The Queen`s Confession

The Battle of Words

Choisy’

“Madame, my very dear Mother, ” I cannot express how much I am affected by Your Majesty’s kindness and I assure you that I have not yet received one of your dear letters without tears of regret filling my eyes at being parted from such a kind mother; and although I am very happy here, I should earnestly wish to return to see my dear, very dear, family, if only for a short time.

“We have been here since yesterday and from one o’clock in the afternoon, when we dine, until one in the morning we cannot return to our apartments, which is very disagreeable to me. After dinner we have cards till six; then we go to the play rill half past nine; then supper; then cards again until one o’clock, sometimes even half past one. Only yesterday the King, seeing that I was tired out, kindly dismissed me at eleven to my great satisfaction, and I slept very well rill half past ten.

“Your Majesty is very kind to show interest in me even to the extent of how I spend my rime habitually when at Versailles. I will say, therefore, that I rise at ten o’clock or nine, and after dressing, I say my prayers; then I breakfast, after which I go to my aunts’ where I usually meet the King. This lasts rill half past ten. At eleven I go to have my hair dressed. At noon the Chambre is called and anyone of sufficient rank may come in. I put on my rouge and wash my hands before everyone; then the gentlemen go out; the ladies stay and I dress before them all. At twelve is Mass; and when the King is at Versailles I go to Mass with him and my husband and the aunts; if he is not there I go with Monsieur Ie Dauphin, but always at the same hour. After Mass we dine together but it is over by half past one, as we both eat quickly. I then go to Monsieur Ie Dauphin. If he is busy, I return to my own apartments where I read, write or work, for I am embroidering a vest for the King, which does not get on very quickly, but I trust that, with God’s help, it will be finished in a few years. At three I go to my aunts’ where the King usually comes at that rime. At four the Abbe comes to me; at five the master for the harpsichord, or the singing master rill six. You must know that my husband frequently comes with me to the aunts’. At seven, card playing rill nine; and when the weather is fine I go out, and then the card playing takes place in my aunts’ apartment instead of mine. At nine, supper; when the King is absent my aunts come to take supper with us; if the King is there we go to them after supper, and we wait for the King who usually comes at a quarter to eleven; but I lie on a sofa and sleep till his arrival; when he is not expected we go to bed at eleven. Such is my day. I entreat you, my dear Mother, to forgive me if this letter is too long; but my greatest pleasure is to be thus in communication with Your Majesty. I ask pardon also for this blotted letter, I have had to write two days running at my toilet, having no other time at my disposal; and if I do not answer all the questions exactly, I trust Your Majesty will make allowances for my having too obediently burned your letter.

I must finish this, as I have to dress and go to the King’s Mass. I have the honour to be Your Majesty’s most submissive daughter, “Marie Antoinette.” This letter, which I wrote from Choisy, one of the royal palaces which we visited now and then, gives a picture of the monotony of my days at this time. I had thought that life in France would be exciting, full of novelty, and I found it more dull than it had ever been at Schonbrunn.

During those first months of my life at the French Court, I was often sick with longing for home and for my mother, although, when I received her letters I would shiver with apprehension, wondering what they contained. I did not then realise the extent to which Mercy was observing the intimate details of my life. He had always appeared to be a stem old statesman and the fact that he would be interested in what a young girl wore or how many times she laughed with a certain servant seemed incongruous. That was where I was so foolish. I had scarcely changed from the child who had romped in the gardens of Schonbrunn with her dogs; I was as inconsequential, as unaware. I did not realise then to my misfortune that the Dauphine of France, who would one day be Queen, was not so much a girl or woman as a symbol.

War and peace could hang on her actions; her follies could make a throne tremble;

When I wrote to my mother and asked how she knew so much of my silly little actions she replied that ‘a little bird told me’; and she never mentioned that the little bird was Mercy. I should have known, of course. But at least Mercy was my friend, although an uncomfortable one; and I should have been grateful to him.

During that time there was of course one great matter which overshadowed my life: the unusual relationship between myself and my husband. I knew that everyone at Court was talking about it some gravely, but most with sniggering amusement. Provence, whom I could never like although his conduct was extremely correct, was pleased, I knew, because he was not the eldest, and believed and many agreed with him that he would have made a better Dauphin than my husband Louis.

Artois was gay and amusing, very flirtatious, constantly gazing at me with a wistful expression behind which mischief lurked. Mercy was always dropping hints that I should be wary of Artois. Then there were the aunts, throwing out a hundred suggestions, always trying to discover what was happening between “Poor Berry’ and myself.

But when my mother wrote that perhaps it was best that things were as they were because we ‘were both so young,” I felt I could put the matter out of my mind for a while and try to enjoy life as well as I could.

There was one man who was my friend at Court and this was the Due de Choiseul. He was eager that my marriage should be a success, because he had arranged it. It was my misfortune that I should have come to France when his power was on the wane, for he would have been as helpful to me as Mercy was and far more powerful since he was the King’s chief minister. He was rather an ugly man, but it was a charming ugliness; he was fascinating and I was fond of him from the moment we met. My mother had told me that I could trust him because he was a friend of Austria, and that drew me to him. But he was in disgrace.

Mademoiselle Genet told me that he had made friends with Madame de Pompadour to their mutual advantage, but had underrated the power of Madame du Barry, and that was one of the reasons why he fell.

Although I had at first found Madame du Barry fascinating, I now childishly loathed her because the King had allowed her to come to that first intimate supper, and, according to Mercy, that was an insult to me. I wrote to my mother, “She is a silly and impertinent woman,” believing that, knowing her function at Court, my mother would consider my attitude towards the woman the correct one.

“Don’t meddle in politics or interfere in other people’s affairs,” was my mother’s reply, but I did not realise she was referring to Madame du Barry, and like so many other important matters it went right over my head. I did not want to meddle in politics. It was as much as I could manage, to do my lessons. I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to see Paris but I was not allowed to until I did so officially, and that was a matter which had to be considered in all sorts of ways before it could be put into action.

