Виктория Холт - The Queen`s Confession

Oh, what a wonderful sight ! All those people gathered to welcome me to their city.

I heard their comments.

“Oh, is she not lovely ! What a little beauty ! As dainty as a fairy !’

Dear people! How I loved them! In a transport of emotion I kissed my hands to them and they responded joyfully.

All the women from the markets wearing their best clothes of black silk had assembled to greet me, and they called out to me that they were pleased to see me in the city. I was struck by the proprietorial air of all these people. This was their city, not the King’s. If the King had no love for Paris well, Paris could do without him. Paris belonged to the merchants, the market women, the tradesmen, the apprentices. That was the message I received that day. It was theirs and they welcomed me to it because I was young and pretty and had shown that I wanted them to like me. I was in love with Paris, so Paris was in love with me.

What a procession! We were escorted by the King’s own bodyguards, and behind our coach were three others containing our attendants.

When the keys had been presented to me we drove into the city to Notre Dame, where we attended Mass, and after that we made our way to the college of Louis Ie Grand, where at Sainte Genevieve, the Abbot and his Chapter were waiting for us.

Having listened to his greetings we passed on; under the triumphal arches we went through Paris so that all those who had assembled might have a glimpse of me.

It was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. I was really happy. I had the glorious feeling that everything was coming right.

And at last we came to the Tuileries, where we were to dine, and the crowd in the garden was bigger than anything I had ever known.

No sooner were we inside than the people began to shout for us.

Monsieur de Brissac said: They will not be content unless you show yourselves. “

“Then,” I replied, ‘we will do so, for I could not disappoint the people of Paris. “

So we went on to the balcony, and when they saw me there the people in the gardens began to cheer me and call long life to me; and I stood there smiling and bowing and was very happy.

But she is adorable !’ they cried.

“She is lovely ! May God bless our enchanting little Dauphine!”

I was so happy. I had suffered so much criticism from my mother and Mercy that I yearned for approval; and here it was in larger doses than I had ever known before.

“Oh, the dear, dear people!” I cried.

“How I love them. Man dieu, what crowds! How many of them are there!”

Monsieur de Brissac, standing beside me, smiled, and then bowing he said: “Madame, I hope Monsieur Ie Dauphin will not be offended, but down there are two hundred thousand people who have fallen in love with you.”

And that’ was the most delightful thing, I assured him, that had ever happened to me.

Paris had taken me to its heart and I had taken Paris to mine.

I returned to Versailles as in a dream. I could still hear the applause and the compliments.

The King came to hear how I had fared, and I was afraid that if I told him how I had been received he would feel sad, because I understood something of the meaning of that almost frenzied greeting. Those people who had shouted for me and for my husband would not shout for the King. They were waiting for him to die because they hated him;

Louis the once Well-Beloved was now Louis the Hated. How sad for him, but he did not seem to mind.

He took my hands and. kissed them.

“I hear you were a triumph,” he said.

“Your Majesty is pleased?”

“I should have disowned them if they had not had the good taste to adore you.”

Oh, these French! How well they hid their cold cynicism beneath their flowery words!

In a mood of triumph I sat down and wrote to my mother:

“Dearest mother, it is impossible to describe the delight and affection which the people showed us…. How lucky we are to win the friendship of the people so easily. But I know this friendship is very precious. I am deeply conscious of this and it is something I shall never forget.”

I enjoyed writing that letter to my mother. Now she would know that I was not failing as she sometimes seemed to suggest. Mercy might disapprove of much that I did, but the people of Paris had taken one look at me and given no uncertain sign of their approval.

How happy I was as I lay in bed that night! My husband lay beside me, fast asleep. The ceremonies had tired him while they had exhilarated me.

The days of boredom were at an end. Paris had shown me a new way of life and I could hardly wait to begin it.

