The Queen`s Confession (8 page)

we came to Versailles. It was an impressive moment. I had heard the name throughout my childhood spoken in hushed tones.

“This is how it is done at Versailles.” That meant it was absolutely right. Versailles was the talk and envy of every Court in Europe.

At the gates of the Palace, vendors of swords and hats were gathered.

I have heard it said since that Versailles was a great theatre where the play of Royalty at Home was presented There was a great deal of truth in this, for anyone could come to the Salon d’Hercules except dogs, mendicant friars and those newly marked with smallpox providing they had a hat and sword. It was amusing to see those who had never carried a sword before they took one of those for hire at the gates, swaggering into the chateau. Even prostitutes were allowed in, provided they did not ply their trade there or seek clients. But in order to enter the more intimate apartments it was necessary to have been presented at Court. There was, naturally, very little privacy at Versailles. In our Court at Vienna, where everything was conducted in a far simpler manner, I had been accustomed to a certain amount of supervision; but here I was to be on show for most of my day.

The Palace gates opened to let us in and we drove through the line of Guards Swiss and French standing there to do me special honour. I had a strange feeling of excitement mingling with apprehension. I was not given to introspection, but in those moments I had an uneasy notion that I was being carried on to fulfill a strange destiny which, had I wanted to, I could do nothing to avert.

In the royal courtyard the equipages of the princes and nobles were already drawn up. I exclaimed in delight at the horses with their red plumes and blue cockades, for I loved horses almost as much as I loved dogs; they pranced excitedly and they looked very fine, their dancing manes plaited with coloured ribbons.

Before us lay the chateau, the sun shining on its count less windows so that it seemed agliner with diamonds a vast world of its own. And so I

entered the Palace of Versailles, which was to be my home for so many years-in fact until those dark days when I was driven from it.

On my arrival I was taken to a temporary apartment on the ground floor because those apartments usually assigned to the Queens of France were not ready. When I think of Versailles now I remember in detail the rooms I was to occupy after those first six months—those beautiful rooms on the first floor which open out of the Galerie des Glaces. My bedchamber had been used by Marie Therese, wife of Louis XIV, and Marie Leczinska, wife of Louis XV; and from the windows I looked out on the lake—Piece d’eau des Suisses—and the parterre with the two staircases which were called Les Escaliers des Cent Marches, leading to the orangerie, which contained twelve hundred orange trees.

But on that first occasion I was taken to my ground-floor apartment, and there ready for me were those grim ladies-in-waiting with my wedding dress. I gasped with pleasure and my gloomy thoughts were all chased away by the sight of it. I had never before seen such a lovely dress and I was enchanted by its panniers of white brocade.

As soon as I reached my apartment the King came to welcome me to Versailles. What charming manners he had! And with him were two little girls: my sisters-in-law, Clothilde and Elisabeth. Clothilde, the elder, was about eleven, inclined to be too plump, but very friendly;

as for little Elisabeth, I found her delightful: I kissed her and said we should be friends. The King was pleased and whispered to me that the more he saw me the more he fell under my spell. Then he and the little girls left and the ladies-in-waiting fell on me and prepared me for my wedding.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the Dauphin came to lead me to the chapel. It was very hot, and although he sparkled in gold-spangled net, the brilliance of his clothes only made him look more dour. He did not glance at me as he took my hand and led me into the King’s Council Chamber where the procession was forming. I remember noticing the red marble mantelpiece and the smell of pomade;

there was a haze of powder in the air from freshly-powdered

wigs and a frou-frou of silks and brocades as the ladies in their voluminous and elaborate skirts moved across the floor.

The Grand Master of the Ceremonies led the procession, followed by the Dauphin and myself, he holding my hand;

his was warm, clammy, and, I knew, reluctant. I tried to smile at him but he avoided my glance, and immediately behind me walked Madame de Noailles, so I could not whisper to him. Behind her came the Princes of the Blood Royal with their attendants, followed by my young brothers-inlaw and the King; and after them the little Princess, whom I had met for the first time that day, with the aunts and other Princesses of the Court.

