The Queen`s Confession

by Виктория Холт

  The aunts were told that they should leave the sickroom immediately, but Adelaide drew herself up to her full height and looking her most regal demanded of the doctors: “Do you presume to order me from my father’s bedchamber? Take care that I shall not dismiss you. We remain here. My father needs nurses and who should look after him but his own daughters?”

  There was no dislodging them and they remained—actually sharing with Madame du Barry the task of looking after him, although they contrived not to be in the apartment when she was there. I could not but admire them all. They worked to save his life, facing terrible danger; and they were as devoted as any nurses could be. I have never forgotten the bravery of my Aunt Adelaide at that time—Victoire and Sophie too, of course: but they automatically obeyed then-sister. My husband and I were not allowed to go near the sickroom. We had become too important.

  The days seemed endless, like a vague dream. Each morning we arose wondering what change in our lives the day would bring. The fact that the King was suffering from smallpox could not be kept from him. He demanded a mirror to be brought to him and when he looked into it he groaned with horror. Then he was immediately calm.

  “At my age,” he said, ‘one does not recover from that disease. I must set my affairs in order. ” Madame du Barry was at his bedside but he shook his head sadly at her. It grieved him more than anything to part with her, but she must leave him … for her own sake and for his.

  She left reluctantly. Poor Madame du Barry! The man who had stood between her and her enemies was fast losing his strength. The Ring kept asking for her after she had left and was very desolate without her. I felt differently towards her from that time. I wished I had been kinder to her and spoken to her now and then. How sad she must be feeling now, and her sorrow would be mingled with fear, for what would become of her when her protector was gone?

  He must have loved her dearly, for while his priests were urging him to confess he kept putting it off, for once he had confessed he would have to say a last goodbye to her, for only thus could he receive remission of his sins; and all the time he must have been hoping that he would recover and be able to send for her to come back to him.

  But in the early morning of the 7th of May the King’s condition worsened so much that he decided to send for a priest.

  From my windows I could see that the people of Paris had come to Versailles in their thousands. They wanted to be on the spot at the moment when the King died. I turned shuddering from the window; to me it seemed such a horrible sight, for sellers of food and wine and ballads were camping in the gardens and it was more like a holiday than a sacred occasion. The Parisians were too realistic to pretend that they were mourning; they were rejoicing because the old reign was passing and they hoped for so much from the new.

  In the King’s apartments the Abbe Maudoux waited upon him; I heard the remark passed that it was the first time for over thirty years when he had been installed as the King’s confessor that he had been called to duty. In all that time the King had had no time for confession. How, it was asked, will Louis XV ever be able to recount all his sins in time?

  I wished that I could have been with my grandfather then. I should have liked to tell him how much his kindness had meant to me. I would have told him that I should never forget our first meeting in Fontainebleau when he had behaved so charmingly to a frightened little girl. Surely such kindness would be in his favour; and although he had lived scandalously, none of those who had shared his debauchery had been forced to do so, and many had been fond of him. Madame du Barry had shown by her conduct not merely that he was her protector but that she loved him. She had left him now, not because she feared his disease but in order f to save his soul.

  News was brought to our apartment of what was happening in the chamber of death. I heard that when the Cardinal de la Roche Aymon entered in full canonicals bringing with him the Host, my grandfather took his nightcap from his head and tried in vain to kneel in the bed, for he said:

  “If my God deigns to honour such a sinner as I am with a visit, I must receive him with respect.”

  Poor Grandfather, who had been supreme all his life a King from five years old now would be denuded of all his worldly glory and forced to face one who was a greater King than he could ever have been.

  But the high dignitaries of the Church would not allow absolution merely in return for a few muttered words. This was no ordinary sinner; this was a King who had openly defied the laws of the Church and he must make public avowal of his sins; only thus could they be forgiven.

  There was a ceremony in which we must all take part that his soul might be saved. We formed a procession, led by the Dauphin and myself with Provence, Artois, and their wives following us. We all carried lighted candles and followed the Archbishop from the chapel to the death chamber, lighted tapers in our hands, solemn expressions on our faces, and in my heart, and that of the Dauphin at least, a sorrow and a great dread.

  We stood outside the door but the aunts went inside; we could hear the tones of the priests and the King’s responses; and we could see through the open door that Holy Viaticum was being given to him.

  The Cardinal de la Roche Aymon then came to the door and said to all who were assembled outside:

  “Gentlemen, the King instructs me to tell you that he asks God’s pardon for his of fences and the scandalous example be has set his people, and that if his health is restored to him he will devote himself to repentance, to religion, and the welfare of his people.”

  As I listened I knew that the King had given up all hope of life, for while he lived he would cling to Madame du Barry, and what he had said meant that he had dismissed her for the time that was left to him.

  I heard him say in a slurred voice so different from the clear and musical tones which had enchanted me on my arrival:

  I wish I had been strong enough to say that myself

  That was not the end. It would have been better if it had been. But there were a few days of horror left. My fastidious grandfather ! I hope he did not know what happened to the handsome body which had once charmed so many. Putrefaction set in before death and I heard that the stench from the bedchamber was horrible. Servants who must wait on him retched and fainted in that room of horror. His body was blackened and swollen, but he could not die.

