The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  “She is a putain. Do you know what that is?”

  “I do not remember hearing that word before.”

  “She is his mistress. Does that explain?” I nodded and she came close to me, her eyes gleaming.

  “She worked in brothels before she came here. They say she pleases him because she is full of new tricks … all learned in the brothels, where she was an expert performer.”

  I was flushing with embarrassment.

  “It cannot be so….”

  “Oh, you are young, my dear. You are innocent. You do not know this Court. You need friends you need someone who understands this wickedness you need someone to guide you, to help you.” She had gripped my arm and her face was very close to mine. The other two moved in on me, nodding, and I wanted to run away, to go to the King to ask him if this was true. But I did not know the King. He was not the man I had believed him to be. I could trust Mercy; that was one person of whom I could be sure. And he had told me so.

  Adelaide was talking in a low monotone.

  “It was wrong of the King to bring her to supper … at such a rime particularly

  It was an insult. to you. Your first in time supper . and he chose that moment to bring her in as she has never been brought in before.”

  I understood then why Mercy and the others had been disturbed; they knew that this woman, this prostitute, was going to be present, and it was an insult to me. I was deeply wounded, for nothing could show me more clearly that the King had little regard for me. I had thought he loved me, and all the time he was laughing at me for being childish, and he had brought his mistress to supper to insult me. It was all an elaborate piece of playacting to hide something underneath, which was sinister and frightening.

  “You should not be disturbed,” said Adelaide.

  “We are your friends.”

  She looked at her sisters, who all began to nod.

  “You shall come to us when you wish. You shall use your own key to these apartments. There! Does that not show you how we love you I We are your friends. Trust us. We will teach you how to make Berry a good husband. But always come to us and we will help you.”

  Adelaide made coffee in her apartments. She was rather proud of this achievement and would allow no servant to do it.

  “The King taught me,” she said.

  “He used to make it in his apartment and bring it here, when we were younger. Then I would ring for Victoire and before she came she would ring for Sophie, and before Sophie came she would ring for Louise … this was before she went into her convent. She went there, you know, not only to save her own soul, but the King’s. She prays for him constantly, because she fears he may die with all his sins upon him. What if he died in bed with that putain beside him! Louise had a long way to come and by the time she arrived the King would be ready to leave, so there was often only time for her to kiss him before he went. Those were happy days … before that woman came here. Of course there was the Pompadour before her. The King has always been the prey of women. But there was a time” Her eyes became dreamy.

  “One grows old. I was his favourite daughter, you know. He used to call me Loque then. It was meant to be a pet name. He still calls me by it; and Victoire is Coche. “

  “Because I am so fond of eating,” put in Victoire.

  “It has made me a little fat… but not like a pig.”

  “Sophie was Graille and Louise Chiffe. Our father likes to give people names. He always called our brother’s wife ” Poor Pepa. ” She was Marie Josephe, you see. I have rarely heard him refer to your husband other than as ” Poor Berry”. ” Why were these two poor? “

  “Pepa because when she came here her husband did not want her. He had been married before and loved his first wife, and on his second wedding night he cried in his new wife’s aims for the first one. But she was patient and he loved her in time and then he died. So she was Poor Pepa. And Poor Berry … Well, he is different from most young men so he is Poor Berry for that reason.”

  “I wonder if he minds.”

  “Poor Berry! He doesn’t care about anything but hunting, reading, playing with locks, and building….”

  “And eating,” said Victoire, “Poor Berry I’ sighed Adelaide; and they all sighed with her.

  When I left them I seemed to have learned a great deal! about the royal family which I had not known before. I had the key to the aunts’ apartments. I would use it often, for at least with them I could escape the rigid etiquette of Madame de Noailles.

  At the ball which was given a few days later there was trouble on a point of etiquette. It was all due to the fact that on this occasion—because the ball was being given in honour i of me—the Princes of Lorraine had asked that their House should take precedence over all others, for my father had been Francois of Lorraine and they claimed kinship with me. Thus Mademoiselle de Lorraine, who was a distant] cousin, believed she should, for this occasion only, take the floor in a minuet ahead of all the other ladies. The Duchesses of the Royal House were outraged and there was a great deal of activity throughout the Palace. I heard that the King was pacing up and down his apartment deeply disturbed by his dilemma.

