The Queen`s Confession (3 page)

Caroline’s fears were fully realised. She was very un happy in Naples and wrote home that her husband was very ugly, but because she remembered what my mother had told her she tried to be brave, and added that she was growing quite accustomed to him. She wrote to Countess von Lerchenfeld, who helped Aja as governess:

“One suffers martyrdom, and it is all the greater because one must pretend to be happy. How I pity Antoinette who has to face this. I would rather die than suffer it again. But for my religion I should have killed myself rather than live as I did for eight days. It was like hell and I wished to die. When my little sister has to face this I shall weep for. her.”

The Countess had not wanted to show me this, but I begged and pleaded and she gave way as she always did; and when I read it I wished I

hadn’t. Was it really so bad? i9 My sister-in-law Isabella had talked about killing herself. I, who loved life so much, could not understand this attitude;

yet it seemed strange that those two who had had so much more experience of life than I should both have talked like that.

I thought about Caroline’s letter for some hours and then it slipped to the back of my mind and I forgot it perhaps because my mother was now turning her attention more and more on me.

She came to the schoolroom to investigate my progress and was horrified when she realised how little I knew. My handwriting was untidy and laborious. As for speaking French, I was hopeless, although I could chatter in Italian;

but I could not write even German really grammatically.

My mother was not angry with me; she was merely pained. She drew me to her, held me in the crook of her arm and explained to me about the great honour which might be done to me. It would be the most wonderful thing in the world if this plan which Prince von Kaunitz here in Vienna and the Due de Choiseui in France were trying to work out could come to fruition. It was the first time I had heard the Due de Choiseul’s name mentioned and I asked my mother who he was. She told me that he was a brilliant statesman, adviser to the King of France and, most important of all, A Friend to Austria. So much depended on him and we must do nothing to offend him. What he would say if he knew what a little ignoramus I was, she could not imagine. The whole plan would prob ably founder.

She looked at me so severely that I was momentarily down cast. It seemed such a great responsibility; then I felt my mouth turning up at the corners because I could not believe I was all that important. And as I laughed I saw that my mother was trying not to smile, so I put my arms about her neck and said I was sure Monsieur de Choiseui would not mind very much that I was not clever.

She held me tightly against her, and then, putting me from her, looked severe again. She told me about the mighty Sun King who had built

Versailles which, she said, was the greatest palace in the world, and die French Court was the moat cultured and elegant, and that I was the luckiest girl in the world to have a chance of going there. I listened for a while to her accounts of the wonderful gar dens and the beautiful salons which were far more splendid than anything we had in Vienna, but soon, although I was nodding and smiling, I was not really listening.

I suddenly realised that she was saying my governesses were not suitable and I must have other teachers. She wanted me, in a few months’ time, to be talking in French, thinking in French, so that it would be as though I were French.

“But never forget that you are a good German.”

I nodded, smiling.

But you must speak good French. Monsieur de Choiseui writes that the King of France has a veiy sensitive ear for the French language, and that you should have an accent of grace and purity which will not offend aim. You under stand? “

Yes, Mamma. “

“So you will have to work very very hard.”

“Oh yes. Mamma.”

“Antoinette, are you listening?”

“Oh yes. Mamma.” I smiled widely to show her I was taking in every word and giving it serious consideration at least as serious as I was able to manage. She sighed. I knew she was concerned for me, but she was fsr less severe with me than she had been with Caroline.

‘now there is a theatrical company in Vienna a FmicA theatrical company, and I have commanded that two actors shall come here and teach you to speak French as they do at the French Court, and French manners and customs. “

“Actors I’ I cried ecstatically, thinking of the fun we used to have during winters in the Hofburg when my elder brothers and sisters acted plays and danced ballets and sang in opera. Caroline, Ferdinand, Max and I were only allowed to watch, being, as our elder sisters and brothers told us, too young to take part. But how I had longed to!

