I was no longer the child I had been on my arrival. I had grown much taller and was no longer petite; my hair had darkened, which was an advantage, for there was a brownish tinge in the red so that the nickname Carrots was no longer so apt. The King quickly forgave me my intransigence over Madame du Barry, and my metamorphosis from child into woman pleased him. I should be falsely modest if I did not admit that I had ceased to be an attractive child and had become an even more attractive woman. I do not think I was beautiful, though. The high forehead which had caused such concern was still there, so were the uneven slightly prominent teeth—but I was able to give an impression of beauty without effort, so that when I entered a room all eyes were on me. My complexion was, I know, very clear”. and without blemish; my long neck and sloping shoulders; were graceful.
Although I loved to adorn myself with diamonds and fine clothes, I was not exactly vain. I had charmed my way] through Schonbrunn and the Hofburg and I accepted it as natural that I should do so here. I did not realise that the very qualities which brought me the affection of the King no and the admiring glances of Artoi yy 0 srir up a hundred petty jealousies in the CAt I was as careless and heedless as ever. Each little les had to be mastered of itself; I could apply my knowledge to nothing, and having discovered the perfidy of the aunts n occurred to me to look for similar faults in others.
One thing which was pleasing was new relationship with the Dauphin.
He was proud of m< y ow gnulg ,uld cross his face when he heard conpiunents about my appearance I would sometimes catchy his eyes on me with a kind of wonder. Then I would be ppy and perhaps run to nun and take his hand, which, Awhile embarrassed him a little, pleased him.
I was growing fond of him. Our relationship was an un usual one, for he seemed constantly apologising to me for being unable to be what a husband’; and I was trying to convey t him that I knew it was no fault of his. He wanted me to kow At he thought me charming, that he was completely Satisfied with me; it was simply an affliction which preved consummation of our marriage; and as we were growing older we began to understand more of this. He was nag indifferent to me;
he liked to caress me; normal inst il Are being awakened in him, and there were attempts which I submitted as hopefully as he did because I belitd. e so desperately wanted to that one day the miracle happen Mercy wrote to my mother that no sign yet of pregnancy but ‘one may hope ever ay longed-for event. ” But Dr. Ganiere, one of th ring’s doctors who had examined the Dauphine, wrote of iy husband As he grows older his strengthening presence of this fresh young girl awakeig Dauphin’s sluggish senses, but on account of tham caused at certain moments by his malformation, he has to give up his attempts. The doctors agree th yy surgery could put an end to the torture resulting fy fruitless and exhausting experiences. But he the courage to submit to it. Nature has allowed him some progress, since now he does not immediate fall asleep on reach ming the marriage bed. He hopes it will allow him to make more and to be able to avoid the scalpel; he is hoping for a spontaneous cure.”
We were growing more tender towards each other. I would scold him for eating too many sweet things, which were making him so fat. I would snatch them from him just as he was about to eat them and he would pretend to scowl but he would be laughing and so pleased that I cared.
When he came to our apartments covered in plaster, for he could never see men at work without joining them, I would scold him and tell him that he must mend his ways, which made him chuckle.
Of course Mercy was busily writing of all this to my mother.
“Nothing the Dauphine can do can turn the Dauphin from his extraordinary taste for everything in the way of building, masonry and carp entering He is always having something rearranged in his apartments, and works with the workmen, moving material, beams, and paving-stones, giving himself up for hours at a time to strenuous exercise, from which he returns more tired than a day labourer….”
There would be periods when my husband was seized with a frenzy to become normal. During these we would be exhausted physically and mentally; and after a while he would revert to his old habit of going to bed hours before I did so that he was fast asleep when I arrived and he would be up at dawn while I slumbered on.
I I became bored. What could I do to amuse myself when Mercy was always at my elbow? What would my mother say to this or that? I was warned that I was eating too many sweets. Did I not know that this could result in embonpomtf My dainty figure was one of my greatest assets;
my frivolous nature, my lege rete my love of dissipation, were noticed and frowned on; but at least I had my pretty figure. If I were going to spoil that by this indulgence . The lectures went on. I had not cleaned my teeth regularly; my nails were untrimmed and not as clean as they should be. Every time I opened a letter from my mother there was some complaint.
“She cannot love me,” I told Mercy.
“She treats me like a child. She will go on treating me so until I am … thirty I’ He shook his head over me, and murmured that my lege rete was alarming.
Legerete was a word they seemed to have attached about my neck. I was constantly hearing it. Some times I dreamed that I was in bed with my husband and that my bed was surrounded by prying servants who stared at us and shouted “Legerete … dissipation … etiquette.”
“You must furnish your mind,” wrote my mother.
“You must read pious books. This is essential for you more than anyone else, for you care for nothing but music, drawing and dancing.”
When I read that letter I was angry. Perhaps it was because my mother was miles away that I could feel so. I am sure I never should if she were beside me.
Mercy watched the indignant colour flow into my cheeks and I looked up and caught him.
“She appears to think I am a performing animal.” He looked so shocked that immediately a vision of my mother came to me and I felt guilty.
