The Queen`s Confession (34 page)

“Up to now I have been discreet, but I shall grow importunate. It would be a crime if there were no more royal children. I am growing impatient, and at my age I have not much time left to me.” I too longed for a Dauphin.

I did try to live more quietly. I read, as my mother would have wished, though perhaps not the books she would have chosen; I liked novels of romance; I did a little needlework and I gambled now and then, although not so heavily as before; but my greatest happiness was with Madame Royale.

The first word she said was “Papa,” which pleased me as much as it did the King. I wrote to my mother:

“The poor little thing is beginning to walk. She has now said ” Papa”;

her teeth are not through yet but I can feel them. I am glad she began by naming her father. “

Each day there was some progress. How thrilled I was when she took her first tottering steps towards me. I wrote and told my mother, of course.

“I must confide to my dear Mother a happiness I had a few days ago. There were several people in my daughter’s room and I asked one of them to ask her where her mother was. The poor little thing, without a word being said to her, smiled and came to me, her arms outstretched. She knew me, the little darling. I was overjoyed and I love her even more than I did before.”

Mercy was grumbling to my mother that I could be talked to of nothing for I would interrupt and tell him that my daughter had her first

tooth, had said “Maman,” had walked farther than ever before; that I sr’nt almost the whole day with her;

that I listened to his conversation even less than I had before.

It seemed I could never give satisfaction.

Meanwhile my mother continued to write:

“There must be a Dauphin.”

To my great joy I believed I was pregnant again. I was determined to say nothing of this to anyone but the King and a few of my friends. I could not resist whispering it to Gabrielle, and I told the Princesse de Lamballe and my dear Elisabeth and Madame Campan, but I did make them all swear to secrecy until I was absolutely sure.

Then a dreadful thing happened. While I was travelling in my carriage I was suddenly aware of a cold wind, and without thinking I jumped up to shut the window. More effort was needed than I had believed, and I strained myself, with the result that a few days after the event I had a mis carriage.

I was heartbroken. I wept bitterly and the King wept with me.

But we must not despair, he said. We should have our Dauphin in a very short time, be was sure. And in the mean time we had our adorable Madame Royale.

He comforted me and I declared how glad I was that I had not mentioned my condition to anyone except those whom I could trust. I imagined what the Aunts or my sisters-in-law would have made of it. They would have blamed me, my love of pleasure, my indifference to duty . anything to discredit me.

I told my husband how glad I was, and he said that we should keep the secret and I must tell all those who knew of the affair to say nothing of it. I was quite ill for a few days, but my health was so good generally that I quickly’re covered.

Then I caught measles, and as the King had not had this complaint I went to the Trianon that I might be alone. I was followed there by those who had had it or decided to risk infection: Artois and his wife,

the Comtesse de Provence, the Princesse de Lamballe, and Elisabeth. It was not to be expected that we should stay there without male company, and the Dues de Guines and de Coigny came with the Comte d’Esterhazy and the Baron de Besenval. These four’ men were constantly in my bedroom and did their best to amuse me. This caused a great deal of comment and scandal, naturally. The men were called my sick-nurses; and it was whispered that the measles were non-existent they provided the excuse. They were asking which ladies the King would choose to nurse him if he were ill.

Mercy for once had said that he could see no harm in my having friends at the Trianon to amuse me and help me recover from my illness. The King saw nothing wrong either. Kings and Queens had received visitors in their bedrooms for as long as anyone could remember. It was a tradition to do so.

When I was better I stayed on at the Trianon. I wanted to be there all the time. There were protests from Vienna, and Mercy told me that he had my mother’s permission to remind me that a great Court must be accessible to many people. If it were not, hatreds and jealousies would arise; and there would be trouble.

I listened yawning, thinking of the play I would be putting on in my theatre very soon. I should play the principal part myself. Surely everyone would agree that that was fitting.

The result of this interview was that I wrote to my mother and assured her that I would spend more time at Versailles.