“Etiquette !’ I groaned.

“At least,” I said to Mercy, “I could have two of my dogs brought from Vienna.”

“You already have two dogs,” he answered sternly.

“Yes, I know, but I love them and they’ll be pining for me in Vienna.

Little Mops will, I know. Please ask them to send him. “

He wanted to refuse but could not very well go so blatantly against my wishes. I had my four dogs. When puppies arrived I should have more and I would not be parted from them, although Mercy was hinting at unclean habits which would be frowned on in the elaborate Versailles apartments.

During those first weeks the Due de Choiseui visited me frequently and he too told me how I should behave to the King.

“Be earnest and natural,” he said, ‘and not too childish, although His Majesty does not expect you to have a knowledge of politics. “

I said I was glad of that and told him of my dislike of Madame du Barry.

“I cannot bear to hear her silly lisp, and she seems to think she is the most important lady of the Court. I always look straight through her when I see her as though she does not exist. Yet she always looks hopefully my way as though she is imploring me to speak to her.”

Monsieur de Choiseui laughed and said that naturally she wanted a show of friendship from the Dauphine.

“She will not get it,” I retorted, and since this was exactly what Monsieur de Choiseui wanted me to say I made up my mind that I would keep to it.

Dear Monsieur de Choiseui! He was so charming and at the same time so sincere . where I was concerned. I am sure that if he could have stayed near me I should have been saved from many follies.

When I arrived in France the odious du Barry had already become the centre of a party which called itself the Barriens, and in this were some of the most powerful ministers, such as the Due d’Aiguillon, the Due de Vauguyon and the Due de Richelieu—and these men were all enemies of Choiseui and sought to bring him down. This they were managing very successfully, blaming him for the disaster of the Seven Years War—which had broken out the year I was born and in which my country was involved—and the loss of the French Colonies to England.

He was blamed for everything; and I understood afterwards that the Austrian marriage was a plan of his to attempt to reinstate himself.

He must have been a very worried man when I met him, but he gave no sign of this; he was one of the gayest people I had ever met.

It was a great blow to me when he received his lettre de cachet from the King banishing him to his chateau at Chanteloup. It happened suddenly—on Christmas Eve. He simply disappeared and I could not believe he had gone. It was sad to lose a friend, and at the same time it alarmed me that such a fate could befall someone so rapidly. I was particularly hurt by Mercy’s attitude towards the Due.

“He has hastened his disgrace by his indiscretion,” he said.

“It would have surprised me if he had stayed in office much longer. Let us hope that he may not be replaced by someone who is an even greater meddler than he.”

“He is our friend!” I cried aghast.

“He is of no use to us now,” replied Mercy cynically.

I was very hurt and sorry, but we did hear of him now and then. He was living very grandly at Chanteloup and sending out chansons about Madame du Barry, whom he regarded as his enemy in chief. She was constantly ending scraps of paper covered with obscene rhymes in her apartments but she always laughed at them and they seemed to lose their impact.

Letters continued to flow from Vienna, and every time a letter from my mother was put into my hands I would shiver. What had I done now! I had not worn my stays my hateful corps de baleine which made me sit bolt upright or in discomfort. It was necessary for me to wear them at this stage of my growth, I was warned. I must always be aware of my appearance. The French were very susceptible to appearance and I must always think of pleasing my husband. Always there were hints about my relationship with my husband.

“You must not be in too much of a hurry, for increasing his uneasiness will only make matters worse On one occasion she wrote:

“You must not take this disappointment too much to heart. You must never show it. Never be peevish. Be tender but by no means demanding.

If you caress your husband, do so in moderation. If you show impatience you could make matters worse. “

Not only the court of France but all the courts of Europe seemed to be discussing the inability of the Dauphin to consummate our marriage.

They were saying he was impotent and that if a girl as attractive as I was could not rouse him, the case was hopeless.

It was tremendously embarrassing for us both. I clung to my childishness, trying not to understand even when I did, playing with my dogs, dancing when I could, trying to pretend I-did not know there was anything strange about our marriage. My husband’s method was to feign indifference which I knew he did not feel. His defence was to pretend to be bored, to shut himself up with his locksmith and builder friends; he hunted whenever possible and would eat heartily as though all he cared about were these things. But I did discover that he was as uneasy as I was more so, because he was more serious and the fault was his; and during the past months he had begun to show me in a him dred little ways how sorry he was that he was not a good husband. He was anxious to please me, and although his tastes were in exact opposition to my own he never tried to stop my doing what I liked.

I was growing quite fond of him and I believed he was of me. But this hateful situation was between us. Had we been two lusty lovers we should have been smiled at indulgently; as it was, the secrets of our bedchamber were the concern of Europe. Envoys were going back and forth from Versailles to Sardinia and Prussia as well as to Austria.

In the streets, songs were being sung about us.

“Can he or can’t he?”

“Has he or hasn’t he?” If my husband’s infirmity were due to some mental conflict this was enough to prevent his ever overcoming it.

My mother reiterated that I was to keep her informed of every detail.

I was to report everything the Dauphin said or did. I was to read her letters and bum them when I had done so. I knew that I was surrounded by spies, and the chief of these was my husband’s tutor, the Due de Vauguyon, who was a friend of Madame du Barry. Once when I was alone with my husband, one of the servants who was in the room suddenly opened the door and there was the Due bending down; his ear had obviously been at the keyhole. I think the servant may have been trying to warn us. I remarked to Louis how inconvenient it was, having people listening at our doors. The Due de Vauguyon was very embarrassed and muttered some excuse; but I don’t think Louis ever had such a high opinion of him again.

