The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  I caught a fleeting expression on the face of several people when the Prince said those words—almost a sneer, it seemed. I wondered briefly what it meant; then I was bending my head to receive the blessing.

  I was to remember that man later—my enemy. My dearest Campan believed that his follies and his licence played a great part in bringing me where I am today. But on that occasion he was merely a handsome young man who had aken the place of a gouty old one, and I thought no more of him as we left Strasbourg and made our way across France.

  Our progress was fete after fete. I grew tired of passing under triumphal arches, of listening to my praises sung except when they were sung by children: then I enjoyed them. It was all very strange, and I was often lonely in spile of being surrounded by crowds. The only people with me ;

  whom I had known during my life in Vienna were the Abbe Vermond, who they had decided should stay with me j for a while. Prince Starhemburg and the Comte de Mercy-Argenteau all serious old men, and I longed for companions of my own age. My ladies-in-waiting I could well have done without. There was no one, simply no one, to chat with. ” to laugh with.

  On went the cavalcade with two wagons in from which contained my bedroom furniture. In each place where we stayed the night they would unload and the bed and stools and armchairs would be taken out and put into a room which had been prepared for me. Through Saveme, Nancy, Commercy, to Rheims, the town where the French crowned their Kings and Queens.

  “I hope,” I said with great feeling, ‘that it will be long before I come to this town again. “

  Being at Rheims had reminded me that I could at any time be Queen of France, for my new grandfather was an old man of sixty. I felt alarmed at the thought. Many times during that journey a cold shiver would creep over me; but I dismissed my apprehensions and it all seemed like a game once more.

  From Rheims to Chalons and on . to the forest of Compiegne.

  It was the fourteenth of May when I first saw my husband. I had been travelling for nearly three weeks and my mother’s Court seemed remote.

  I wished now that I knew a little more about my new family I tried to find out, but I could discover nothing from Madame de Noailles, nor from any of my ladies-in-waiting. Their replies were always conventional U and a little chilling, as though they were reminding me that it was not etiquette to ask questions. Etiquette! It was a word which was already beginning to weary me.

  It was a brilliant day; the budding trees were breaking into leaf, the birds were in full song, and the glories of nature seemed as though they were trying in vain to compete with the extravagance of the court scene.

  I was aware that the King of France—and with him my bridegroom—could not be far away, for the trumpets had started and the musketeers were beating their drums. It was a tremendously exciting moment. We were on the edge of the forest and the trees were like a beautiful back cloth there ahead of me I saw the gay uniform of guards and the bright livery of servants. I saw men and women more gorgeously attired than I had ever seen before. And I was aware of the most magnificent figure of them all, standing there . waiting for me. I knew immediately by his clothes, but chiefly by his bearing, that he was the King of France. He had that dignity, that grace, that complete kingliness which he must have inherited from his great-grandfather. Ie Roi Soleil.

  My carriage had stopped, and I alighted immediately, which shocked Madame de Noailles, who I knew, was undoubtedly thinking that etiquette demanded I wait until someone came forward to conduct me to the King. It simply did not occur to me to wait. For three weeks I had been starved of affection, and this was my dear grandfather who, my mother assured me, would care for me and love me and be my friend. I believed that, and I wanted nothing so much as to throw myself into his arms and tell him how lonely I was.

  A man was coming towards me—a very elegant man with a rosy laughing face which reminded me of a pug dog I had once had. I smiled at him as I ran past him. He seemed astonished but he was smiling too; and I discovered almost immediately afterwards that he was the much-talked-of Due de Choiseui whom the King had sent to bring me to him.

  But I needed no one to take me to the King. I went straight to him and knelt.

