Marie-Antoinette, Daughter of the Caesars

by Elena Maria Vidal

  It sounds like a fairly honest assessment, with which one is free to disagree. Madame Campan must not have thought much of Madame LeBrun, or even of the botanist Redouté, whose flower paintings delighted Antoinette. She made the following comments about Louis XVI:

  Who would have dared to check the amusements of a queen, young, lively, and handsome? A mother or a husband alone would have had the right to do it; and the King threw no impediment in the way of Marie Antoinette’s inclinations. His long indifference had been followed by admiration and love. He was a slave to all the wishes of the Queen, who, delighted with the happy change in the heart and habits of the King, did not sufficiently conceal the ascendency she was gaining over him.37

  I fail to see how such observations, which make Louis sound like a weakling, were supposed to win the favor of the daughter of the murdered royal couple, who viewed her parents as holy martyrs. If Madame Campan was trying to ingratiate herself to the Duchesse d’Angoulême, she was taking the wrong tact. Her descriptions of the various personalities seem to be balanced, shrewd and detailed, rather than an attempt to curry favor.

  Adélaïde-Henriette Genet, Madame Auguié (1758-1794) was one of the maids of Antoinette, and a younger sister of Madame Campan. As a young girl, she entered the Dauphine Antoinette’s service as a femme de chambre. Antoinette was fond of Adélaïde, who had a charming and gentle manner. Because of her long, thick, curly hair, Antoinette dubbed Adélaïde ma Lionne or “my Lioness.” A tall, shapely young woman, with a peaches and cream complexion, in 1779 she married Pierre-César Auguié whom Louis XVI made Receveur Général des Finances de Lorraine. The Queen provided her with a dowry of 7000 francs. Over the years the couple had three daughters: Antoinette, Aglaé and Adèle, the King and Queen being godparents of the eldest child. The artist Wertmüller painted Madame Auguié dressed as a dairy maid at the Queen’s dairy at Petit Trianon.

  Madame Auguié was one of the women who stayed outside the Queen’s room on the night of October 5, 1789, helping Antoinette escape through the private passage when the mob tried to break into her room to kill her. She stayed with the Royal Family throughout the upheavals until they were forced to leave the Tuileries for the National Assembly, where they were arrested and sent to the Temple prison. But before the Queen departed, Madame Auguié discreetly gave her some of her own money, helping in the only way she could. She also burned any of the Queen’s remaining compromising papers so the Revolutionaries could not get them. Poor Madame Auguié could not bear the horrors into which France was plunged, and the Queen’s execution in October of 1793 caused her intense grief. She discovered that the money she had given to the Queen had compromised her, as well as her role in burning the papers. Hearing that she was going to be arrested, Madame Auguié threw herself out of a sixth story window to her death. Perhaps she also feared she would be treated with the same indignity as the Princesse de Lamballe.

  The three Auguié girls were left in the care of their aunt, Madame Campan, who brought them up. Antoinette married respectably, Aglaé married Napoleon’s general Marshal Ney, and Adèle became the Baronne de Broc. Adèle died in a tragic accident when she fell off a cliff in her twenties while traveling with Hortense Bonaparte. Aglaé was later presented to the Duchesse d’Angoulême at the Restoration in 1814 but it did not go well. The former Madame Royale gave great offense when she addressed Madame Ney, her childhood playmate, by her first name. What the daughter of Antoinette meant as a friendly familiarity was taken as a reminder of Madame Ney’s former humble status as a daughter of the Queen's femme de chambre. Madame Ney had been ennobled by Napoleon and resented not being addressed by her new noble title. It is sad that the ties to the past had been so damaged that renewing certain connections were rendered futile.