Through the Galerie des Glaces and the Grand Apartments we went to the Chapel, where the Swiss Guards were lined up, and as the King entered they blew their fifes and beat their drums to herald his arrival. It did not seem like our chapel at home, because it was elegantly decorated. I was sure my mother would have thought the decor irreverent, for although the white and gold were lovely, the angels looked more voluptuous than holy.

The Dauphin and I knelt on the red velvet edged with gold fringe and the Grand Almoner of France, Monseigneur de la Roche-Aymon, came forward to perform the ceremony

My bridegroom appeared to be growing more and more bored; he fumbled as he put the ring on my finger and I thought he was going to drop the pieces of gold, blessed by the Grand Almoner, which he presented to me as part of-the ceremony.

So we were married. The Archbishop gave us his blessing;

Mass followed; then the organ pealed out and the marriage contract was handed to the King for his signature. After the Dauphin signed his name, it was my turn. As I took the pen my hand was trembling and I wrote my name in an untidy scrawl: Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeanne. A jet of ink shot on to the paper and I felt that everyone was staring at the blot I had made.

Later this too became an ‘omen. ” If blots were omens 58 I had been scattering them rather freely over my exercises for many years. But this was different. This was my marriage contract.

One would have thought that that was enough ceremony for one day. But no! I was now in truth Dauphine of France, and Madame de Noailles conducted me to my apartments, where my first duty was to receive the members of my household and accept the oath of fidelity. So many of them:

my ladies-in-waiting, my first maitre d’h6tel, my almoner, my equerries, my doctors—I even had apothecaries and surgeons—two of the former and four of the latter; although why I, who was in perfect health, should need so many I could not imagine. I had a clock maker and a tapestry-maker, as well as a wig-maker, who was also an attendant of the bath. It was wearying to consider how many people had assembled to wait on me—one hundred and sixty-eight persons were concerned with feeding me alone.

As I accepted the oaths of my cellar men master cooks, my butlers, panders and wine bearers I was half laughing half yawning because it all seemed so absurd. I did not know then that my attitude would be resented. I did not understand the French at all. I was to offend so many before I realised the mistakes I made in those early days—and when I did understand, much damage had been done. What might have been obvious to a wiser person was hidden from me; and that was that this etiquette which I had seen so rigorously regarded in higher circles was carried right through to humbler strata. My attitude of lege rete towards them and their customs was regarded with as much dismay as Madame de Noailles herself had shown me.

I was really longing for it to be over because the next activity was the opening of the King’s wedding present, and having already been made aware of the King’s generosity, my expectations were high. Nor was I disappointed. The King’s present was a toilet set in blue enamel, a needle-case, a box and a fan, all set with diamonds. How I loved those cold stones which could suddenly flash with red, green and blue fire!

I picked up the needle-case and said: “My first task shall be to make something for the King. I will embroider him a waistcoat.”

Madame de Noailles reminded me that I should have to ask His Majesty’s permission first. I laughed at that and said that it was to be a surprise. Then I added that it would take me years to finish it so perhaps I had better tell him what I was doing or he would not know of my gratitude and my plan to use his exquisite present.

She looked exasperated. Poor old Madame de Noaillesi I had already christened her Madame 1”Etiquette, and when I mentioned this to one of my women she had laughed aloud. I was pleased and made up my mind that I was going to make fun of their etiquette whenever I had an opportunity to do so, because it was the only way I could endure it.

The King had also given me various beautifully-wrought articles for my entourage, and while I was admiring these I heard a rumble of thunder.

The brilliant sky had become overcast and I immediately thought of all the poor people whom I had seen on the road from Paris to Versailles and who had come to see the wedding celebrations, for there was to have been a firework display for them as soon as it was dusk; and now, I thought, it is going to rain and it will all be spoilt.