It was not in my nature to brood on my position. I wanted to enjoy myself. There was nothing I liked so much as riding, but horses had been forbidden, because my mother thought that violent riding might make me sterile. As if I had a chance to be otherwise! And she and Mercy had decided that they would ask the King to give an order that I should not ride.

This was a great blow to me. I wanted to shout that I was bored at the French Court, that when I was riding with the wind in my face and my hair free from those pins with which the hairdresser tortured me, I was happy.

I went to the King; I was my most appealing; I called him Dear Papa and I told him how unhappy I was because I was being prevented from riding.

He was perplexed. I should have known that he found this kind of situation irritating and hated to be asked to make a decision which was going to offend anyone, particularly a pretty girl. But he gave no sign of this. He was all smiles and sympathy. How was I to know that he was inwardly yawning at my childish problems and wishing me far away? He laid his hand on my shoulder and explained very tenderly that my mother did not wish me to ride horses. Did I not wish to please my mother?

“Oh yes, dear Papa, I do indeed … but I cannot bear not to ride.”

They consider that horses are too dangerous, and I have agreed that you shall not ride them. ” He lifted his hands and his face was illumined by that charming smile which in spite of the pouches under his eyes and the countless wrinkles made him still handsome.

“They did not mention donkeys.” He had the solution.

“No horses … but ride a donkey for a while.”

So I rode donkeys, which I found humiliating.

Nevertheless once I fell from the saddle. It was a foolish incident really. The donkey was stationary and I was sitting loosely; he turned sharply and the next thing I knew was that I was on the ground. I was not in the least hurt, but my attendants were very concerned and they all hurried to me; but I lay there laughing at them.

“Do not touch me!” I cried.

“I am not hurt in the least. I am not even shaken. It was the silliest tumble.” “Will you not allow us to help you rise, then?”

Certainly not. You must call Madame Etiquette. You see, I am not quite sure what ceremonies should be observed when a Dauphine falls from a donkey. “

They all laughed and we resumed our ride very gaily;

but of course the incident was reported. My mother heard of it. She was very hurt that I was riding even donkeys and I know now that she feared she was losing her influence over me. This was no wish for power on her part; it was due to a deep understanding of her daughter’s character and a terrible fear as to what would become of her. She saw me as an innocent lamb among the wolves of Prance and she was, as usual, right.

She wrote to me:

“I hear you are riding a donkey. I have told you I do not care for this equestrian activity. It will do more harm even than spoiling your complexion and your figure.”

When I read the letter I was sorry I had displeased her and I vowed I would not ride again until I had her per mission to do so which would be when I was a little older, when I was a true wife, when I had shown that I could bear children. (How it all came back to this! ) But I soon forgot, and a few days later I was out on my donkey again.

I was seeing a great deal of the aunts, who made much of me. Adelaide was always angry about something. She had to have a cause to fight for and she would take up the least little thing. Madame du Barry was her great target;but when she heard that I had been forbidden to ride a horse she turned her attention to this.

It is ridiculous !’ she declared.

“Not ride a horse! Every one must ride a horse. A donkey for the Dauphine of France! It is an insult.”

Victoire nodded and Sophie joined in a few seconds later.

“It is our enemies who have arranged this,” said Adelaide darkly.

I was going to point out that it was my mother who had forbidden it and

that Mercy and the King supported her. I could hardly call these my enemies. But Adelaide never listened when she had a cause to fight for. I was not going to be illused. I was not going to be humiliated. She and her sisters were my champions and she had a plan.

The plan was that I should ride out on my donkey as usual. An equerry with a horse would have been sent out and I should meet them at a spot to be decided on. Then I should dismount from the donkey, mount the horse, got for my ride, and then come back to the spot where the-j donkey would be waiting for me, mount the donkey and trot back to the Palace. It was very simple.

And it will outwit them all! ” cried Adelaide triumphantly.

I hesitated.

“It would displease my mother.”

“How should she know?”

“All the same, I do not want to go against her wishes!

“She is far off in Vienna. She does not know that you. are a figure of fun here … riding your donkey.” They persuaded me and there was a great deal of conf spiratorial whispering; and in due course I rode out withf some of my attendants and met the equerry who had the horse waiting for me. They were all rather afraid because they knew that the King himself as well as my mother had a said that I should not ride a horse, and I was suddenly J ashamed. I agreed that I would not canter or gallop and I would allow the equerry to hold the bridle while I walked the horse. But what joy it was to be really on horseback once’ morel I forgot how disobedient I was being and I found; the tears of laughter in my eyes when I thought of what Mercy’s face would be like if he could see me.

I mentioned this to one of my attendants and they all;

joined in my laughter. It was such fun—and then we went back to where one of the attendants was waiting with the donkey and I rode it solemnly back to the Palace while the equerry galloped off with the horse. I One of those attendants who had accompanied me and laughed with me hastened to tell Mercy what had happened and when he presented himself at my apartments Is knew from his stem lories that he had discovered my deception. He was pained and grieved. I blurted out: “So you know I have been riding a horse?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I was going to tell you,” I said, and added defensively:

“Those who saw me were pleased that I had had such pleasure.”

“I should be mortified,” he replied in his solemn way, ‘if you believed that I should join those who were delighted. As I am deeply concerned with your affairs I can only be grieved that something should have happened which could be injurious to you and would give great displeasure to me Empress. “

I was frightened as always at the thought of my mother. I said quickly: “I should be desolate if I thought I had grieved the Empress.

But as you know riding is the Dauphin’s favourite exercise. Should I not therefore follow something which gives him such pleasure? “

Mercy did not reply to this, but merely remarked that he would retire and leave me to contemplate what I had done.

I wished I hadn’t done it and I was sorry; then I grew angry. It was all so silly. Why should I not ride a horse if I wanted to?