  At her trial in October of 1793, Antoinette was shown the portraits of two ladies, which had been found among her personal possessions. When asked to identify the women, she replied that they were “Mesdames de Mecklenbourg et de Hesse” with whom she was brought up in Vienna.38 Charlotte Wilhelmine Christiane Marie of Hesse-Darmstadt, Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1755-1785) grew up with the Archduchess Antoine and, being the same age, shared studies and lessons, in spite of Charlotte being a Lutheran. It was the custom for the Imperial Family to bring noble children from around the empire to be brought up as companions for the Emperor’s children; it was considered a privilege and an asset for the child’s future opportunities. Charlotte was eventually joined by her younger sister Louise Henriette Karoline of Hesse-Darmstadt, the future Grand Duchess of Hesse and by Rhine (1761-1829). The sisters were the younger daughters of a younger son of the house of Hesse and so to be reared in the Imperial Court was an enormous advatange. Charlotte and Louise accompanied the Archduchess Antoine to the French border where they were parted from her with many tears. Antoinette wrote to both of them for many years. Charlotte married her oldest sister’s widower, the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, becoming stepmother to his five children, her own nieces and nephews, among whom was the future great beauty and heroine, Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Queen of Prussia. However, Charlotte died giving birth to her only son in November of 1785. There exists a gentle letter from Antoinette to Charlotte from June of 1785, in which the Queen tries to calm of worries of her friend about giving birth to her first child at age thirty but Charlotte’s fears proved be true.39 By the time Charlotte died, the Queen was embroiled in the humiliations of the Diamond Necklace scandal. Louise had become Grand Duchess of Hesse by marrying her first cousin Louis I of Hesse in 1777. They had eight children; Louise exchanged letters with the Queen until 1792. She was admired by Napoleon for her intelligence and popular with the people of Hesse until her death in 1829.

  The friend who would become the closest to Antoinette as her days darkened was her sister-in-law, Madame Élisabeth of France, Louis’ youngest sibling. From the first moments at Versailles, Antoinette had been fond of her husband’s littlest sister, whom she embraced as her own, playing lively games of hide-and-go-seek in the vast rooms of the château. In the summer of 1775, Antoinette wrote to her mother about the eleven year old Élisabeth: “Je suis enchantée avec ma soeur Élisabeth” or “I am enchanted with my sister Élisabeth.40 Élisabeth, under the care of the pious Madame de Marsan, then the fun-loving, careless Princesse de Guéménée, and always under the wise sub-governess Madame de Mackau, blossomed into an ebullient, cheerful young woman, deeply Catholic and committed to a vibrant spiritual life. She had many friends, including Madame de Bombelles, the daughter of Madame de Mackau, whom she called ma Bombe. Plump and petite with chestnut blonde hair, she was not a great beauty but attractive due to her vivacity. Many princes sought her hand in marriage, including Antoinette’s brother Emperor Joseph II, but Élisabeth wanted to become a nun. She longed to join her Tante Louise at the Carmelite monastery at Saint Denis, where she often visited and served the nuns at table. Louis XVI would not give his permission for her to enter, begging her to stay. “We will have need of you here,” he said.41

  So Élisabeth took on the challenge of living the single, consecrated life in the world, without the support of a community, and living it amid the splendors of Versailles. As Élisabeth grew older she more frequently joined Antoinette at Petit Trianon, and she remained close to her brother, Louis XVI. She adored her brother Artois, the rascal of the family, and tried to encourage him to reform his life, while comforting his forlorn and forsaken wife, Marie-Thérèse de Savoie. For her twenty-fifth birthday, Élisabeth was given Montreuil, the former estate of the Guéménés near Versailles, by the King and the Queen, where she started a dairy to provide milk for poor children. While she organized her ladies in devotions and charitable works, Élisabeth also enjoyed music, embroidery, clothes and especially pretty shoes. She loved to dance and was the last to leave any ball. She always remained strong-willed when it came to adhering to her principles, however. Like her Tante Louise before her, she lived a life of true devotion in the midst of the intrigues and vanities of
the most worldly court in the world. After Antoinette lost Baby Sophie, she turned to the company of Madame Élisabeth, who influenced her towards the way of devotion.42

  1 6 Gentlemen Friends

  “Who could see her, day after day, without adoring her?” —The Prince de Ligne on Marie-Antoinette