When I had a chance I would leap on to the stage and dance, until they

turned me off with the constant cry of: “Go away, 21 Anionia. You are too young to play in this. You must watch.” If it was a play or a ballet I could scarcely stopjj myself from joining in, in spite of them. I loved dancing more than anything. So when my mother told me actors were coming I was excited.

They are not here to play with you, Antoinette,” she said severely.

“They will be here to teach you French. You j must study hard.

Monsieur Aufresne will advise you on your pronunciation and Monsieur Sainville will take you in French singing. “

“Yes, Mamma.” My mind was far away on the amateur stages when Maria Christina was so angry because she was not the heroine of the play, or Maria Amalia was watching the Prince Zweibriicken all the time she was saying her lines; and Max and I were Jumping up and down in our seats with excitement.

“And Monsieur Noverre will come to teach you to dance

Oh . Mamma! “

“You have never heard of Monsieur Noverre, but he is the finest dancing master in Europe.”

“I shall love him I’ I cried.

“You must not be so impulsive, my child. Think before you speak. One does not love a dancing master. But you should be grateful that you have the finest teacher in Europe and you must follow his instructions That was a happy time. It helped me to stop thinking of poor Caroline in Naples and that other family crisis when Maria Amalia was sent off to Parma to marry Isabella’s brother. She was twenty-three and he was only a boy not much more than fourteen and Maria Amalia had to say goodbye to the Prince Zweibriicken. She was not meek like Caroline;

she stormed and raged, and I thought she was going to do what no one had dared do before defy my mother. But she went, because it was good for Austria, and we continued our alliance with Parma, so stormy Maria Amalia had this little boy for a husband while Caroline who was only fifteen had the old man from Naples.

But so much was happening to me that I had only time to think of what

was expected of me. My mother was in 22 despair because I could not learn. My actor teachers never forced me to study; and when I spoke French—as I was obliged to all the time—they would smile tenderly and say:

It is charming, charming, Madame Antoinette. Not French, but charming I’ Then we would all laugh together, so the lessons were not unpleasant. But what I enjoyed most were the dancing lessons. Noverre was delighted with me. I could learn the steps easily and he would applaud me almost ecstatically. Sometimes I made a false step and he would stop me and then cry: “No. We will leave it just like that. It is more charming the way you do it.” My teachers were all so kind.

They were constantly paying compliments and never scolding and I thought the French must be the most delightful people in the world.

My complacency did not last. I was closely watched and the Marquis de Durfort, the French Ambassador at our Court, reported everything to Versailles, so it was soon known there that I was being taught by Monsieur Aufresne and Monsieur Sainville. The Dauphine of France to be taught by strolling players! That was unthinkable. Monsieur de Choiseui would see that a suitable tutor was sent without delay. I had my lessons one day and the next my friends were gone. I felt very sad for a while; but I was growing accustomed to having people to whom I had become familiar suddenly whisked away from me.

My mother sent for me and told me that Monsieur de Choiseui was sending me a new tutor. I must forget my old ones and never mention them. I was being greatly honoured because the Bishop of Orleans had found a French tutor for me. He was the Abbe Vermond.

I grimaced. An abbe was going to be very different from my gay actors.

My mother pretended not to see the grimace and gave me one of those homilies about the importance of learning the language and customs of my new country. I was not looking forward to the arrival of the Abbe Vermond.

I need not have worried, because from the moment I saw him I knew that I could cajole him as I had my governesses;

and when I was young I had an insight into character which was

astonishing in one of my superficial nature. I do not 2 mean that I could probe deeply into the motives of those about me. If I had been blessed with that quality I might have saved myself a good deal of trouble; but I could see little quirks of behaviour which I could reproduce rather amusingly (I think I could have been a tolerably good actress) and this enabled me to get what I wanted from people. Most of my sisters and brothers were cleverer than I, but they did not know how to lure my mother from a scolding mood to one of affection, as I did. It may have been because of my childishness, my innocence as they called it; and then, of course, my appearance helped. I was small and fairy-like; in fact the French Ambassador, who was constantly commenting on my appearance to his masters at Versailles, referred to me as ‘a dainty morsel. ” But I don’t think it was entirely this. I do believe that I could, in an extremely superficial way, of course, assess those little traits of character which would enable me to know how far I could go in my dealings with a person. So as soon as I saw the Abbe Vennond I was relieved.

