‘My master, the King has sent this for you.’ He handed me the box and they all held their breath and leaned forward, waiting for me to open it. My hands trembled as I opened the lid, my mind racing as I imagined what lay inside. What could it be? I could hardly contain my excitement.
‘He hopes that you like it.’ Something in his voice made me look up and I realised at once, from his smirk, that he already knew what lay inside and furthermore, he knew that I would not like it.
I would show him. I proudly put back my shoulders and lifted the lid, not allowing a single trace of disappointment to cross my face as I looked down at a black and white engraving of a portly young man pushing a plough, a look of intense concentration on his chubby face. ‘Monsieur le Dauphin,’ it said underneath. There could be no doubt that firstly, this was my intended husband and secondly, someone somewhere in France wanted to insult me and was using Durfort as their proxy.
‘How charming.’ My lips formed a smile of purest pleasure and I forced myself to look him in the eyes. ‘He looks very handsome and just as a young man should be. I look forward to meeting him.’
Durfort did not trouble to hide his chagrin and turned immediately away, while I exchanged a look and a wink with Joseph. It will take more than such childishness to break my spirit.
Friday, 30th March, after dinner.
It has been decided that I will spend the first three days of April closeted alone with Abbé Vermond for a period of silent reflection, lectures about spirituality and prayer. It sounds thoroughly dismal, although my dear Abbé has promised to keep his lectures short and to the point. He could not promise, however, to make them amusing.
I am still sleeping in Mama’s bedroom and the nightly lectures continue. I do not know what sort of terrible moral degradation she expects me to fall into when I am living in Versailles but there is a heavy emphasis on morality, faithfulness, marital duties and not allowing my head to be turned by the shallow and self serving flattery of my social inferiors.
Every night I fall asleep, my head aching horribly after listening to her talk and in the morning I am woken early as she flings aside her coverlets and causes a cascade of state papers to fall to the floor as she is in the habit of working while in bed and cares nothing for the splashes of ink and red sealing wax that cover her fine linen sheets. My mother never stops working, even in her sleep she mumbles to herself about the Prussians. I suspect that even I appear to her as a sort of project, as something that needs to be sorted out and dealt with like a particularly troublesome edict or treaty.
This morning she presented me with a large bundle of papers, all tied up with pink velvet ribbon and sealed shut with the Imperial seal. ‘I have taken the precaution of writing down some thoughts for you to read when you are away from home,’ she said, handing me the bundle. ‘I have included the rules that I expect you to abide by in your new life, some advice about suitable modes of behaviour and also lists of the people that you will be permitted to correspond with once you are installed at Versailles.’
‘Thank you.’ I looked down at the letter and gulped. She had clearly spent many hours putting it together.
‘I expect you to read it once a month, in order to focus your mind on your duties and strengthen your purpose against the many temptations that will assail you.’ She briefly touched my hair. ‘I have wondered if perhaps it is too soon for you to be going away from me but I know, Antoinette, that you will make me very proud.’ I quickly looked up at her face and saw a doubt and uncertainty in her blue eyes that contrasted sharply with her words. My mother had never been uncertain about anything, ever. Until now and about me, it would seem.
‘I will do my best, Mama,’ I whispered, not knowing how else to reassure her. How could I ever tell her, or anyone else, how young and unprepared and insignificant I felt when confronted by the hugeness and magnificence of my projected destiny? I tried to imagine the weight of a crown upon my small head and could not.
‘I want you to do better than that,’ she replied rather curtly, turning away.
Wednesday, 4th April, afternoon.
I have spent the last three days sequestered alone at Schönbrunn with only the Abbé and my thoughts for company. I have given more thought and consideration in the last few days to the state of my frail flesh and immortal soul than at any other time in my life and you may rest assured that if some tragic accident were to overtake me between now and my marriage then I would be fully prepared and ready to meet my maker in my present virgin state.
Do I feel cleansed of sin and more spiritual? It remains to be seen, although I have to say that I am so bored now with prayer and worthy introspection that I am almost tempted to misbehave, just to feel myself again.
I am not sure that I like the Antoinette that they want to send to Versailles.
Sunday, 15th April, Easter Sunday, evening.
Lent is over once again and we are gorging ourselves on hot chocolate and cakes . It is always hard for me to practise restraint when it comes to the sweet things in life but this year has been particularly difficult.
Of course, now that life has returned to normal, it is time to prepare for my wedding on the nineteenth which is only, oh my heart beats faster and my head spins whenever I think about it, four days away. My dress is finished, presents are starting to arrive from all over Europe and the final details of my triumphant journey to France have been completed.
