The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette

by Clegg, Melanie

  Carolina was surprised into giving a loud laugh, that echoed alarmingly in the vaulted chapel. 'You idiot. Haven't you realised by now that Christina is Mama's special favourite and that even if she is allowed to marry her boring prince, it doesn't make a jot of difference to our own prospects.' She stands up and crosses herself, feigning a coughing fit to disguise her laughter. 'Only Christina will be allowed to choose for herself while we are all sent away to marry men that we have never even seen before.'

  'Mimi,' I whisper to myself. Of course.

  Sunday, 27th October, after dinner.

  Christina is victorious and the wedding is to be held next April at Schönbrunn.

  Amalia was physically sick when she heard the news.

  Saturday, 2nd November.

  It is my tenth birthday. Mama has taken to calculating how long we have all been on this earth and informed me this morning that I have now been alive for five hundred and twenty two weeks which is three thousand, six hundred and fifty four days or eighty seven thousand and six hundred and ninety six hours. It does not seem like such a long time really does it?

  Sunday, 1st December, first day of Advent.

  Today we lit the first candle on our special Adventkranz, which is a wreath of holly with four tall red candles attached, each representing the four Sundays in Advent. Amalia played the harpsichord and we all sang carols while ignoring the Advent fast and munching on special gingerbread biscuits and our favourite vanillekipferl, heavily dusted with sugar.

  Afterwards I wrote a letter to the holy Christkindl, telling him all of my wishes for the coming year. I asked that none of my sisters leave to be married and also for a white pony for myself.

  Thursday, 5th December, late.

  Such fun today when we were visited after dinner by actors dressed up as Saint Nikolaus and the Krampus, which are evil goblins who punish naughty children for their misdeeds during the year. Maximilian was chased around the room by the Krampus, who were trying to smack his behind with a birch rod, to the amusement of all the court. Mama's dogs were wildly excited by this and also joined in the chase so that the huge, candlelit reception room was filled with the sound of laughter, menacing cackles and furious barking. I could not help but think how much Papa would have enjoyed it.

  Carolina and I half expected to be singled out by the Krampus as well, but instead we were given special biscuits and presents by Saint Nikolaus and praised for our good behaviour. Clearly, no one has yet worked out who has been playing tricks on Countess Brandeis.

  Friday, 20th December, St Thomas' Eve.

  It is the tradition here in Austria that if a girl wishes to know her future she should cut an apple in half on the eve of St Thomas' day and then count the pips inside. I have always been too young to join in but tonight Amalia and Josepha decided that I should be allowed to take part in the secret ritual.

  Carolina and I wrapped ourselves up in thick woolen shawls and pushed our feet into soft, fur slippers before sneaking down the cold corridors to Amalia's warm, rose scented room where her trio of little Pugs lay fast asleep and snoring on pink velvet upholstered dog beds in front of the stove. Her maid Drusilla ceremoniously placed a bowl of apples and a gold handled knife on to a table that had been pulled into the centre of the room and we took it in turns to carefully select a fruit and then slice into it.

  Amalia went bravely first, cutting her apple neatly and counting the pips inside. 'Five.' She looked at her maid, who we all respected as a person of authority when it came to such arcane matters as fortune telling. 'I think I cut one as well.'

  Drusilla peered at the apple. 'An odd number means you have a disappointment coming, Archduchess, and the cut seed means you will have a troubled marriage and end a widow.'

  'Charming.' Amalia laughed and bit into a slice of apple. 'Well, so long as I am rich, who cares?'

  'Me next.' Josepha stepped up and blushed as she selected an apple and cut into it. 'Oh, I seem to have cut across all of the pips!' She looked at Drusilla. 'Does that mean I will be very unhappy indeed?'

  Drusilla took the apple and sighed as she looked at it. 'We all have a cross to bear, Archduchess.'

  Josepha shrugged and tried to laugh. 'Oh well, serves me right for not being very handy with a knife.' She handed it shakily on to Carolina. 'Your turn now, little one.'

  Carolina closed her eyes and picked the first apple that found its way into her fumbling hand. 'Oh look, six seeds! That means that I am going to marry soon doesn't it? They are very large seeds; does that mean that he will be handsome?'

  We all burst out laughing. 'Oh, Carolina! You should be so lucky!' Amalia said, giving Carolina a hug. 'You should have realised by now that there are no handsome princes left in Europe and that the Catholic ones are always the most hideous of all.'

  'If any handsome princes ever existed outside fairy stories,' Josepha chimed in with a grimace. 'Poor us.'

  Carolina handed the knife to me and I copied her, closing my eyes as I put my hand into the porcelain bowl and felt amongst the cool, smooth, fragrant apples before finally closing my grasp around one of them. I opened my eyes then solemnly cut into the soft flesh and pulled the two halves apart. 'One, two, three, four and oh, I cut some of them!' I looked at Drusilla. 'What does it mean?' I held out the apple.

  'Your Highness will be married soon but will face many sorrows before becoming a widow,' the other girl intoned after looking at my apple. I couldn't help but shiver at her words, even though I knew that it was all complete nonsense and silly peasant superstition.