She answered me:

I am very glad that you intend to resume your State at Versailles. I know how tedious and empty it is, but if there is not State the disadvantages which result from not holding it are greater than those of doing so. This applies particularly to your country, where the people are known to be impetuous. “

I did try to do what she suggested, and held State at Versailles, but so many people whom I had offended stayed away. I rarely saw the Due de Chartres, for one. He had retired to the Palais Royale and entertained his friends there. I did not know what they discussed there; nor did it occur to me to wonder.

There seemed no point then in holding Court at Versailles;

why should I not spend more and more time at the Pent Trianon, where life was so much more fun, surrounded as I was by the friends I had chosen?

The blow struck me suddenly. I had not even known that she was ill.

The Abbe Vermond came to my apartments and said he must speak to me alone. His eyes were wild, his lips twitching.

I said: “What is wrong?”

He replied: “Your Majesty must prepare yourself for a great disaster.”

I rose staring at him. I saw the letter in his hand and I knew.

The Empress .
He nodded.

“She is dead,” I said blankly, for I knew it was true. I was conscious of a terrible loneliness such as I had never known before.

He nodded.

I could not speak. I was numbed. I felt like a child who is lost and knows it will never feel entirely safe again.

“It cannot be,” I whispered.

But he assured me that it was.

I said unsteadily, “I want first to be alone He nodded and left me and I sat on the bed and thought of her as I had known her in Vienna. I saw her at her mirror while her women dressed her hair; I could feel the cold Viennese wind, sharper than anything I had known since I left Austria; I could picture her bending over my bed when I was pretending I was asleep. I could hear her voice.

“You must do this. You must do that. Such Ugerete … such dissipation… You are rushing on to destruction. I tremble for you.”

Oh tremble for me. Mamma, I whispered, for without you I am so alone.

The King came and wept with me. He had waited a quarter of 255

an hour before coming. I heard him in the anteroom where the Abbe had waited, respecting my wish to be alone.

My husband said: “I thank you. Monsieur 1” Abbe, for the service you have just done me. ” And I knew then that he had sent the Abbe to break the news to me.

He came in then and embraced me.

“My dear,” he said, ‘this is so sad for us all, but mostly for you.

”

“I cannot believe it,” I said.

“I had letters from her so recently.”

“Ah, you will miss her letters I nodded.

“Nothing will be quite the same again And as he sat beside me on the bed, his hand in mine, I seemed to hear her voice admonishing me as it had all my life: I must not grieve—I had my husband; I had my daughter; and I must not forget that France needed a Dauphin.

I ordered Court mourning to be made, and meanwhile I put on temporary mourning. I shut myself in my apartments and saw no one but members of the Royal Family, the Duchesse de Polignac and the Princesse de Lamballe. I remained thus, aloof from the Court for several days; and I thought of her continually.

When I received Mercy he told me what he had heard of her end. She had been very ill since the middle of November and the doctors had said that she was suffering from hardening of the lungs.

On the 29th of the month she said to her women who came to her bedside, “This is my last day on earth, and my thoughts are of my children whom I leave behind.” She mentioned us all by name, raising her hands to heaven as she did so.

And when she came to me she kept murmuring, “Marie Antoinette, Queen of France’; and she burst into tears and wept long and bitterly.

All the day she lived, and it was eight in the evening when she started to fight for her breath.

Joseph, who was with her, whispered: “You are very ill.”

And she answered: ‘ll1 enough to die, Joseph. “

She signed to the doctors.

I am going now,” she said.

“I pray you light the mortuary candle and close my eyes.”

She looked at Joseph, who took her into his aims, and there she died.

Monsieur Ie Dauphin begs leave to present himself.

LOUIS XVI TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

I sots our little Dauphin this morning. He is very well, and lovely as an angel. The people’s enthusiasm continues the same. In the streets one meets nothing but fiddles, singing and dancing. I call that touching, and in fact I know no more amiable nation than ours.