  He raised me up and kissed me on either cheek. He said:

  “But … you are beautiful, my child.” His voice was melodious, far more beautiful than that of the Prince de Rohan; and his eyes were warm and friendly. “Your Majesty is gracious….” He laughed and held me against his magnificent coat which was decorated with the most beautiful gems I had ever seen. f “We are happy that you have come to us at last,” he went on. When we looked into each other’s face and he smiled, I lost my fear and that hateful sense of loneliness. He was old but one did not think of age in his presence. Regal yet kind, his manners were perfect. I flushed remembering my. own imperfect French. I so wanted to please him. He embraced me again as though he really felt affectionate towards me. His eyes studied me intently from head to foot. I did not know then of his penchant for young girls of my age but thought all this kindness, all this interest and flattering attention was because he had taken a particular fancy time.

  Then he turned his head slightly and a boy came for ward. He was tall and ungainly; he shifted his gaze from my face as though he were not the least bit interested in me, and his indifference, after the warmth of the King’s greeting struck me almost like a blow. The feelings he roused; in me were so mixed that I could not attempt to analyse them, for this was my husband. He was gorgeously dressed,!

  but how different he looked from his grandfather! He did not seem to know what to do with his hands. The King said: “Madame la Dauphine honours and. delights us with her presence.” The boy looked sheepish and stood there saying nothing,! doing nothing except look at the tips of his boots. I thought I would break through his indifference ‘so I took a step closer to him and held my face up to be kissed, for since the King had kissed me, why should I not kiss my bridegroom? He looked startled, recoiled, then made a move towards me as though he were forcing himself to some distasteful task. I felt his cheek against mine, but his lips did not touch my skin as the King’s had.

  I turned to the King, and although he gave no sign that he thought the Dauphin’s conduct strange, I had always been quick to grasp people’s reactions, and I knew he was exasperated. I thought blankly: The Dauphin does not like me. Then I remembered Caroline who had cried so much because they had married her to an ugly old man. But I was neither old nor ugly. The King himself thought me charming;

  most people thought me charming. Even old Kaunitz had thought there was nothing in my appearance to spoil the match.

  The King had slipped his arm through mine and was presenting me to three of the strangest old ladies I had ever seen. These were my aunts, he told me: Adelaide, Victoire and Sophie. I thought them all very ugly indeed, but more than that—strange. They reminded me of the old witches in a play I had once seen. The eldest of them, who was obviously the leader, stood half a pace in front of the others; the second was plump and had the kindest face of the three; and the third was the ugliest. But they were my aunts and I must try to love them, so I went first to Madame Adelaide and kissed her. She then made a sign for Madame Victoire to step half a pace forward, which she did, and I kissed her. Then it was Madame Sophie’s turn. They looked like two soldiers on parade, Adelaide being the commanding officer. I wanted to laugh but I knew I dared not. Then I thought what fun it would have been if I could have gone to my room in the Hofburg with Caroline and told her about these new relations of mine, imitating them all in turn. I could have acted each of the three weird sisters—and the Dauphin.

  The King said I should meet the rest of the family later, and, taking my hand, he himself helped me into his carriage, where I sat between him and the Dauphin. The trumpets blew and the drums rolled and we started on the road towards the town of Compiegne where we were to stay the night before we continued our journey to Versailles.

  The King talked to me as we rode
along and his soft voice was like a caress. He did caress me too, patting my hand and stroking it. He told me he loved me already, and that I was his dear granddaughter and he counted this one of the happiest days he had ever known because it had brought me into the family.

  I felt the laughter bubbling up inside me. I had been dreading this meeting for I had always heard this man spoken of with awe. He was the greatest Monarch in Europe, my mother had said. I had imagined him stem and forbidding, and here he was, holding my hand, behaving almost like a lover, saying such charming things as if I had done him a great honour by coming to marry his grandson—not as if, as my mother had impressed on me, a great honour had been done to me. While the King chatted and behaved as if he were my bridegroom, the Dauphin sat beside me sullenly silent.

