The Queen`s Confession (25 page)

Louis glanced up at me. For several seconds he kept his eyes on my face as though he had forgotten the solemn ceremony, everything but ourselves; and I felt that too. It was a wonderful moment. A turning point in our lives, I thought afterwards. We were together as one person. And although I felt no great and surging passion for my husband, I knew that I loved him and that he loved me. It was a quiet devotion, a bond that was none the less strong because it was passionless.

I realised suddenly that the tears were running down my cheeks.

The doors were flung open and people surged into the Cathedral. I could smell the incense; I heard the exclamation as birds were let loose as a symbol of peace. The guns began their salute and the sounds of trumpets and drums mingled.

I joined the royal procession from the Cathedral; and as we came out the shouts of “Vive Ie Roi’ filled the air. I wrote to my mother:

“The coronation was a great success in all ways. Everyone was delighted with the King and he with them…. I could not keep my tears from flowing…. It is very surprising and so comforting to be so well received after the revolt and in spite of the price of bread, which is still dear. But it is characteristic of the French to be carried away by evil suggestions and then return immediately to good sense. When we hear the people’s acclamations and see these proofs of their affection, we are all the more committed to work for their good.”

My husband came to me while I was writing this and I showed it to him.

He still seemed a little shy in my presence and we were both deeply conscious of that scene in the Cathedral.

“It was a wonderful experience,” he said.

“I felt as though God had spoken to me.” I nodded.

“I have written to Maurepas and this is what I have said.” I read the letter, which had the same theme as mine.

“I am sorry that you could not share the satisfaction I have felt here. It is my duty to work for a people who give me so much happiness. I shall give myself up to this absolutely.

f ~

“we think alike,” I said.

He took my hands and kissed them; then he said: “It was a splendid occasion, was it not? A deeply moving occasion. Yet nothing touched me so much as when I looked up at the gallery and saw your tears.”

I threw myself into his arms. 184 “Oh Louis … Louis … I have never felt so moved.”

At Rheims Louis performed the ritual of touching for the King’s Evil—another of those old customs which dated back to Clovis. Victims of scrofula from all over France had come to Rheims for this ceremony;

and two thousand four hundred sufferers lined the avenue kneeling while Louis passed along. It was a horrible sight, so many people so far gone in this terrible disease; the weather was warm and the stench revolting. Yet Louis did not flinch. His eyes shining with purpose, his bearing kingly as it could be at times like this, he touched each one—from forehead to chin and then on either cheek, while he said:

“May God heal you;

the King touches you. “

Two thousand four hundred times he said those words and as though he meant them; no King of France ever performed this sacred duty with more sincerity, and those poor sick people looked up at him with something like adoration.

I was proud—not only to be Queen of France, but to be the wife of such a man.

He gave no sign of weariness when the long duty was over, and Provence and Artois played their part—which was to bring first the vinegar which was to disinfect his hands and then the orange flower water with which to wash them.

When I was alone with him I told him he was magnificent and he was very contented.

We would work together, he implied; and I wondered whether had I asked him at this stage to give Monsieur de Choiseui a place in his government he would have agreed. I believe he would, for he could have denied me nothing. But Monsieur de Choiseui was of the past; besides, my mother did not wish him to be restored.

I wanted only one thing of Louis: children. The only thing he could not give me—but I know he longed for them as much as I did.

On the most unhappy point which troubles my dear mother, I am most unhappy to be unable to tell her anything new. This is certainly no fault of mine. I can only rely on patience and sweetness.

MASSE ANTOINETTE TO MARIA THERESA

Here we have a spate of lampoons. No one at Court is spared, including myself. They have been generous in my case. They give me many illicit lovers, both male and female.

MARIE ANTOINETTE TO MARIA THERESA

I hear that you have bought bracelets which have cost two hundred and fifty thousand livres, with the result that you have thrown your finances into disorder. I know how extravagant you can be, and I cannot keep quiet about this matter, because I love you too well to flatter you.

MARIA THERESA TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

She called him [Jacques Armand] my child, and lavished tender est caresses upon him, still maintaining a deep silence respecting the affliction which constantly occupied her heart.

MEMOIRS OF MADAME CAM PAN

Extravagances

My longing for children was growing more and more intense. I had increased my little family of dogs, but although I loved them dearly they could not compensate me for my overwhelming desire to be a mother.

When my sister-in-law gave birth to a son I longed to be in her place.

When she called out in agony I wished that agony were mine. She lay exhausted yet somehow exalted-quite unlike the unattractive little

creature I had known before this. The miracle had happened to her. She was a mother.

I heard her voice raised half hopefully half fearfully; and I could imagine her feelings when she received the answer.

“A little Prince, Madame …” —the words every Princess and Queen must wish to hear.

She answered: “My God! How happy I ami And how well I understood 1 The child was well and healthy; the sound of his crying filled the apartment; it seemed the most magical sound in the world.

We left the apartment, I with my attendants, the chief of whom was the Princesse de Lamballe, my dear friend whom I had set up in place of Madame de Noailles. I grew fonder and fonder of my dear Lamballe every day and I did not know what I would do without her. I had now secured the services of Jeanne Louise Henriette Genet, the little lect rice

She was now Madame Campan, having married Monsieur Campan’s son. She was devoted and good and I did not know what I would do without her either, but of course she was not of the same rank as the Princesse, and had her re1e as one of my trusted attendants rather than a close friend who could accompany me to fetes and balls.

As we came out of the lying-in chamber and through the chateau we were met by a crowd of women from the Halles of Paris. It was the custom of the public to be present at the time of royal births, although it was only the Queen who must give birth publicly; at the births of lesser members of the royal family only the family need be present. But the fact that a royal child was being born was the nation’s concern, and although the people were not allowed to enter the Comtesse’s bedchamber they were in the chateau.

