The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  “I shall say no more,” she finished her letter, ‘and shall try not to think about it. “

  She must have heard what part the aunts played in this because she was soon afterwards warning me against them.

  “Keep a neutral position in everything. I desire you to be more reserved than ever as regards what is going on.

  Listen, to no secrets and have no curiosity. I am sorry to have to say. Confide nothing—even to your aunts, whom I esteem so much. I have my reasons for saying this. “

  She had very good reason. Probably more than she at that time realised.

  A year after I was married my brother-in-law Provence was given a wife. She arrived at Versailles in May—as I had-Marie Josephe of Savoy. I disliked her on sight, she was very ugly and completely lacking in charm; and this was not only my opinion. Provence was very disappointed in her; and everyone made comparisons between her and myself, which came to her ears and enraged her. I knew that she hated me, although she was always anxious to pretend that she did not, for she was rather clever.

  I was indifferent to her attitude towards me because I had made a friend of the Princesse de Lamballe whom I found kind and gentle—though the Abbe Vermond said she was stupid, because he did not want me to be too friendly with anyone other than himself. I defended the Princesse to him.

  “She has a good reputation,” I said, “which cannot be said for everyone at this Court.”

  “She could lose that reputation tomorrow,” he retorted, ‘but her reputation for stupidity grows every day! ” I laughed with him, for we were on very friendly terms. I There was another friend I made, and although he did not like her either, he could not complain of her stupidity. This was Jeanne Louise Henriette Genet, the lectrice who worked for my aunts. I had seen her often in my aunts’ apartments and I had been attracted by her quiet ways and her rather severe looks. It was the attraction of opposites.

  I sensed that although she had a great respect for my aunts, and for me too, in addition she liked me.

  I asked the King if I might share my aunts’ lectrice and he said yes, immediately. So I used to have Mademoiselle Genet in my apartments so that she might read to me; but I preferred to talk to her, for she had such stories to tell of the Court that I do believe I learned more from her than I had so far from anyone else. She was only three years older than I but she seemed at least ten, so demure, so serious was she. I was sure my mother would have approved of her. Sometimes I used to think that nice sensible Jeanne Louise would have been a much better daughter for my mother than I was. Her father had been employed by the Foreign Office and so had come to the notice of the Due de Choiseui; and thus Jeanne Louise had been given her place at Court. She had been a studious child who had astonished everyone by her learning; and one of her greatest assets was her voice, which was clear; and another was her ability to read aloud for hours at a time. Thus she became lectrice to my aunts.

  She was fifteen when she came to Court and I loved to hear of her first impressions. I would lure her away from the book and say: “Come now. Mademoiselle Lectrice, I would have you talk to me.”

  She would demurely shut the book and look very guilty; but I knew she liked to talk as much as I did.

  “Tell me about the first day you came to Court,” I said one day, and she told me how she went into her father’s study to say goodbye to him and how he wept to see her in her Court attire.

  “I was wearing right stays for the first time and a long dress with panniers. My pale face was smeared with rouge and powder, which was necessary as part of Court custom even for one as humble as I.”

  “Etiquette,” I murmured; and I laughed at her, for my free and easy manners shocked her.

  “My father is a very wise man. I realise that now more than I did before. He said to me: ” The Princesses will make full use of your talents. Great people know how to bestow praise graciously, but do not allow their compliments to elate you too much. Be on your guard.

  Whenever you receive flattering attentions, you may be sure you will gain an enemy. I swear that if I had been able to find an other profession for you, I would never have abandoned you to the dangers of Court life”.”

  She had a way with words which I found fascinating. She talked of the day of her arrival, when the Court was in mourning for Queen Marie Leczinska, and how in the court yard were coaches with horses waving their great black plumes, and pages and footmen with their spangled black shoulder knots. The state apartments were hung with black cloth, and canopies decorated with sable plumes had been placed over the armchairs.

  She made me see a new picture of the King.

  “He was the most imposing figure I had ever seen, and his eyes remained fixed on you all the time he was speaking.” I nodded, agreeing with her.

  “Notwithstanding the beauty of his features he inspired a sort of fear.”

  “I felt no fear,” I said impulsively.

  She smiled her slow calm smile.

  “You are the Dauphine, Madame. I am the lectrice ” Did he speak to you? “

  Tes, on two occasions. One morning when he was going out to the hunt I was in Mesdames’ apartments and he came to see Madame Victoire and asked me where Coche was. I was bewildered, for I did not know of the nicknames he used for Mesdames. Then he asked my name, and when I told him he said: “Oh, you are the lectrice I am assured you are learned and understand five languages.”

  “Only two, Sire,” I answered.

  “Which?”

  he asked.

  “English and Italian, f Sire.”

  “Fluently?”

  “Yes, Sire.” Then he burst out laughing J and said: “It is enough to drive a husband mad.” All his J retinue laughed at me and I was overcome with confusion. ” j ” It was not very kind of him,” I said. I studied her. She I could scarcely be called pretty in her plain dress, and’ll supposed he had not found her attractive.