A few months after my entry into Paris, Artois was married. His bride was the sister of Marie Josephe. Their father, Victor Amedee, the King of Sardinia, had naturally wanted the Dauphin for one of his daughters, so the sisters resented me.

The new bride, Marie Therese, was even uglier than her sister. Her only remarkable feature was her nose, and that was because of its length; her mouth was enormous, her eyes small, and she squinted slightly. She was very small, and quite lacking in grace. The King showed clearly that he found her repulsive; as for Artois, he did not express disappointment, but behaved as though the matter were of little importance. Marie Therese seemed to want to hide herself and he was pleased to indulge her in this. He had a mistress already—a very beautiful woman, much older than himself, named Rosalie Duthe, a lady who had served the Due de Chartres in the same capacity as she now served Artois.

Everyone was amused by Artois’s attitude and no one was very sorry for the poor little bride. All their sympathy was for Artois because he was unlucky enough to have such a wife.

The comment in Versailles was characteristic: “Having got indigestion through gateau de Sememe the Prince had gone to take Duthe in Paris.”

I was one of the few people who were sorry for Marie Therese and I did all I could to be her friend, but she was very disagreeable and curt with me.

However, I was enjoying myself as I had not done since I had come to France, so I did not need the friendship of my sisters-in-law. The Princesse de Lamballe had become my close friend and we chattered together as I used to with Caroline. In fact for the first time I believed I had replaced my sister.

When the snow came I could really imagine I was back in Vienna, and one day I found an old sledge in the stables at Versailles and as the Princesse was with me I told her what fun we used to have in Vienna and how Joseph had had the snow brought down from the mountains when there was none below just because he loved to ride in a sledge.

“And why should we not?” I cried.

“I see no reason why not. Here is the sledge and there is the snow.”

So I ordered the grooms to prepare the sledge and have the horses harnessed to it and the Princesse and I rode out.

We went to Paris—always Paris; and what fun it was being drawn along the road and finally reaching the Bois de Boulogne. It was bitterly cold but we were wrapped up in furs and it was glorious to feel our faces glowing.

This is just like Vienna!’ I cried.

“And you remind me of my dearest sister Caroline.”

But it was not really like Vienna, where there were many sledges and this was the only way in which one could travel. Ours was the only sledge in the Bois, and we were not travelling, we were playing a game. The people came out to watch us and they seemed very different from those who had welcomed me into their city in the summer. These had pinched blue faces; they stood and shivered, and the contrast between them in their inadequate rags and us in our furs was painful.

I was aware of this but I tried not to see it because it spoiled the fun.

Mercy came to my apartments looking stem. Your new pastime does not please the people of Paris,” j he told me.

But why not? “

“It is not a pleasure which is indulged in here.”

Oh,” I grumbled.

“Etiquette again.”

But it was more than etiquette; and I was not sorry to give it up.

That was an end to our sledge rides.

The tension in the family circle which had increased since the arrival of Artois’s wife was steadily rising. The two sisters were joined in their dislike of me, and my brothers-in-law by their ambition. Of the two brothers, Provence was by far the more ambitious. Marie Josephe had shown no signs of becoming pregnant, and it was being said that be suffered the same disability as the Dauphin.

Mercy had warned me of my elder brother-in-law’s ‘little polite trickeries,” but as he was continually warning me I paid little heed.

Now even I, bent as I was on ignoring unpleasantness and finding new amusement, could not be unaware of the growing tension between the brothers.

“Provence is ambitious and strives in every way to be the dominant member of the household,” Mercy said.

“I am writing to the Empress to tell her this. I have rarely seen one so young so ambitious.”

This ambition was working up to a hatred against my husband. The six of us were often together. Etiquette demanded that we should be.

Once, we were in Province’s apartments and my husband was standing by the fireplace and on the mantelpiece was a beautiful china vase, for Provence collected fine china things. My husband had always been fascinated by this particular piece, and I used to watch him and laughingly ask him if he was rin’nfcmg of giving up bricks and locks for china.