The Hidden Diary of Marie Antoinette

by Carolly Erickson

  I told him I must prepare for Joseph’s visit instead.

  July 1, 1781

  A large packet of letters arrived for me today from Axel! He has been writing to me every week but had no way of sending the letters until April, when he was able to send them with an officer returning to France aboard the Valkyrie. The ship ran aground off Brest and the officer was drowned, but another soldier found the packet and sent it here to Versailles.

  I read all the letters through twice, in order. He misses me. He has suffered many hardships and is worried that the British will win the war after all. I treasure these dear dear letters and I weep as I read them.

  August 2, 1781

  Joseph is here and to my great surprise he has brought my sister Carlotta with him!

  I could hardly believe my eyes when the huge traveling coach drew up in the outer courtyard of the palace and Joseph, looking older and more important as he is emperor now, got out and then helped a very fat, very richly dressed woman to alight. I looked closely at her—and realized that it was Carlotta, whom I have not seen in eleven years!

  I ran to embrace them both, forgetting that I am six months pregnant and that I must be very careful as I am carrying the heir to the throne—or so I fondly hope. We hugged and cried and laughed and hugged again.

  Joseph, wearing a long golden coat, pince-nez and a gray bagwig, has taken on an air of gravity that he did not have when he was here last. He is less the raffish man of the world and more the kindly old uncle. He shows signs of strain, and no wonder, after all he has been through, leading a regiment against the Prussians and attempting to conquer new territories, saying a last goodbye to dear maman and taking over all the responsibilities of being emperor and head of the family.

  Carlotta, who I must admit has gotten way too fat, has four chins and is very unfashionably dressed. I must bring Rose Bertin to court and order her to make a new wardrobe for my sister. Her hair has gotten thin and is not well arranged. When I brought her into my apartments all my ladies-in-waiting tittered and hid their smiles behind their fans. She has also gotten quite sour and critical. In this she reminds me of maman.

  I had Mousseline brought in by one of her nursemaids and Joseph and Carlotta exclaimed over her.

  “She looks just like you did when you were a baby,” said Joseph, who was thirteen or fourteen when I was born and remembers me well. “A little blond sprite.”

  Mousseline is a pretty child with curly hair and light blue eyes. Her rash is all gone and her skin is very white and smooth. She enjoys being admired but wails and has tantrums when she is thwarted.

  August 5, 1781

  Joseph has gone hunting with Louis at Compiègne and I have had a chance to spend a lot of time with Carlotta. She was very much the critical older sister at first but after a few hours of talk she broke down and cried and confessed that she has been very unhappy. She quarreled bitterly with her husband and he sent her away. She went to Schönbrunn and has been there ever since, under Joseph’s protection. But she feels lost and homeless, and misses her children.

  Her husband has brought his favorite mistress to live in his palace, replacing Carlotta. It is a scandal but no one dares to speak up about it. Carlotta has a sharp tongue and is not in any way an adornment to the court so I imagine everyone was glad to see her go, except her children of course.

  I was touched to see that she still has the net purse I made for her when I was pregnant with Mousseline.

  August 11, 1781

  Charlot invited M. Montgolfier the inventor to Versailles to fly his remarkable balloon. It is made of linen and is very very large—the size of a large ballroom. A fire was made with bundles of straw underneath the linen and slowly—miraculously—the giant bag began to fill up with vapor and rise into the air! It traveled over the garden, carried by the wind, and floated on and on, getting smaller and smaller, until it finally came down in some trees. The ropes were tangled in the branches.

  Charlot is excited and begged to be allowed to tie himself to the bottom of the balloon so that he could fly with it. Joseph wants to bring M. Montgolfier to Vienna to fly his balloon for the Scientific Institute there. Louis asked M. Montgolfier many questions about his invention. What made it fly? Why had no one thought of this before? What made it come down so quickly? He kept asking and asking until the poor man was exhausted and begged to be allowed to leave.

