The Secret Diary of a Princess a novel of Marie Antoinette

by Clegg, Melanie

  Mama has gone to her freezing cold rooms and shut herself in again with the curtains drawn, just as she did after father's death. Everyone tiptoes around the palace with frightened expressions on their faces. It is as though they fear to wake an ogre.

  Monday, 25th May.

  Josephina complained of a terrible headache and then fainted while she was walking in the gardens. She had to be carried in to her rooms by one of the Swiss guards. Everyone hopes that it is just a migraine and nothing serious like measles or, worse, smallpox.

  'Women sometimes have headaches and faint when they are in an interesting situation,' Carolina whispered to me during evening prayers. 'Perhaps Joseph is going to have another baby.'

  I closed my eyes and prayed very hard that it could be so.

  Tuesday, 26th May.

  Smallpox! We are all to leave for Laxenburg immediately!

  Later, 26th May, Laxenburg.

  Josephina is apparently terribly ill and the court physicians do not expect her to survive. Mama packed us all off to Laxenburg straight away and only she, Joseph and Elizabeth remain in Vienna to watch over Josephina's sick bed. Elizabeth is resigned to this, although she must have had enough of sick beds by now.

  Josepha is very much affected by all of this as she is terrified of smallpox. She keeps saying that it is just like the week when Johanna died, but of course I do not remember.

  Friday, 29th May.

  Josephina died last night on Ascension day. No one but me seems very sad about this. I have been to the cold, empty chapel to pray for her soul and to ask forgiveness for not having been more kind to her while she was alive.

  Poor Joseph is a widower for the second time and once again we are having to get out our mourning clothes. It is not so long ago that we put them aside after Papa's death. They smell of the spicy rosemary and lavender sachets that the maids put between the folds of cloth to deter moths. The scent of mourning.

  Monday, 1st June.

  Joseph has sent word that Elizabeth has fallen ill as well. We have all been to the chapel to pray for her. I knelt on the cool marble floor and remembered how pale and tired she had looked in her black silk dress upon her return from Christina's childbed. Is she well enough to pull through this?

  Carolina says that she heard two of the maids talking about Elizabeth's illness and how she screamed: 'Not my face! Please not my face! Anything but that!' and had to be restrained and given opium when the physicians told her that she had caught smallpox.

  I don't think that I believe her. It can't be true. Can it?

  Wednesday, 3rd June.

  Mama too.

  Josepha is distraught with fear. I must go to her.

  Sunday, 14th June.

  It is all over. Both Mama and Elizabeth have come through the worst and are almost recovered. The whole country is celebrating the news and I can hear the constant, joyous ringing of church bells in the distance as I write this.

  Mama became so ill that at one point she was despaired of and they administered the Last Sacrament to prepare her for death. It hardly seems possible. We have always regarded Mama as entirely invincible, immortal even and yet she was brought so low that we almost lost her.

  Elizabeth was also believed to be on the brink of certain death but soon rallied and recovered. Joseph has written to tell us that she is terribly scarred though and that her face is quite destroyed by the smallpox. Lovely Elizabeth, the most beautiful of us all. It is so unfair.

  Yesterday was my name day but no one remembered except Carolina.

  Thursday, 25th June, Schönbrunn.

  Poor Elizabeth. She was always so proud of her looks. We all assembled in the yellow drawing room, which is dominated by a huge portrait of Mama dressed in gold and silver brocade and waited for her to make her first appearance since her illness. She finally arrived, looking much smaller and thinner than I remembered and leaning very heavily on Joseph's arm. She had covered her face with a thick black veil, and we all held our breath as she put her hands to it and then slowly raised it up over her head.

  Joseph had prepared us for the very worst and told Carolina and me that on no account were we to stare, recoil or appear to be the slightest bit revolted by our sister's appearance on pain of being sent immediately to our rooms and soundly punished. I am glad to be able to say, however, that Elizabeth is not so hideously changed as I had been anticipating but still, she is very badly scarred and all of her beauty is quite gone.

  There was a long silence as none of us know what to say. What can one say at such a time? Elizabeth began to tremble and one solitary tear snaked down her ravaged cheek. 'I know that I look repulsive,' she whispered, picking up her little spaniel and hugging it to her breast, hiding her face in its black and white fur as the animal whimpered and licked her red, scarred cheeks.

  'No, no,' Amalia was the first to come forward and embrace her. 'You are not at all hideous, Lottie. Yes, your face is different now but it is not nearly so bad as it could have been.' She lifted her hands to her lips and kissed them. 'You are still our beautiful Lottie,'

  'I will never be married now,' Elizabeth said with a rueful smile. 'I wonder what will become of me?'

  Joseph coughed. 'Let that be my concern,' he said with a reassuring smile. It is true though; Elizabeth's marital prospects are in ruins now and it would almost certainly be impossible to find her a husband. No one expects the bride in a diplomatic marriage to be stunningly beautiful but at the same time, a badly pockmarked one would be seen as a very bad bargain indeed.

