The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  And as I entered the second year of my marriage another controversy arose which made everyone forget the tragedy of our bedchamber.

  My quarrel with Madame du Barry had been brewing ever since the aunts had told me of her true position at Court. I did not understand then that I should have been wiser to form an alliance with her than with the aunts. They, unknown to me, had resented my coming from the first.

  They had been strongly against the Austrian alliance and were no real friends to me, whereas this woman of the people, vulgar as she might have been, had a good heart, and although Choiseui had arranged the marriage, and he was her enemy, she bore no animus towards me. Had I shown her the slightest friendliness she would have returned it doubly. But I was foolish. Egged on by the aunts, I continued to ignore her; I used my gift of mimicry and gave Hide imitations of her which caused a great deal of amusement and which, naturally, were reported to her. I could imitate her mannerisms, her vulgar laughter, her silly lisp and I did, exaggerating them ever so slightly to increase the amusement.

  It did not occur to me that she must be wiser than I to have climbed to the top place at Court from the streets of Paris. The King doted on her; he allowed her to perch on the aim of his chair at a council meeting, to snatch papers from him when she wanted his attention, to call him “France’ in an insolently familiar way. All this he found amusing, and if anyone criticised her he would say, ” She is so pretty and she pleases me and that ought to be enough for you. ” So everyone realised that if they wished to remain in die King’s good graces they must please Madame du Barry. But I was in his good graces. I did not have to con form to ordinary standards so I thought and I made up my mind that I would never seek the friendship of a street-woman, no matter if she was the King’s mistress. So I behaved as though I could not see her. Often she would seek the opportunity to present herself before me but she could not speak to me until I spoke to her etiquette for bade it, and even she had to bow the knee to etiquette. So every time, I ignored her.

  Although she was not a woman to bear rancour she was no respecter of persons either. She gave me the nickname of Little Austrian Carrots, and as this was taken up by others I grew very angry, and increased my imitations of her crudities and continued to look through her every time we met. This snubbing because so obvious that soon the whole Court was talking of it, and Madame du Barry became so incensed that she told the King she could endure it no longer and that Little Carrots should be ordered to speak to her.

  The King, hating trouble, was annoyed, and I lacked the sense to realise that he was angry with me for making it. His first action was to send for Madame de Noailles, and naturally he did not come straight to the point. Madame de Noailles, in a state of fluster, reported to me immediately the King dismissed her. He had begun, she said, by saying one or two complimentary things about me, and then he had criticised me.

  Criticised! ” cried Madame de Noailles in horror. you have evidently displeased him greatly. You are talking too freely and such chatter can have a bad effect on family life, he says. In ridiculing members of the King’s household you displease him.”

  Which members? “

  “His Majesty named no specific one, but I think that if you would say a few words to Madame du Barry you would please her, and she would report her pleasure to the King.”

  I pressed my lips firmly together. Never! I thought, I’ll not allow that street-woman to dictate to me.

  Foolishly I went at once to the aunts and told them what had happened.

  What excitement there was in their apartments Adelaide clucked and clicked her tongue.

  “The insolence of that putain. So the Dauphine of France must be dictated to by prostitutes!” She believed the woman was a witch and had the King under her spell. She could find no other reason for his behaviour. But how right I was to come to them! They would protect me from the King, if need be. She would think up a plan and in the meantime I must behave as though Madame de Noailles had not spoken to me. I must on no account give way to that woman.

  The Abbe saw my indignation and asked the cause of it, so I told him; and he went straight to Mercy and told him. Mercy immediately saw the dangerous implications and sent an express messenger to Vienna with a full account of what had taken place.

  My poor mother! How she suffered from my stupidities! One little word was all that was needed and I would not give it. I was certain that I was right then. My mother was a deeply religious woman who had always deplored light behaviour in her own sex and had set up a Committee of

  Public Morals so that any prostitute found in Vienna was imprisoned in a corrective home; I was sure she would understand and approve my action. I could not see that my refusing to speak to the King’s mistress was a political issue simply because she was the King’s mistress and I was who I was. I did not see the difficult position in which I was placing my mother. She either had to deny her strict moral code or displease the King of France; and although she might have been a moralist she was first of all an Empress. I should have realised the gravity of the situation when she did not write to me herself but instructed Kaunitz to do so.

  The express messenger returned with a letter from him addressed to me.

  He wrote:

  “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. The choice of the reigning sovereign must be unreservedly respected.”

  I read this through and shrugged my shoulders. There was no express order to speak to Madame du Barry. Mercy was with me when I received the letter and he read it also.

  “I trust,” he said, ‘that you realise the seriousness of this letter from Prince von Kaunitz? “

  They were all waiting for me to speak to the woman, because it was not long before the whole Court knew that the King had instructed Madame de Noailles. They thought this was going to be defeat for me, and I was determined that it should not be. I could be stubborn when I thought I was right and I certainly believed I was right about this.