MADAME DE BOMBELLES TO MADAME ELISABETH

Catherine de Medici, Cleopatra, Agrippina, Messalma, my crimes surpass yours, and if the memory of your infamous deeds still causes people to shudder, what emotions could be aroused by an account of the cruel and lascivious Movie Antoinette of Austria.

QUOTATIONS FROM A PAMPHLET IN CIRCULATION BEFORE AND AFTER THE

REVOLUTION CALLED “ESSAI HISTORIQUE SUR LA VIE DE MARIE ANTOINETTE’

France, with the face of Austria, reduced to covering herself with a rag.

WRITTEN UNDER A PORTRAIT OF MARIE ANTOINETTE DRESSED IN A SIMPLE

CREOLE BLOUSE

The Austrian Woman

Once again I was brought to bed of a child. Almost a year had passed since the death of my mother, for it was October. How I missed those letters which had arrived for ten years with such regularity. I remembered often how I used to tremble as I opened them and sometimes feel irritated by the continued complaints, but how often during the last year I had longed to receive them. How I should have enjoyed

telling her that once more I was pregnant. But what was the use? She had gone for ever; yet I knew that for ever her memory would keep her with me.

I longed for a son, but I dared not pin my hopes on this. I could not love a child more than I loved my little daughter. I prayed: “A son please God, but if You see fit to send me a daughter, she will seem all that I desire.”

This accouchement was different from the last. The King had said that the public were not to be admitted, for I was not again going to be exposed to the sort of risk I had run before, and only members of the family and six of my ladies-including the Princesse de Lamballe, who was a member of the family—together with the accoucheur and the doctors were present.

My pains started when I woke on that morning—it was the 22nd of October—and they were so slight that I was able to take a bath; but by midday they had increased.

It was an easier labour than that of my little Madame Royale, but when the child was born I was half-conscious and too weak to be entirely sure of what was happening.

I was aware of the people about my bed; there seemed to be a deep silence and I was afraid to ask for news of the child. The King had made a sign that no one was to speak to me; he had been very anxious during the latter weeks of my pregnancy and had commanded that when the child was born no one was to-say what its sex was, for if it were a daughter I should be disappointed, and if a Dauphin so overjoyed, that either emotion might be bad for me in the state of exhaustion I should surely experience after the delivery.

I was aware of the silence about my bed. I thought: It is a girl. Or worse still: It is still-born. No! I heard the cry of a child. I had a baby; I wanted to cry out: Give me my child. What matters if . Then I saw the King; there were tears in his eyes and he seemed overcome by his emotion.

I said to him: “You see how calm I am. I have asked no questions.”

His voice was broken and he said: “Monsieur Ie Dauphin begs to present himself.”

A son! My dream was fulfilled. I held out my arms and they laid him in them. A boy . a perfect boyl There was excitement in the bedchamber and the adjoining rooms where the ministers and members of our household waited.

I heard afterwards that everyone there started kissing and embracing.

I heard voices: “A Dauphin. I tell you it is true. We have a Dauphin.”

Even my enemies were caught up in the excitement. Madame de Guemenee, who was to take charge of him, sat in a chair with wheels and he was handed to her; she was then wheeled to her apartments close by and everyone crowded round her to see the child. They wanted to touch him, or his shawl, or even the chair in which the Princesse sat.

“He must become a Christian without delay,” said the King.

Our little Dauphin was baptised at three o’clock.

One hundred and one guns were fired immediately so that Paris should be aware of the sex of the child. That was the signal for the city to go wild with joy. Bells were ringing;

processions were formed; at night bonfires were lighted and there were the usual fireworks displays. I could scarcely believe that these were the people who took such joy in those disgusting lampoons which were circulated about me;

now they were asking God to protect me, the mother of their Dauphin.

Now they were dancing, drinking my health, crying: “Long live the King and Queen! Long live the Dauphin!”

As my mother said, they were an impetuous people. I was delighted with my new baby. I sent for Madame Royale that she might see her little brother and we stood hand in hand admiring him as he lay in his cradle. She was three years old and growing lovelier every day, besides being very intelligent.