Thus as I walked through to my apartments, the Princesse de Lamballe beside me and Madame Campan a few paces behind, I found that the women from Les Halles were all about me. They looked at me with that frank curiosity to which I had grown accustomed. I tried hard not to wrinkle

my nose against the smell of fish—for these were the pois sardes, who above all the Paris traders were noted for their frankness of expression as they crowded about me, touching my clothes, my hands.

My hands fascinated them particularly: my fingers were so long and slender, the skin so soft and white, and of course they were aglitter with my beloved diamonds.

One woman thrust her face close to mine and, jerking her head towards the lying-in chamber, said: “You ought to be in there, Madame. You ought to be breeding heirs for France, not fondling your lady friends.”

I saw the Princesse flinch; and I believe my colour heightened a little, but I merely held my head high and tried to walk through the crowd.

“You should sleep with the King instead of dancing through the night and early morning.”

These women may have seen me riding home from the Opera at dawn when they were making their way to the markets.

Someone laughed.

“They say he can’t … is it true?”

The coarse laughter.

“You should see that he can, Madame. j This was becoming unbearable. The stench of these bodies, the insulting words which were growing more and more crude every moment!

Was it not enough that I had had to see my sister-in-law with her newly-born son in her arms? Must I now have to listen to coarse insults which I did not deserve?

Madame Campan was beside me. I saw her with calm dignity making a path, forcing a way through the crowd. My dearest Lamballe was not much use on such an occasion.

“The Queen is exhausted …” said Madame Campan.

The crude jest which followed that made me shudder; but I would have no more of it. After all, I was Queen of France. In my most regal manner I walked through that crowd of shouting women as though I could not see them, could not hear them, as though they did not exist. When I was in my apartment I heard their shouting behind me; I saw the tearful face of the Princesse, the calm one of Madame Campan.

I said: “Leave me … with Maime Campan.” And when the door shut on us I could restrain my sell no longer. I threw myself on to my bed and wept.

When I told my husband of the incident, he was saddened.

“It is so unfair … so unfair….” I stopped.

“Is it my fault?”

And seeing die stricken look on his face: “Is it our fault?”

He tried to comfort me and I whispered to him, “There is only one answer. The petite operation ” Yes,” he replied.

“Yes.”

I gripped his shoulders, my face alight with hope.

“You will …?”

“I will consider.”

I sighed. For so long he had been considering. It was nearly six years. What was he afraid of? The scalpel? Surely not. He was no coward. It was the indignity. The people would know;

they would speculate; they would watch. Even now, every time he came to my bedchamber they knew; they doubtless calculated the number of hours he spent there. It was this continual watchfulness which was ruining our lives. If only they would have left us alone I “You will.. you will see the doctors?”

He nodded. He wanted to give me all I asked; and I had made it clear that I wanted children above all things.

When he had left me I sat down and wrote to my mother:

“I have high hopes that I shall persuade the King to undergo that little operation which is all that is necessary.”

My mother wrote back that I must keep her informed, and I obeyed her.

I told her everything, but I do not think she could understand the effect this continuing situation was having on me. I was twenty; I was young, extremely healthy. It was not as though I lived the life of a normal virgin. There were these constant frustrating attempts which failed. I was restless and unhappy; I turned away from my husband and then towards him. He had seen the doctors; he had asked for all details of the necessary operation; he had examined the instruments which would have to be used, and bad come back to me.

I believe,” he said, ‘that in time this will right itself of its own accord.”

My heart sank. He could not face the operation. We were to go on in the old unsatisfactory way.

Every time he came to my apartments by way of the Oeil de Boeuf the crowds would be there watching him. The lampoons and chansons were increasing. We were no longer the young King and Queen who were going to create a Miracle and make France a land flowing with milk and honey;

we had had the guerre des farines; we were an impotent young man and a frivolous young woman. The knowledge that while we were together those people were speculating on our actions disturbed us. We both began to dread these encounters. Yet we must do our duty. It was my idea that we should have a secret staircase built between the King’s bedchainber and mine so that he could visit me without anyone’s knowing when.

We did this and it comforted us, but the position was unchanged, and I knew it would be until he submitted to the petite operation.

I wrote to my mother:

“On the most unhappy point which troubles my dear mother, I am most unhappy to be unable to tell her anything new. This is certainly no fault of mine. I can only rely on patience and sweetness.”

But I was anxious for her to know that although my husband failed me in this one thing, in all other matters I had nothing of which to complain.

Oh yes, I was fond of Louis, but he was failing me.

There is really no excuse for the manner in which I behaved during the next phase of my life. I am sure it caused great consternation to my mother, who was watching so anxiously from afar. I can only plead the excuse of youth, my aroused senses which were never satisfied, the unhealthy atmosphere in which I lived.

I needed children. No woman was meant to be a mother more than I.

Every time I rode through the country and saw the little ones playing I would envy those humble cottage women with little ones clinging to their skirts. My entire being yearned for children. If any of my women had children I would ask that they be brought to me. I would romp with them and my dogs in a manner which Mercy felt was most unbecoming.

In the circumstances, what had I but the pursuit of perpetual amusement? I did not want time on my hands to meditate on my unsatisfactory life, I began to suffer from violent headaches and became feverish and giddy. Mercy called them ‘nervous affectation. ” He did not believe that I could be ill. In fact I looked extremely healthy; I had great vitality; I danced half the night. But I would sometimes find myself crying for little reason. It was most disturbing.

I longed for affection—demonstrative affection—which I could not get from Louis, and I was beginning to realise the danger of my mood. I was surrounded by handsome virile young men, who delighted to pay me compliments and who showed me in a hundred ways that they desired me.