I love the Empress of course,” I went on, ‘but even when I am writing to her I am never at ease with her.”
“You have changed,” replied Mercy.
“When your brother the Emperor reprimanded you as he did so often ..”
“Oh, so often!” I sighed.
“You did not seem to care enough then. You would smile and forget all about it the moment after he had spoken.”
“That was different. He was only my brother. I answered him back … and sometimes we had little jokes together. But I could never answer my mother back I could never joke with her’ This was immediately reported back to my mother and her next letter said:
“Do not say that I scold and preach, but say rather:
“Mamma loves me and has constantly my advantage in view; I must believe her and comfort her by following her good advice. ” You will benefit from this, and there will then be no further shadow between us. I am sincere and I expect sincerity and candour from you.”
But she was disappointed in me, for at the same time she wrote to Mercy, and he, feeling it would be to my good to see what she wrote, showed me her letter.
“Notwithstanding all your care and discernment in directng my daughter, I see only too dearly how unwilling are her efforts to follow your advice and mine. In these days only flattery and a playful manner are liked; and when, with the best intentions, we address any serious remonstrance, our young people are wearied, consider they are scolded, and, as they always suppose, without reason. I see that this is the case with my daughter. I shall nevertheless continue to warn her when you see that it may be useful to do so, adding some amount of flattery, much as I dislike the style. I fear I have little hope of success in luring my daughter from her indolence.”
So the disagreeable pills of advice were to be sugarcoated with a thin layer, a very thin layer, of flattery!
When I read the letter I was exasperated, but I loved my mother. I might toss my head and declare that I was treated like a child, but I missed her; I wanted to be with her. There were times when I was quite frightened, and then I seemed truly like a
child crying for its mother. Once when I went to my bureau I found it open, although I knew that I had locked it when I was last there because it was one of the few things I was careful about. Someone must have taken the keys from my pocket while I slept I I remembered my mother’s warning about burning her letters. I had followed this advice faithfully, but as I found it difficult to memo rise what she had written I had to keep the letters until I had answered them. I slept with them under my pillow; sometimes during the night I would put my hand under to touch the paper. Someone has been at my bureau,” I told the Abbe. He smiled.
“You forgot to lock it.”
“I did not. I did not. I swear I did not. “
‘ But he smiled at me, not believing. Such a little featherhead, interested in nothing but pleasure! Was it not the most natural thing in the world that she should forget to lock a desk?
I could confide in no one. I knew that Mercy and Vermond were my friends, but everything I told Vermond he reported to Mercy—he dared do nothing else for he held his position through the good graces of Mercy—and Mercy passed it on to my mother.
I sought consolation in lighthearted amusement. There was always Artois ready for a game. He and I made up a little party and went to Marly to see the sunrise. There were several of us, though the Dauphin did not accompany us, preferring to stay slumbering in bed. It was beautiful . the sun coming up from the horizon to shine on Marly; but it was wrong, of course. The Dauphine making, excursions in the early hours of the morning! For what purpose? No one believed that it was merely to see the sun rise.
I laid myself open to scandal without realising, although as yet public opinion was indulgent to me. I was a child, a pretty child, high-spirited and anxious for adventure. But a Dauphine with a husband suspected of impotence should be very careful. The innocent excursion to Marly was noted; and Madame de Noailles pointed out to me that such a reckless adventure should not be repeated.
What to do to relieve the boredom! If I could go to Paris, how much more interesting life would be. In Paris there was excitement. It was a busy city; there were balls which were held at the opera house. How I longed to dance, masked, to mingle with the crowds and none know I was the Dauphine, to escape for a while from that eternal etiquette I “Your entry into Paris must be official,” Madame de Noailles told me.
When, when? ” I demanded.
“That is for His Majesty to decide.”
I was frustrated. The great city was so near and yet I was not allowed to visit it. One could reach it in little more than an hour by carriage. How absurd, how ridiculous, that I was forbidden to go!
I spoke to the aunts about my desire. They were no longer so affectionate, although Adelaide pretended to be, but Vie to ire and Sophie could not hide their changed feelings. They watched me furtively when I was in the apartments. I had not obeyed Adelaide over the du Barry affair. I was therefore foolish and unpredictable.
You could not go to Paris . just like that,” said Adelaide.
“It would have to be arranged.”
My husband said that he supposed I should go when the time came. Could he not do something about granting my wish? He wanted to please me whenever he could, but this was not a matter for him to decide.
Even Artois was evasive. I came to the conclusion that none of them wanted me to go to Paris.
“It would not at this time be etiquette,” Artois explained. You know Grandpapa never goes. He hates Paris because Paris no longer likes him. If you went they would cheer you because you are young and pretty, and they would not cheer Grandfather. You can’t have the Dauphine cheered and the King insulted. It would not be etiquette. “
I decided that I would ask the King myself, for I was sure that if I chose the right moment he would be unable to refuse me, for since I had spoken to Madame du Barry and had been less friendly with the aunts he had become very affectionate towards me. He always embraced me warmly when I visited him and complimented me on my appearance I was growing up charmingly, he said. Sometimes he came to breakfast with me; and when he came he liked to make the coffee himself, and this was more than making a cup of coffee: within the rules of etiquette it meant that he accepted me wholeheartedly as one of the family and one who pleased him very much.
