The Queen's Confession Part 11

Adelaide and her sisters refused to leave him. They performed the most menial tasks; they were with him throughout the days and nights, and they were on the verge of exhaustion, but still they would not allow anyone to take their places.

My husband and I were not permitted to go near the sickroom, but we must remain at Versailles until the King was dead. As soon as he expired, we should leave Versailles with all speed for the place was a hotbed of infection. Already some of the people who had crowded in the oeil de boeuf when the King had been brought over from the Trianon had taken sick and died. In the stables everything was ready for us. We were to leave for Choisy the moment the King died; but Etiquette insisted that we be at Versailles until that moment.

In one of the windows a candle was burning; and this was meant to be a signal.

When the flame was snuffed out, that would be a sign to all that the King's life was over.

My husband had taken me to a small room and there we sat in silence.

Neither of us spoke. He had imbued me with his sense of foreboding. He had always been serious but never quite so much as at this time.

And then suddenly as we sat there we heard a great tumult. We half-rose, looking at each other. We had no idea what it could be. There were voices ... raised, shouting, it seemed; and this overwhelming clamor.

The door was flung open suddenly. People were running in, surrounding us.

Madame de Noailles was the first to reach me. She knelt and, taking my hand, kissed it.

She was calling me: "Your Majesty."

Now I understood; I felt the tears rushing to my eyes. The King was dead; my poor Louis was King of France and I was the Queen.

They pressed in on us as though it were a joyful occasion. Louis turned to me and I to him.

He took my hand and spontaneously we knelt together.

"We are too young," he whispered; and we seemed to be praying together: "Oh, G.o.d, guide us, protect us. We are too young to govern."

CHAPTER 8.

"I marvel at the design of Fate which has chosen me, the youngest of your daughters, to be Queen of the finest Kingdom in Europe."

-Marie Antoinette to Maria Theresa "You are both so young and the burden which has been placed on your shoulders is very heavy. I am distressed that this should be so."

-Maria Theresa to Marie Antoinette Pet.i.te Reine, de vingt ans, Vous, qui traitez si mal les gens, Vous rapa.s.serez la barriere ...

-Song being sung in Paris a month after Marie Antoinette's accession to the throne Flattery and Reprimands AS SOON AS THE KING WAS DEAD, there was no reason why anyone should remain any longer at Versailles. Our carriage had been waiting for days, so there was nothing to delay us. We were to leave at once for Choisy.

The aunts, in view of the fact that they had been in close contact with the late King and were therefore undoubtedly infectious, were to live in a house by themselves, as it was considered of the greatest importance that my husband should remain in good health.

We were all very solemn as we rode away from Versailles. In our carriage were Provence and Artois with their wives and we said very little. I kept reminding myself that I should never see my grandfather again and that now I was a Queen. We were all truly griefstricken, and it would have needed very little to set us all sobbing. Louis was the most unhappy of us all and I remembered that remark of his about feeling that the universe was about to fall upon him. Poor Louis! He looked as though it were already falling.

But in truth how superficial our grief was! We were all so young. Nineteen is very young to be a Queen - and a frivolous one at that. Perhaps I make excuses; but I could never sustain an emotion for long - particularly grief. Marie Therese made some comment and her odd p.r.o.nunciation set my lips twitching. I looked at Artois, he was smiling too. We couldn't help it. It seemed so funny. And then suddenly we were laughing. It may have been hysterical laughter, but it was laughter nonetheless; and after that the solemnity of death seemed to have receded.

They were busy days at Choisy, particularly for Louis. He had put on new stature, was more dignified and, although modest, he had the air of a King. He was so earnestly eager to do what he believed to be right, so deeply conscious of his great responsibility.

I wished that I had been cleverer so that I could have been of some use to him; but I did immediately think of the Duc de Choiseul, who should be recalled. He had been a friend of mine and a friend of Austria and I was certain that my mother would wish me to use my influence with my husband to have him brought back.

It was indeed a new man I discovered at Choisy for when I mentioned the Duc de Choiseul, a stubborn expression crossed his face. "I never cared for the fellow," he said.

"He was responsible for making our marriage."

He smiled at me tenderly. "That would have come about without him."

"He is very clever, I have heard."

"My father did not like him. There was a rumor that he was involved in his death."

"Involved in your father's death, Louis? But how?"

"He poisoned him."

"You can't believe that! Not of Monsieur de Choiseul!"