  With all the misplaced emphasis on Antoinette's friendship with Count Fersen, it is forgotten that the Queen had many male friends in whom she confided and with whom she corresponded over the years. The focus on Fersen started after both their deaths when the nephew of the Count published the transcribed letters between the Queen and the Count during the Revolution, letters which dealt mainly with the precarious political situation. During her lifetime, there were a dozen men more likely to be accused of being her lover than Fersen. Then as now, there were people who insisted on seeing impropriety where none existed. The first and most frequent person accused of being Antoinette’s lover was her own brother-in-law, Charles-Philippe, Comte d’Artois (1757-1836), who was destined to outlive all of his siblings, and be the last Bourbon to sit upon the throne of France. As has been established, Louis felt Antoinette needed looking after, not because he thought she was immoral but simply because she was vivacious, headstrong and a magnet for mischief-makers. Where Louis was secretive and cautious, Antoinette was transparent and heedless. Artois was often told to be her escort or dance partner at parties and balls; Louis, who could not be everywhere, loathed dancing whereas Artois was as fluid and graceful a dancer as Antoinette herself. Artois was also a good actor and played opposite Antoinette at her many amateur theatricals at Trianon. However, Artois’ companionship with Antoinette stirred up gossip. In March 1775, Mercy warned the Empress about the dangers of Antoinette keeping company with Artois, saying: ‘M. le comte d’Artois, who cares for nothing but frivolities and whose behavior is that of a libertine….”1 The Empress was upset and chided her daughter with the following words:

  You must know better than I that this Prince [Artois] is not at all respected and that you thus share his errors. He is so young, so giddy: that may still pass in a prince but these are very grave failings in an older Queen, of whom people thought better. Do not lose that estimable possession which you had so perfectly.2

  The Empress refers to Antoinette’s enormous popularity which was beginning to fade as the people began to see her as a hoyden. The mother’s words fell on deaf ears since Antoinette did not see any impropriety in her behavior, being in the company of her sisters-in-law on most public occasions, plus the ever-watchful Provence, Louis’ other brother, usually accompanied them as well.

  One example of Artois’ increasingly unacceptable public behavior was in February 1778 at the Mardi Gras Ball at the Paris Opera, a masked ball, when he had a public foray with his mistress and cousin, the Duchesse de Bourbon. The couple were seen to be deep in heated conversation when the suddenly the Duchesse reached forward and lifted the Prince’s mask, causing the string to break. Artois tore off the Duchesse de Bourbon’s mask, punched her in the face with his fist, and then hit her again across the face with his mask. He then stalked away in a fury. The Duchesse, humiliated, injured and bleeding, was assisted by the Comte de Provence, who happened to be hovering nearby. A huge scandal erupted, since Bathilde d’Orléans was a Princess of the Blood. “From that moment the Princes of the Blood were in open mutiny,” said Mercy.3 She complained to her brother, the Duc de Chartres and to her father, the Duc d’Orléans, but they did nothing. Her father-in-law, the Prince de Condé, was outraged, and went to the King, who would not hear anything against his brother, Artois having been called colorful epithets by the Duchesse. The Duc de Bourbon, the estranged husband of the shamed lady, challenged Artois to a duel. In the meantime, all Paris was talking about nothing else, and everyone blamed the Comte d’Artois, whose bestial temper was well-known. The King had to call a family meeting, in which he instructed the Duchesse de Bourbon and Artois to apologize to each other. The Duchesse apologized, but Artois did not, and everyone ended up shouting at each other, including the King. So Artois and the Duc de Bourbon decided that the only way to settle the quarrel was by the sword. They met at the Bois de Boulogne one morning, Artois with his best sword. Removing their coats and spurs, they began to fight; Artois was scratched by the Duc, who then declared his honor satisfied. The cousins embraced and Artois rushed to the house of the Duchesse de Bourbon and apologized profusely. The Duc and Duchesse de Bourbon were heartily applauded when they appeared together at the theater that night. The King exiled Artois and the Duc to the country for eight days as a punishment for dueling. Antoinette was met by a cold welcome in Paris, because of her known friendship with Artois, although she would never have approved of his brutal behavior, and saw him as a wayward younger brother.4

  Artois and his wife had four children, two girls and two boys, but the girls Sophie and Thérèse, did not survive childhood. The boys, Louis-Antoine, Duc d’Angoulême (1775-1844) and Charles-Ferdinand, Duc de Berry (1778-1820), were playmates of Louis and Antoinette’s children, and played important roles in the Restoration of 1814. Angoulême married his first cousin Madame Royale in 1799, as Louis and Antoinette had once planned.