But I was very upset. One thing remained clear in my giddy mind and that was that my mother cared for my wellbeing as no one else on earth did; and she had as much power to alarm me here in France as she had in Vienna. She was, of course, informed of what I had done; she wrote back, pained that I had acted so. She conceded that the King and the Dauphin had both given their consent to my riding and that they must ‘dispose of all concerning you,” but she was very displeased.

“I shall say no more,” she finished her letter, ‘and shall try not to think about it. “

She must have heard what part the aunts played in this because she was soon afterwards warning me against them.

“Keep a neutral position in everything. I desire you to be more reserved than ever as regards what is going on.

Listen, to no secrets and have no curiosity. I am sorry to have to say. Confide nothing—even to your aunts, whom I esteem so much. I have my reasons for saying this. “

She had very good reason. Probably more than she at that time realised.

A year after I was married my brother-in-law Provence was given a wife. She arrived at Versailles in May—as I had-Marie Josephe of Savoy. I disliked her on sight, she was very ugly and completely lacking in charm; and this was not only my opinion. Provence was very disappointed in her; and everyone made comparisons between her and myself, which came to her ears and enraged her. I knew that she hated me, although she was always anxious to pretend that she did not, for she was rather clever.

I was indifferent to her attitude towards me because I had made a friend of the Princesse de Lamballe whom I found kind and gentle—though the Abbe Vermond said she was stupid, because he did not want me to be too friendly with anyone other than himself. I defended the Princesse to him.

“She has a good reputation,” I said, “which cannot be said for everyone at this Court.”

“She could lose that reputation tomorrow,” he retorted, ‘but her reputation for stupidity grows every day! ” I laughed with him, for we were on very friendly terms. I There was another friend I made, and although he did not like her either, he could not complain of her stupidity. This was Jeanne Louise Henriette Genet, the lectrice who worked for my aunts. I had seen her often in my aunts’ apartments and I had been attracted by her quiet ways and her rather severe looks. It was the attraction of opposites.

I sensed that although she had a great respect for my aunts, and for me too, in addition she liked me.

I asked the King if I might share my aunts’ lectrice and he said yes, immediately. So I used to have Mademoiselle Genet in my apartments so that she might read to me; but I preferred to talk to her, for she had such stories to tell of the Court that I do believe I learned more from her than I had so far from anyone else. She was only three years older than I but she seemed at least ten, so demure, so serious was she. I was sure my mother would have approved of her. Sometimes I used to think that nice sensible Jeanne Louise would have been a much better daughter for my mother than I was. Her father had been employed by the Foreign Office and so had come to the notice of the Due de Choiseui; and thus Jeanne Louise had been given her place at Court. She had been a studious child who had astonished everyone by her learning; and one of her greatest assets was her voice, which was clear; and another was her ability to read aloud for hours at a time. Thus she became lectrice to my aunts.

She was fifteen when she came to Court and I loved to hear of her first impressions. I would lure her away from the book and say: “Come now. Mademoiselle Lectrice, I would have you talk to me.”

She would demurely shut the book and look very guilty; but I knew she liked to talk as much as I did.

“Tell me about the first day you came to Court,” I said one day, and she told me how she went into her father’s study to say goodbye to him and how he wept to see her in her Court attire.

“I was wearing right stays for the first time and a long dress with panniers. My pale face was smeared with rouge and powder, which was necessary as part of Court custom even for one as humble as I.”

“Etiquette,” I murmured; and I laughed at her, for my free and easy manners shocked her.

“My father is a very wise man. I realise that now more than I did before. He said to me: ” The Princesses will make full use of your talents. Great people know how to bestow praise graciously, but do not allow their compliments to elate you too much. Be on your guard.

Whenever you receive flattering attentions, you may be sure you will gain an enemy. I swear that if I had been able to find an other profession for you, I would never have abandoned you to the dangers of Court life”.”

She had a way with words which I found fascinating. She talked of the day of her arrival, when the Court was in mourning for Queen Marie Leczinska, and how in the court yard were coaches with horses waving their great black plumes, and pages and footmen with their spangled black shoulder knots. The state apartments were hung with black cloth, and canopies decorated with sable plumes had been placed over the armchairs.

She made me see a new picture of the King.

“He was the most imposing figure I had ever seen, and his eyes remained fixed on you all the time he was speaking.” I nodded, agreeing with her.

“Notwithstanding the beauty of his features he inspired a sort of fear.”

“I felt no fear,” I said impulsively.

She smiled her slow calm smile.

“You are the Dauphine, Madame. I am the lectrice ” Did he speak to you? “

Tes, on two occasions. One morning when he was going out to the hunt I was in Mesdames’ apartments and he came to see Madame Victoire and asked me where Coche was. I was bewildered, for I did not know of the nicknames he used for Mesdames. Then he asked my name, and when I told him he said: “Oh, you are the lectrice I am assured you are learned and understand five languages.”

“Only two, Sire,” I answered.

“Which?”

he asked.

“English and Italian, f Sire.”

“Fluently?”

“Yes, Sire.” Then he burst out laughing J and said: “It is enough to drive a husband mad.” All his J retinue laughed at me and I was overcome with confusion. ” j ” It was not very kind of him,” I said. I studied her. She I could scarcely be called pretty in her plain dress, and’ll supposed he had not found her attractive.

On another day when she was reading to the aunts he came to see them.

She retired hastily and went to wait in an anteroom, and having nothing to do there she amused herself by twirling in her Court hoop and suddenly kneeling! for the sheer pleasure of seeing her rose-coloured silk petticoat swirl round her. In the midst of this the King entered and he was very amused to see the erudite little lectrice be having like a child.