  'That leaves only Josepha, Amalia, me and you now,' Carolina whispered in my ear. 'Marianna doesn't count of course.' Our eldest sister Marianna is lame and often sickly and it has always been understood that she will never be married but will instead remain in Vienna with Mama. She is almost thirty now and the cleverest of us all and both Carolina and I are rather afraid of her, although she is much kinder than Christina and likes to spoil us both with gingerbread cakes and marzipan sweets whenever we see her.

  Josepha is promised to Naples, which means that they want to send one of us to Parma and another to France. I am too young to be sent anywhere yet of course but the King of France is Carolina's godfather so perhaps she will be the one to go?

  France. Imagine that.

  Tuesday, 14th July, I am supposed to be working on my French.

  Josepha is so lucky. The preparations are now well under way for her departure to Naples and she has spent the whole morning with the most fashionable dressmakers in Vienna, who are working on her trousseau. Carolina and I crept in to her drawing room, which was full of chattering, splendidly outfitted dressmakers and hairdressers all fussing around her and asking her to turn this way and that as she was being fitted into the most beautiful pink and gold thread ball gown with lace at the bosom and elbows and several flounces at the hem. I would have been thrilled to wear such a lovely dress but Josepha looked like she was going to burst into tears.

  'I wish that it was me,' Carolina muttered under her breath, staring at all the dozens of beautiful silk, brocade and velvet gowns in delicious pastel shades of pink, blue, yellow and green draped about the room in a state of the most luxurious disorder.

  Thursday, 6th August, late at night.

  More sharp words tonight after we returned from the theatre in Vienna. Amalia called Joseph an imbecile and told him that she hated him and envied his wives the good fortune to have died and thus been able to escape his endless nagging.

  Joseph said nothing but merely shrugged and left the room. He was heard calling and whistling for his dogs and has probably gone for another one of his long walks in the palace grounds. He likes to go and look at the giraffes that live in an enclosure in Papa's menagerie as he claims to find them 'restful'. At least it isn't raining tonight.

  'You must learn to hold your tongue, Amalia,' Elizabeth hissed from behind her veil, which she is still wearing, saying that she can't bear to catch a glimpse of herself in the dozens of mirrors that hang in the palace
. 'Antagonising Joseph is hardly the way to make him look with favour on your match with Karl.' She helped herself to a violet chocolate from a Sévres china bowl on the table next to her. 'You are fortunate that Mama was not here to hear your outburst.'

  'Why should I care?' Amalia said with a shrug, pretending to look unconcerned when actually she was trembling with emotion. 'It is no more than he deserved.'

  Wednesday, 12th August, evening.

  It was I who put a grasshopper down the back of Countess Brandeis' dress during the concert. I am not sorry.

  Friday, 14th August, afternoon.

  Disaster! Mama came to our classroom just now, without any warning whatsoever. If she had only come in half an hour earlier then everything would have been fine and we would have seemed like the best behaved girls in the entire empire but unfortunately she chose to make her entrance at the precise moment that Carolina stuck her tongue out at Countess Brandeis, while I giggled encouragingly.

  'Oh no!' Carolina's involuntary cry rang out in the sudden and awful hush that fell upon the room.

  'Oh no indeed.' Mama swept inside, carrying her favourite pug in the crook of her arm and looking at us both with that particular mixture of disapproval and exasperation that we know so well as she sat down heavily behind the Countess' wooden, book strewn desk. 'I am ashamed of you both and of you in particular Carolina for not only behaving so monstrously towards the Countess but also for setting such a dismal example for your little sister.'

  'I am very sorry, Mama.' Carolina hung her head low. 'I will try harder in future.'

  Mama sighed and spread out her white, soft hands, which had once gleamed with diamonds and richly coloured jewels but which now bore only her plain gold wedding ring and heavy ruby coronation ring. 'I am not so sure that there will be a future.' We both stared at her open mouthed, not knowing what she meant. 'I am considering separating you both so that you will live and have your lessons apart.'

  'No, Mama! Oh no!' Carolina took my hand and squeezed it tightly as I gulped back my tears. 'You cannot separate us! It would be very unkind indeed!' I stared at my sister, torn between admiration for her great courage and also horror that she should speak to Mama in such a way. 'Please, we will try harder to be good in future, only please do not make us live apart!'

  'I do not know if that will be possible, Carolina,' Mama replied. To my great surprise, she did not seem at all angry with Carolina but instead addressed her calmly as she might have done Josepha or Amalia. 'I do not at all approve of your wayward behaviour both in the school room or within the court. I do not like the way that you make fun of the ladies of the court and am especially displeased to learn that you have fallen into the habit of hiding behind doors in order to eavesdrop on private conversations that are no concern of yours.' Carolina blushed bright red at this. 'The archduchesses of Austria must be above idle gossip,' Mama continued with a very severe look at us both. 'The archduchesses of Austria must never, ever forget that they exist on a public stage at all times and that all eyes are upon them.'