  To refuse the Lorraines’ request would be an insult to the House of Austria; to agree to it would be an insult to the Houses of Orleans, Conde and Conti.

  Never had their etiquette seemed to me so silly. The King had allowed Madame du Barry to sit at table with me and yet he appeared to think I should be offended if a distant cousin did not take precedence over his near relations I I made up my mind that as far as possible I should not be a slave to their foolish etiquette.

  However, the controversy continued, and finally the King decided in favour of the Lorraines, at which the Royal Duchesses declined to attend, pleading indisposition.

  I scarcely noticed their absence. I danced—and how I loved to dance I I felt happier dancing than doing anything else. I danced with my husband, who was very clumsy and constantly turning to the right when be should have gone to the left. I laughed aloud and he gave me his slow smile and said: “I am no good at this!” and that seemed a great advance in our relationship. Dancing with my youngest brother-in-law was different. He was a natural dancer. He told me I looked beautiful, that Berry was the luckiest man at Court and he hoped he realised it.

  That seemed like a question. I parried it, but I found myself growing lighthearted in his company. It was wonderful to be with someone of my own age with whom I had something in common. Artois laughed at everything, as I wanted to, and I was certain we were going to be friends. Then I danced with young Chartres, the son of the Due d’Orleans, whom I did not like at all. He was gracious but his cold eyes reminded me of a snake. It was my first close contact’ with him, and I wondered whether I had a premonition on that night, and that something warned me that he was going to be our enemy.

  These people were so different from my own, and however much they dressed me in French clothes, whatever French manners and customs I adopted, I would always be Austrian. We were unsubtle, more natural, uncultured perhaps; we might seem crude in comparison; we were not witty; but we were easy to understand. We said what we meant and we did not hide our true feelings under a mound of etiquette. Everywhere there was etiquette. I was being suffocated by it. I wanted to scream out that I was tired of it; I wanted to kick it aside, to laugh at it; and to tell them that if they wanted it they could have it, but to leave me out of it.

  How could I know that that ball at which I had enjoyed dancing so much with Artois and even with my own awkward husband, was a dismal failure, and that I was blamed for it. My relations had spoilt it.

  Little Lorraine was more important than Orleans and Conde because of me. They had been mortally insulted and I should never be forgiven.

  They made up their minds on that night that they would be no friends to me, although whenever we met afterwards they gave no sign. But they were not showing affection to me, they were only paying homage to the Dauphine of France. What a little fool I
was! And there was no one to help me except Mercy, whom I tried to avoid, and my mother, who was miles away. I was alone and walking blindly into danger, only like everything French it did not seem like danger at this stage; and I did not know that what looked like soft green grass was really a quagmire . not until I was deep in it and could not extricate myself. A clever woman might have found it difficult to act wisely in such a Court. What hope had a frivolous, ignorant young girl?

  It was some weeks after my wedding, and in all that time my husband had only spoken a few sentences to me. Whenever I saw the King he was so charming to me that I forgot what Mercy and the aunts had told me.

  I believed that he loved me; I even called him Papa, for I said that Grandfather sounded too old for him. There had been so many fetes and balls that I had forgotten my fears. My brother-in-law Artois was constantly in my company; I had paid several visits to the aunts; I had forgotten my previous uneasiness; perhaps I did not want to think of it. It was much more fun to be gay and believe everyone loved me and that I was a great success.

  Madame Adelaide was taking me to see the fireworks, and I was going incognito to Paris because my official entry into the capital must, of course, be a ceremonious one. I had so longed to see the fireworks and Adelaide, always ready to enter into a conspiracy, declared she would take me. I thought wistfully that my husband might have taken me. What fun it would have been if he were as gay as Artois and we had disguised ourselves and driven there together. But he was either hunting or with the locksmith; the King was at Bellevue with Madame du Barry;, and so why should I not go, said Adelaide; and we set off in her carriage.

  She seemed less strange when her sisters were not present. I believed she imagined she must appear stranger than she actually was in order to impress them and keep her supremacy over them; and she was very friendly as we rode along together towards Paris.

  It was a great function, she told me. She had been informed of all that was being done to honour me. All along the Champs-Elysees, the trees were decorated with lamps which would be delightful when it was dusk. The centre of activities would be the Place Louis XV, where a Corinthian temple had been erected close to the King’s statue and there were also figures of dolphins and a great picture of myself and the Dauphin in a medallion. Bergamot had been poured on the banks of the Seine to disguise the foul odours which sometimes arose from that river, and the fountains were flowing with wine.

  “All in your honour, my dear, and that of your husband.” Then I should certainly be there to see it,” I replied.

  “But unrecognised She laughed that odd braying laugh.

  “It would not be in accordance with etiquette for the people to see me before I am formally introduced to them.”

  “It would certainly not be. So tonight we are two noblewomen come to see the people enjoy themselves.”

  As we came nearer to the city, the sky was suddenly illuminated with fireworks, for it was not dark. I exclaimed in wonder, for I had never seen such a beautiful display. We were almost at the Place Louis XV—which I did not know then—when our escort stopped abruptly. Our carriage pulled up with a jerk. I was aware of screams and shouting; I vaguely saw a mass of people and I had no idea what this meant. The driver turned our carriage; and, the bodyguard surrounding us, we started back with great speed the way we had come.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Madame Adelaide did not answer. She was frightened and she did not say a word as we raced back to Versailles.

  The next day I learned what had happened. Some of the fireworks had exploded and started a fire; a fireman’s cart coming into the square met a crowd of people and carriages hurrying from the fire; another crowd was rushing into the square to see what was happening; nothing could move; the congestion was complete. Forty thousand people were held up in the Rue Royale, the Rue de la Bonne-Morue and the Rue Saint-Florenrin.

  There was a panic. Many people fell and were trampled on; carriages toppled over; horses tried to break free. People were climbing over the bodies of those who had fallen in a vain endeavour to escape, and many were trampled to death: There were terrible stories of that night.

  Everyone was talking about the disaster. The Dauphin came into our bedchamber; he was deeply shocked and this made him seem older, more alive. He told me that one hundred and thirty-two people had been killed on the previous night.

  I felt the tears in my eyes and he looked at me and did not turn away quickly as he always had before.

  “It’s my fault,” I said.

  “If I hadn’t come here it would not have happened.”

  He continued to look at me.

  “I must do what I can to help,” he said.

  “Oh yes,” I answered fervently.

  “Please do.”

  He sat down at a table and began to write and I went and looked over his shoulder.

  “I have learned of the disaster,” he wrote, and I noticed how swiftly his pen glided over the paper, ‘which came to Paris on my account. I am deeply distressed and I send you the sum which the King gives me each month for my private expenses. It is all I have to give.

  I want it to help those who have been most badly hurt. “

  He lifted his eyes to my face and touched my hand—just for a moment.

  “It is the least I can do,” he said. I should like to give what I have,” I told him. He nodded and looked down at the table. I knew then that he did not really dislike me. There was some other reason why he neglected me.

  The disaster was talked of long afterwards. It was another of those omens. There was the storm which had spoilt the wedding-day celebrations; the blot I had made when signing my name; and then this great calamity when the people of Paris had come in their thousands to celebrate the wedding and had met death and disaster.

  The Battle of Words

  Don’t meddle in politics or interfere in other people’s affairs. You must not take this disappointment too much to heart. 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.

  Listen to no secrets and have no curiosity. I am sorry to have to say.

  Confide nothing—even to your aunts.

  MARIA THERESA TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

  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.

  KAUNITZ TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

  The dread and embarrassment you are showing about speaking to persons you are advised to speak to is both ridiculous and childish. What a storm about a quick word . , . you have allowed yourself to become enslaved and your duty can no longer persuade you.

  MARIA THERESA TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

  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.

  MARIE ANTOINETTE TO MARIA THERESA

  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 sho
w 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.