My pains were growing more and more frequent. I tried to console myself; this was the moment for which I had longed all my life; this was becoming a mother.

I had arranged with the Princesse de Lamballe that she should let me know, without speaking, the sex of my child, and I was aware of her close to my bed during the agonising hours that followed. The heat was tremendous for the windows had been caulked up to keep out the cold night air; but we had not bargained for such a crowded lying-in chamber. Packed close together so that there was no room for anyone to pass between them, some standing on benches to get a better view, leaning heavily against the tapestry screens so that, but for my husband’s foresight in using those thick cords, they would have collapsed on to the bed, the spectators whispered together. I felt I could not breathe;

I was grappling not only with the ordeal of birth but with the fight for breath. The smell of vinegar and essences mingled with that of sweating bodies and the heat was unbearable.

All through the night I fought to give birth to my child . and for my life; and at half past eleven on the morning of December 19th my child was born.

I lay back exhausted; but I must know whether the child was a boy. I looked at the Princesse; she was near the bed; she shook her head, in the arranged signal.

A girl! I felt a sick disappointment . and then . I was fighting for my breath.

I was aware of faces about me . a sea of faces . those of the Princesse de Lamballe, the accoucheur, the King.

Someone shouted: “My God, give her air. For God’s sake move away ..and give her air. “

Then I fell into unconsciousness.

I heard from Madame Campan afterwards what happened. None of the women could force their way through the crowds to bring the hot water. Air was absolutely necessary, for all the doctors agreed I was on the point of death by suffocation.

“Clear the room!” shouted the accoucheur. But the people refused to move. They had come to see the show and it was not yet over.

“Open the windows! For God’s sake open the windows!”

But the windows had been pasted all round with strips of paper and it would take hours to remove it that they might be opened.

There were moments in my husband’s life when he was indeed a King among men, and this was one of them. He pushed his way through the crowd and with a strength which no one would have thought possible in one man, he wrenched open the windows and the cold fresh air rushed into the room.

The accoucheur told the surgeon that I must be bled immediately, without hot water since it was unobtainable, and an incision was immediately made in my foot. Madame Cam-pan told me afterwards that as the blood streamed forth I opened my eyes and they all knew that my life had been saved.

Poor Lamballe fainted—as might have been expected-and had to be carried out; the King ordered that the room be cleared of all spectators, but even then some of them refused to go and the valets de chambres and the pages had to drag them out by their collars.

But I was alive, I had given birth to a child—albeit a daughter.

When I was conscious of what was going on I was aware of the bandage about my foot, and I asked why it was there.

The King came to my bedside and told me what had happened. Everyone seemed to be weeping and embracing each other.

“They are rejoicing,” he told me, ‘because you have recovered. We feared . “

But he could not go on. After a pause he said: “It shall never happen again. I swear it.”

The child . ” I said.

And the King nodded. The child was brought to me and laid in my arms;

and from the moment I saw her, I loved her and I would not have had her different in any way.

My happiness was complete.

“Poor little one,” I said, ‘you may not be what we wished for, but you are not on that account less dear to me. A son would have been rather the property of the State; you shall be mine. You shall have my undivided care, shall share all my happiness and console me in my troubles. “

I named her after my mother. She was called Marie Therese Charlotte; but she was known from the beginning throughout the Court as Madame Royale.

Couriers were dispatched. My husband himself wrote at once to Vienna; and throughout Paris there was general rejoicing, with processions and bonfires; the sky was so bright that all through the night it was like day; and the sounds of fireworks and gun salutes filled the palace.

Everything was going as it should, after that first ordeal when I had been unable to breathe in that overpopulated room. The people crowded round the palace to demand how I was and bulletins were issued daily.

I was tremendously happy. I had my baby and the people were so interested in my welfare that they demanded constant news of my health. The King was in ecstasies. He was so delighted to be a father; he kept coming into the nursery to see his daughter and marvel at her.

“What a darling she is!” he kept murmuring under his breath.

“Look at these fingers…. She even has nails, ten of them, and they are perfect . perfect’ I laughed at him but I felt exactly the same. I too wanted to look at her all the time, to marvel at her; my own daughter, my very ownl We were young. We would have many children yet. The next would be a Dauphin. I was certain of it.

Meanwhile the birth of Madame Royale must be celebrated.

A strange incident occurred a few days after the birth of my baby. The Cure of the Madeleine de la Cite called at the palace and asked to see Monsieur Campan. When alone with Monsieur Campan the Cure produced a box which he said had been given to him in the confessional, so he could not reveal the name of the person who had given it to him.

Inside the box was a ring, which, so the confession ran, had been stolen from me that it might be used in sorcery to prevent my having children.

Monsieur Campan brought the ring to me, which I recognised as one I had lost seven years ago.

“WE should try to discover who has done this,” said Monsieur Campan.

“Oh, let it be. I have the ring, and the sorceries were not successful. I do not fear them.”

“Madame, would you not wish to know one who was such an enemy?”

I shook my head.

“I would prefer not to know those who hate me so much.” I could see that Monsieur Campan did not agree with this and thought we should have made some endeavour to discover our enemies, but my dislike of trouble prevailed and I gave orders that the matter should be forgotten.

Perhaps once again I was wrong. Perhaps had I pursued the inquiries

Monsieur Campan thought I should make, I might have discovered some enemies who were living very close to me.

I quickly forgot all about the ring; there were so many other more amusing things to occupy me. The King and I were to go to Paris for my churching. On this day one hundred poor girls were married and I gave them all a dowry. When I arrived at the church they were all assembled there with their hair most unnaturally curled and they were married in Notre Dame. We arrived in the King’s carriage with the trumpeters going on ahead to announce us and twenty-four footmen resplendent in the royal livery and six pages on horseback. The Prcv6t came to the door of the carriage and made a speech to which the King replied.

The procession passed through Paris. On a balcony in the Rue St.

Honore, Rose Bertin had lined up her assistants and stood at the head of them. They all dropped fine curtsies as we passed. From Notre Dame we went to Sainte Genevieve and on to La Place Louis XV; and although many people came out to watch us there were hardly any cheers.

I was bewildered. What did they want? They had had their fireworks, buffets of cold meat and wine; certain prisoners had been liberated;

the “brides had had their dowries. I had given the first of the Enfants de France. What was wrong with them? Why this cold reception?

Why these sullen looks?

When we returned to the chateau I summoned Mercy and told him of our reception.

He nodded gravely. Of course he had heard of it already.

“It is incredible,” I said.

“What do they want?”

He answered: “They have heard much of your extravagances. There have been many scandalous stories. Hardly a day passes when a new song and a rhyme about you is not being circulated. Your Ugerete, your dissipation, are the cause of this. This is a time of war, but you think only of amusing yourself. That is why the people are against you I was hurt and a little frightened. It had been alarming to ride through those crowded silent streets.

“I will be different,” I said firmly.

“I will give up these too conspicuous amusements. I am a mother now..

..” I meant it. I wanted to.

My mother wrote from Vienna, she was delighted that I had come safely through childbirth and that my daughter was healthy.

“But we must have a Dauphin,” she wrote.

Tragic News from Vienna

“We need a Dauphin and heir to the throne. I must confess to Your Majesty that the Comte de Fersen has been so well received by the Queen that it has given umbrage to several persons. I must admit that I cannot help believing that she has an inclination for him; I have seen indications too obvious to leave me in doubt in the matter. The conduct of the Young Comte de Fersen has, on this occasion, been admirable in its modesty and reserve and above all in the decision he has taken of going to America.