  Adelaide and her sisters refused to leave him. They performed the most menial tasks; they were with him throughout the days and nights, and they were on the verge of exhaustion, but still they would not allow anyone to take their places.

  My husband and I were not permitted to go near the sickroom, but we must remain at Versailles until the King was dead.

  As soon as he expired we should leave Versailles with all speed, for the place was a hotbed of infection. Already some of the people who had crowded in the Oeil du Boeuf when the King had been brought over from the Trianon had taken sick and died. In the stables everything was c? ready for us. We were to leave for Choisy the moment the King died; but etiquette insisted that we be at Versailles until that moment. In one of the windows a candle was burning; and this was meant to be a signal. When the flame was snuffed out that would be a sign to all that the King’s life was over. i) My husband had taken me to a small room and there we y sat in silence. ‘:j Neither of us spoke. He had imbued me with his sense of foreboding. He had always been serious, but never quite so much as at this time. And then suddenly as we sat there we heard a great tumult. We half rose, looking at each other. We had no idea what it could be. There were voices—raised, shouting, it seemed—and this overwhelming clamour. The door was flung open suddenly. People were running in, surrounding us.

  Madame de Noailles was the first to reach me. She knelt and taking my hand kissed it.

  She was calling me: “Your Majesty.”

  Now I understood; I felt the tears rushing to my eyes. The King was dead; my poor Louis was King of France and I was the Queen.

  They pressed in on us as though it were a joyful occasion. Louis turn
ed to me and I to him.

  He took my hand and spontaneously we knelt together.

  We are too young,” he whispered; and we seemed to be praying together:

  “Oh God, guide us, protect us. We are too young to govern!“

  Flattery and Reprimands

  I marvel at the design of Pate which has chosen me, the youngest of your daughters, to be Queen of the finest Kingdom in Europe.

  MARIE ANTOINETTE TO MARIA THERESA

  You are both so young and the burden which has been placed on your shoulders is very heavy. I am distressed that this should be so.

  MARIA THERESA TO MARIE ANTOINETTE

  “Petite Reine de vingt ans, Vous, qui traites si mal les gens, Vous repasserez la barriere …”

  SONG BEING SUNG IN PARIS A MONTH AFTER MARIE ANTOINETTE’S ACCESSION TO THE THRONE

  As soon as the King was dead there was no reason why anyone should remain any longer at Versailles. Our carriage had been waiting for days so there was nothing to delay us. We were to leave at once for Choisy.

  The aunts, in view of the fact that they had been in close contact with the late King and were therefore undoubtedly infectious, were to live in a house by themselves as it was considered of the greatest importance that my husband should remain in good health.

  We were all very solemn as we rode away from Versailles. In our carriage were Provence and Artois with their wives, and we said very little. I kept reminding myself that I should never see my grandfather again and that now I was a Queen. We were all truly grief-stricken, and it would have needed very little to set us all sobbing. Louis was the most unhappy of us all and I remembered that remark of his about feeling that the universe was about to fall upon him. Poor Louis ! He looked as though it were already falling.

  But in truth how superficial our grief was! We were all so young.

  Nineteen is very young to be a Queen and a frivolous one at that.

  Perhaps I make excuses; but I could never sustain an emotion for long particularly grief. Marie Therese made some comment and her odd pronunciation set my lips twitching. I looked at Artois he was smiling too. We couldn’t help it. It seemed so funny. And then suddenly we were laughing. It may have been hysterical laughter, but it was laughter none the less; and after that the solemnity of death seemed to have receded.

  They were busy days at Choisy, particularly for Louis. He had put on new stature, was more dignified and, although modest, he had the air of a King. He was so earnestly eager to do what he believed to be right, so deeply conscious of his great responsibility.

  I wished that I had been cleverer so that I could have been of some use to him; but I did immediately think of the Due de Choiseui, who should be recalled. He had been a friend of mine and a friend of Austria and I was certain that my mother would wish me to use my influence with my husband to have him brought back.

  It was indeed a new man I discovered at Choisy, for when I mentioned the Due de Choiseui a stubborn expression crossed his face.

  I never cared for the fellow,” he said.

  “He was responsible for making our marriage.”

  He smiled at me tenderly.

  “That would have come about without him.”

  “He is very clever, I have heard.”

  “My father did not like him. There was a rumour that he was involved in his death.”

  “Involved in your father’s death, Louis? But how?”

  “He poisoned him.”

  “You can’t believe that! Not of Monsieur de Choiseui I’ ” At least he failed in his duty to my father. ” He smiled at me.

  “You should not concern yourself with these matters.”

  “I want to help you, Louis.”

  But he just smiled. I heard that he had once said: “Women taught me nothing when I was young. All that I learned was from men. I have read little history but I have learned this mistresses and even lawful wives have often ruined states. “

  He was too kind to say this directly to me, but he held firmly to this belief.