  One of the gentlemen whose name was first linked to the Queen’s was Marie-François-Henri de Franquetot, Duc de Coigny (1737-1821), whose son the Marquis de Coigny served at Versailles at the same time. A lifelong soldier with a distinguished military record, the Duc also served loyally at court, and Louis XVI made him his First Equerry in 1774. The Duc’s handsome, dignified and courtly bearing endeared him to the Queen, who invited him into her circle, where he displayed chivalrous regard for her. He was one of the four older gentlemen chosen to wait upon the Queen when she was recovering from measles at Petit Trianon in 1779. He was, however, not pleased with the favors shown to the Polignac clan and by his opposition to Madame de Polignac he alienated the Queen. In 1791 he fled France and joined the émigré army. Eventually, he spent Napoleon’s reign serving in the armies of the King of Portugal. He returned to France during the Restoration. Louis XVIII made him a Peer of France and Governor of Les Invalides, and in 1816 a Marshal of France. He died in 1821.

  Adrien-Louis de Bonnières, Duc de Guînes (1735-1806) was another old soldier and handsome polished courtier, whom Antoinette allowed into her inner circle, mostly due to the fact that he was a choiseuliste. He was one of the four older gentlemen chosen to wait upon the Queen when she was recovering from measles at Petit Trianon in 1779. He was an accomplished flautist who hired Mozart to teach his daughter. Mercy disliked him since he was close to the Polignacs, and wrote of him to the Empress, worrying that his influence on Antoinette would supplant his own. In 1776, Louis XVI made him Ambassador to England, where it was later found that his secretary was misappriating funds. Guînes was held accountable but the Queen took his side and he was acquitted. Upon his return to France he was given the Order of the Holy Spirit. He continued to serve the King in many capacities but in the meantime he grew quite corpulent, so that he had to have special breeches made for sitting and others for standing. During the Revolution he escaped to England, to return in 1806 during the reign of Napoleon. He died shortly after his return to France.

  One of Antoinette's most cultured, charming and cosmopolitan friends was indubitably Charles-Joseph Lamoral, Prince de Ligne (1735-1814), from the country now known as Belgium, once a province of the Habsburg Empire. Many of her closest friends were foreigners, who asked for less and were not embroiled in the court intrigues. The Prince de Ligne had fought in the Seven Years War on the Austrian side and later became a Field Marshal of the Empire. He was an intimate friend and distant relative of the Habsburg family, especially Emperor Joseph II. The Prince and his wife were the parents of seven children and immensely wealthy. They had vast estates in the Brabant, including marvelous gardens at Bel Oeil. The Prince knew a great deal about horticulture and was able to advise Antoinette when she was planning her gardens at Petit Trianon. Of Antoinette, whom he knew qu
ite well, he said: “Her pretended gallantry was never any more than a very deep friendship for one or two individuals, and the ordinary coquetry of a woman, or a queen, trying to please everyone.”5 The Prince de Ligne was the author of several books, including works of military history. In his personal memoirs he wote extensively of Antoinette, praising her beauty and her virtue while defending her reputation; he must be quoted in his own words:

  The charms of her face and of her soul, the one as white and beautiful as the other, and the attraction of that society hence made me spend five months of every year in her suite, without absenting myself for a single day....

  As for the queen, the radiance of her presence harmed her. The jealousy of the women whom she crushed by the beauty of her complexion and the carriage of her head, ever seeking to harm her as a woman, harmed her also as a queen. Fredegonde and Brunehaut, Catherine and Marie de Medici, Anne and Theresa of Austria never laughed; Marie Antoinette when she was fifteen laughed much; therefore she was declared ‘satirical.’

  She defended herself against the intrigues of two parties, each of whom wanted to give her a lover; on which they declared her ‘inimical to Frenchmen;’ and all the more because she was friendly with foreigners, from whom she had neither traps nor importunity to fear.

  An unfortunate dispute about a visit between her brother the Elector of Cologne and the princes of the blood, of which she was wholly ignorant, offended the etiquette of the Court, which then called her ‘proud.’

  She dines with one friend, and sometimes goes to see another friend, after supper, and they say she is ‘familiar.’ That is not what the few persons who lived in her familiarity would say. Her delicate, sure sense of the becoming awed them as much as her majesty. It was as impossible to forget it as it was to forget one’s self.