The Queen`s Confession (30 page)

I assured my brother that I did not exactly like Artois; but he was the gayest member of the family and he and I enjoyed the same kind of pastimes. He could always amuse me, and I so badly needed to be amused.

“Tut tut tut,” said Joseph.

“You will have to learn that there is more in life than amusement.”

Joseph’s pontifical manner was beginning to tire us all. I wished that he had been a little frivolous, that he would gamble and lose heavily, that he would show some interest in the lighter amusements of the Court. But that was quite foreign to his nature.

As the days passed he took to criticising me in front of my women which I did not like. He would wander in when I was at my toilette and show disapproval of my elaborate gowns. When my rouge was being applied he looked on with cynical amusement. I might have retorted that it was as necessary to wear rouge as Court dress. Even Campan when she had first come to Court as the humble lect rice had been obliged to wear it.

He glanced at one of my attendants who was very highly rouged and said: “A little more. A little more. Put it on furiously like Madame here.”

I was so annoyed about this that I determined to ask my brother to spare me his criticisms in front of people. When we were alone I did not mind what he said, but it was certainly undignified for the Queen of France to be reprimanded before her subjects as though she were a child. What could be more damaging to her prestige than that?

Smarting with indignity I sat before my mirror while Monsieur Leonard dressed my hair.

“Ah, Madame,” he said, ‘we will have such a confection that the Emperor himself must admire it. “

I smiled at Leonard in the mirror, and as he proceeded to excel himself, Joseph with his usual lack of ceremony strolled in.

“Brother, do you like this style?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered in a bored tone.

You do not sound very enthusiastic. You are thinking that it is unbecoming? “

“Do you wish me to speak frankly ” When, Joseph, did you not? “

“Very well. I think it is over-fragile to carry a crown.”

Monsieur Leonard looked as though my brother had been guilty of the greatest lese majestf possible; my attendants and friends were shocked that my brother should speak to me thus in their presence, for on this occasion he was not so much criticising my head-dress as myself as the Queen of France.

When I remonstrated with him, he replied: “I am an outspoken man. I cannot prevaricate. I say what I mean.”

I had deplored artifice, the artifice of French conversation, but a few weeks of Joseph’s company made me long for it.

Mercy was made a little uneasy by the manner in which Joseph was behaving. I imagined that Kaunitz had tried to advise my brother how to deal with me, and my brother of course would accept advice from no one. Joseph had forgotten that seven years had passed since I left Austria;

he saw me still as the silly little girl” his baby sister.

Joseph himself told me that Kaunitz had prepared a written document of the instructions he was to pass on to me.

“But I have no need of documents,” said my brother.

“I am here to see you and talk to you.

And I have a firsthand knowledge of the scene. “

So he continued to advise us; and he did make some impression; he made me see how I was grieving my mother by my conduct; he impressed on me the folly of my ways. He had been among the people of Paris; he had seen hardship and poverty. What did I think these people would feel when they knew of my extravagance? He moved me to tears of repentance.

“I will be different, Joseph,” I said.

“Pray tell my mother that she must not worry. I will be more serieuse. I promise.”

And I meant it.

It was unfortunate that when he accompanied me to the apartments of the Princesse de Guemenee there should have been a scene. He had been reluctant to go, but I had persuaded him. They were playing faro, and the free manners between the sexes shocked my brother; their conversation sparkled, but it was a little risque, and, most unfortunate of all, Madame de Guemenee was accused of cheating.

Joseph wished to leave.

“It’s nothing but a gaming hell,” he declared; and there followed a long lecture on the dangers of gambling. I must give up gambling. No good could come of it. I must choose my friends with greater care.

Everything we did seemed to be the excuse for a lecture, but we listened to Joseph, and, like so many of his kind, much of what he said was right and true.

He was often closeted with my husband, for the purpose 222 of his visit had been to strengthen Austro-French relations-and, of course, that other matter.

I did not know what he said to my husband, but I have no doubt that he pointed out his duty, that he told him of the dangers of a monarchy that could not produce heirs. Artois had a son; but Provence would come before him. There were jealousies and antagonisms when the succession was not from father to son.

Joseph himself had no son, but he would not allow this fact to interfere with his lecture to the King on his duties. And Louis admitted to him that what he longed for more man anything was to have children.

His visit was of the utmost importance, for he extracted from Louis the promise that he would not allow this unsatisfactory state of affairs to continue. Something must be done and Louis would see that it was.

He left at the end of May, having been with us since mid-April.

His parting words to me were that I was too frivolous and featherheaded for him to be able to make much headway with me in conversation; I so deplorably lacked the power of concentration. This was true, I was well aware. Therefore he had written his ‘instructions’ and I was to study them carefully after his departure.

Oddly enough, much as he had irritated me, now that he was going I was filled with sorrow. He was a part of my home and childhood; he had brought back so many memories. He had talked of our mother and brought her closer to me. I wept bitterly to part with him.

He embraced us warmly—both myself and the Ring. And when he had gone, Louis turned to me and said with the utmost tenderness: “During his visit we were together more often and for longer periods. Therefore I owe him a debt of gratitude.”

It was a charming compliment; and there was a new purpose in my husband’s eyes.

When I was alone I read Joseph’s instructions. There were pages of them.

