Marie Antoinette (6 page)

I am being taught a new card game that is becoming very popular at Versailles. Abbé de Vermond says it is a favorite now of King Louis’s daughters Adelaide, Victoire, and Sophie. I am told that the King was much impressed with the pastel Ducreux sent of me. Now I hope they shall send one of the Dauphin. I am so eager to see what my future husband looks like. I know so little about him. However, I do know that his birthday is coming up. He shall be fifteen on August 23. I think I should make a gift for him. Perhaps an embroidered vest. Oh, I could never finish it by then. Maybe something smaller. An embroidered cover for his prayer book. The Dauphin is almost fifteen months older than I am. I shall turn fourteen on November 2. I think this is a nice age difference. Ferdinand of Naples is much older than Caroline. He has a vast amount of wrinkles and many gray hairs, some sticking straight out of his ears. It’s rather disgusting.

July 12, 1769

The
poupées
from France arrived today. They are the little fashion dolls that show how the various dresses look when worn. They are absolutely charming and stand about one foot high. One is just for undergarments — chemises, shifts, underpetticoats, petticoats, corsets, and hoops. But the dresses themselves are what are the most amazing. The
modiste
, or designer, for these new fashions is a young woman named Rose Bertin, and she has made the most extraordinary creations. I love them all. I want them all, and these are only her designs for the early spring season at Versailles. The panniers have grown even wider, and this allows for more decorations and flounces and lace frills. The necklines are much lower, and I must say these dollies have more bosom than I do. And then there are the most beautiful flower-decorated ribbons called
échelles
that tumble down the fronts of the dresses over the stomacher. The stomacher is an inset triangle that goes from the neckline of the dress down over the stomach and helps the waist appear thinner.

My favorite gown, however, was one called a
polonaise
. It is really more of an overdress or coat dress with a skirt that opens from the waist down and is drawn up to show the petticoats. Mama thought it was scandalous. But I loved it and it looks so comfortable. I ordered two
polonaises
and two
robes à la Créole
, which is supposedly fashioned after gowns worn by French ladies in the Americas. It is very simple, almost the weight of a chemise, and is caught at the waist with a large sash. And then I ordered several of the huge pannier gowns and numerous mantles and cloaks. The wedding is set for May and Madame Bertin has already begun on my wedding dress and a
poupée
will be coming next month. I think the dress is to be of white satin brocade with diamonds. The
poupée
, of course, will have fool’s diamonds. Oh, this is all so exciting! I can hardly stand it. I am counting the days.

July 15, 1769

With the
poupées
came a long letter from a Countess de Noailles. She is to be my Lady of Honor. The letter was very kind. She said she thought she would take the opportunity to explain to me some of the etiquette pertaining to fashion and dressing, since I had the
poupée
before my eyes. And then, unbelievably, there were fifteen pages of closely written rules and regulations concerning fashion and dressing. How shall I ever remember them all? An exceedingly stupid one comes to mind right now: Lappets, which are two long flaps on either side of a headdress and are usually worn pinned up, are always to be loosened and left hanging when receiving people in the state apartments. No one ever lets their lappets hang in Court here. They are such a nuisance. Mama always has hers pinned up. They get into the ink pots when she is writing. Although the Countess’s tone is most friendly, I hope that she is not too strict about all of these rules of etiquette.

July 18, 1769

I could not help but think what a wonderful summer this has been — picnics, horseback riding, balls. They say that at Versailles a Princess must be accompanied by no less than four of her Ladies-in-Waiting, a chair carrier, and a valet. And that when a Princess is on her way to the King’s suite, she is required to be carried only as far as the guard’s room and then alight there before entering the presence of the King. No one carries anyone around here. We do not even have such chairs.

July 19, 1769

These disturbing thoughts about etiquette occupy my mind more and more. Almost once a week it seems new papers arrive concerning the various rituals of the Court. Now one has come about card playing. I don’t really play cards that well to begin with. But now I am required to understand that only a Lady-in-Waiting can hand the cards directly to me and not a Lady of the Chamber. I am trying my best to learn all this. I must say, Lulu makes it as nice as possible and sometimes funny.

Despite all this etiquette I must learn for Versailles, I am determined to enjoy the rest of the summer and the special freedom I find here at Schönbrunn. Titi and I went wading in the fountains in our nightrails last night. It was so hot. So we just decided to do it. I wager that I should never be permitted this at Versailles — even if I were Queen and commanded it. This is probably a terrible thought to commit to paper. However, I must say it, although Mama would be furious: But what is the point of being the Queen of France if one cannot wade barefoot in one’s nightclothes?

July 24, 1769

The wedding dress
poupée
arrived today. It is the most splendid gown. It is white brocade with stripes of diamonds. The hoops are immense. There was included a note from the
modiste
, Madame Rose Bertin, saying that she designed this gown with the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles in mind. It is through this Hall that the wedding procession shall pass on its way to the Royal Chapel. More than five thousand seats are to be installed so that spectators may view us. Madame Bertin writes “. . . and the four thousand diamonds that are right now being sewn onto your gown shall appear as forty million in the Hall of Mirrors! You shall be, Your Highness, the most magnificent creature on earth!”

Mama read this and made a little face, then muttered, “I’m glad they’re paying for it.” I blushed. How can Mama think of cost at a time like this?

July 27, 1769

The heat has been terrible. It is nearly impossible to sleep. Titi and I went out again tonight to wade and you’ll never guess who joined us. Mama! Titi and I were so frightened when we saw her coming. She was with one of her Ladies of the Chamber and wore a great cape over her chemise. Then she spoke up. “This is the best idea of the whole summer.” She sat down on a bench, took off her shoes, unrolled her stockings, walked over, and climbed into the fountain. She let her chemise drag through the water. “Ooh, Bissy!” she called to her Lady of the Chamber, “Come in. It’s the best!” Then under her breath she whispered to us, “She never will. She’s such a fearful thing.” And Bissy didn’t. But Mama and Titi and I waded about and Mama told us she used to do this when she was young. I noticed, for the moon was full and the light was good, that Mama has grown quite stout. Her wet chemise clung to her calves, which looked like large hams.