  On another day when she was reading to the aunts he came to see them.

  She retired hastily and went to wait in an anteroom, and having nothing to do there she amused herself by twirling in her Court hoop and suddenly kneeling! for the sheer pleasure of seeing her rose-coloured silk petticoat swirl round her. In the midst of this the King entered and he was very amused to see the erudite little lectrice be having like a child.

  “I advise you to send back to school a lectrice who makes cheeses,” he said. And once more poor Jeanne Louise was overcome with confusion. She had not seen the Ring at his best, as I had; and I fancied she was a little critical of him; naturally she was anxious not to betray her feelings to me and how right she was I She doubtless knew I would chatter, so she was careful. Long afterwards, when he was dead, she told me how he had set up the trebuchet, the bird snare, close to his apartments in Versailles and later contented himself with the pleasures of his little seraglio in the Pare auz Cerfs where young girls of my age and hers were brought to him for his pleasure by Madame de Pompadour; and later Madame du Barry performed the same duty. If I had known of these matters then I might have understood him better.

  And there was something else she told me much later which it would have been useful for me to know at that time. But would I have made use of the knowledge? I doubt it. This is what she told me, and what, she explained, she had written in her journal, for she had always felt the urge to write and set down the events of the days as they passed:

  I heard my father compare the Monarchy of France to a beautiful antique statue; he agreed that the pedestal which supported it was mouldering away and the contours of the statue were disappearing in the parasitic plants which were gradually covering it.

  “But,” he explained, “where is the artist skillful enough to repair the base without shattering the statue?”

  But had she told me at this time I should not have under stood what she was talking about. Years later, when the Terror was upon us, I understood too well.

  I was very interested in Madame Louise, the aunt whom I had seen before I a
rrived at Versailles when I stopped at the Carmelite Convent of St. Denis to see her.

  Mademoiselle Genet told me: “I used to read to her for five hours a day and my voice frequently betrayed the exhaustion of my lungs. The Princesse would then prepare for me eau sucre, place it before me and apologise for making me read so long. She did it, she said, because she had pre scribed a course of reading for herself. She wanted to read the histories of countries for she believed that when she entered her convent she would only be allowed to read religious works.

  One morning she disappeared and I learned she had gone to the Convent of St. Denis. “

  “Were you sad. Mademoiselle?”

  “I was very sad, Madame. I loved Madame Louise. She was …”

  I looked at her slyly. I knew she was on the point of saying Madame Louise was the most reasonable, the most sane, of the aunts; but of course she stopped herself in time.

  “Go on,” I commanded.

  “Madame Adelaide was angry. When I told her Madame Louise had gone she said, ” With whom has she gone? ” She thought she had run away with a lover.”

  “Madame Adelaide would. She likes everything to be dramatic; and it is far more dramatic to run away with a lover than to a convent. It was less work for you, though.”

  “I was afraid that Madame Victoire would follow her example.” I nodded. Already my little lectrice had made it clear to me that of all the three aunts Victoire was her favourite.

  “I told her I feared it and she laughed and said she would never leave Versailles. She was too fond of food and her couch.”

  It was tiresome that Mademoiselle Genet and the Abbe. Vermond took a dislike to each other. Still, I determined to keep her with me, and perhaps one day snatch her away from the aunts altogether and make her entirely my servant. But that was for later.

  And so life went on during those months at Versailles. My friendship with the Princesse de Lamballe was strengthening; letters from my mother arrived regularly. My hours with the Abbe when he tried to improve my mind; my interviews with Mercy when he tried to improve my conduct; my intimacy with my aunts; my friendship with the King; my coquetries with Amis; all this continued, and in addition there was a growing affection for my husband. But we were so much in the public eye, and so aware of being watched at every turn, that our situation did not have much chance of changing.

  Even meals were taken in public—a custom I hated; but no one else seemed to mind, and of course the people expected it.

  They would come in from Paris to watch us at our meals. We were like animals in highly gilded cages.

  When it was time for dinner the people would come to watch my husband and me take our soup and then hurry away to see the Princes eat their bouilli; and after that they had to run until they were out of breath to witness Mesdames at their dessert. We were a peepshow for the people.

  The King’s special feat at table was the clever way in which he could knock the top off an egg with one stroke of his fork; and this was talked about throughout Versailles and Paris. He was therefore condemned to eating eggs constantly so that those who had come to see him perform this feat should not be disappointed. Although he refused to go to Paris to see his people they came to Versailles to see him—or perhaps it was merely his trick with the egg they came to see.

  He performed so dexterously; but to me the amazing part of the performance was that he behaved as though he were entirely alone—like an actor on a stage totally unaware of the spectators.

  There was a rumour in the Court that Adelaide had once had a child who appeared in the Princesses’ apartments and was made much of by the royal sisters and reminded people of Louis XV in his youth. This affair, the loss of her good looks, and the King’s contempt for her which had replaced his affection, had no doubt had their effect on Adelaide’s character and turned her into the eccentric she had become.

