hair most unnaturally curled and they were married in Notre Dame. We arrived in the King’s carriage with the trumpeters going on ahead to announce us and twenty-four footmen resplendent in the royal livery and six pages on horseback. The Prcv6t came to the door of the carriage and made a speech to which the King replied.

The procession passed through Paris. On a balcony in the Rue St.

Honore, Rose Bertin had lined up her assistants and stood at the head of them. They all dropped fine curtsies as we passed. From Notre Dame we went to Sainte Genevieve and on to La Place Louis XV; and although many people came out to watch us there were hardly any cheers.

I was bewildered. What did they want? They had had their fireworks, buffets of cold meat and wine; certain prisoners had been liberated;

the “brides had had their dowries. I had given the first of the Enfants de France. What was wrong with them? Why this cold reception?

Why these sullen looks?

When we returned to the chateau I summoned Mercy and told him of our reception.

He nodded gravely. Of course he had heard of it already.

“It is incredible,” I said.

“What do they want?”

He answered: “They have heard much of your extravagances. There have been many scandalous stories. Hardly a day passes when a new song and a rhyme about you is not being circulated. Your Ugerete, your dissipation, are the cause of this. This is a time of war, but you think only of amusing yourself. That is why the people are against you I was hurt and a little frightened. It had been alarming to ride through those crowded silent streets.

“I will be different,” I said firmly.

“I will give up these too conspicuous amusements. I am a mother now..

..” I meant it. I wanted to.

My mother wrote from Vienna, she was delighted that I had come safely through childbirth and that my daughter was healthy.

“But we must have a Dauphin,” she wrote.