  Carolina gave me a hug. 'Do not worry, Antonia, it won't come true,' she whispered into my ear. 'Your husband will be handsome and rich and kind and you will have many children and grow fat, contented and old together.'

  I hope that she is right.

  Monday, 23rd December, a freezing cold night.

  Three years ago today our sister Johanna died of smallpox, when she was not much older than I am now. I caught smallpox at the same time but was very fortunate and recovered with only a few small scars on my shoulders. I cannot remember very much about it now other than a dreadful headache when it first began and a terrible feeling of thirst and light headedness when it was all over. The intervening days passed in a blur of unbearable hotness, pain and restless opiated sleep.

  Mama ordered that Johanna's full length portrait by Herr Mytens be brought down into the candlelit mirrored reception room with its huge mirrors and green and gold paneled walls so that we could all think about her in silence and pray for her soul. The portrait looked very unlike the jolly, plump little Johanna that I (barely) remember and shows her looking very stiff and sombre indeed in a gown of pink silk with diamonds in her hair and around her throat. It scared me a little to see her thus and I closed my eyes and tried to remember her as she had really been rather than the little painted doll with powdered hair and far away eyes on the canvas.

  My sister Josepha started to cry and admitted to me later on that she is terrified of dying of smallpox like Johanna did as she suffered a great deal.

  'I can still hear her screams,' she said with a terrible look on her face.

  Chapter Two

  1766

  Wednesday, 1st January, 1766.

  The new year began half an hour ago and the sky above Vienna is filled with colourful, dazzling fireworks. Carolina is standing at my window in her nightdress, watching the explosions and clapping with joy. She is fortunate indeed that Mama cannot see her now. There was a grand state ball at the Hofburg tonight and we can see the guests with their glittering, shimmering clothes swathed beneath furs, standing in the courtyard below, snipping schnapps and staring up at the night sky as it explodes into colour and light.

  The carnival season is in full swing in Vienna and every night the sound of music, laughter and fun floats up to our windows at the Hofburg. Amalia goes out every night in her pretty silk dresses, with only a black velvet fur lined cape and black felt mask for disguise and we hear her coming back in the early
hours, stumbling slightly and humming the latest songs under her breath. We are consumed with envy and can hardly wait for the day when we can be a part of it all as well.

  Wednesday, 15th January, late.

  It was I who put spiders in Christina's bed. I am not the slightest bit sorry.

  Wednesday, 12th February, Ash Wednesday.

  Carnival is over and the Easter fast began today, which is always very dreary but naturally Mama insists that we all comply. Forty days. How shall we bear it?

  We all went to church this morning to hear mass and then kneel before the altar to be marked on the forehead with a cross of black ashes. We are not supposed to wash the cross off before sundown and I wear mine still, stark and dark against my pale skin.

  Wednesday, 26th February.

  Amalia is twenty today, which seems incredibly old to me. She is still not betrothed and Carolina whispered to me at breakfast that she is in love with the Duke of Zweibrücken's eldest son, Karl who is very handsome indeed with a shock of sandy hair, freckles across his nose and bright hazel eyes. He is everything that we think a young man should be – clever, kind hearted, fond of a joke, an energetic dancer and fearless with horses. He is not rich enough or important enough to please Mama though and so Amalia hardly dares even to look at him when there are other people present. Karl is less careful however and the look on his face whenever he looks at her makes me tremble. I do not think that anyone will ever look at me in such a way and I both fear and long for it with all of my being.

  Albert of Saxony isn't rich or important either and isn't nearly so handsome as Karl and yet Mama gave her permission to Christina's marriage, reasoning that if she marries Albert then she will always stay near to her in Vienna instead of going far away to marry a foreign prince like all the rest of us.

  I think I begin to see why Amalia looks so mutinous all of the time nowadays.

  Friday, 14th March, I can't sleep.

  Carolina told me at dinner (very plain and dull and involving a lot of fish, which I detest, as we are still fasting) that Christina is to receive a huge dowry ('To compensate for marrying a pauper younger son,' she said with an arch look) and that Albert has not only been made Duke of Teschen but also been granted the Governorship of Pressburg in Hungary, which has a huge castle attached to it. They have also been given a pretty little house near to our Summer palace at Laxenburg, which is a huge honour.

  I looked down the candlelit table at Christina and saw that she almost seemed to glow with triumph as she laughed and chattered with Marianna and Elizabeth. She had never been the prettiest of Mama's daughters but now she is certainly the most impressive of us all, not least because she will be the very first to marry and discover what the Countess coyly refers to as 'the mysteries of the boudoir'. I can't imagine anything worse than discovering the mysteries of the boudoir with her fiancé, Albert who only ever wants to talk about art and horses and who always hastily shovels food into his mouth as though he has just been told that there is about to be a famine in the land. I looked further down the table to Amalia, who looked pale and heavy eyed and was pushing her dinner around her plate with an air of miserable disinterest. As I watched I saw Joseph lean across with a look of irritation and whisper something into her ear that made her colour up and then pretend to smile and join in the conversation.