  The aunts, however, had some influence with him. Although they occupied a separate establishment they were allowed to visit us, which they did. They could tell the King so much of the past, they said; and he seemed to believe them, for he listened.

  There was much coming and going between Choisy and Paris. Everyone was wondering how much influence the aunts would have with the new King, how much influence I should have, and whom the King would choose for his mistress. That made me want to laugh. Had they forgotten that a wife was too much of a burden for the King, let alone a mistress? That reminded me, of course, that our distressing and perplexing problem would now be more pressing than ever.

  Louis at the moment was concerned with choosing a man who could advise him in the conduct of affairs, and he believed that he needed someone of great experience to make up for his own lack. His first thought was for Jean Baptist d’Arouville Machault, who had been Comptroller General of Finances until the antagonism of Madame de Pompadour had brought him down. He was certainly experienced, and it was due to the schemes of the King’s mistress that he had fallen all of which endeared him to Louis, who wrote summoning him to Choisy, for he was very eager to begin working for his country.

  While he was writing the letter the aunts arrived, and I was with my husband when they were announced. Adelaide declared that she had come at once to her dear nephew’s aid, for she was sure she could give the information he must be in need of.

  “You see, dear Berry … Ha, I must not say Berry now, Your Majesty. I have lived so long and so close to your grandfather … and I know so much that can be of use to you.” She included me in her anile and I was so full of admiration for the manner in -which she nursed her father that I felt a rush of affection for her.

  “You are sending for Machault. Oh no … no … no …* She put her ear close to the King’s and whispered, ” Maurepas. Maurepas is the man. “

  “Is he not somewhat old?”

  Ah, Your Majesty is somewhat young. ” She laughed shrilly.

  “That is what makes it such an excellent arrangement. You have the vigour and vitality of youth. He has the experience of age. Maurepas,” she whispered.

  “A most able man. Why, when he was twenty-four he controlled the King’s house hold as well as the Admiralty.”

  “But he lost his posts.”

  “Why? … why? Because he was no friend of Pompadour. That was our father’s mistake. However able a man, if one of his women did not care for him it was the end.”

  She went on enumerating the merits of Maurepas, and eventually my husband decided to destroy the letter he had written to Machault and instead wrote to Maurepas. I was there when he wrote the letter which seems to convey so much of his feeling at that time.

  “Amidst the natural grief which overwhelms me and which I share with the entire kingdom, I have great duties to fulfill. I am the King; the word speaks of many responsibilities. Alas, I am only twenty [my husband was not even that; he had three months to wait for his twentieth birth day] and I have not the necessary experience. I have been unable to work with the ministers, as they were with the late King during his illness. My certainty of your honesty and knowledge impels me to ask you to help me. You will please me if you come here as soon as possible.”

  No King of France ever ascended the throne with a greater desire for self-abnegation than my husband.

  Having secured the appointment of Maurepas the aunts were triumphant, believing they were going to be the power behind the throne. They watched me suspiciously and I knew that when I was not present they warned the King against allowing his frivolous little wife to meddle.

  He was so good, he immediately had two hundred thousand francs distributed to the poor; he was greatly concerned about the licentiousness of the Court and determined to abolish it. He asked Monsieur de Maurepas how he could set about bringing a state of morality to a court where morals had been lax for so long.

  “There is but one way. Sire,
” was Maurepas’s answer.

  “It is one Your Majesty must take to set a good example. In most countries—and in particular in France—where the Sovereign leads, the people will follow.”

  My husband looked at me and smiled, very serenely, very confidently.

  He would never take a mistress. He loved me; and if he could only become a normal man, we would have children and ours would be the perfect union.

  But there was so much to think of at that time that that uneasy subject was forgotten.

  Louis was kind. He could not even be cruel to Madame du Barry.

  “Let her be dismissed from the Court,” he said.

  “That should suffice. She shall go to a convent for a while until it is decided to what place she may be banished.”

  It was lenient, but Louis had no wish to punish. Nor had I. I thought of that time When I had been forced to say those silly words to her.

  How angry I had been at the time, but now it was all forgotten; and I could only remember how she had stayed with the King when he was so ill and she was in danger of catching the dreaded disease. Let her be banished. That was enough.

  Louis quickly grasped that the country’s finances were in disorder, and determined on household economies. I was beside him and declared that I too would econo mise I gave up my droit de ceinture, a sum of money which was given by the State for my private purse which hung on my girdles.

  “I have no need of this,” I said.

  “Girdles are no longer worn.”

  This remark was repeated in the Court and in the streets of Paris.

  Paris and the whole country were pleased with us. I was their enchanting little Queen; my husband was Louis Ie Desire, and one morning when the traders started their early morning trek to Les Halles it was noticed that during the night someone had written “Resurrexit* on the statue of Henri Quatre which had been erected on the Font Neuf.

  When my husband heard of this his eyes shone with pleasure and determination. In every Frenchman’s opinion Henri Quatre was the greatest King France had ever had, the King who had cared for the people as no other monarch had before or since.