"At least he failed in his duty to my father." He smiled at me. "You should not concern yourself with these matters."

"I want to help you, Louis."

But he just smiled. I heard that he had once said: "Women taught me nothing when I was young. All that I learned was from men. I have read little history, but I have learned this: mistresses and even lawful wives have often ruined states."

He was too kind to say this directly to me, but he held firmly to this belief.

The aunts, however, had some influence with him. Although they occupied a separate establishment, they were allowed to visit us, which they did. They could tell the King so much of the past, they said; and he seemed to believe them, for he listened.

There was much coming and going between Choisy and Paris. Everyone was wondering how much influence the aunts would have with the new King, how much influence I should have, and whom the King would choose for his mistress. That made me want to laugh. Had they forgotten that a wife was too much of a burden for the King, let alone a mistress? That reminded me of course that our distressing and perplexing problem would now be more pressing than ever.

Louis at the moment was concerned with choosing a man who could advise him in the conduct of affairs and he believed that he needed someone of great experience to make up for his own lack. His first thought was for Jean Baptiste d'Arouville Machault, who had been Comptroller General of Finances until the antagonism of Madame de Pompadour had brought him down. He was certainly experienced, and it was due to the schemes of the King's mistress that he had fallen - all of which endeared him to Louis, who wrote summoning him to Choisy, for he was very eager to begin working for his country.

While he was writing the letter the aunts arrived, and I was with my husband when they were announced. Adelaide declared that she had come at once to her dear nephew's aid, for she was sure she could give the information he must be in need of.

"You see, dear Berry ... Ha, I must not say Berry now, Your Majesty ... I have lived so long and so close to your grandfather ... and I know so much that can be of use to you." She included me in her smile and I was so full of admiration for the manner in which she nursed her father that I felt a rush of affection for her.

"You are sending for Machault. Oh, no ... no ... no ..." She put her ear close to the King's and whispered "Maurepas. Maurepas is the man."

"Is he not somewhat old?"

"Ah, Your Majesty is somewhat young." She laughed shrilly. "That is what makes it such an excellent arrangement. You have the vigor and vitality of youth. He has the experience of age. Maurepas," she whispered. "A most able man. Why when he was twenty-four, he controlled the King's household as well as the Admiralty."

"But he lost his posts."

"Why? ... why? Because he was no friend of Pompadour. That was our father's mistake. However able a man, if one of his women did not care for him ... it was the end." She went on enumerating the merits of Maurepas and eventually my husband decided to destroy the letter he had written to Machault and instead wrote to Maurepas. I was there when he wrote the letter which seems to convey so much of his feeling at that time.

"Amidst the natural grief which overwhelms me and which I share with the entire kingdom, I have great duties to fulfill. I am the King; the word speaks of many responsibilities. Alas, I am only twenty [my husband was not even that. He had three months to wait for his twentieth birthday] and I have not the necessary experience. I have been unable to work with the ministers as they were with the late King during his illness. My certainty of your honesty and knowledge impels me to ask you to help me. You will please me if you come here as soon as possible."

No King of France ever ascended the throne with a greater desire for self-abnegation than my husband.

Having secured the appointment of Maurepas, the aunts were triumphant, believing they were going to be the power behind the throne. They watched me suspiciously and I knew that when I was not present, they warned the King against allowing his frivolous little wife to meddle.

He was so good; he immediately had two hundred thousand francs distributed to the poor; he was greatly concerned about the licentiousness of the Court and determined to abolish it. He asked Monsieur de Maurepas how he could set about bringing a state of morality to a Court where morals had been lax for so long.

"There is but one way, Sire," was Maurepas' answer. "It is one Your Majesty must take to set a good example. In most countries - and in particular in France - where the Sovereign leads, the people will follow."

My husband looked at me and smiled, very serenely, very confidently. He would never take a mistress. He loved me; and if he could only become a normal man, we would have children and ours would be the perfect union.

But there was so much to think of at that time that that uneasy subject was forgotten.

Louis was kind. He could not even be cruel to Madame du Barry. "Let her be dismissed from the Court," he said. "That should suffice. She shall go to a convent for a while until it is decided to what place she may be banished."

It was lenient, but Louis had no wish to punish. Nor had I. I thought of that time when I had been forced to say those silly words to her. How angry I had been at the time, but now it was all forgotten; and I could only remember how she had stayed with the King when he was so ill and she was in danger of catching the dreaded disease. Let her be banished. That was enough.

