France, with the face of Austria, reduced to covering herself with a rag.
Once again I was brought to bed of a child. Almost a year had passed since the death of my mother, for it was October. How I missed those letters which had arrived for ten years with such regularity. I remembered often how I used to tremble as I opened them and sometimes feel irritated by the continued complaints, but how often during the last year I had longed to receive them. How I should have enjoyed telling her that once more I was pregnant. But what was the use? She had gone for ever; yet I knew that for ever her memory would keep her with me.
I longed for a son, but I dared not pin my hopes on this. I could not love a child more than I loved my little daughter. I prayed: “A son please God, but if You see fit to send me a daughter, she will seem all that I desire.”
This accouchement was different from the last. The King had said that the public were not to be admitted, for I was not again going to be exposed to the sort of risk I had run before, and only members of the family and six of my ladies-including the Princesse de Lamballe, who was a member of the family—together with the accoucheur and the doctors were present.
My pains started when I woke on that morning—it was the 22nd of October—and they were so slight that I was able to take a bath; but by midday they had increased.
It was an easier labour than that of my little Madame Royale, but when the child was born I was half- conscious and too weak to be entirely sure of what was happening.
I was aware of the people about my bed; there seemed to be a deep silence and I was afraid to ask for news of the child. The King had made a sign that no one was to speak to me; he had been very anxious during the latter weeks of my pregnancy and had commanded that when the child was born no one was to-say what its sex was, for if it were a daughter I should be disappointed, and if a Dauphin so overjoyed, that either emotion might be bad for me in the state of exhaustion I should surely experience after the delivery.
I was aware of the silence about my bed. I thought: It is a girl. Or worse still: It is still-born. No! I heard the cry of a child. I had a baby; I wanted to cry out: Give me my child. What matters if . Then I saw the King; there were tears in his eyes and he seemed overcome by his emotion.
I said to him: “You see how calm I am. I have asked no questions.”
His voice was broken and he said: “Monsieur Ie Dauphin begs to present himself.”
A son! My dream was fulfilled. I held out my arms and they laid him in them. A boy . a perfect boyl There was excitement in the bedchamber and the adjoining rooms where the ministers and members of our household waited.
I heard afterwards that everyone there started kissing and embracing.
I heard voices: “A Dauphin. I tell you it is true. We have a Dauphin.”
Even my enemies were caught up in the excitement. Madame de Guemenee, who was to take charge of him, sat in a chair with wheels and he was handed to her; she was then wheeled to her apartments close by and everyone crowded round her to see the child. They wanted to touch him, or his shawl, or even the chair in which the Princesse sat.
“He must become a Christian without delay,” said the King.
Our little Dauphin was baptised at three o’clock.
One hundred and one guns were fired immediately so that Paris should be aware of the sex of the child. That was the signal for the city to go wild with joy. Bells were ringing; processions were formed; at night bonfires were lighted and there were the usual fireworks displays. I could scarcely believe that these were the people who took such joy in those disgusting lampoons which were circulated about me; now they were asking God to protect me, the mother of their Dauphin.
Now they were dancing, drinking my health, crying: “Long live the King and Queen! Long live the Dauphin!”
As my mother said, they were an impetuous people. I was delighted with my new baby. I sent for Madame Royale that she might see her little brother and we stood hand in hand admiring him as he lay in his cradle. She was three years old and growing lovelier every day, besides being very intelligent.
I caught sight of Armand standing at the door scowling ? r us and I smiled at him but he dropped his eyes. And as I passed him I ruffled his hair. He was no longer as pre ny as he had once been; but perhaps I was comparing him with my own little ones.
The tocsins rang for three days and nights. When I awoke I heard them and the realisation of my great joy would come flooding over me. A two-day holiday was declared through out Paris. Wine flowed freely in the streets; buffets of meat were set up; and people wore garlands of artificial flowers about their necks and called to each other “Long live the Dauphin!” as a kind of greeting.
Festival followed festival. Each of the guilds sent representatives to Versailles; and for nine days the ceremonies continued. The whole Court assembled to receive them and there was great hilarity when the sedan- chairmen’s guild sent a chair with a model of a wet-nurse and a Dauphin seated in it. The nurse was a copy of the one we had engaged who had been speedily nicknamed Madame Poitrine. The chimney sweeps brought a model of a chimney on which small chimney-sweeps sat and sang praises of the new-born heir to the throne; the tailors brought a miniature uniform, the blacksmiths an anvil on which they played a tune. The market women put on their black silk dresses, which they kept for years and brought out only on the most auspicious occasions, and sang praises of me and my little son. But the most unusual of all were the locksmiths, who felt they had a special affinity with the King because of his interest in their profession. They brought a huge lock, which they presented to the King, and their leader asked if His Majesty would care to try to unlock it. To do so was the task of a true locksmith, and if the King would prefer one of then-band to demonstrate he had but to command, but knowing His Majesty’s skill. and so on. The King, thus challenged, determined to have a try, and amid great applause he very quickly succeeded. And as he turned the lock, from it sprang a steel -figure which was seen to be a marvellously-wrought tiny Dauphin.
The celebrations continued. When I rode out into the streets of Paris the people cheered me.
I believed my indiscretions and follies of the past were forgotten because I had given this country what it wanted: an heir, a little Dauphin.
Looking back I think I reached the peak of my contentment then. The King shared my emotions. Almost every sentence he uttered contained the word ‘my son’ . or ‘the Dauphin. ” All the servants adored him; people would wait for hours for a glimpse of him. He was a wonderful baby, a beautiful contented child—the centre of our lives. Louis went about giving his hand to everyone, listening avidly to their conversation—about the Dauphin, of course; tears came into his eyes every time the child was referred to-so, as can be imagined, he was constantly in tears. Elisabeth told me that at the baptism—she was his godmother—the King had been unable to take his eyes from the child.
Madame Poitrine was an important person in our lives. The name fitted her; she was enormous and the doctors agreed that her milk was excellent. She was the wife of one of the gardeners and she regarded the Dauphin as her own, and as he was the most important person in the palace, she took second place. She shouted like a grenadier; she swore often;
but her placidity was remarkable: neither my presence nor that of the King ruffled her in the least. She would say:
“You can’t touch him now. I’ve just got him off. I won’t have him disturbed.” Which amused us and made us laugh and be very content, for we knew how she cared for our baby. She accepted the clothes we gave her, the laces and fine linen, with a shrug, but absolutely refused to use rouge or powder on her hair. She just did not hold with all that, she said, and she couldn’t see what good it would do her baby.
Long after, Elisabeth showed me a letter which at the time she had received from a friend, Madame de Bombelles. It brought those days back so clearly and we both wept over the paper.