Today there was Mass followed by a huge reception in the state rooms of the Hofburg. Everyone was in attendance as Durfort was due to make a grand entrance to mark his promotion from mere Ambassador to the far more grandiose Ambassador Extraordinary. He left court three days ago with a great deal of bowing and scraping to all and sundry before re-entering the capital yesterday at the head of an enormous cavalcade and today he is due to return garbed in what is reportedly a new magnificent suit of embroidered purple silk with gold rosettes everywhere and enormous ostrich feathers on his hat.
I stood beside my mother and Joseph, smiling and bowing my head gracefully in response to all the courtiers who filed past to kiss our hands and wish us a happy Easter. I find that I am paying a lot of attention now to how I look to others and often glance at myself in the huge gilt framed mirrors that line the walls to check how I tilt my head or smile, keen to appear as the most perfect princess ever. I know that I am not beautiful but I am told that my face is charming and it is amazing what can be achieved with the help of lovely clothes, high heeled shoes, diamonds and carefully styled and powdered hair.
Clementina and Anna had positioned themselves by the tall windows so as to have a view across the courtyard, they both turned and, stifling their giggles, nodded at me when Durfort pulled up with his forty eight painted and gilt embellished carriages, each drawn by six of the finest horses in Vienna and with a stiff backed postillion perched on the back, lavishly dressed in the finest livery. Yes, forty eight. Really, the vainglory and arrogance of the man knows no bounds. He may well protest that it is all intended to reflect the glory and grandeur of his master, the King of France but we all know the truth - that it is intended to reflect his glory alone. Silly, pompous, puffed up little man.
He entered in great state, preceeded and followed by a train of dozens of pages, all dressed to match him in purple silk with gold embroidery, their high heeled polished shoes tapping on the wooden parquet and their sly eyes roving here and there about the assembled courtiers. They parted to allow Durfort through as he doffed his enormous black, feathered hat and bowed several times to my mother and brother. I hid my smile behind my painted ivory handled fan as his eyes slid over me and he accorded me the merest of bows.
‘You are welcome to our court, Monsieur,’ my mother said politely, protocol requiring that she go along with the absurd charade that he had returned to France in order to gain his promotion and had only just come back when the truth is that he had retreated to his estate on the outskirts of Vienna for a couple of days.
‘Your Majesty is most
kind and gracious.’ Durfort bowed again. ‘I have in my possession a gift from my master, his Majesty the King of France for your august daughter, her Royal Highness the Archduchess Marie Antoinette.’ He clicked his fingers and two of the pages sprang forward, one carrying a small wooden box while the other held what was clearly a painting beneath a large piece of cloth of gold.
‘I thank you.’ I stepped forward and took the box, wondering what embarrassing surprise lay within. ‘Your master is most kind to think of me.’ I opened the box to find a miniature of the Dauphin, this time dressed to impress in blue watered silk and covered with a plethora of sashes and decorations. ‘He looks very kind.’ I lifted out the miniature, which was surrounded by fine diamonds, and immediately pinned it to my dress, while a gentle ripple of applause passed through the assembled company.
The other page came forward with the painting, which Durfort uncovered with a great deal of flourish. As expected this portrait was also of my fiancé, this time dressed in crimson velvet with a blue sash tied across his broad chest. He looked handsome but kindly with sleepy blue eyes that gazed out upon the world almost apathetically, a big nose and a chin that was less decisive than I would have liked but would have to do.
‘May I hang this portrait in my room until it is time for me to leave?’ I asked with a pretty smile. ‘We have been betrothed for a long time now without having seen each other and I should like to have my future husband close to me during these final days in Vienna.’
My mother smiled her approval and rubbed her plump, white hands together. ‘Of course, of course.’ She came forward and looked at the Dauphin’s portrait, taking a pince nez from her jet embroidered reticule so as to examine him more thoroughly, this son in law that she might never meet. ‘Hm, I don’t think much of his chin,’ she murmured in an aside to Joseph, who peered closely then nodded. ‘This one is clearly not going to be a man of action and I fear that our little Antoinette will have trouble getting him to make decisions.’
Joseph shrugged and turned away. ‘So long as he is a man in the bedchamber, who cares if he is also a man in the salon?’
I blushed to hear them speak this way and made a great show of looking at the portrait so that Durfort would not think that I too was criticising the prince. ‘Thank you,’ I said, tracing the Dauphin’s painted and much maligned chin with my finger. ‘I think he looks very nice.’
Durfort bowed, his face expressionless. ‘There is also a letter, your Highness,’ he said, pulling a large white envelope from within his splendid coat. ‘Monsieur le Dauphin is keen to express his very true love and esteem towards you and hopes that you will look with favour upon his words.’ He handed me the letter, which was tied with silver ribbon and sealed with a large red seal in the shape of a dolphin.
‘Thank you.’ I held the letter awkwardly, unsure as to whether I was supposed to open it immediately or save it for later, when I was finally alone. It was a love letter after all, surely? I stared at my name ‘Antoinette‘ on the front, written in a flowing elegant hand that was alien to me but which would surely become more familiar with time. I imagined the prince sitting at his desk, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully inscribed the name of his future wife upon the ivory envelope. I wondered what he thought of me, so far away and yet so intimately linked.