“I advise you to send back to school a lectrice who makes cheeses,” he said. And once more poor Jeanne Louise was overcome with confusion. She had not seen the Ring at his best, as I had; and I fancied she was a little critical of him; naturally she was anxious not to betray her feelings to me and how right she was I She doubtless knew I would chatter, so she was careful. Long afterwards, when he was dead, she told me how he had set up the trebuchet, the bird snare, close to his apartments in Versailles and later contented himself with the pleasures of his little seraglio in the Pare auz Cerfs where young girls of my age and hers were brought to him for his pleasure by Madame de Pompadour; and later Madame du Barry performed the same duty. If I had known of these matters then I might have understood him better.

And there was something else she told me much later which it would have been useful for me to know at that time. But would I have made use of the knowledge? I doubt it. This is what she told me, and what, she explained, she had written in her journal, for she had always felt the urge to write and set down the events of the days as they passed:

I heard my father compare the Monarchy of France to a beautiful antique statue; he agreed that the pedestal which supported it was mouldering away and the contours of the statue were disappearing in the parasitic plants which were gradually covering it.

“But,” he explained, “where is the artist skillful enough to repair the base without shattering the statue?”

But had she told me at this time I should not have under stood what she was talking about. Years later, when the Terror was upon us, I understood too well.

I was very interested in Madame Louise, the aunt whom I had seen before I arrived at Versailles when I stopped at the Carmelite Convent of St. Denis to see her.

Mademoiselle Genet told me: “I used to read to her for five hours a day and my voice frequently betrayed the exhaustion of my lungs. The Princesse would then prepare for me eau sucre, place it before me and apologise for making me read so long. She did it, she said, because she had pre scribed a course of reading for herself. She wanted to read the histories of countries for she believed that when she entered her convent she would only be allowed to read religious works.

One morning she disappeared and I learned she had gone to the Convent of St. Denis. “

“Were you sad. Mademoiselle?”

“I was very sad, Madame. I loved Madame Louise. She was …”

I looked at her slyly. I knew she was on the point of saying Madame Louise was the most reasonable, the most sane, of the aunts; but of course she stopped herself in time.

“Go on,” I commanded.

“Madame Adelaide was angry. When I told her Madame Louise had gone she said, ” With whom has she gone? ” She thought she had run away with a lover.”

“Madame Adelaide would. She likes everything to be dramatic; and it is far more dramatic to run away with a lover than to a convent. It was less work for you, though.”

“I was afraid that Madame Victoire would follow her example.” I nodded. Already my little lectrice had made it clear to me that of all the three aunts Victoire was her favourite.

“I told her I feared it and she laughed and said she would never leave Versailles. She was too fond of food and her couch.”

It was tiresome that Mademoiselle Genet and the Abbe. Vermond took a dislike to each other. Still, I determined to keep her with me, and perhaps one day snatch her away from the aunts altogether and make her entirely my servant. But that was for later.

And so life went on during those months at Versailles. My friendship with the Princesse de Lamballe was strengthening; letters from my mother arrived regularly. My hours with the Abbe when he tried to improve my mind; my interviews with Mercy when he tried to improve my conduct; my intimacy with my aunts; my friendship with the King; my coquetries with Amis; all this continued, and in addition there was a growing affection for my husband. But we were so much in the public eye, and so aware of being watched at every turn, that our situation did not have much chance of changing.

Even meals were taken in public—a custom I hated; but no one else seemed to mind, and of course the people expected it.

They would come in from Paris to watch us at our meals. We were like animals in highly gilded cages.

When it was time for dinner the people would come to watch my husband and me take our soup and then hurry away to see the Princes eat their bouilli; and after that they had to run until they were out of breath to witness Mesdames at their dessert. We were a peepshow for the people.

The King’s special feat at table was the clever way in which he could knock the top off an egg with one stroke of his fork; and this was talked about throughout Versailles and Paris. He was therefore condemned to eating eggs constantly so that those who had come to see him perform this feat should not be disappointed. Although he refused to go to Paris to see his people they came to Versailles to see him—or perhaps it was merely his trick with the egg they came to see.

He performed so dexterously; but to me the amazing part of the performance was that he behaved as though he were entirely alone—like an actor on a stage totally unaware of the spectators.

There was a rumour in the Court that Adelaide had once had a child who appeared in the Princesses’ apartments and was made much of by the royal sisters and reminded people of Louis XV in his youth. This affair, the loss of her good looks, and the King’s contempt for her which had replaced his affection, had no doubt had their effect on Adelaide’s character and turned her into the eccentric she had become.

There was an even uglier rumour that the King had loved her incestuously. Perhaps this was why she put on an air of great knowledge and wanted me to know that she could advise me as to how I should behave towards my husband.

I did not need their advice. I knew that my husband did not dislike me; in fact he was pleased with me. I was admired for my appearance, my grace and my charm; and these qualities were constantly referred to. My husband liked to see Artois in attendance on me; the only trouble was that he could not caress me or pay me compliments without acute embarrassment. When he was in his hunting clothes or workshop overalls he appeared to be a man;

he looked tall and upright then, unconscious of himself; but as soon as he put on the clothes of the court gallant he became awkward and shuffling. I tried to understand the things he was interested in.

Though I loved to ride I hated to see animals suffer, so I had never cared for hunting; in any case I was still not allowed to ride a horse. I went into his workshop and he tried to explain to me what he was doing with the lathe there, but I could not understand and I found it difficult to stifle my yawns.

When he became ill with a slight indisposition—he had over-eaten at table—a habit of his, for he would come in very hungry from the hunt or the workshop—he had slept in a separate room in order not to disturb me. This had caused amusement in some quarters and consternation in others, for it was well known what was happening. The most embarrassing part of the whole affair was that everyone was watching and all our actions were commented on, interpreted and often misconstrued. For a sensitive boy, aware of his affliction, this was a very delicate situation indeed.

But our affection was growing. He no longer looked away from me.

Sometimes he would take my hand and kiss it—or even kiss my cheek. I asked him if he were disappointed in me and he said that he was very content.

Then one day he said: “Do not imagine that I am ignorant of the duties of marriage. I will prove it to you … soon.”