  Later I was to learn a great deal about this King who was always charmed by youth and innocence, qualities which I undoubtedly possessed. He might have been wishing I was his bride, for he could never see a pretty young girl without contemplating seducing her. As for the Dauphin, he could never see a young girl without wanting to run away from her; but my imagination was adding drama and producing a situation which did not exist. It was not, as I wildly believed, that the King had fallen in love with me; nor that the Dauphin hated me. It was nothing so dramatic. I had a great deal to learn of the ways of the French in general, and in particular of the family of which I was now a member.

  When we arrived at Compiegne the King told me he wished to present me to some of his cousins, the Princes of the Blood Royal. I replied that I enjoyed meeting all people and that the members of my new family were of particular interest to me.

  “And you will be of particular interest to them,” he replied with a smile.

  “They will be charmed and delighted and we shall have them all envying poor Berry here.”

  The Dauphin, who was the Due de Berry, half turned away from us as though to say they were welcome to me; at which the King pressed my hand gently and whispered: “He is overcome by his good fortune, poor Berry!”

  I was taken to the Ring’s apartment, and there I met the Princes, the first of whom was the Due d’Orleans, a grandson of the King’s uncle;

  then there was the Due de Penthievre, grandson of Louis XIV (I later heard that his grandmother was Madame de Montespan, who had been that King’s mistress), and after that the Princes of Conde and Cond. They all seemed very old and uninteresting; but there were some young members of the family who were presented to me that day, and one of these was the Princesse de Lamballe. She was twenty-one, which seemed old to me, but I was immediately interested in her and felt I could be fond of her, for I was desperately looking for a friend in whom I could confide. She was already a widow and had had a very unhappy marriage, which fortunately for her lasted only two years. Her husband had become ‘ill’ after a love affair, I was told, for he had led a very wild life and he subsequently died. Poor Marie Therese! At the time of our meeting she was obliged to be the constant companion of her father-in-law, who was eccentric and mourned all the time for his son; all he cared about besides that was his collection of watches, and when he was not in a state of melancholy over the death of his son, he was clucking over his watches, winding them, displaying them to anyone whom he could bore with them. At least if I was apprehensive I was excited. The Princesse de Lamballe’s life was just one morbid journey from castle to castle with her peculiar father-in-law and his watches. Yet I found comfort in our meeting, and the moment when she was presented to me stands out clearly in my mind even now, among all those introductions which seemed to go on for hours and hours.

  Everything was done with the utmost ceremony—even the trying-on of my wedding ring. They had to be sure that they had one which would fit, so the Master of Ceremonies came to my apartment accompanied by the King. With them came the Princes of the Blood Royal and the aunts, although the sole purpose of this little ceremony was that I should try on twelve rings to see which fitted me. When it had been found it was taken from me to be put on my finger by the Dauphin. The King embraced me and took his leave; and then, one by one, in order of precedence, the others did the same.

  I was tired out and longed for my bed, and as my women prepared me I began to think of the Dauphin, who seemed so different from everyone else. He had scarcely spoken to me; he had scarcely looked at me; and I could hardly remember what he looked like. Yet I could remember the face of the King and that of the Princesse de Lamballe perfectly

  “Madame is thoughtful,” said one of my women.

  “She is thinking of the Dauphin,” whispered another coyly.

  I smiled at the two girls; they looked gay, as though they were rather pleased to escape from the supervision of Madame de Noailles and my severe ladies-in-waiting.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “I was.” And as I spoke I seemed to hear my mother’s voice: Do not be too familiar with subordinates. ” But I must talk to someone. I longed for a little conversation which was not governed by etiquette.

  “It’s natural for a bride to think of her bridegroom.”

  I smiled encouragingly.

  “He will sleep under a different roof tonight.” The girl’s voice rose on a giggle.

  “Why?”

  They smiled at me in the indulgent way people did at home in Vienna.

  “Because he could not be under the same roof as the bride until the wedding night. He will stay in the house of the Comte de Saint-Plorendn, the Minister and Secretary of State of the King’s Household.”

  “It’s interesting,” I said suppressing a yawn.

  I lay in my bed and went on thinking about the Dauphin. I wondered whether he was thinking about me, and if so, what his thoughts might be.