Louis quickly grasped that the country's finances were in disorder and determined on household economies. I was beside him and declared that I too would economize. I gave up my droit de ceinture, a sum of money which was given by the state for my private purse, which hung on my girdles. "I had no need of this," I said. "Girdles are no longer worn."

The remark was repeated in the Court and in the streets of Paris.

Paris and the whole country were pleased with us. I was their enchanting little Queen; my husband was Louis le Desire, and one morning when the traders started their early morning trek to Les Halles, it was noticed that during the night someone had written RESURREXIT on the statue of Henri Quatre which had been erected on the Pont Neuf.

When my husband heard of this, his eyes shone with pleasure and determination. In every Frenchman's opinion Henri Quatre was the greatest King France had ever had, the King who had cared for the people as no other monarch had before or since. Now they were saying that in Louis le Desire this great monarch was born again.

At Choisy it was easy to forget those last nightmare days at Versailles. I was Queen of France; in his way my husband loved me; everyone was eager to pay me homage. Why had I been apprehensive?

I knew that my mother would be anxiously watching events. No doubt it had already been reported to her how I had conducted myself during the King's illness and death; but I myself would write to her.

With the new flush of triumph on me I wrote: rather arrogantly (I excuse myself, for I was freshly savoring the flattery which is paid to a Queen): "Although G.o.d chose that I should be born to high rank, I marvel at the design of Fate which has chosen me, the youngest of your daughters, to be Queen of the finest Kingdom in Europe."

My husband came in while I was writing this letter and I called to him to see what I had written. He looked over my shoulder smiling. He knew of my difficult penmanship and said that it was very good.

"You should add something to the letter," I told him. "It would please her."

"I should not know what to say to her."

"Then, I will tell you." I thrust the pen into his hand and, jumping up, pushed him into my chair. He chuckled under his breath, half embarra.s.sed, half delighted by my spontaneous gestures as he so often was.

"Say this: 'I am very pleased, my dear mother, to have the opportunity to offer you proof of my affection and regard. It would give me great satisfaction to have the benefit of your counsel at such a time which is so full of difficulties for us both ...'"

He wrote rapidly and looked at me expectantly.

"You are so much cleverer than I with a pen," I retorted. "Surely you can finish it."

He continued to laugh at me. Then, as though determined to impress me with his cleverness, he began to write rapidly: " ... but I shall do my best to satisfy you and by so doing show you the affection and grat.i.tude I feel toward you for giving me your daughter, with whom I could not be more satisfied."

"So," I said, "you are pleased with me. Thank you, Sire." I dropped a deep curtsey. Then I was on my feet, s.n.a.t.c.hing the pen from him.

I wrote below his message.

"The King wished to add his few words before allowing this letter to go to you. Dear Mother, you will see by the compliment he pays me that he is certainly fond of me, but that he does not spoil me with high-flown phrases."

He looked puzzled and half ashamed. "What would you wish me to say?"

I laughed, s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter from him and sealing it myself.

"Nothing that you have not already said," I replied. "Indeed, Sire, Fate has given me the King of France, with whom I could not be more satisfied."

This was typical of our relationship at this time. He was satisfied with me, although he did not wish me to meddle in politics. He was the most faithful husband at Court; but I was not sure at this time whether this was due to his devotion to me or to his affliction.

One of the most anxious women in Europe was my mother. She was so wise. She deplored the fact that the King was dead. If he had lived another ten or even five years, we should have had time to prepare ourselves. As it was we were two children. My husband had never been taught how to rule; I would never learn. That was the position as she saw it. And how right she was! I often marvel that while all those people close at hand were dreaming of the ideal state which they fancied two inexperienced young people could miraculously turn the country into, my mother from so far away could see the picture so clearly.

Her answer to my thoughtless letter - the one to which I had made my husband add his comments - was: "I do not compliment you on your new dignity. A high price has been paid for this, and you will pay still higher unless you go on living quietly and innocently in the manner in which you have lived since your arrival in France. You have had the guidance of one who was as a father to you and it is due to his kindness that you have been able to win the approval of the people which is now yours. This is good, but you must learn how to keep that approval and use it for the good of the King, your husband, and the country of which you are Queen. You are both so young, and the burden which has been placed on your shoulders is very heavy. I am distressed that this should be so."