  We have had a very fine day. A large crowd of people gathered to watch the amazing sight and most of them were very respectful to us though a few were rude and one very shabby-looking man spat on my shoes. The weather was perfect, quite warm with a completely cloudless blue sky. I wish I had brought Mousseline. One day, long in the future, she may be attached to a balloon herself. By then it may be so common that everyone is doing it. Imagine the sky full of balloons!

  August 13, 1781

  I have confided in Joseph about Louis and his pawning of the Hapsburg Sun. It felt very good to confide in my brother, especially as Axel is far away and I have been alone with my secret for many months.

  August 25, 1781

  I have said a very sad farewell to Carlotta and Joseph. Carlotta looks better now, in her fashionable gowns and high-piled hair filled out with false hairpieces by André, who I must confess is very skillful. She gave me a charm to put under my pillow to protect me and the baby from any black magic anyone might try to use against us. We hugged each other and I wept. Joseph too embraced me and wished me a safe delivery.

  “Send a swift courier as soon as the baby is born,” he said. “Don’t wait even an hour. We will be eager to hear the good news.”

  “And wear Ste. Radegunde’s girdle throughout your labor!” Carlotta called out from inside the coach. “Mother would want you to.”

  “I will, I will,” I cried as the heavy traveling carriage lumbered off, its great wheels raising thick clouds of dust.

  I miss them. I miss home. No matter how long I live in France, I think I will always be an Austrian at heart, in exile from the place where I belong.

  September 14, 1781

  Word has come that Axel and his troops have been marching with the Americans to attack the British in Virginia. I wonder how Axel is at this moment, whether he is safe. Many officers have been taken prisoner by the British.

  I know that wherever he is, whatever he is doing, he is thinking of me.

  September 17, 1781

  Dr. Sundersen has arrived to attend me and has brought a very large and strong-looking Swedish midwife along. When I saw the doctor I felt my legs start to give way under me, for my first glimpse of him brought back terrible memories of pain and fear and the suffocating feeling I had during my labor with Mousseline. When he bowed and kissed my hand, however, I began to feel reassured, remembering how skilled he was and how when he said to me, shall we do this together? I felt certain I could complete my labor successfully, and sure enough, together we brought my beloved Mousseline into the world.

  Louis grumbles that Dr. Sundersen is asking a very large fee. I respond that the safe delivery of the next king of France is surely worth a large fee.

  September 26, 1781

  Dr. Sundersen has ordered me to stay in bed from now on as he expects my labor to begin within the next few weeks.

  I have another packet of letters from Axel! Thank heavens he is safe and has been ill but is now fairly well again. General Rochambeau has sent him to confer with General Washington a number of times because his English is good. Axel says General Washington is a very cold man. Not all Americans are cold, I know. Mr. Franklin was charming and jolly when he was here, everyone enjoyed him. I have met a number of other Americans though I must say some of the women were frosty and dressed so badly that they looked much older than they were. Of course I have met mostly American aristocrats and diplomats and their wives, not military men such as General Washington.

  October 6, 1781

  Charlot has flown in a balloon. M. Montgolfier attached a very large basket to the bottom of his li
nen bag and put a sheep in it and some other animals. He made the balloon fly and the animals flew with it. Then, after it came down, the animals were taken out of the basket and Charlot got in—Stanny tried to stop him—and it went up and Charlot flew from the meadow almost all the way to the village of Saumoy.

  When the balloon came down and the basket bumped hard on the ground Charlot hurt his wrist but apart from that he is fine. All the villagers were there, screaming and cheering. Charlot came to see me and told me all about it. His wrist was bandaged. I have never seen him so full of good spirits. He says I am as big as a balloon.

  October 29, 1781

  A week ago today my labor began, early in the morning. I had sharp pains, not an ache like last time. Sophie was excited and worried and went to get the midwife, who sat beside me and felt my belly each time the pains came.