Then we sat by the side of the fountain’s pool and looked up at the stars. Mama knows so much. She pointed out several constellations, and she tried to explain to me how ships can navigate by tracking their movement against that of the stars. But I could not understand it. It seemed like very complicated mathematics. I have been taught very little of mathematics. I wondered why Mama knows so much about such things and I so little. Then she said, “Well, that was so refreshing that I think I am ready for more work! Bissy, bring the red lacquer box to my chamber and I shall read a few of those papers before I retire. Good night, Antonia. Good night, Theresa.” And she lumbered off in the moonlight. Her immense shadow stretched clear across the terrace. And I thought I heard her muttering to herself that rude rhyme about Freddy. You know the one:

Bend over, Freddy of Prussia

Let the Empress take aim

Your butt will fly to Russia

Your brains to sunny Spain

I wonder if Mama is planning another war. I hope not. At least not before my wedding.

July 28, 1769

I was called to the Gloriette for a meeting with Mama this morning. Usually when I come I stand throughout the meeting, as do all of Mama’s subjects, but this time she ordered a chair fetched for me and placed it on the other side of the desk. No one except my brother Joseph, who now rules with Mama as Emperor, ever sits opposite the Empress in her offices. This is most unusual. But it suddenly struck me why. Last night Mama and I had waded together, splashed with bare calves and dripping nightrails in the fountain. It was fun and very frivolous. This is Mama’s way of saying that my position is changing. That perhaps we can do such antics very privately here at Schönbrunn but that — yes, I saw it in the way in which she fixed me in the glint of her eye. That said it all —
We are rulers, Antonia. Majesty is required
. And then she really did say it in so many words.

“Antonia, when you go to France, you shall no longer be known as Antonia but as Marie Antoinette. Antonia is the name of a girl. Marie Antoinette is the name of a Queen.”

P.S. I do not think Mama regrets wading in the fountain pool. Mama is not built for regret. It is not part of her. I think she just wants me to understand the difference between this kind of behavior, which must be kept private, and the conduct of a Queen, which is for the public.

August 1, 1769

We received new dispatches today concerning dining etiquette and protocol. And I am beginning to wonder if there can be any time for a private life at Versailles. It seems that it is customary for the French Royal Family to take their evening supper in public several days of the week and that people are admitted to the galleries above the dining salon so they might look down and watch the King, his daughters, and his grandchildren dine! There can be up to one thousand people watching. I think this might be upsetting to my digestion. I turned to Schnitzel, who was with me in my chamber, and said, “Dear Schnitzy, how would you feel about having to eat in front of all those people?” He actually barked. I took it as “I wouldn’t like it.”

August 2, 1769

Titi came to me very concerned today. She said that Mama has instructed her to call me Marie Antoinette and she finds it very uncomfortable. She said it is like a shoe that doesn’t fit. So I asked, doesn’t fit you or me? And she said, “Neither one of us.” It is much too long a name for such a short person, she said. So I told her to call me Antonia in private and use Marie Antoinette only when the Empress is present. “But what about Tony?” she asked, for she often calls me Tony. I assured her she could still do that in private. I might have added that I hope she does indeed call me that in private, for it is almost as if I can see my private world disappearing, simply melting away, and what shall be left? And
who
shall be left? Will I recognize this Marie Antoinette, Dauphine, wife of Louis Auguste Bourbon, future Queen of France? Who is she?

August 3, 1769

Mama has decided to give a grand ball after our return to Vienna. We go back to the Hofburg Palace in September, and she says it will take a month to prepare for the ball. She has sent a dispatch to the Court of Versailles to see if the
modiste
Madam Rose Bertin could create a wonderful gown for me.

August 4, 1769

I shall say it outright. I dread the end of summer. This is perhaps the last time I shall ever be at Schönbrunn. Every time we do something, I think this is one of the last times I might do this — the last time we shall all picnic together, the last time I shall race my horse through the woodlands.

August 27, 1769

It has been more than three weeks since I have written. You see, dear diary, we put on a play and my toe became infected from all the dancing I did in it. The infection crept up my foot and my ankle, and my leg began to swell. Indeed, if I thought Mama’s calf looked like a ham that night when we were wading, my calf looked like a bigger one. I was beset with fever and even became delirious. I have been bled countless times, and every poultice known in the Empire has been applied to my poor toe. Every day comes an endless stream of Court physicians and apothecaries with new remedies. Well, finally something worked, and the infection began to recede and the swelling went down. As soon as Mama knew I would live, she gave me a scolding such as I have never had. It made the mud-splattering of earlier this summer pale by comparison! She said that we must keep all this a big secret. If the French Court knew that I had been sick, or as she said, so careless, they would break the betrothal contract. She told me how I’ve put myself, the Empire, and France in mortal danger. Once more I could feel The Monster’s breath at my back. I finally had to close my eyes and pretend I was too weak to listen to any more. But to think, all this because of a little blister on my toe. Mama finally took leave. As soon as I heard the door slam, I whispered to myself, “It was still worth it.” I didn’t at that time realize that Elizabeth was in the room. She came over to my bed and grasped my hand, and for the first time since she contracted the smallpox, Elizabeth raised her veil. Her lovely violet eyes were bleary with tears. She looked straight into my eyes and said, “It would not have been worth it if you had died, sister.” Then she smiled that brilliant smile and I drew her poor pockmarked face to mine and kissed her all over her dead pitted cheeks.