  Years later when I came to know him very well I saw what he had written in his journal on that night. It was characteristic of him and it told nothing (but by that time I had learned his secret and I knew the

  reason for his strange conduct towards me). It simply said: “Interview with Madame la Dauphine.”

  The next day we were to leave for the Chateau de la Muette, where we were to spend one night before going to Versailles the next day.

  As we set out I was immediately aware that something was wrong. In the first place the King did not accompany us. He had gone on ahead. I wondered why. I learned later that it was because the road to Versailles from La Muette passed Paris, and the King never rode in state near or through his capital if he could help it. He had no intention, on an occasion like this, of receiving the hostile silence of the people. This is why I had seen those cynical looks on the people’s faces in Strasbourg Cathedral when the Prince de Rohan referred to him as Louis the Well-Beloved. When he was a young man he had been called that; but it was a different matter now. The people of Paris hated their King. They were poor, often short of bread, and they were furious because he squandered large sums of money on his palaces and his mistresses while they went hungry.

  But this was not the matter which was causing great uneasiness among my friends. Mercy was in a state of uncertainty and had dispatched couriers to Vienna. The Abbe looked worried and so did Starhemburg. I wished they would, tell me what was wrong but of course they did not.

  I had noticed, however, the looks of sly amusement on the faces of some of my women. Something was going to happen at La Muette.

  On the way we called at the Carmelite Convent of St. Denis where I was to be presented to Louise, the fourth aunt—youngest sister of Adelaide, Victoire and Sophie. I was interested in Louise; she was different from the other three, and although I should have been sorry for her because she limped painfully and was pitiably deformed, with one shoulder higher than the other, I wasn’t, because she seemed so much happier than her three sisters. Dignified and, in spite of her Abbess’s habit, behaving like a royal personage, she was very friendly and seemed to sense that I wanted to talk to somebody, so she asked me many questions and talked about herself too, telling me how much happier she was at the convent tha
n in the royal palaces, and that treasures on earth were not found in palaces. She had known this for a long time and had made up her mind that she wished to live her life in seclusion as an expiation of Sin.

  I could not imagine that she had been very sinful and my expression must have conveyed this, for she said rather fiercely: “My own sins and those of another.”

  Questions trembled on my lips. What other? But when ever I was about to ask some indiscreet question which would no doubt bring an interesting answer, I would see my mother’s face warning me against any lighthearted indiscretions, and pause. Then it would be too late.

  As we came nearer to La Muette, Mercy’s preoccupation grew deeper. I heard him whisper to Starhemburg: “There is nothing nothing we can do.

  That he should have chosen this time it is inconceivable. “

  My attention was caught by the people who lined the route, particularly as we drew nearer to Paris. We did not enter the city but wound our way round it and the cheers were deafening. So I smiled and inclined my head as I had been taught to do; and the people shouted that I was mignon ne and I forgot all about Mercy’s worries because I always enjoyed this kind of applause so much.

  I was rather sorry when we came to La Muette. The King was already there and waiting to present my brothers-in-law to me. The Comte de Provence was fourteen years old in fact he was sixteen days younger than I was and much more handsome than the Dauphin, but inclined to be a little plump, like his elder brother. He was more lively, though, and he seemed very interested in me. His brother, the Comte d’Artois, was a year or so younger than I, but there was a lively knowledgeable look in his eyes which made him seem older than his two brothers more worldly-wise, I mean. He took my hand and kissed it lingeringly, while his bold eyes were very admiring, and as I was always responsive to admiration I preferred Artois of the two brothers—perhaps of the three. But I was not going to bring the Dauphin into the comparison.

  In fact I was trying not to think of the Dauphin, because to do so bewildered me a great deal and depressed me a little. In fact I did not know what to think of him and I was certainly afraid to think too deeply; so I successfully managed to put him from my mind. I could always live in the present, and there was plenty to occupy my thoughts.