Виктория Холт - The Queen`s Confession

Long before the King was due to arrive at the Cathedral I had taken my place in a gallery near the high altar so that I could have a good view of the proceedings, and never before in my life had I been so moved.

I knew that at seven o’clock the quaint ceremony of bringing the King had begun and that the Bishops of Beauvais and Laon had headed the procession which had arrived at his apartments. The Grand Chorister then knocked on the door and was asked by the Grand Chamberlain: “What is your wish?”

“We wish the King,” was the answer.

The King sleeps. “

This little exchange was repeated twice and then the Bishop said: “We ask for Louis XVI, whom God has given us to be King.”

Then the door of the apartment would be opened and Louis would be seen lying on the state bed in all his gorgeous coronation robes.

Then after the blessing and sprinkling of holy water the journey to the Cathedral would begin.

I shall never forget seeing my husband as he came to the high altar.

He was in gold and crimson, his mantle was of silver cloth and his velvet cap decorated with diamonds and plumes. There were times when he, being so deeply conscious of his state, was indeed a King, dedicated, noble. I had glimpsed this during the guerre des farines when he had faced a murderous mob without fear. He might be shy of great gatherings, awkward in company, embarrassed by our situation in the bedchamber, but he was a brave man.

I watched the sprinkling from la sainte ampoule which had been handed down from the days of Clovis, the first King of the Pranks; and after that there followed the coronation oath. The sword was presented to the King and he knelt at the altar. Then he was prepared for the anointing and afterwards dressed in his robes of purple velvet decorated with fleurs-delis He sat on his throne while the crown of Charlemagne was placed on his head. I had never before seen such splendour. I kept thinking that that crown had been worn by all the Kings of France, and I thought of my grandfather who had been very young when it had been placed on his head young and so handsome, far more so than this present Louis; and I remembered him as I had last seen him, lying on his death-bed . his lips cracked, his eyes wild, and the horrible smell of death in the apartment

Louis glanced up at me. For several seconds he kept his eyes on my face as though he had forgotten the solemn ceremony, everything but ourselves; and I felt that too. It was a wonderful moment. A turning point in our lives, I thought afterwards. We were together as one person. And although I felt no great and surging passion for my husband, I knew that I loved him and that he loved me. It was a quiet devotion, a bond that was none the less strong because it was passionless.

I realised suddenly that the tears were running down my cheeks.

The doors were flung open and people surged into the Cathedral. I could smell the incense; I heard the exclamation as birds were let loose as a symbol of peace. The guns began their salute and the sounds of trumpets and drums mingled.

I joined the royal procession from the Cathedral; and as we came out the shouts of “Vive Ie Roi’ filled the air. I wrote to my mother:

“The coronation was a great success in all ways. Everyone was delighted with the King and he with them…. I could not keep my tears from flowing…. It is very surprising and so comforting to be so well received after the revolt and in spite of the price of bread, which is still dear. But it is characteristic of the French to be carried away by evil suggestions and then return immediately to good sense. When we hear the people’s acclamations and see these proofs of their affection, we are all the more committed to work for their good.”

My husband came to me while I was writing this and I showed it to him.

He still seemed a little shy in my presence and we were both deeply conscious of that scene in the Cathedral.

“It was a wonderful experience,” he said.

“I felt as though God had spoken to me.” I nodded.

“I have written to Maurepas and this is what I have said.” I read the letter, which had the same theme as mine.

“I am sorry that you could not share the satisfaction I have felt here. It is my duty to work for a people who give me so much happiness. I shall give myself up to this absolutely.

“we think alike,” I said.

He took my hands and kissed them; then he said: “It was a splendid occasion, was it not? A deeply moving occasion. Yet nothing touched me so much as when I looked up at the gallery and saw your tears.”

I threw myself into his arms. “Oh Louis … Louis … I have never felt so moved.”

At Rheims Louis performed the ritual of touching for the King’s Evil—another of those old customs which dated back to Clovis. Victims of scrofula from all over France had come to Rheims for this ceremony; and two thousand four hundred sufferers lined the avenue kneeling while Louis passed along. It was a horrible sight, so many people so far gone in this terrible disease; the weather was warm and the stench revolting. Yet Louis did not flinch. His eyes shining with purpose, his bearing kingly as it could be at times like this, he touched each one—from forehead to chin and then on either cheek, while he said:

“May God heal you; the King touches you. “

Two thousand four hundred times he said those words and as though he meant them; no King of France ever performed this sacred duty with more sincerity, and those poor sick people looked up at him with something like adoration.

I was proud—not only to be Queen of France, but to be the wife of such a man.

He gave no sign of weariness when the long duty was over, and Provence and Artois played their part—which was to bring first the vinegar which was to disinfect his hands and then the orange flower water with which to wash them.

When I was alone with him I told him he was magnificent and he was very contented.

We would work together, he implied; and I wondered whether had I asked him at this stage to give Monsieur de Choiseui a place in his government he would have agreed. I believe he would, for he could have denied me nothing. But Monsieur de Choiseui was of the past; besides, my mother did not wish him to be restored.

I wanted only one thing of Louis: children. The only thing he could not give me—but I know he longed for them as much as I did.

My longing for children was growing more and more intense. I had increased my little family of dogs, but although I loved them dearly they could not compensate me for my overwhelming desire to be a mother.

When my sister-in-law gave birth to a son I longed to be in her place.

When she called out in agony I wished that agony were mine. She lay exhausted yet somehow exalted-quite unlike the unattractive little creature I had known before this. The miracle had happened to her. She was a mother.

I heard her voice raised half hopefully half fearfully; and I could imagine her feelings when she received the answer.

“A little Prince, Madame …” —the words every Princess and Queen must wish to hear.

She answered: “My God! How happy I am! And how well I understood ! The child was well and healthy; the sound of his crying filled the apartment; it seemed the most magical sound in the world.

We left the apartment, I with my attendants, the chief of whom was the Princesse de Lamballe, my dear friend whom I had set up in place of Madame de Noailles. I grew fonder and fonder of my dear Lamballe every day and I did not know what I would do without her. I had now secured the services of Jeanne Louise Henriette Genet, the little lectrice

She was now Madame Campan, having married Monsieur Campan’s son. She was devoted and good and I did not know what I would do without her either, but of course she was not of the same rank as the Princesse, and had her re1e as one of my trusted attendants rather than a close friend who could accompany me to fetes and balls.

As we came out of the lying-in chamber and through the chateau we were met by a crowd of women from the Halles of Paris. It was the custom of the public to be present at the time of royal births, although it was only the Queen who must give birth publicly; at the births of lesser members of the royal family only the family need be present. But the fact that a royal child was being born was the nation’s concern, and although the people were not allowed to enter the Comtesse’s bedchamber they were in the chateau.