‘I shall save it for later,’ I said shyly, not getting any guidance from my mother as to what to do now. ‘I do not think it seemly to open a love letter in public.’ There was laughter then and I saw that I had said just the right thing. Everyone knew that this match had been arranged, that it was a matter of state alone and that we had never so much as set eyes on each other but no one wanted to think about it. If they could pretend to themselves that the Dauphin and I were in love then so much the better for us all.
‘Ah,’ said my mother with what was almost a coquettish smile and wink at Durfort, ‘love is in the air.’
Tuesday, 17th April.
This afternoon I made my way with my ladies in waiting down the stairs to one of the huge state reception rooms of the Hofburg, there to stand before all of the court and renounce all claim to the Hapsburg inheritance of my ancestors. I felt very small and very young before them all, my hair covered with a heavy lace veil and my voice shaking and wavering as I solemnly repeated the oath that meant that myself, my husband and our future children would never lay claim to the Holy Roman Empire.
‘I, Marie Antoinette Josèphe Jeanne…’ I sounded like a child and my hand shook as I took the red feathered quill from Joseph and signed the huge document that was spread out on the table before me.
Afterwards I knelt before my mother so that my blue and gold taffeta skirts fell gracefully across the parquet and closed my eyes as she kissed my forehead, her lips cool and dry against my skin.
There is to be a huge supper and ball tonight at the Belvedere Palace to celebrate.
Wednesday, 18th April, early hours.
It is four o clock in the morning and we have only just arrived back at the Hofburg after tonight’s masked ball at the Belvedere Palace. I am absolutely exhausted and would like nothing better than to rest my head upon this desk and give myself up to the deepest, dreamiest sleep and yet, no, I feel that I must write it all down for who knows how much I will remember when I wake up again?
Joseph was very secretive about his party plans and so I had no idea what to expect until we arrived there in a great cavalcade of carriages in the evening. I was wearing a really lovely new dress of pink silk, sewn all over with diamonds and shimmering sequins and with gold lace on the cuffs, hem and bosom although you could not see all of it underneath the white silk domino that we were all told to wear, which is a shame. We were all wearing the same though and also white half masks, which Anna and Clementine were very excited about as they had never been to a masked ball before and were looking forward to flirting incognito with all of the young men.
Anyway, we arrived to find the palace, which is very lovely, all lit up with torches and thousands upon thousands of candles with footmen running here and there and the grounds swarming with thousands of people, all dressed in their finest clothes and hiding their identities behind the same plain masks and white silk cloaks. I clapped my hands together in glee when I first beheld them as they looked so romantic and mysterious, flitting between the statues and the trees like ghosts and chattering excitedly behind their fans. Everyone was being flirtatious and I saw several couples exchange lingering looks from behind their masks.
Joseph himself led me into supper, looking very dashing in diamond spangled black velvet and I think he must have admired me very much as I heard him say to Mama that if she could only find him a princess as pretty as me then he would consider marrying again immediately. How kind of him. Supper was delicious, although I was far too excited to eat much and had to be reminded to have some lobster and wine before I had finally had enough and jumped up from the table to dance, first with my sweet Max and next with Ferdinand, both of whom were dressed in crimson silk and eyeing up the ladies of the court with small magnifying glasses that hung from their gold embroidered waistcoats.
I was so happy and excited that I even managed to be pleasant to Christina and Elizabeth, even though they both looked very sour and disapproving as they watched the dancing from a special raised dais. ‘What a shocking rabble,’ I heard Elizabeth murmur to Christina behind her feathered fan. ‘I should be ashamed to behave in such a way.’ I longed to say that perhaps she would be happier if she would only forget such silly inhibitions and join in with the fun but did not know how to. If she and Christina are happy being such dull, priggish snobs then that is their problem isn’t it?
Oh, I danced and danced, first with this gentleman and then with that and everywhere I went I heard a murmur of ‘There she goes, Marie Antoinette, the Dauphine!’ as people moved aside to let me pass and pretended not to stare. Old courtiers who have known me all my life came up to take my hands and kiss them, while wishing me good f
ortune for the future. Everyone looks so happy for me and yet at the same time a trifle wary as if there is something wrong, something missing from this fairytale.
‘They do not want you to leave,’ my brother Joseph murmured as we danced together later on. ‘You are the loveliest of the Archduchesses after all and the pride of Vienna.’
‘That is too kind.’ I blushed underneath my mask. ‘They hardly know me.’
‘There is regret that you are leaving so soon after your debut into society.’ He smiled down at me, my kindly, wonderful brother. ‘The French have all the luck, it seems.’
The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette Page 21