Sometimes I would bring out the waistcoat I was embroidering and show it to him.
“But it is magnificent,” he would say.
“When, I wonder, shall I have the pleasure of wearing it?”
“Perhaps in five years’ time. Papa … or ten.” It was a joke between us.
So I chose my moment and said to him: “Papa, I have been your daughter for three years and I have never seen your capital city. I long to go to Paris.” He hesitated, and then he said: “Naturally you will go Acre … in time.”
“How long. Papa? How long?”
I went to him and, putting my arms about his neck, laughed.
“You are amused ” Thinking how fortunate it is that Madame l”Etiquette is not here to see me do this.”
He laughed too. He appreciated the name I had given Madame de Noailles, for he was a great giver of nicknames himself.
“Fortunate for me,” he said, taking my hands and holding them there about his neck.
“Papa, I want to go to Paris. You will give the permission Etiquette demands?”
“Ah—Etiquette and Madame la Dauphine—both are irresistible, but Madame more so.”
So it was as simple as that. All I had to do was ask prettily, and there had been all this unnecessary fuss!
Now I would show them all. The King had given me his permission ! “There will be so much to do,” I said.
“This is going to delay work on your waistcoat.”
“Then I shall not have it within ten years after all.”
I put my head on one side and smiled at him.
“I promise you I shall work harder than ever, and every flower will be worked with love.”
“Which will be far more beautiful than silk, I am sure Then I embraced him warmly, wishing that I could persuade my mother as easily as I did the King of France.
So—to Paris. I went triumphantly to my husband and told him that I had persuaded the King. He was mildly surprised, but delighted as he always was when my whims were granted.
I told Artois.
“To Paris! How I long to dance at the opera ball. Do you know, if the King had refused I was going to ask you to make up a party and come with me—disguised.”
Artois’s eyes gleamed. He was adventurous by nature, but there was, too, a love of mischief very similar to that of the aunts. Artois was sympathetic to me, and yet he loved trouble for its own sake and he would have enjoyed seeing me involved in it. Well,” he said, ‘are you asking me now?” But I am going . ceremoniously, as Etiquette would j have it. “
He snapped his fingers at Etiquette.
“Let’s defy the old creature.” i How?
” I’ “
By forestalling her. We will dress ourselves in dominoes; j we will be masked and drive out from Versailles. Unrecog-j promised we will go to the masked ball. ” ‘, I looked at him in astonishment, but he had seized me and j was dancing with me round the apartment. I was caught up in the excitement of the project. What fun! To snap our fingers at Etiquette! Secretly to go to Paris before the ceremony she demanded. Why had not Artois thought of this months ago?
He kissed my hands too fervently for a brother-in-law;
his bold eyes were caressing. I decided that I would persuade my husband to come with us.
Louis was perplexed. But why go to Paris incognito when in such a short time I could go openly?
Because it is much more fun like this. “
He wrinkled his brows to try to understand my sort of fun. Dear Louis!
He could no more understand why this adventure appealed to me than I could understand why covering himself with plaster and taking locks to pieces pleased him.
I looked at him appealingly.
“I want to g
o, and I know you want me to enjoy myself.”
He did. There was a world of understanding between us. He could not apologise for those distasteful sessions in the bedchamber, although he wanted to. His way of doing so was to indulge me all he could. He thought the plan a wild one, but if I was set on doing something so reckless, it would at least be less so if he accompanied me. ‘So dear kind Louis agreed to come, and late in the evening, our dominoes wrapped around us, our masks disguising our faces, we set out along the road to Paris.
It was one of the most thrilling evenings I had so far known. There was an excitement in Paris which caught at me and enveloped me. I had wasted three whole years with this delightful city only an hour or so’s ride away and I had never seen it until this night. Artois I was seated between him and my husband pointed out the Invalides, the Bastille, the Hotel de Ville, the Tuileries and towering Notre Dame. I was aware of the people in the streets, for Paris never seemed to sleep. I saw the bridges and the gleaming river, but it was typical of me that what made most impression on me that night was the Opera House.
I shall never forget the excitement the crowds of people, the music, the dancing. How happy I was! I forgot every thing in the joy of dancing; and here the dancers were more abandoned. Several sought to partner me but my husband would not allow that, and I was surprised by his quiet dignity which even in his disguise was apparent.
So I danced with him and Artois and some of the members of our little band of adventurers who on Louis’s orders kept a dose guard on me.
The Opera House it is so clear in my memory now its great chandeliers, the light from thousands of candles, the smell of pomade and the faint haze of powder in the air. It spells romance to me because of one whom in the not very distant future I was to meet there. I should always feel that the Paris Opera House has a very special place in my most tender memories.
On that night, by great good luck which we did not deserve, nothing unfortunate happened. We had danced well into the night, and dawn was breaking when. we came back along the road to Versailles.
Next morning we were all at Mass, bright-eyed and innocent, as though we were quite incapable of indulging in such a reckless adventure.
The Queen`s Confession Page 12