  'Yes, Mama,' we both chorused. We had heard it many times before. Archduchesses of Austria must not run like hoydens at state ceremonies. Archduchesses of Austria must not slurp their soup. Archduchesses of Austria must always be happy, gracious, kind and wise. Archduchesses of Austria must never be seen to fail.

  'You are obliged to obey me in all things and you will obey me now,' Mama said, still looking at us both unsmilingly. 'Never, ever forget that your destiny is to further the interests of the Hapsburg dynasty and of our country. You may not find your lessons interesting or realise why it is important to behave properly and with decorum at all times but one day you will find yourself on an even greater stage than Vienna, acting as ambassadress for our family at foreign courts which may be hostile to us and where such matters will be judged.' She leaned forward then. 'Never forget that if you are judged and found to be wanting, then Austria also is found wanting. It is a great and awful responsibility that you bear.'

  Carolina looked thoroughly crushed. 'I am sorry, Mama,' she whispered. 'I really will try harder from now on.'

  Mama smiled then. 'I sincerely hope so.' She rose from the chair and nodded in a friendly way at the Countess. 'I have great hopes for both of you.' Frustratingly, she did not tell us what those hopes were but there was just one thought in both our minds at that moment: France.

  'And are we to be separated?' Carolina asked in a shaking voice as Mama prepared to leave us again. I was leaning against the wall, feeling weak and shaky as I always do after an interview with our energetic and formidable mother.

  'We shall see but for now you may remain as you are.'

  Friday, 28th August, the Hofburg.

  Amalia and Joseph have reached an understanding of sorts. Carolina and I were playing hide and seek in the yellow and white drawing room that lies next to Mama's bedchamber when Amalia and Joseph came in, rowing as usual about Karl. Carolina and I opened our eyes very wide at each other and swiftly slipped behind a large painted Chinese screen providentially placed in the corner of the room. There was a silence broken by the sound of soft weeping and then we heard Joseph telling Amalia that he would give anything to spare her the same sorrow that he himself has suffered as a result of being forced into a marriage that he did not want.

  'Then why can you not arrange for me to be married to Karl?' Amalia asked him.

  'You know that it is not so simple as all that.'

  'Of course it is simple!' Amalia pursued and I could just imagine her expression as she said this; her eyes wide and bright and the colour rich and high upon her cheekbones just as she always looked when she was arguing with someone. 'Simply tell Mama that you order it and then it will be done.'

  'Amalia, Amalia.' We could hear Joseph's steps as he paced the room and I sensed that he was shaking his head. 'You know that it is not as easy as all that.'

  'For God's sake, Joseph!' Amalia was crying again now. 'You are the Emperor here now! Is there no way that you can make Mama see reason? Christina was allowed to marry whoever she pleased so why cannot I?'

  'Ah, Christina.' Joseph's voice was flat and he stopped pacing. 'I wondered how long it would be before we came to her.'

  'You must admit that it is entirely unfair,' Amalia said. I peeped around the screen and saw that she had her back to us and was leaning against the cream marble mantelpiece, staring at herself in the large mirror placed above it. Joseph went to her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

  'I wish you would believe me when I say that I wish it was in my power to help you,' he said sadly.

  Wednesday, 23rd September, late at night, it is cold and my teeth are chattering.

  Mama has decided that Josepha is too frivolous and worldly and has ordered her to spend the night with her in prayer at the tomb of poor, dead Josephina in the Kapuzinergruft before she is married and leaves for Naples. Apparently she thinks this will make her think more about her immortal soul and less about the lovely dresses and dozens of pairs of shoes that she has acquired lately.

  Joseph is furious (we all suspect that Josepha is his favourite) but can do nothing to change Mama's mind. Even Christina has asked her to reconsider her decision but she remains adamant.

  Josepha hasn't stopped crying since she was told and is beside herself with fear. 'I can't bear it,' she keeps saying over and over. 'I can't go there. I will die if they make me do it.'

  'I am glad it isn't me,' Carolina whispered under cover of Herr Gluck playing the harpsichord to us all after dinner. 'I would go mad if I had to stay in that spooky crypt with Mama talking to father all night.'

  'Do you think she will make us all do it before we leave?' I said, casting a furtive, frightened glance at Mama, who was sitting at the front, nodding her head appreciatively to the music.

  Carolina gave a shudder. 'I hope not.' She looks at me with wide open eyes. 'Imagine the horror.'

  I don't want to. Poor Josepha.

  Wednesday, 7th October, a cold nigh
t.

  Mama and Josepha left after dinner, which was a very sad, silent meal. Mama seemed not at all perturbed by the prospect of a night spent praying amongst the gloomy remains of our ancestors and ate her dumpling soup and roast chicken and apfelstrudel with relish but Josepha was unable to eat a single morsel and cried silently until we all got up and went into the Yellow drawing room.