  Dr. Sundersen arrived, laid out his instruments and said, “Now then, it will not take so long this time, I think.” That made me feel relieved. Being awakened by strong pains had frightened me. The doctor told me once again that a second baby is usually easier than the first.

  I wished for Axel to be there. All the family came in, and eventually all the ministers. No one else was allowed in, though there were many people in the corridor outside. Louis was very nervous. He kept jumping up and pacing around the room, saying, can’t she have more air, give her more air. I was not complaining, I was quite comfortable and there was plenty of air, and no noisy crowd of spectators climbing on the furniture.

  The pains kept getting worse, and the midwife helped by rubbing my back. Louis kept wanting to give me some syrup of poppy for the pain but the doctor said no, it would put the baby to sleep and he might not breathe after he was born. Besides, I was able to bear the pain. I know it helped that I had been through it before, and knew that I could endure it all the way to the end. I kept the girdle of Ste. Radegunde on, and I prayed to the saint, and I know the blessed girdle gave me strength.

  My memories of the last few hours of my labor are vague, because the pain became terrible and I felt faint a lot of the time. I remember calling for Loulou and Sophie and Carlotta (though of course Carlotta was not there, she had gone back to Vienna with Joseph months ago) and gripping their hands tightly. It hurt when the midwife pressed down on my belly and when the doctor, who kept telling me to work hard, lift up, raise the building like last time, put his instruments inside of me.

  I screamed then, and I remember hearing Louis say, don’t hurt her. For the Lord Jesus’s sake don’t hurt her!

  I remember tears, pain, and liquid flowing out of me.

  Then I remember nothing, until I saw, quite distinctly, the face of M. Genet, the keeper of the seals, standing beside the bed. He looked overjoyed. He said, quite loudly, “A son, a son has been born to France!”

  There was a great cry of joy in the room. I heard Louis shout “God be thanked” and someone, I think it was Stanny but I’m not sure, was swearing.

  Dr. Sundersen held up the little red creature for me to see, and then swatted him on the bottom until he began to cry. It was a weak little cry, like the feeble sound made by a very small, undersized puppy. The midwife washed him and wrapped him in a beautiful blanket embroidered with fleurs-de-lis and crowns and laid him in my arms. He was warm and very small, smaller than Mousseline when she was born. His eyes were closed, he had no hair at all. I kissed him and then I must have fainted, because I don’t remember anything else except dimly hearing Louis’s voice say, “Madame, you are the mother of a dauphin.”

  I am, indeed, now at last the mother of a dauphin. God be thanked.

  NINE

  December 14, 1781

  My son is worshipped almost as if he were a god in human form. Envoys from foreign courts, officials from many parts of France, influential Parisians and the royal ministers and courtiers all approach his cradle as if it were a holy shrine, and gaze on him as they might gaze on a saint or a relic of the true cross.

  We have waited so long for an heir to the throne to be born, so many long bleak years. Now that he has come at last he seems almost a miracle, an unexpected boon from heaven. I could not be happier to show him off, except that he is so very small and so much less alert and active than Mousseline was.

  Hardly anyone is aware of this. The visitors who come to touch his cradle in awe only catch a fleeting glimpse of him and cannot really tell anything about him. To them he is just a tiny baby wrapped in woolen blankets in a golden cradle, France’s precious dauphin. To me, however, he is more. He is my beloved boy, my Louis-Joseph. But he is also a lethargic little infant, quiet and uninterested in his surroundings. He does not wave his arms and kick his legs like other babies do and though he is almost two months old he is not yet able to raise his head from his silken pillow.

  I am always careful to lock this diary and I keep it in a new place now, where no one would ever think to look for it. No one must read what I write here about the next king of France.

  February 2, 1782

  I am so worried about our little Louis-Joseph. Three specialists have come to examine him, all the way from Edinburgh.

  February 17, 1782

  Loulou found me crying today and did her best to comfort me, but I am beyond comfort.