  Madame du Barry expected me to speak to her. At every soiree or card party she would be waiting expectantly; and every time, I would find some excuse to turn away just as she was approaching Needless to say, the Court found this most diverting Adelaide and her sisters were delighted with me. They would throw sly looks in my direction whenever we were in public and Madame du Barry was near. They congratulated me on my resistance. What I did not realise was that in flouting the King’s mistress I was flouting the King; and this could not be allowed to go on.

  The King sent for Mercy, and Mercy came to talk to me, as he said, more seriously, than he ever had before.

  “The King has said, as clearly as it is possible for him to say it, that you must speak to Madame du Barry.” He sighed.

  “When you came to France, your mother wrote to me that she had no wish for you to have a decisive influence in state affairs. She said that she knew your youth and levity, your lack of application, your ignorance and she knew too of the chaotic state of the French government. She did not want you to be blamed for meddling. Believe me, you are meddling now.”

  “In state matters! Because I refuse to speak to that woman!”

  “This is becoming a state matter. I beg of you to listen carefully.

  Frederick the Great and Catherine of Russia are seeking to divide Poland. Your mother is against it, although your brother the Emperor is inclined to agree with Prussia and the Russians. Morally your mother is right, of course, but she will be forced to give way, as not only your brother but Kauoitz is for partition. Your mother is afraid of French reaction to this. If Prance decided to oppose j partition, Europe could be plunged into war. ” ” And what has this to do with my speaking to that woman? ”

  ” You will learn that the most foolish actions can spark off disasters.

/>   Domestic matters have their effect on state affairs. Your mother is particularly desirous at this time of not offending the King of France. He looks to her to settle this silly quarrel between two women which is being discussed throughout the country and perhaps in others.

  Can you not see the danger? “

  I could not. It seemed so absurd.

  He gave me a letter from my mother and I read it white he watched me.

  “They say you are at the beck and call of the Royal ladies. Be careful. The King will get weary of it. These Princesses have made themselves odious. They have never known how to win their father’s love nor the esteem of anyone else. Everything that is said and done in their apartments is known. In the end you will have to bear the blame for it and you alone. It is for you to set the tone towards the King—not them.”

  She does not know, I thought. She is not here.

  I must write to the Empress at once,” said Mercy, ‘and tell her of my interview with the King. Meanwhile I implore you to do this small thing. Just a few words. That is all she asks. And is it much?”

  With a woman of that kind it would not stop at a few words. She would always be at my side. “

  I am sure you would know how to prevent that. “

  “In matters of good behaviour I have no need to ask the advice of anyone,” I said coldly.

  “That is true, I know. But would you feel some remorse if the Austro-French alliance broke down because of your behaviour?”

  “I would never forgive myself.” A smile cracked his old face and he looked almost human.

  “Now I know,” he said, ‘that you will take the advice of your mother and those who wish you well. “

  But I could not learn my lessons. When I was with the aunts I told them of my conversation with Mercy. Adelaide’s eye flashed fire. It was immoral, she declared.

  “I have no choice. My mother wishes it. She is afraid that the King will be displeased not only with me but with Austria.”

  “The King often needs saving from himself ” I must do it,” I said.

  Adelaide was quiet; her sisters sat looking at her expectantly. I thought: Even she accepts the position now.

  I should have known better.

  It was all over the Court. Tonight the Dauphine will speak to the du Barry.

  “La guerre des femmes is over, with victory for the mistress.”

  Well, anyone who wagered against that result was a fool. But it would be amusing to see the humiliation of Little Carrots and the triumph of

  the du Barry. In the salon the ladies stood waiting for my approach. My custom was to pass among them addressing a word to each in turn and among them was Madame du Barry. I was aware of her, waiting eagerly, her blue eyes wide with only the faintest trace of triumph. She did not wish to humiliate me, only to ease a situation which was intolerable to her.

  I was uneasy, but I knew I had to give in. I could not flout the Ring of France and the Empress of Austria. Only two people separated her from me. I was steeling myself; I was ready.

  Then I felt a light touch on my arm. I turned and saw Adelaide, a sly triumph in her eyes.

  “The King is waiting for us in Madame Victoire’s apartments” she said.

  “It is time for us to be going.”

  I hesitated. Then I turned, and with the aunts, left the salon. I was aware of the silence in the room. I had snubbed the du Barry as never before.

  In their apartments the aunts were twittering with excitement See how we had outwitted them! It was unthinkable that I Berry’s wife should speak to that woman.

  I waited for the storm and I knew I should not have to wait long.

  Mercy came to tell me that the King was really angry. He had sent for him and said coldly that his plans did not seem effective, and he himself would have to take a hand.

