knew of the affair to say nothing of it. I was quite ill for a few days, but my health was so good generally that I quickly recovered.
Then I caught measles, and as the King had not had this complaint I went to the Trianon that I might be alone. I was followed there by those who had had it or decided to risk infection: Artois and his wife, the Comtesse de Provence, the Princesse de Lamballe, and Elisabeth. It was not to be expected that we should stay there without male company, and the Dues de Guines and de Coigny came with the Comte d’Esterhazy and the Baron de Besenval. These four’ men were constantly in my bedroom and did their best to amuse me. This caused a great deal of comment and scandal, naturally. The men were called my sick-nurses; and it was whispered that the measles were non-existent they provided the excuse. They were asking which ladies the King would choose to nurse him if he were ill.
Mercy for once had said that he could see no harm in my having friends at the Trianon to amuse me and help me recover from my illness. The King saw nothing wrong either. Kings and Queens had received visitors in their bedrooms for as long as anyone could remember. It was a tradition to do so.
When I was better I stayed on at the Trianon. I wanted to be there all the time. There were protests from Vienna, and Mercy told me that he had my mother’s permission to remind me that a great Court must be accessible to many people. If it were not, hatreds and jealousies would arise; and there would be trouble.
I listened yawning, thinking of the play I would be putting on in my theatre very soon. I should play the principal part myself. Surely everyone would agree that that was fitting.
The result of this interview was that I wrote to my mother and assured her that I would spend more time at Versailles.
She answered me:
I am very glad that you intend to resume your State at Versailles. I know how tedious and empty it is, but if there is not State the disadvantages which result from not holding it are greater than those of doing so. This applies particularly to your country, where the people are known to be impetuous. “
I did try to do what she suggested, and held State at Versailles, but so many people whom I had offended stayed away. I rarely saw the Due de Chartres, for one. He had retired to the Palais Royale and entertained his friends there. I did not know what they discussed there; nor did it occur to me to wonder.
There seemed no point then in holding Court at Versailles; why should I not spend more and more time at the Pent Trianon, where life was so much more fun, surrounded as I was by the friends I had chosen?
The blow struck me suddenly. I had not even known that she was ill.
The Abbe Vermond came to my apartments and said he must speak to me alone. His eyes were wild, his lips twitching.
I said: “What is wrong?”
He replied: “Your Majesty must prepare yourself for a great disaster.”
I rose staring at him. I saw the letter in his hand and I knew.
The Empress .
“She is dead,” I said blankly, for I knew it was true. I was conscious of a terrible loneliness such as I had never known before.
He nodded.
I could not speak. I was numbed. I felt like a child who is lost and knows it will never feel entirely safe again.
“It cannot be,” I whispered.
But he assured me that it was.
I said unsteadily, “I want first to be alone He nodded and left me and I sat on the bed and thought of her as I had known her in Vienna. I saw her at her mirror while her women dressed her hair; I could feel the cold Viennese wind, sharper than anything I had known since I left Austria; I could picture her bending over my bed when I was pretending I was asleep. I could hear her voice.
“You must do this. You must do that. Such Ugerete … such dissipation… You are rushing on to destruction. I tremble for you.”
Oh tremble for me. Mamma, I whispered, for without you I am so alone.
The King came and wept with me. He had waited a quarter of an hour before coming. I heard him in the anteroom where the Abbe had waited, respecting my wish to be alone.
My husband said: “I thank you. Monsieur !” Abbe, for the service you have just done me. ” And I knew then that he had sent the Abbe to break the news to me.
He came in then and embraced me.
“My dear,” he said, ‘this is so sad for us all, but mostly for you.”
“I cannot believe it,” I said.
“I had letters from her so recently.”
“Ah, you will miss her letters I nodded.
“Nothing will be quite the same again And as he sat beside me on the bed, his hand in mine, I seemed to hear her voice admonishing me as it had all my life: I must not grieve—I had my husband; I had my daughter; and I must not forget that France needed a Dauphin.
I ordered Court mourning to be made, and meanwhile I put on temporary mourning. I shut myself in my apartments and saw no one but members of the Royal Family, the Duchesse de Polignac and the Princesse de Lamballe. I remained thus, aloof from the Court for several days; and I thought of her continually.
When I received Mercy he told me what he had heard of her end. She had been very ill since the middle of November and the doctors had said that she was suffering from hardening of the lungs.
On the 29th of the month she said to her women who came to her bedside, “This is my last day on earth, and my thoughts are of my children whom I leave behind.” She mentioned us all by name, raising her hands to heaven as she did so.
And when she came to me she kept murmuring, “Marie Antoinette, Queen of France’; and she burst into tears and wept long and bitterly.
All the day she lived, and it was eight in the evening when she started to fight for her breath.
Joseph, who was with her, whispered: “You are very ill.”
And she answered: ‘enough to die, Joseph. “
She signed to the doctors.
I am going now,” she said.
“I pray you light the mortuary candle and close my eyes.”
She looked at Joseph, who took her into his aims, and there she died.
The Austrian Woman
Monsieur Ie Dauphin begs leave to present himself.
I sots our little Dauphin this morning. He is very well, and lovely as an angel. The people’s enthusiasm continues the same. In the streets one meets nothing but fiddles, singing and dancing. I call that touching, and in fact I know no more amiable nation than ours.
Catherine de Medici, Cleopatra, Agrippina, Messalma, my crimes surpass yours, and if the memory of your infamous deeds still causes people to shudder, what emotions could be aroused by an account of the cruel and lascivious Movie Antoinette of Austria.