  'It is said that Mama is determined that one of us will marry the King of Naples, one will marry the Duke of Parma and one will marry the French King's heir,' Carolina whispered urgently beside me. Where does she hear these things? 'I heard Mama tell Joseph about it,' she said, as if reading my thoughts. 'He is very enthusiastic about the idea.' I bet he is.

  'Three husbands,' I whispered, thinking this over and trying to imagine these hazy, faceless foreign princes. 'I wonder who they have in mind for them?'

  Carolina shrugged and took a sip of water. 'Elizabeth for one, Amalia for the other and Josepha for the third,' she guessed. 'Which means that we are safe for a bit longer.' She sighed. 'Although I must admit that it would be nice to be in demand for once.'

  I nodded, heartily agreeing with this statement.

  Sunday, 30th March, Easter Day.

  The fast is at an end. We went to hear Mass and then came home to gorge ourselves on delicious thick hot chocolate, gingerbread biscuits and soft, fragrant sweet bread studded with currants and cherries. I feel rather sick now but, oh, it was worth it.

  Friday, 27th June, Laxenburg.

  It seems like such a long time since I last wrote in this book and so much has happened. Where to begin?

  Christina is married now to her prince and is installed in her vast white castle at Pressburg. The wedding was rather splendid and Christina looked radiant in a gown of cloth of silver embroidered all over with pearls and silver ribbons. The court is still in mourning for Papa and so she really stood out amongst the shimmering black, grey and violet silks, brocades and taffetas worn by everyone else at the wedding. I think she really loves her Prince, even if he is a dead bore and has bushy eyebrows. I can't imagine anyone falling in love with him but I am not Christina and perhaps he is more interesting when one gets to know him better. I really doubt it though.

  Mama had planned the most wonderful gala for after the ceremony, which included a huge banquet followed by dancing in the great mirror lined gallery, which was lit up with thousands of candles for the occasion, and then fireworks in the grounds of the palace. Carolina and I had new dresses, which were black of course but still very pretty with ruffles and a multitude of diamonds on the stomachers. We are so used to wearing mourning now that it is hard to remember a time when we wore anything other than black. Luckily it suits us both a great deal and makes us look even more pale and fair, which is apparently very becoming. I should not like to wear black all the time though.

  Mama cried a great deal to be losing her precious 'Mimi' and insisted upon embracing her several times over the course of the day, becoming progressively more lachrymose as the evening went on, much to Joseph's obvious annoyance. The only thing that annoyed him more than Mama's tears was the sight of Amalia dancing with Karl of Zweibrücken with the most blissful expression on her face as she looked deeply into his eyes across the candlelit gallery.

  'I wonder if I will ever love someone as much as Amalia loves Karl?' Carolina asked me, as we enviously watched our sister and her suitor dancing together, spinning in intricate circles on the highly polished parquet. We are too young to dance with anyone other than our brothers and this is just too dull for words now. We are quickly becoming young ladies, it would seem, yawning behind our fans at how tedious it is to be led out by Ferdinand and Max yet again.

  'I hope not,' I replied. Falling in love only ever seems to lead to unhappiness. We are not all as fortunate as Christina after all.

  'You never know, Antonia, we might fall in love with our husbands.' Carolina gave a little sigh and I could tell from her expression that she was thinking about a handsome prince sweeping her off her feet and showering her with diamonds. 'It happened to Mama and Papa and to Joseph and Isabella.'

  'I think that they were all very lucky,' I said, unfurling my fan, which was also new and painted with a design of Chinese dragons and birds. 'Just think of Josephina.' We both looked at our sister in law, who was sitting alone on the dais, watching the dancing with a sad expression on her face. Her maid is still pulling her hair back too tightly and black really isn't her colour as it makes her look sallow and unhealthy. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world than there in that chair, watching everyone else have fun. I wonder if she has any friends here in Vienna? I have never heard of any. I think that anything is bearable so long as one has good company to share it with.

  Carolina shuddered. 'Imagine being married to Joseph. It is a fate worse than death.'

  We came to Laxenburg shortly after the wedding, which is a great treat as it is my absolute favourite of all of Mama's palaces. It isn't really a palace at all though, but used to be a hunting lodg
e and is now more of a large mansion set in the midst of thickly planted woods and parkland. Papa loved it here and insisted that the entire court wear crimson and gold as a sort of uniform whenever they came here, which always looked absolutely splendid; even Carolina and I were allowed to have special scarlet velvet dresses with gold buttons for the occasion.

  Mama was crying as her carriage pulled up outside, no doubt thinking that she will never come here again with him at her side. It could be worse though. Amalia told me last night about one of our Spanish ancestresses, who was called Johanna the Mad. Apparently she was so distraught about the death of her handsome husband, the Duke of Burgundy that she went quite insane, refused to have him buried and insisted upon taking his corpse with her wherever she went. How very strange. 'And just thank your lucky stars that Mama isn't doing the same thing,' Amalia whispered with a wink. 'I am sure that she has thought about it quite often.' I found it very difficult to sleep after that.