She was pleased that my husband had joined with me in writing to her and hoped that we should both do all we could to maintain friendly relations between France and Austria.

She was extremely worried about me - my frivolity, my dissipation (by which she and Mercy meant my preoccupation with matters which were of small importance), my love of dancing, and gossip, my disrespect for etiquette, my impulsiveness. All qualities, my mother pointed out, to be deplored in a Dauphine but not even to be tolerated in a Queen. She wrote: "You must learn to be interested in serious matters. This will be useful if the King should wish to discuss state business with you. You should be very careful not to be extravagant; nor to lead the King to this. At the moment the people love you. You must preserve this state of affairs. You have both been fortunate beyond my hopes; you must continue in the love of your people. This will make you and them happy."

I replied dutifully that I realized the importance of my position. I confessed my frivolity. I swore that I would be a credit to my mother. I wrote and told her of all the homage, all the ceremonies, how eager everyone was to please me. She wrote back, sometimes tender, often scolding; but her comment was: "I fancy her good days are over."

Four days after we arrived at Choisy a messenger came from the aunts' house nearby to tell us that Madame Adelaide was suffering from fever and pains in the back. It would seem too much to ask that they should all three escape the infection, and indeed it was proved that Adelaide had the smallpox; and as Victoire and Sophie always followed her in what she did, very soon they too were suffering from the dreaded disease.

There was consternation at Choisy. I had already had a mild attack so that I was not vulnerable, but what of the new King? I persuaded him to be inoculated, which I knew resulted in a very mild attack and made one immune; and as a result he was treated together with Provence, Artois, and Artois' wife. Louis was always thoughtful of others and immediately gave orders that no one who had not have the smallpox was to come near him.

The inoculation was considered a dangerous procedure, but I was absolutely certain that it was the right thing. Mercy, however, warned me that if all went well, I should be judged wise, but if things went the other way, I should be blamed. He watched me severely, hoping I should see the lesson in this. But I merely laughed at him and said I knew my husband and the others would be grateful to me for having persuaded them to this measure.

As it happened I was right - but I could so easily have been wrong.

I wrote exultantly to my mother to tell how many spots my husband had. I told her too about the aunts.

"I am forbidden to go to them. It is dreadful for them to pay so quickly for the great sacrifice they made."

I should have liked to have visited them to tell them how much I admired what they had done, but I had to obey the order to keep away from them.

During those days our popularity grew. The people had so hated Louis XV that they would have loved my husband merely for the fact that he was different. They loved his youth, his friendly manners toward them, and his simplicity. He had ordered eight suits of frieze cloth and this was discussed through Paris. Not silk, brocade, and velvets but frieze cloth! Being a King to him meant serving his people, not having them admire him; and he was more at ease with them, so it was said, than he was with n.o.blemen. Once at Choisy he went for a walk by himself and when he returned, I, with my sisters-in-law, met him in the park and we sat on a bench eating strawberries. The people came to look at us and we smiled at them. They were delighted; I heard later that we made a charming picture.

Sometimes we walked arm in arm in the alleys at Choisy and the people said that it was pleasant to see such domestic felicity. How different was a King who could take pleasure in simple pastimes than one who had neglected his wife and cared for nothing but his mistresses.

It was decided that in view of the fact that the aunts were suffering from smallpox, we should leave Choisy and go to La Muette and I was certainly glad to be nearer Paris. The people came out in thousands to see us arrive and we had to go out on the balconies and smile and bow to them. During Grandfather's reign the gates of the Bois du Boulogne had been closed, but my husband ordered them to be opened so that the people could walk about wherever they liked. This delighted them and they could come as early as six in the morning hoping for a glimpse of us. As there was nothing Louis liked better than to please the people and nothing I liked better than to be admired, everyone was happy.

Louis would walk among the people unguarded, unceremoniously, and on foot. One day he had been out walking and I was riding; I was leaving the chateau and he was returning and when I saw him, I dismounted and gave my horse to one of the guards and ran on foot to greet my husband.

The people stood in silence watching and Louis embraced and kissed me on either cheek.

The cheers were deafening. Some of the women wiped their eyes. Their emotions were very easily aroused; Louis took my arm and we walked back, the people following us, and when we reached the chateau, we had to appear on the balcony and they kept shouting for us and would not let us go.

"Long live the King and Queen. Long live Louis le Desire and our beautiful Queen."