to them after supper, and we wait for the King who usually comes at a quarter to eleven; but I lie on a sofa and sleep till his arrival; when he is not expected we go to bed at eleven. Such is my day. I entreat you, my dear Mother, to forgive me if this letter is too long; but my greatest pleasure is to be thus in communication with Your Majesty. I ask pardon also for this blotted letter, I have had to write two days running at my toilet, having no other time at my disposal; and if I do not answer all the questions exactly, I trust Your Majesty will make allowances for my having too obediently burned your letter.
I must finish this, as I have to dress and go to the King’s Mass. I have the honour to be Your Majesty’s most submissive daughter, “Marie Antoinette.” This letter, which I wrote from Choisy, one of the royal palaces which we visited now and then, gives a picture of the monotony of my days at this time. I had thought that life in France would be exciting, full of novelty, and I found it more dull than it had ever been at Schonbrunn.
During those first months of my life at the French Court, I was often sick with longing for home and for my mother, although, when I received her letters I would shiver with apprehension, wondering what they contained. I did not then realise the extent to which Mercy was observing the intimate details of my life. He had always appeared to be a stem old statesman and the fact that he would be interested in what a young girl wore or how many times she laughed with a certain servant seemed incongruous. That was where I was so foolish. I had scarcely changed from the child who had romped in the gardens of Schonbrunn with her dogs; I was as inconsequential, as unaware. I did not realise then to my misfortune that the Dauphine of France, who would one day be Queen, was not so much a girl or woman as a symbol.
War and peace could hang on her actions; her follies could make a throne tremble;
When I wrote to my mother and asked how she knew so much of my silly little actions she replied that ‘a little bird told me’; and she never mentioned that the little bird was Mercy. I should have known, of course. But at least Mercy was my friend, although an uncomfortable one; and I should have been grateful to him.
During that time there was of course one great matter which overshadowed my life: the unusual relationship between myself and my husband. I knew that everyone at Court was talking about it some gravely, but most with sniggering amusement. Provence, whom I could never like although his conduct was extremely correct, was pleased, I knew, because he was not the eldest, and believed and many agreed with him that he would have made a better Dauphin than my husband Louis.
Artois was gay and amusing, very flirtatious, constantly gazing at me with a wistful expression behind which mischief lurked. Mercy was always dropping hints that I should be wary of Artois. Then there were the aunts, throwing out a hundred suggestions, always trying to discover what was happening between “Poor Berry’ and myself.
But when my mother wrote that perhaps it was best that things were as they were because we ‘were both so young,” I felt I could put the matter out of my mind for a while and try to enjoy life as well as I could.
There was one man who was my friend at Court and this was the Due de Choiseul. He was eager that my marriage should be a success, because he had arranged it. It was my misfortune that I should have come to France when his power was on the wane, for he would have been as helpful to me as Mercy was and far more powerful since he was the King’s chief minister. He was rather an ugly man, but it was a charming ugliness; he was fascinating and I was fond of him from the moment we met. My mother had told me that I could trust him because he was a friend of Austria, and that drew me to him. But he was in disgrace.
Mademoiselle Genet told me that he had made friends with Madame de Pompadour to their mutual advantage, but had underrated the power of Madame du Barry, and that was one of the reasons why he fell.
Although I had at first found Madame du Barry fascinating, I now childishly loathed her because the King had allowed her to come to that first intimate supper, and, according to Mercy, that was an insult to me. I wrote to my mother, “She is a silly and impertinent woman,” believing that, knowing her function at Court, my mother would consider my attitude towards the woman the correct one.
“Don’t meddle in politics or interfere in other people’s affairs,” was my mother’s reply, but I did not realise she was referring to Madame du Barry, and like so many other important matters it went right over my head. I did not want to meddle in politics. It was as much as I could manage, to do my lessons. I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to see Paris but I was not allowed to until I did so officially, and that was a matter which had to be considered in all sorts of ways before it could be put into action.
“Etiquette !’ I groaned.
“At least,” I said to Mercy, “I could have two of my dogs brought from Vienna.”
“You already have two dogs,” he answered sternly.
“Yes, I know, but I love them and they’ll be pining for me in Vienna.
Little Mops will, I know. Please ask them to send him. “
He wanted to refuse but could not very well go so blatantly against my wishes. I had my four dogs. When puppies arrived I should have more and I would not be parted from them, although Mercy was hinting at unclean habits which would be frowned on in the elaborate Versailles apartments.
During those first weeks the Due de Choiseui visited me frequently and he too told me how I should behave to the King.
“Be earnest and natural,” he said, ‘and not too childish, although His Majesty does not expect you to have a knowledge of politics. “
I said I was glad of that and told him of my dislike of Madame du Barry.
“I cannot bear to hear her silly lisp, and she seems to think she is the most important lady of the Court. I always look straight through her when I see her as though she does not exist. Yet she always looks hopefully my way as though she is imploring me to speak to her.”
Monsieur de Choiseui laughed and said that naturally she wanted a show of friendship from the Dauphine.
“She will not get it,” I retorted, and since this was exactly what Monsieur de Choiseui wanted me to say I made up my mind that I would keep to it.
Dear Monsieur de Choiseui! He was so charming and at the same time so sincere . where I was concerned. I am sure that if he could have stayed near me I should have been saved from many follies.
When I arrived in France the odious du Barry had already become the centre of a party which called itself the Barriens, and in this were some of the most powerful ministers, such as the Due d’Aiguillon, the Due de Vauguyon and the Due de Richelieu—and these men were all enemies of Choiseui and sought to bring him down. This they were managing very successfully, blaming him for the disaster of the Seven Years War—which had broken out the year I was born and in which my country was involved—and the loss of the French Colonies to England.
He was blamed for everything; and I understood afterwards that the Austrian marriage was a plan of his to attempt to reinstate himself.
He must have been a very worried man when I met him, but he gave no sign of this; he was one of the gayest people I had ever met.
It was a great blow to me when he received his lettre de cachet from the King banishing him to his chateau at Chanteloup. It happened suddenly—on Christmas Eve. He simply disappeared and I could not believe he had gone. It was sad to lose a friend, and at the same time it alarmed me that such a fate could befall someone so rapidly. I was particularly hurt by Mercy’s attitude towards the Due.
“He has hastened his disgrace by his indiscretion,” he said.
“It would have surprised me if he had stayed in office much longer. Let us hope that he may not be replaced by someone who is an even greater meddler than he.”
“He is our friend!” I cried aghast.
“He is of no use to us now,” replied Mercy cynically.
I was very hurt and sorry, but we did hear of him now and then. He was living very grandly at Chanteloup and sending out chansons about Madame du Barry, whom he regarded as his enemy in chief. She was constantly ending scraps of paper covered with obscene rhymes in her apartments but she always laughed at them and they seemed to lose their impact.
Letters continued to flow from Vienna, and every time a letter from my mother was put into my hands I would shiver. What had I done now! I had not worn my stays my hateful corps de baleine which made me sit bolt upright or in discomfort. It was necessary for me to wear them at this stage of my growth, I was warned. I must always be aware of my appearance. The French were very susceptible to appearance and I must always think of pleasing my husband. Always there were hints about my relationship with my husband.