“You are grown up now and no longer can be excused on account of being a child. What will happen to you if you hesitate? Has it ever occurred to you to ask yourself? An unhappy woman is an unhappy Queen. Do you look for opportunities? Do you sincerely respond to the affection the King shows you? Are you cool or distrait when he caresses you? Do you appear bored or disgusted? If so, can it be expected that a man of cold temperament could make advances and love you with passion?”

I thought about this seriously. Was it true? Joseph for all his pomposity was a shrewd observer. Had I betrayed my feelings? For often I did experience these emotions when the King approached me.

Joseph went on to criticise me in the light of his observations.

“Do you ever give way to his wishes and suppress your own? Do you try to convince him that you love him? Do you make any sacrifices for his sake?”

There were pages about my conduct towards my husband, of which he was highly critical. He blamed me for the state of affairs, yet while implying that I was not responsible for my husband’s infirmity, he hinted that it might have been overcome by sympathy and understanding on my part.

My relationships with certain people at Court were a scandal. I had a genius for attaching the wrong kind of people to myself.

“Have you ever troubled to think of the effect which your friendships and intimacies may have upon the public? … Bear in mind that the King never plays games of chance and therefore it is scandalous for you to give such bad customs your patronage…. Then think of the contretemps you have had at the Opera balls. I suggest that of all your amusements that is the most dangerous and unseemly, especially as your escort on these occasions, as you tell me, is your brother-in-law who counts for nothing. What use then is there in going incognito and pretending you are someone else? …”

I smiled. What use, brother Joseph, in your disguises? I could hear his voice, a little pained at the frivolity of the question. My disguise is to prevent people knowing who their benefactor is: yours, to seek wild and dangerous pleasure.

“Do you honestty believe you are not recognised?” Not always, dear brother—no more than you do I “Everyone knows who you are, and when you are masked, people make comments which should not be made in your presence and say things which are not suitable for you to hear…. Why do you wish to rub shoulders with a crowd of libertines? You do not go there simply to dance. Why this un seemliness … The King is left alone at night at Versailles while you mix with the canaille of Paris.” Had I forgotten my mother’s advice? Had she not, ever since I left Vienna, been imploring me to improve my mind? I should take up reading—serious reading, of course. I should read for two hours a day at the very least.

Then he said a strange thing, used a strange word which I was to remember later:

“In truth, I tremble for your happiness because I believe that in the long run things cannot continue as they are now…. The revolution will be a cruel one and perhaps of your own making.”

He did not underline that terrible word. I do it now. It did occur to me then that that was an odd expression, but now I can see the paper clearly and the word seems to jump out of the page . written in red, the colour of blood.

I did try to improve my ways after Joseph had left. I knew he was right; I should not gamble; I should try to be more serious. I even tried reading.

I wrote to my mother that I was following my brother’s good counsels.

“I bear them written on my heart,” I said extravagantly. I did not go to the theatre very often; I went even less to the Opera balls; and I tried to like hunting;

in any case I went with my husband on several occasions;

I was always careful to be gracious to the centenarians and the bundles.

I was really trying very hard. So was Louis.

He kept his promise to Joseph, and the little operation was performed.

It was a success. We were delighted. I wrote to my mother:

I have attained the happiness which is of the greatest importance to my whole life. My marriage was thoroughly consummated. Yesterday the attempt was repeated and was even more successful than the first time. I thought at first of sending a special messenger to my beloved mother, but I was afraid this might arouse too much gossip. I don’t think I am with child yet, but I have hopes of becoming so at any moment. “

The change in my husband was great. He was delighted; he behaved like a lover; he wished to be with me all the time;

nor was I eager to avoid him. I kept saying to myself:

Soon my dream will come true. I have now as much chance as any other woman of becoming a mother.

Louis said he must write to my brother, to whom we owed all this.

I hope that next year will not go by without my giving you a nephew or niece. It is to you we owe this happiness. “

The news was going all round the Courts. The aunts insisted that they hear all about it. Adelaide was in a mood of great excitement and she explained everything in detail to her sisters.

Louis had mentioned to Aunt Adelaide in a rush of confidence I find the pleasure very great and I regret that so long a time had passed without my being able to enjoy it. “

The King was excessively cheerful; the Court looked on with interest and made bets as to when there would be proof of the newly-acquired royal virility. Provence and his wife tried to hide their annoyance, but I was aware of it. Artois mischievously tried to provoke Provence, while he made jesting references behind our backs to the King’s newly-acquired prowess.

Our lives were certainly at the mercy of those about us.

There was no privacy. It was noted that I looked tired in the mornings, which provoked titters and furtive observation. Everyone was watchful.

I did not care.

I was longing for the day when I could announce that I was about to become a 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.

MARIE ANTOINETTE TO MARIA THERESA

the torrents of inquisitive people who poured into the chamber were so great and tumultuous that the rush was near destroying the Queen. During the night the King had taken the precaution to have the enormous tapestry screens which surrounded Her Majesty’s bed secured with cord. Had it not been for this foresight they would most certainly have been thrown upon her. The windows were caulked up; the King opened them with a strength which his affection for the Queen gave him at that moment.

MADAME CAM PAN MEMOIRS

We must have a Dauphin. We need a Dauphin and heir to the throne.

MARIA THERESA TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

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 228 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.