During the storm I was given a little insight into the peculiarities of the aunts. As I went into my apartment I saw’ Madame Sophie talking to one of my women eagerly and in the most friendly fashion. This was strange, because when I had been presented to her she had scarcely spoken to me and I had heard that she rarely uttered a word and that some of her servants had never heard her speak. Yet there i she was, talking intimately to the poor woman, who seemed , quite bewildered and uncertain how to act. As I came forward Madame Sophie took the woman’s hands and squeezed them tenderly. When she saw me she cried, how was I? how did I feel? was I fatigued? There was going ;

to be a horrid storm and she hated them. The words came ‘:

tumbling out. Just then a clap of thunder seemed to shake the palace and Sophie put her arms “bout the woman to whom she had been talking so affectionately and embraced her. It was a most extraordinary scene.

It was Madame Campan who told me later that Madame Sophie was terrified of thunderstorms and when they came her entire personality changed. Instead of walking everywhere at great speed, leering at everyone from side to side—’like a hare,” Madame Campan described it—in order to recognise people without looking at them, she talked to everyone, even the humblest, squeezing their hands and even embracing them when her terror was at its greatest pitch. I was to learn a great deal about my aunts, but like everything else, I learned it too late.

As soon as the storm was over, Sophie behaved as before, speaking to no one, running through the apartments in her odd way. Madame Campan, in whom Aunt Victoire had confided freely over many years, told me that Victoire and Sophie had undergone such terrors in the Abbey of Fontevrault, to which they had been sent as children to be educated, that it had made them very nervous and they retained this nervousness even in maturity. They had been shut in the vaults where the nuns were buried and left there to pray, as a penance; and on one occasion they had been sent to the chapel to pray for one of the gardeners who had gone raving mad. His cottage was next to the chapel, and while they were there alone praying, they had to listen to his bloodcurdling screams.

“We have been given TO paroxysms of terror ever since,” Madame Victoire explained.

Although the thunder died away, the rain continued, and as I had feared, the people of Paris who had come to Versailles to see the fireworks were disappointed. There would be no firework display in such weather. Another bad omen!

In the Galerie des Glaces the King was holding a reception and there we were all assembled. The magnificence of the Galerie on that occasion was breathtaking; later I became accustomed to its splendour.

I remember the candelabra-gilded and glittering—each of which carried thirty candles so that in spite of the darkness it was as light as day. With

the King, my husband and I sat at a table which was covered with green velvet and decorated with gold braid and fringe, and we played cavagnole which fortunately, with great fore sight, I had been taught to play, and I could play this silly sort of game far better than I could write. The King and I smiled at each other over the table while the Dauphin sat sullenly playing as though he despised the game which of course he did. While we played, people filed past to watch us, and I wondered whether we ought to smile at them, but as the King behaved as though they did not exist I took my cue from him. There were among the spectators several uninvited guests, for only those who had received special invitations should have been there, but some of those who had not been driven home by the storm, deter mined to compensate themselves for the loss of the firework display, broke the barriers and forced their way in to mingle with the guests. The ushers and guards found it quite impossible to restrain them, and as no one wanted any unfortunate displays of anger on this occasion, nothing was done.

When the reception in the Galerie des Glaces was over we went for supper to the new opera house which the King had had built to celebrate my arrival in France. As we crossed to the opera house the Swiss Guards, splendid in starched ruffs and plumed caps, together with the bodyguards, equally colourful in their silver-braided coats, red breeches and stockings, made a guard for us.

The real function of this beautiful opera house had beeofl disguised.

A false floor had been set up to cover the seats, and on this was a table decorated with flowers and gleaming glass. With great ceremony we took our places: the King at the head of the table, myself on one side of him, myfl husband on the other, and next to me and for this I wasjB thankful my mischievous younger brother-in-law, the Comtef d’Artois, who was very attentive to me and proclaimed him-J self to be my squire, implying in his outrageous way that he would uphold the honour of France in the place of thej Dauphin at any rime I wished! He was bold, but I had liked him from the moment we met.