  There was an even uglier rumour that the King had loved her incestuously. Perhaps this was why she put on an air of great knowledge and wanted me to know that she could advise me as to how I should behave towards my husband.

  I did not need their advice. I knew that my husband did not dislike me; in fact he was pleased with me. I was admired for my appearance, my grace and my charm; and these qualities were constantly referred to. My husband liked to see Artois in attendance on me; the only trouble was that he could not caress me or pay me compliments without acute embarrassment. When he was in his hunting clothes or workshop overalls he appeared to be a man;

  he looked tall and upright then, unconscious of himself; but as soon as he put on the clothes of the court gallant he became awkward and shuffling. I tried to understand the things he was interested in.

  Though I loved to ride I hated to see animals suffer, so I had never cared for hunting; in any case I was still not allowed to ride a horse. I went into his workshop and he tried to explain to me what he was doing with the lathe there, but I could not understand and I found it difficult to stifle my yawns.

  When he became ill with a slight indisposition—he had over-eaten at table—a habit of his, for he would come in very hungry from the hunt or the workshop—he had slept in a separate room in order not to disturb me. This had caused amusement in some quarters and consternation in others, for it was well known what was happening. The most embarrassing part of the whole affair was that everyone was watching and all our actions were commented on, interpreted and often misconstrued. For a sensitive boy, aware of his affliction, this was a very delicate situation indeed.

  But our affection was growing. He no longer looked away from me.

  Sometimes he would take my hand and kiss it—or even kiss my cheek. I asked him if he were disappointed in me and he said that he was very content.

  Then one day he said: “Do not imagine that I am ignorant of the duties of marriage. I will prove it to you … soon.”

  I was excited. Everything was going to be all right. I only bad to wait. It was true that we were both too young.

  Waiting was rewarding, for when we were alone in our apartments—it was just as I was going to visit my aunts-he whispered to me:

  “Tonight I shall come back to our bed.” I looked at him in astonishment and he took my hand in his clumsy way and kissed it with real affection. I said to him: “Louis … do you rather like me?”

  “How can you doubt it?” he asked. I love you sincerely, and I esteem you more. “

  It was hardly the impassioned declaration of a lover, but it was the nearest he had ever come to it; and I went to the aunts in a state of great excitement, which was foolish of me for they recognised at once that something had happened.

  “You have just left Poor Berry,” said Adelaide.

  “Has something happened?”

  “He is going to sleep with me tonight Adelaide embraced me. and Victoire and Sophie looked at me in a startled fashion.

  “Yes,” I announced triumphantly, he has told me so. “

  “In a very short time you will be telling us some exciting news,” said Adelaide archly.

  “I am sure of it.”

  “I hope so. Oh, how I hope so.”

  How foolish I was! Before the day was out the whole Court was buzzing with the news: “The Dauphin is going to sleep with the Dauphine.

  Tonight is the night. ” Those cynical courtiers like Richelieu, that old roue, were laying bets on the success of our encounter.

  “Will he?

  Won’t he? ” There was whispering everywhere. Worst of all, Adelaide summoned Louis to her apartment because she wanted to ” Advise’ him.

  That night I lay waiting for my husband. He did not appear. I should not have been surprised. My reckless talk had spoilt it.

  Although the matter was now causing the gravest concern, I doubt that the King would have bestirred himself but for my mother. She was constantly writing to the King and begging him to do something. The truth about the Dauphin must be disclosed, and if there was a remedy it must be found.

  Because of m
y mother’s importuning, the King sent for my husband and there was a long consultation; as a result Louis agreed to submit to an examination by the King’s physician, Monsieur Lassone, who reported that the Dauphin’s inability to consummate our marriage was due to nothing else but a physical defect which the knife could rectify. If the

  Dauphin would submit to this operation all would be well.

  Everyone was discussing the operation but Louis did not say whether he would submit to it. We slept in the same bed and he behaved like a lover; but our lovemaking always failed to reach that climax which we both so earnestly sought; and after a while we both found this state exhausting and humiliating.

  There was no more talk of the operation. The King shrugged his shoulders; it was left to Louis to decide, and it became clear to me that he had decided against it. He was desperately trying to prove that he did not need it; but he did.

  I cannot imagine why he would not submit to the opera-don at this time. He was no coward; but I suppose the whole business sickened him as it did me. If we had been an ordinary couple we should have seeded the matter in a very short time; but we were not; we were Dauphin and Dauphine of France. His impotence was discussed in the Court and in the Army. Our most intimate servants were constantly questioned, and when we discovered that the Spanish Ambassador had bribed one of the bedroom servants to examine the sheets and let him know the state of them, it seemed the last straw. Although we continued to occupy the same bed, Louis would retire early and be fast asleep by the time I went there; and when I awoke in the morning it would be to find him already gone.

  This state of affairs continued, while I received angry letters from my mother, who cared much more than I did about the humiliation of my position.