I was excited. Everything was going to be all right. I only bad to wait. It was true that we were both too young.

Waiting was rewarding, for when we were alone in our apartments—it was just as I was going to visit my aunts-he whispered to me:

“Tonight I shall come back to our bed.” I looked at him in astonishment and he took my hand in his clumsy way and kissed it with real affection. I said to him: “Louis … do you rather like me?”

“How can you doubt it?” he asked. I love you sincerely, and I esteem you more. “

It was hardly the impassioned declaration of a lover, but it was the nearest he had ever come to it; and I went to the aunts in a state of great excitement, which was foolish of me for they recognised at once that something had happened.

“You have just left Poor Berry,” said Adelaide.

“Has something happened?”

“He is going to sleep with me tonight Adelaide embraced me. and Victoire and Sophie looked at me in a startled fashion.

“Yes,” I announced triumphantly, he has told me so. “

“In a very short time you will be telling us some exciting news,” said Adelaide archly.

“I am sure of it.”

“I hope so. Oh, how I hope so.”

How foolish I was! Before the day was out the whole Court was buzzing with the news: “The Dauphin is going to sleep with the Dauphine.

Tonight is the night. ” Those cynical courtiers like Richelieu, that old roue, were laying bets on the success of our encounter.

“Will he?

Won’t he? ” There was whispering everywhere. Worst of all, Adelaide summoned Louis to her apartment because she wanted to ” Advise’ him.

That night I lay waiting for my husband. He did not appear. I should not have been surprised. My reckless talk had spoilt it.

Although the matter was now causing the gravest concern, I doubt that the King would have bestirred himself but for my mother. She was constantly writing to the King and begging him to do something. The truth about the Dauphin must be disclosed, and if there was a remedy it must be found.

Because of my mother’s importuning, the King sent for my husband and there was a long consultation; as a result Louis agreed to submit to an examination by the King’s physician, Monsieur Lassone, who reported that the Dauphin’s inability to consummate our marriage was due to nothing else but a physical defect which the knife could rectify. If the

Dauphin would submit to this operation all would be well.

Everyone was discussing the operation but Louis did not say whether he would submit to it. We slept in the same bed and he behaved like a lover; but our lovemaking always failed to reach that climax which we both so earnestly sought; and after a while we both found this state exhausting and humiliating.

There was no more talk of the operation. The King shrugged his shoulders; it was left to Louis to decide, and it became clear to me that he had decided against it. He was desperately trying to prove that he did not need it; but he did.

I cannot imagine why he would not submit to the opera-don at this time. He was no coward; but I suppose the whole business sickened him as it did me. If we had been an ordinary couple we should have seeded the matter in a very short time; but we were not; we were Dauphin and Dauphine of France. His impotence was discussed in the Court and in the Army. Our most intimate servants were constantly questioned, and when we discovered that the Spanish Ambassador had bribed one of the bedroom servants to examine the sheets and let him know the state of them, it seemed the last straw. Although we continued to occupy the same bed, Louis would retire early and be fast asleep by the time I went there; and when I awoke in the morning it would be to find him already gone.

This state of affairs continued, while I received angry letters from my mother, who cared much more than I did about the humiliation of my position.

And as I entered the second year of my marriage another controversy arose which made everyone forget the tragedy of our bedchamber.

My quarrel with Madame du Barry had been brewing ever since the aunts had told me of her true position at Court. I did not understand then that I should have been wiser to form an alliance with her than with the aunts. They, unknown to me, had resented my coming from the first.

They had been strongly against the Austrian alliance and were no real friends to me, whereas this woman of the people, vulgar as she might have been, had a good heart, and although Choiseui had arranged the marriage, and he was her enemy, she bore no animus towards me. Had I shown her the slightest friendliness she would have returned it doubly. But I was foolish. Egged on by the aunts, I continued to ignore her; I used my gift of mimicry and gave Hide imitations of her which caused a great deal of amusement and which, naturally, were reported to her. I could imitate her mannerisms, her vulgar laughter, her silly lisp and I did, exaggerating them ever so slightly to increase the amusement.

It did not occur to me that she must be wiser than I to have climbed to the top place at Court from the streets of Paris. The King doted on her; he allowed her to perch on the aim of his chair at a council meeting, to snatch papers from him when she wanted his attention, to call him “France’ in an insolently familiar way. All this he found amusing, and if anyone criticised her he would say, ” She is so pretty and she pleases me and that ought to be enough for you. ” So everyone realised that if they wished to remain in die King’s good graces they must please Madame du Barry. But I was in his good graces. I did not have to con form to ordinary standards so I thought and I made up my mind that I would never seek the friendship of a street-woman, no matter if she was the King’s mistress. So I behaved as though I could not see her. Often she would seek the opportunity to present herself before me but she could not speak to me until I spoke to her etiquette for bade it, and even she had to bow the knee to etiquette. So every time, I ignored her.

Although she was not a woman to bear rancour she was no respecter of persons either. She gave me the nickname of Little Austrian Carrots, and as this was taken up by others I grew very angry, and increased my imitations of her crudities and continued to look through her every time we met. This snubbing because so obvious that soon the whole Court was talking of it, and Madame du Barry became so incensed that she told the King she could endure it no longer and that Little Carrots should be ordered to speak to her.

The King, hating trouble, was annoyed, and I lacked the sense to realise that he was angry with me for making it. His first action was to send for Madame de Noailles, and naturally he did not come straight to the point. Madame de Noailles, in a state of fluster, reported to me immediately the King dismissed her. He had begun, she said, by saying one or two complimentary things about me, and then he had criticised me.

Criticised! ” cried Madame de Noailles in horror. you have evidently displeased him greatly. You are talking too freely and such chatter can have a bad effect on family life, he says. In ridiculing members of the King’s household you displease him.”