He was learned, naturally, so he was going to be appalled by my ignorance; and he was. What could I do? I could speak Italian and French after a fashion with a great many German expressions to help me along; my handwriting was disgraceful; I knew little of history and nothing of French literature, which Monsieur de Choiseui had said was so necessary. I could sing fairly well; I loved music; and I could dance ‘comme un ange,” as Noverre had said. I also had been an Archduchess from my birth and when I was in my mother’s salon I seemed to know instinctively which people I should speak to and to whom I should merely incline my head. This was inherent. It was true that in the privacy of my own apartments I was sometimes too familiar with my servants and if any of them had any young children I liked to play with them, for I adored children, and when Caroline had said that marriage was hateful I did remind her that marriage meant having children and it must be worth a lot of discomfort to have them.

Although I was more friendly with the servants than the rest of my

family were, because I had this inherent royal demeanour, 24 they rarely took advantage of it. My mother was aware of it, and I believe she thought it better not to try to change it.

The Abbe Vennond was by no means handsome. He seemed old to me, but now I would say he was middle-aged when be came to Vienna. He had been a librarian and it quickly became clear to me that he was delighted to have been selected for this appointment to teach me. I was beginning to be aware of how important I was becoming. I was being trained to become the Dauphine of France who could very quickly become the Queen and this was one of the most elevated positions any woman in the world could hold. It was very different from being Archduchess of Austria.

Sometimes it was too alarming to be thought of-so in accordance with my usual practice, I did not think of it.

Although the Abbe was astonished by my ignorance, he desperately wanted to please me. The actors and my dancing master had wanted to please me because I was an attractive girl; but the Abbe Vennond wanted to please me because one day I might well be Queen of France. I knew the difference.

It became clear soon that he was quite unaccustomed to living in palaces, and although our Schonbrunn and Hofburg would not compare with Versailles, or the other chateaux and palaces of France, he betrayed quite clearly that it was very grand in his eyes. He had been brought up in a village where his father had been a doctor and his brother an accoucheur; he himself had become a priest and would never have reached his present position but for the patronage of the Archbishop.

Aware of this desire to please not only my mother but me, I was quite content to study with the Abbe. We read together and studied for an hour each day which he said was enough because he knew that was all I could endure without becoming bored and irritated. Much later when I talked about those days with Madame Campan, who by then was more than first lady of the bedchamber and had become a friend, she pointed out the harm Vennond had done. But she disliked him and she thought he had

a share of the blame for every25 thing that happened to us. Instead of reading together in our lighthearted way, and his allowing me to break off and give imitations of various people of the Court of whom some remark would remind me, I should have been given a thorough grounding not only in French literature but in the manners and customs of that land. I should, she said, have been made ready for the Court of which I was to be a part. I should have been made to study throughout the day if necessary (no matter how unpopular that made Monsieur Vermond); I should have been taught something of French history and of the people of France; I should have learned something about the rumbling dissatisfaction which long before I went there was making itself felt.

But dear Campan was a natural bos bleu and she hated Vermond and loved me;

moreover, she was desperately anxious for me at that time.

So although I had to substitute a priest for my actors, the exchange was not so bad after all; and the daily hour with Vermond went pleasantly enough.

But I was not left alone. My appearance was under continual discussion. Why? I wondered, thinking of Joseph’s wife with the dumpy figure and the red spots. I had a good complexion, fine and delicately coloured; my hair was abundant; some said it was golden, some russet, some red. Blonde cendre, the French were to call it; and in the shops of Paris they would display gold-coloured silk and call it chevetix de la Reme. But my high forehead caused a great deal of consternation. My mother was disturbed because Prince Starhemburg, our ambassador in France, reported: