The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  The wild dance towards destruction had begun, but I was unaware of it.

  There was so much to make me happy. There was my darling little daughter. There was Axel de Fersen, haunting me like a shadow, always at my side, or even if he were not close to me I was aware of his glances across the room; there was the King, for ever grateful because I had given proof of his virility, always kind and tender but never so much as now; there was the adored Trianon which was gradually changing its character and losing all sign of the house in which Louis XV had entertained his mistresses. It was my house. I was changing the gardens. I was having the library painted white and had had great fun choosing my apple-green taffeta curtains. The bookshelves were lined with plays, for I intended to give plays at the Trianon. I had such plans. I was building a theatre there and I was already planning whom I should invite to join my little troupe of players. I never thought of the cost of this. I never thought of money at all. I would demand that the work be finished in record time.

  “No cost should be spared, Madame?”

  “No. Finish it, that’s all.” In a year my embellishments to the Petit Trianon had cost over three hundred and fifty thousand livres. And the country was at war; and the people of Paris were complaining of the price of bread I Perhaps I had indeed started that mad downhill rush.

  But I was happy. Two months after the birth of my baby I felt a great urge to go to the Opera ball. It was Shrove Sunday and I told Louis that I longed to dance there. In his uxorious mood be said he would come with me.

  “And you will go masked?” I asked.

  He said he would and we went together; no one recognised us and we mingled freely among the dancers, though always together. But I could see that he was bored.

  “Please, Louis,” I said, ‘let us go to the next ball, which is on Shrove Tuesday. It has been such fun tonight. “

  Weakly, as he often did, he agreed; but on the Monday he pleaded an excess of state business. I was so disappointed that he immediately said I should go with one of my ladies, but I should take care not to be recognised. I chose the Princesse d’Henin, an inoffensive woman,” and arranged that we should drive to the house of the Due de Coigny in Paris, where we should change into an ordinary carriage which he would have waiting for us. Everything had been arranged at such short notice that the carriage, which must necessarily have no distinguishing marks on it, was old and unfit for service. It was, the Due told us, the only one he could acquire at short notice without disclosing for whom it was intended. Consequently the thing broke down before we reached the Opera. Our footman said that he would call a fiacre and the Princesse and I had to go into a shop while he did so. This was amusing to me because I had never before ridden in a public vehicle and I could not resist boasting of it to my friends. How foolish I was! It was the ideal basis on which to build a scandalous story. The Queen travelled about Paris in a fiacre. She called at the house of the Due de Coigny! For what purpose? Could there be any doubt? This was known as Faventure du fiacre, and there were various versions of it.

  And all the time I was growing more and more dependent for my happiness on the presence of Axel de Person. People were beginning to notice how happy I was in his company. I loved to hear about his sisters Fabian, Sophie and Hedda; I loved to hear about his home in Sweden and his travels in various countries. I was less reticent than he was; he understood how we were watched. He was careful of my reputation; he knew that I was surrounded by spies and enemies; he did not tell me this, for we preserved the fable that there was nothing unusual in our relationship. He was merely a visiting foreigner at my Court and I was there fore naturally a little more hospitable to him than I would be to a Frenchman.

  It was an idealistic relationship. We both knew that it could be no more; but as such, it was very precious to us. He could not become my lover. My duty was to bear the Enfams de France and they could have no father but the King. But we allowed ourselves to dream wild dreams, beautiful dreams; it was like the love of a troubadour for a lady whom he can only adore from afar.

  It suited my mood, and I did not look beyond the present. I invited him to my card parties, and when I learned that he had come to one on one of the evenings when I had decided not to attend I wrote to him and told him how sorry I was. I had heard that he was a Captain of his King’s Light Dragoons and I expressed the desire to see him in his uniform.

  The very next time he appeared before me he was wearing it. I shall never forget the sight of him in that romantic costume blue doublet over a white tunic, with tightly fitting chamois breeches, his cylindrical military cap decorated with two feathers, one blue and one yellow.

  Several people noticed how overcome I was by emotion at the sight he presented; and I could not take my eyes from him. With his pale skin, his fair hair and those glowing dark eyes, he seemed godlike.

  I thought: I have. never experienced this emotion before for any other person.

  After that my friendship for him was discussed freely and he was named as one of my lovers.

  The spell was broken, and shortly afterwards he said: “I can bring you only harm by remaining.”

  A cold fear struck me and I replied that I was accustomed to calumnies. A few more could do me no harm.

  “I would challenge to a duel any who spoke one word against you in my presence.”

  The hero of romance ! He was perfect in every way. He meant it. He would willingly die for my sake and I knew it. He would even go away for my sake.

  Gabrielle de Polignac sought to comfort me.

  How unlucky I am to be treated so,” I said. I laughed. But if it is malicious of people to suppose I have lovers, it is certainly odd of me to have so many attributed to me and to do without them all.”

  Gabrielle certainly thought it was odd of me. It was something hardly any woman in our set did without. Of course I was foolish to surround myself with these people. No wonder I was suspected of behaving as they did. Even Gabrielle was Vaudreuil’s mistress. And all these women’s lovers were said to be mine as well because I met them frequently in the apartments of my friends. I should have been content with the companionship of the Princesse de Lamballe and my dear little sister-in-law Elisabeth.

  Then Axel, who had always felt very strongly about the cause of American Independence, made up his mind that he would go to America and help to further it.

  I was heartbroken, but must keep up a pretence of mere regret at saying goodbye to someone I respected and liked to chat to. Not that I deceived anyone.

  “What!” cried one Duchesse when she heard he was going.

  “Are you deserting your conquest?”

  I pretended not to hear this and I went on smiling blankly at Artois, who was watching me maliciously.

  If I had made one,” Axel answered, I should not abandon it. I go without leaving anyone behind to regret my going.”

  He would lie for me, because he knew of my feelings. It was the only thing to do. He dared not stay.

  So he left. Well, I would devote myself to my child. Rumours of my behaviour had of course reached my mother, though not of Axel specifically. I wrote to her:

  “My dear Mother can feel reassured with regard to my con duct. I feel too much the necessity of having children to neglect anything on that score. If in the past I was in the wrong it was due to my youth and irresponsibility, but now you can be sure I realise my duty. Besides, I owe it to the King for his tenderness to me and his confidence, on which I congratulate myself….”

  I meant that. I was deeply grateful to my husband for his goodness to me. It was not only fear of having another man’s child which had made me agree that Axel should go away, it was the desire to be a faithful wife and worthy of my husband. I knew that he had never been unfaithful to me; he had never had a mistress. Was he the first King of France to aspire to this virtue? How many women at this Court could say they possessed a faithful husband? His tenderness to me, his desire to please me, that ever-abiding tendresse, surely it demanded some reward? B
esides, there was our child.

  My little Madame Royale! How I adored her! I saw less of little Armand now. He was bewildered and sad and I would suddenly realise this and send for him and let him lie on my bed with me while I fed him sweetmeats. But the position was changed. He was no longer my little boy. He was merely Armand, to be cared for by servants. What time I had was given to my own little daughter. He was well fed, and had all the material comforts that he had enjoyed before. It did not occur to me that I had acted in my usual thoughtless manner when I had taken him from his home, pampered and petted him and then cast him aside. I forgot this but he never did. He was to remember it in the years to come, he became one of those bitterest enemies who did their share to destroy me.

  So even when I had meant to be kind I was helping to build that great force which was to come against me and envelop me and sweep me on to destruction. My mother was writing as often as ever and the theme of her letters was: There must be a Dauphin.

  I was keeping tote hours, she had heard from Mercy. Was that the way to get a Dauphin? The King went early to bed and rose early. I went late and rose late. She had heard that at the Trianon where I often was I slept alone. She disapproved of the lit a part. Each month she wanted to hear that I was pregnant and there was no news of this happy situation.

  “Up to now I have been discreet, but I shall grow importunate. It would be a crime if there were no more royal children. I am growing impatient, and at my age I have not much time left to me.” I too longed for a Dauphin.

  I did try to live more quietly. I read, as my mother would have wished, though perhaps not the books she would have chosen; I liked novels of romance; I did a little needlework and I gambled now and then, although not so heavily as before; but my greatest happiness was with Madame Royale.

  The first word she said was “Papa,” which pleased me as much as it did the King. I wrote to my mother:

  “The poor little thing is beginning to walk. She has now said ” Papa”;

  her teeth are not through yet but I can feel them. I am glad she began by naming her father. “

  Each day there was some progress. How thrilled I was when she took her first tottering steps towards me. I wrote and told my mother, of course.

  “I must confide to my dear Mother a happiness I had a few days ago. There were several people in my daughter’s room and I asked one of them to ask her where her mother was. The poor little thing, without a word being said to her, smiled and came to me, her arms outstretched. She knew me, the little darling. I was overjoyed and I love her even more than I did before.”

  Mercy was grumbling to my mother that I could be talked to of nothing for I would interrupt and tell him that my daughter had her first tooth, had said “Maman,” had walked farther than ever before; that I sr’nt almost the whole day with her; that I listened to his conversation even less than I had before.

  It seemed I could never give satisfaction.

  Meanwhile my mother continued to write:

  “There must be a Dauphin.”

  To my great joy I believed I was pregnant again. I was determined to say nothing of this to anyone but the King and a few of my friends. I could not resist whispering it to Gabrielle, and I told the Princesse de Lamballe and my dear Elisabeth and Madame Campan, but I did make them all swear to secrecy until I was absolutely sure.

  Then a dreadful thing happened. While I was travelling in my carriage I was suddenly aware of a cold wind, and without thinking I jumped up to shut the window. More effort was needed than I had believed, and I strained myself, with the result that a few days after the event I had a mis carriage.

  I was heartbroken. I wept bitterly and the King wept with me.

  But we must not despair, he said. We should have our Dauphin in a very short time, be was sure. And in the mean time we had our adorable Madame Royale.

  He comforted me and I declared how glad I was that I had not mentioned my condition to anyone except those whom I could trust. I imagined what the Aunts or my sisters-in-law would have made of it. They would have blamed me, my love of pleasure, my indifference to duty . anything to discredit me.

  I told my husband how glad I was, and he said that we should keep the secret and I must tell all those who knew of the affair to say nothing of it. I was quite ill for a few days, but my health was so good generally that I quickly recovered.

  Then I caught measles, and as the King had not had this complaint I went to the Trianon that I might be alone. I was followed there by those who had had it or decided to risk infection: Artois and his wife, the Comtesse de Provence, the Princesse de Lamballe, and Elisabeth. It was not to be expected that we should stay there without male company, and the Dues de Guines and de Coigny came with the Comte d’Esterhazy and the Baron de Besenval. These four’ men were constantly in my bedroom and did their best to amuse me. This caused a great deal of comment and scandal, naturally. The men were called my sick-nurses; and it was whispered that the measles were non-existent they provided the excuse. They were asking which ladies the King would choose to nurse him if he were ill.

  Mercy for once had said that he could see no harm in my having friends at the Trianon to amuse me and help me recover from my illness. The King saw nothing wrong either. Kings and Queens had received visitors in their bedrooms for as long as anyone could remember. It was a tradition to do so.

  When I was better I stayed on at the Trianon. I wanted to be there all the time. There were protests from Vienna, and Mercy told me that he had my mother’s permission to remind me that a great Court must be accessible to many people. If it were not, hatreds and jealousies would arise; and there would be trouble.

  I listened yawning, thinking of the play I would be putting on in my theatre very soon. I should play the principal part myself. Surely everyone would agree that that was fitting.

  The result of this interview was that I wrote to my mother and assured her that I would spend more time at Versailles.

  She answered me:

  I am very glad that you intend to resume your State at Versailles. I know how tedious and empty it is, but if there is not State the disadvantages which result from not holding it are greater than those of doing so. This applies particularly to your country, where the people are known to be impetuous. “

  I did try to do what she suggested, and held State at Versailles, but so many people whom I had offended stayed away. I rarely saw the Due de Chartres, for one. He had retired to the Palais Royale and entertained his friends there. I did not know what they discussed there; nor did it occur to me to wonder.

  There seemed no point then in holding Court at Versailles; why should I not spend more and more time at the Pent Trianon, where life was so much more fun, surrounded as I was by the friends I had chosen?

  The blow struck me suddenly. I had not even known that she was ill.

  The Abbe Vermond came to my apartments and said he must speak to me alone. His eyes were wild, his lips twitching.

  I said: “What is wrong?”

  He replied: “Your Majesty must prepare yourself for a great disaster.”

  I rose staring at him. I saw the letter in his hand and I knew.

  The Empress . He nodded.

  “She is dead,” I said blankly, for I knew it was true. I was conscious of a terrible loneliness such as I had never known before.

  He nodded.

  I could not speak. I was numbed. I felt like a child who is lost and knows it will never feel entirely safe again.

  “It cannot be,” I whispered.

  But he assured me that it was.

  I said unsteadily, “I want first to be alone He nodded and left me and I sat on the bed and thought of her as I had known her in Vienna. I saw her at her mirror while her women dressed her hair; I could feel the cold Viennese wind, sharper than anything I had known since I left Austria; I could picture her bending over my bed when I was pretending I was asleep. I could hear her voice.

  “You must do this. You must do that. Such Ugerete �
�� such dissipation… You are rushing on to destruction. I tremble for you.”

  Oh tremble for me. Mamma, I whispered, for without you I am so alone.

  The King came and wept with me. He had waited a quarter of an hour before coming. I heard him in the anteroom where the Abbe had waited, respecting my wish to be alone.

  My husband said: “I thank you. Monsieur !” Abbe, for the service you have just done me. ” And I knew then that he had sent the Abbe to break the news to me.

  He came in then and embraced me.

  “My dear,” he said, ‘this is so sad for us all, but mostly for you.”

  “I cannot believe it,” I said.

  “I had letters from her so recently.”

  “Ah, you will miss her letters I nodded.

  “Nothing will be quite the same again And as he sat beside me on the bed, his hand in mine, I seemed to hear her voice admonishing me as it had all my life: I must not grieve—I had my husband; I had my daughter; and I must not forget that France needed a Dauphin.

  I ordered Court mourning to be made, and meanwhile I put on temporary mourning. I shut myself in my apartments and saw no one but members of the Royal Family, the Duchesse de Polignac and the Princesse de Lamballe. I remained thus, aloof from the Court for several days; and I thought of her continually.

  When I received Mercy he told me what he had heard of her end. She had been very ill since the middle of November and the doctors had said that she was suffering from hardening of the lungs.

  On the 29th of the month she said to her women who came to her bedside, “This is my last day on earth, and my thoughts are of my children whom I leave behind.” She mentioned us all by name, raising her hands to heaven as she did so.

  And when she came to me she kept murmuring, “Marie Antoinette, Queen of France’; and she burst into tears and wept long and bitterly.

  All the day she lived, and it was eight in the evening when she started to fight for her breath.

  Joseph, who was with her, whispered: “You are very ill.”

  And she answered: ‘enough to die, Joseph. “