  More specialists have seen my little Louis-Joseph and they all say the same thing. His back is crooked and he will never stand up straight or walk by himself. Louis has paid them well to keep silent on this matter. No one must find out—only his nurse knows so far. I keep him swathed in blankets so that visitors—I almost wrote “worshippers”—only see his face.

  February 28, 1782

  Axel is alive and well. He is a hero! Finally I have more news about him. I had not heard anything in so long I was afraid he had been wounded or even killed.

  He was with General Rochambeau and the Americans when they besieged the English General Cornwallis and Cornwallis finally surrendered his sword and turned his forces over to the victors. During skirmishes with the British Axel fought bravely and saved many men, both French and American. General Rochambeau decorated him and General Washington shook his hand and thanked him and made him a member of the Order of Cincinnatus. I am very proud of him and will tell him so when I see him. Oh, when will I see him again? It has been so long.

  Of course I could not know it but these skirmishes and the surrender of the British happened right before Louis-Joseph was born. My stars and Axel’s must be in alignment, as Sophie would say.

  April 3, 1782

  I am writing this in the grotto at the Petit Trianon, a safe and private place. Eric is standing guard nearby, at the entrance to the grotto. Ever since Louis-Joseph was born Eric has hovered near me and the baby, almost as if he and not Louis were the father. I am glad of his protection, and have told him so.

  I need the privacy and solace of the grotto on this afternoon. We have had yet another discouraging diagnosis from the physicians. They say that the baby has had a chest disease that has turned from his lungs into his shoulder and back. They say that his little back and shoulder must be probed by the surgeons so that the illness will not return to his lungs and kill him.

  I do not understand this but the head physician said it in a very solemn voice and he appears to be a skilled physician. Everyone says the best doctors are from Edinburgh and that is where he has his practice. On the other hand, I have heard people say that Edinburgh is almost as dirty a place as Paris and that people throw their filth into the streets with abandon. The Scots are said to be very hardy, however.

  April 24, 1782

  Yesterday the surgeon came to the palace to carry out the orders of the Edinburgh doctors. Louis-Joseph is now six months old and the doctors say he is old enough to undergo the pain this procedure must cause.

  Eric was there and stood outside the room in the corridor the whole time. I heard Amélie shouting at him and I know she has been more angry at him than ever in recent months. Sophie keeps telling me I must dismiss Amélie, who is disrespectful
and insolent, but I am afraid to. She knows too much about me. I know she makes fun of me behind my back. I hear the younger girls laughing and they smother their laughter when I come into the room. Some of them look shamefaced, and I know that deep down, they love me and are loyal; Amélie has not turned them against me.

  I did not want any of the servants present when the barber-surgeon did his work on Louis-Joseph so I had Sophie send them all away for the day, all but Eric. Sophie, Louis and I waited for the barber-surgeon to arrive. I held Louis-Joseph in my arms and he was sleeping peacefully.

  I watched while two burly men came in with a small armchair on a platform. Then the barber-surgeon himself came in, a scruffy-looking man with a scraggly black beard, a cheap coat and tricorn hat. He nodded to us briefly and got to work.

  A bowl of water was brought for him to wash his hands and I noticed that the wash water was very dirty when he finished. He laid out his instruments, then motioned for Louis-Joseph to be brought to him, and for his little flannel gown to be removed. Then he strapped the baby into the cruel-looking chair, with his poor little back and shoulder exposed. He took a long, sharp-looking steel needle and began jabbing it into his small white back. Louis-Joseph screamed, and I was so shocked I screamed with him. Blood dripped from the wounds as the cruel probe moved upwards and over into the poor baby’s shoulder.

  It was all over quickly, but I could hardly restrain myself, I was so upset. When the barber-surgeon finished, and his assistant began swabbing the wounds with an ointment and bandaging them, Louis asked the man gruffly, “Is it necessary to hurt him so?”

  “Of course it is necessary. The muscles are weak. They must be strengthened through stimulation. That will be fifty francs,” he added.