Which members? “

“His Majesty named no specific one, but I think that if you would say a few words to Madame du Barry you would please her, and she would report her pleasure to the King.”

I pressed my lips firmly together. Never! I thought, I’ll not allow that street-woman to dictate to me.

Foolishly I went at once to the aunts and told them what had happened.

What excitement there was in their apartments Adelaide clucked and clicked her tongue.

“The insolence of that putain. So the Dauphine of France must be dictated to by prostitutes!” She believed the woman was a witch and had the King under her spell. She could find no other reason for his behaviour. But how right I was to come to them! They would protect me from the King, if need be. She would think up a plan and in the meantime I must behave as though Madame de Noailles had not spoken to me. I must on no account give way to that woman.

The Abbe saw my indignation and asked the cause of it, so I told him; and he went straight to Mercy and told him. Mercy immediately saw the dangerous implications and sent an express messenger to Vienna with a full account of what had taken place.

My poor mother! How she suffered from my stupidities! One little word was all that was needed and I would not give it. I was certain that I was right then. My mother was a deeply religious woman who had always deplored light behaviour in her own sex and had set up a Committee of

Public Morals so that any prostitute found in Vienna was imprisoned in a corrective home; I was sure she would understand and approve my action. I could not see that my refusing to speak to the King’s mistress was a political issue simply because she was the King’s mistress and I was who I was. I did not see the difficult position in which I was placing my mother. She either had to deny her strict moral code or displease the King of France; and although she might have been a moralist she was first of all an Empress. I should have realised the gravity of the situation when she did not write to me herself but instructed Kaunitz to do so.

The express messenger returned with a letter from him addressed to me.

He wrote:

“To refrain from showing civility towards persons whom the King has chosen as members of his own circle is derogatory to that circle; and all persons must be regarded as members of it whom the monarch looks upon as his confidants no one being entitled to ask whether he is right or wrong in doing so. The choice of the reigning sovereign must be unreservedly respected.”

I read this through and shrugged my shoulders. There was no express order to speak to Madame du Barry. Mercy was with me when I received the letter and he read it also.

“I trust,” he said, ‘that you realise the seriousness of this letter from Prince von Kaunitz? “

They were all waiting for me to speak to the woman, because it was not long before the whole Court knew that the King had instructed Madame de Noailles. They thought this was going to be defeat for me, and I was determined that it should not be. I could be stubborn when I thought I was right and I certainly believed I was right about this.

Madame du Barry expected me to speak to her. At every soiree or card party she would be waiting expectantly; and every time, I would find some excuse to turn away just as she was approaching Needless to say, the Court found this most diverting Adelaide and her sisters were delighted with me. They would throw sly looks in my direction whenever we were in public and Madame du Barry was near. They congratulated me on my resistance. What I did not realise was that in flouting the King’s mistress I was flouting the King; and this could not be allowed to go on.

The King sent for Mercy, and Mercy came to talk to me, as he said, more seriously, than he ever had before.

“The King has said, as clearly as it is possible for him to say it, that you must speak to Madame du Barry.” He sighed.

“When you came to France, your mother wrote to me that she had no wish for you to have a decisive influence in state affairs. She said that she knew your youth and levity, your lack of application, your ignorance and she knew too of the chaotic state of the French government. She did not want you to be blamed for meddling. Believe me, you are meddling now.”

“In state matters! Because I refuse to speak to that woman!”

“This is becoming a state matter. I beg of you to listen carefully.

Frederick the Great and Catherine of Russia are seeking to divide Poland. Your mother is against it, although your brother the Emperor is inclined to agree with Prussia and the Russians. Morally your mother is right, of course, but she will be forced to give way, as not only your brother but Kauoitz is for partition. Your mother is afraid of French reaction to this. If Prance decided to oppose j partition, Europe could be plunged into war. ” ” And what has this to do with my speaking to that woman? ”

” You will learn that the most foolish actions can spark off disasters.

Domestic matters have their effect on state affairs. Your mother is particularly desirous at this time of not offending the King of France. He looks to her to settle this silly quarrel between two women which is being discussed throughout the country and perhaps in others.

Can you not see the danger? “

I could not. It seemed so absurd.

He gave me a letter from my mother and I read it white he watched me.

“They say you are at the beck and call of the Royal ladies. Be careful. The King will get weary of it. These Princesses have made themselves odious. They have never known how to win their father’s love nor the esteem of anyone else. Everything that is said and done in their apartments is known. In the end you will have to bear the blame for it and you alone. It is for you to set the tone towards the King—not them.”

She does not know, I thought. She is not here.

I must write to the Empress at once,” said Mercy, ‘and tell her of my interview with the King. Meanwhile I implore you to do this small thing. Just a few words. That is all she asks. And is it much?”

With a woman of that kind it would not stop at a few words. She would always be at my side. “

I am sure you would know how to prevent that. “

“In matters of good behaviour I have no need to ask the advice of anyone,” I said coldly.

“That is true, I know. But would you feel some remorse if the Austro-French alliance broke down because of your behaviour?”

“I would never forgive myself.” A smile cracked his old face and he looked almost human.

“Now I know,” he said, ‘that you will take the advice of your mother and those who wish you well. “

But I could not learn my lessons. When I was with the aunts I told them of my conversation with Mercy. Adelaide’s eye flashed fire. It was immoral, she declared.

“I have no choice. My mother wishes it. She is afraid that the King will be displeased not only with me but with Austria.”

“The King often needs saving from himself ” I must do it,” I said.

Adelaide was quiet; her sisters sat looking at her expectantly. I thought: Even she accepts the position now.

I should have known better.

It was all over the Court. Tonight the Dauphine will speak to the du Barry.

“La guerre des femmes is over, with victory for the mistress.”