  “I have sent an express messenger to Vienna,” Mercy told me, ‘with a detailed account of what has happened. ” My mother herself wrote to me:

  “The dread and embarrassment you are showing about speaking to persons you are advised to speak to is both ridiculous and childish. What a fuss about saying Good Day to someone! What a storm about a quick word perhaps about a dress or a fan! You have allowed your self to become enslaved and your duty can no longer persuade you. I myself must write to you about this foolish matter. Mercy has told me about the King’s wishes and you have had the temerity to fail him! What reason can you give for behaving in such a way? You have none. It is most unbecoming to regard Madame du Barry in any other light than that of a lady whom the King honours with his society. You are the King’s first subject and you owe him obedience. You should set a good example; you should show the ladies and gentlemen of Versailles that you are ready to obey your master. If any intimacy were asked of you, anything that were wrong—neither I nor any other would advise you to do it. But all that is asked is that you should say a mere word-should look at her pleasantly and smile—not for her sake, but for the sake of your grandfather, who is not only your master but your benefactor.”

  When I read this letter I was bewildered. It seemed that everything my mother stood for had been thrust aside for the sake of expediency. I had behaved as she had brought me up to behave and it seemed I was wrong. This letter was as clear a command as she had ever given me. I wrote to her, for she expected an answer:

  “I do not say that I refuse to speak to her, but I cannot agree to speak to her on a fixed hour or a particular day known to her in advance so that she can triumph over that.” I knew that this was quibbling and that I was defeated.

  It was New Year’s Day when I spoke to her. Everyone knew it would be that day and they were ready. In order of precedence the ladies filed past me and there among them was Madame du Barry.

  I knew nothing must prevent my speaking this time. The aunts had tried to advise me against it but I did not listen to them. Mercy had pointed out to me that while they railed against Madame du Barry in private, they were friendly enough to her face. Had I not noticed this? Should I not be a little wary of ladies who could behave so?

  Now we were face to face. She looked a little apologetic as though to say: I don’t want to make it too hard for you, but you see it had to be done.

  Had I been sensible I should have known that was how she sincerely felt; but I could only see black and white. She was a sinful woman, therefore she was wicked all through. I said the words I had been rehearsing: “II y a bien du monde aujowd’hm a Versailles.”

  It was enough. The beautiful eyes were full of pleasure, the lovely lips smiled tenderly; but I was passing on.

  I had done it. The whole Court was talking of it. When I saw the King he embraced me; Mercy was benign;

  Madame du Barry was happy. Only the aunts were displeased;

  but I had noticed that Mercy was right; they were always affable to Madame du Barry in person, while they said such wounding things behind her back.

  But I was hurt and angry.

  “I have spoken to her once,” I told Mercy, but it will never happen again. Never again shall that woman hear the sound of my voice. “

  I wrote to my mother.

  “I do not doubt that Mercy has told you of what happened on New Year’s Day. 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.”

  I had never written to my mother in that tone before. I was growing up.

  Of course the whole Court was laughing at the affair. People passing each other on the great staircase would whisper : II y a bien du monde aujowd’hm a Versailles!’ Servants giggled about it in the bedrooms. It was the catch phrase of the moment.

  But at least what they considered my inane remark in the salon had stopped them—temporarily—speculating about what went on in the bedchamber.

  I was right when I said the du Barry would not be satisfied. She longed for friendship. I did not understand that she wanted to show me that she had no desire to exploit h
er victory and she hoped that I felt no rancour on account of my defeat. She was a woman of the people who by good fortune had become rich; her home was now a palace and she was grateful to fate which had placed her there. She I wanted to live on good terms with everyone, and to her I must have seemed like a silly little girl.

  What could she do to placate me? Everyone knew that I loved diamonds.

  Why not a trinket after which I hankered? The Court jeweller had been showing a pair of very fine diamond earrings round the Court—hoping that Madame du Barry would like them. They cost seven hundred thousand livres—a large sum, but they were truly exquisite. I had seen them and exclaimed with wonder at their perfection.

  Madame du Barry sent a friend of hers to speak to me about the earrings—casually, of course. I admired them very much, she believed.

  I said I thought they were the most beautiful earrings I had ever seen. Then came the hint. Madame du Barry was sure she could persuade the King to buy them for me.

  I listened in blank silence and made no reply. The woman did not know what to do; then I told her haughtily that she had my permission to go.

  My meaning was dear. I wanted no favours from the King’s mistress; and at our next meeting I looked through her as though she did not exist.

  Madame du Barry shrugged her shoulders. She had had a few words and that was all that was necessary. If La Petite Rousse wanted to be a little fool, let her. Meanwhile everyone continued to remark that there were a great many people at Versailles that day.

  Greetings from Paris

  Madame, I hope Monsieur Ie Dauphin will not be offended, but down there are two hundred thousand people who have fallen in love with you.

  MARCHALL DE BRISSAC GOVERNOR OF PARIS, TO MAME ANTOINETTE

  One advantage came out of that incident. I learned to be wary of the aunts. I began to see that that unfortunate affair might never have taken place but for them. Mercy grimly admitted that it might have taught me a valuable lesson, in which case it must not be completely deplored.