Well, anyone who wagered against that result was a fool. But it would be amusing to see the humiliation of Little Carrots and the triumph of

the du Barry. In the salon the ladies stood waiting for my approach. My custom was to pass among them addressing a word to each in turn and among them was Madame du Barry. I was aware of her, waiting eagerly, her blue eyes wide with only the faintest trace of triumph. She did not wish to humiliate me, only to ease a situation which was intolerable to her.

I was uneasy, but I knew I had to give in. I could not flout the Ring of France and the Empress of Austria. Only two people separated her from me. I was steeling myself; I was ready.

Then I felt a light touch on my arm. I turned and saw Adelaide, a sly triumph in her eyes.

“The King is waiting for us in Madame Victoire’s apartments” she said.

“It is time for us to be going.”

I hesitated. Then I turned, and with the aunts, left the salon. I was aware of the silence in the room. I had snubbed the du Barry as never before.

In their apartments the aunts were twittering with excitement See how we had outwitted them! It was unthinkable that I Berry’s wife should speak to that woman.

I waited for the storm and I knew I should not have to wait long.

Mercy came to tell me that the King was really angry. He had sent for him and said coldly that his plans did not seem effective, and he himself would have to take a hand.

“I have sent an express messenger to Vienna,” Mercy told me, ‘with a detailed account of what has happened. ” My mother herself wrote to me:

“The dread and embarrassment you are showing about speaking to persons you are advised to speak to is both ridiculous and childish. What a fuss about saying Good Day to someone! What a storm about a quick word perhaps about a dress or a fan! You have allowed your self to become enslaved and your duty can no longer persuade you. I myself must write to you about this foolish matter. Mercy has told me about the King’s wishes and you have had the temerity to fail him! What reason can you give for behaving in such a way? You have none. It is most unbecoming to regard Madame du Barry in any other light than that of a lady whom the King honours with his society. You are the King’s first subject and you owe him obedience. You should set a good example; you should show the ladies and gentlemen of Versailles that you are ready to obey your master. If any intimacy were asked of you, anything that were wrong—neither I nor any other would advise you to do it. But all that is asked is that you should say a mere word-should look at her pleasantly and smile—not for her sake, but for the sake of your grandfather, who is not only your master but your benefactor.”

When I read this letter I was bewildered. It seemed that everything my mother stood for had been thrust aside for the sake of expediency. I had behaved as she had brought me up to behave and it seemed I was wrong. This letter was as clear a command as she had ever given me. I wrote to her, for she expected an answer:

“I do not say that I refuse to speak to her, but I cannot agree to speak to her on a fixed hour or a particular day known to her in advance so that she can triumph over that.” I knew that this was quibbling and that I was defeated.

It was New Year’s Day when I spoke to her. Everyone knew it would be that day and they were ready. In order of precedence the ladies filed past me and there among them was Madame du Barry.

I knew nothing must prevent my speaking this time. The aunts had tried to advise me against it but I did not listen to them. Mercy had pointed out to me that while they railed against Madame du Barry in private, they were friendly enough to her face. Had I not noticed this? Should I not be a little wary of ladies who could behave so?

Now we were face to face. She looked a little apologetic as though to say: I don’t want to make it too hard for you, but you see it had to be done.

Had I been sensible I should have known that was how she sincerely felt; but I could only see black and white. She was a sinful woman, therefore she was wicked all through. I said the words I had been rehearsing: “II y a bien du monde aujowd’hm a Versailles.”

It was enough. The beautiful eyes were full of pleasure, the lovely lips smiled tenderly; but I was passing on.

I had done it. The whole Court was talking of it. When I saw the King he embraced me; Mercy was benign;

Madame du Barry was happy. Only the aunts were displeased;

but I had noticed that Mercy was right; they were always affable to Madame du Barry in person, while they said such wounding things behind her back.

But I was hurt and angry.

“I have spoken to her once,” I told Mercy, but it will never happen again. Never again shall that woman hear the sound of my voice. “

I wrote to my mother.

“I do not doubt that Mercy has told you of what happened on New Year’s Day. I trust you will be satisfied. You may be sure that I will always sacrifice my personal prejudices as long as nothing is asked of me which goes against my honour.”

I had never written to my mother in that tone before. I was growing up.

Of course the whole Court was laughing at the affair. People passing each other on the great staircase would whisper : II y a bien du monde aujowd’hm a Versailles!’ Servants giggled about it in the bedrooms. It was the catch phrase of the moment.

But at least what they considered my inane remark in the salon had stopped them—temporarily—speculating about what went on in the bedchamber.

I was right when I said the du Barry would not be satisfied. She longed for friendship. I did not understand that she wanted to show me that she had no desire to exploit her victory and she hoped that I felt no rancour on account of my defeat. She was a woman of the people who by good fortune had become rich; her home was now a palace and she was grateful to fate which had placed her there. She I wanted to live on good terms with everyone, and to her I must have seemed like a silly little girl.

What could she do to placate me? Everyone knew that I loved diamonds.

Why not a trinket after which I hankered? The Court jeweller had been showing a pair of very fine diamond earrings round the Court—hoping that Madame du Barry would like them. They cost seven hundred thousand livres—a large sum, but they were truly exquisite. I had seen them and exclaimed with wonder at their perfection.

Madame du Barry sent a friend of hers to speak to me about the earrings—casually, of course. I admired them very much, she believed.

I said I thought they were the most beautiful earrings I had ever seen. Then came the hint. Madame du Barry was sure she could persuade the King to buy them for me.

I listened in blank silence and made no reply. The woman did not know what to do; then I told her haughtily that she had my permission to go.

My meaning was dear. I wanted no favours from the King’s mistress; and at our next meeting I looked through her as though she did not exist.

Madame du Barry shrugged her shoulders. She had had a few words and that was all that was necessary. If La Petite Rousse wanted to be a little fool, let her. Meanwhile everyone continued to remark that there were a great many people at Versailles that day.