The Journal of Marie-Antoinette The secret thoughts, hopes and dreams of a princess.

We have just arrived at the city of Freiberg after what has been the most extraordinary and exhausting week of my entire life as my cortège crossed Germany, enjoying the hospitality of several towns along the way. Never before have I beheld such adulation and although I know that it was mostly inspired by the love that my mother inspires I hope that at least some of the shouts, cheers and applause were just for me. It feels wrong and sad that I may never see any of these places again and am only seeing them now as I prepare to say goodbye.

The best part of the week was the two days that we spent in Günzburg with Papa’s sister Princess Charlotte of Lorraine. She was very kind to me and made many lovely comments about how similar I am to my dear Papa and how he would often talk about me in his letters.

‘You would think that having so many children would have made him quite blasé by the time you arrived but it was quite the reverse,’ she remarked with a gentle smile over dinner. ‘He was as proud of you as he was of any of your siblings and often remarked that out of all his children you were the one that he treasured the most as you were the most like him in every way.’

As you can imagine, it made my heart burst with pride to hear this.  Oh, Papa, how I wish that you were here now. I am so sure that things would have been totally different if only Papa had not died when he did. I am sure that Mama would never have made poor Josepha go down into the crypt and so she would not have caught smallpox and so Carolina would not have gone to Naples and might have gone to Parma instead and on and on it goes. Amalia might even have been allowed to marry her Karl and I… I do not know what the future would have held for me but perhaps I would not be here now, almost at the end of my journey to France but instead still safely at home in Vienna, basking in the love of a father that was cruelly taken from me before his time.

A letter from Mama was waiting for me when we got here, full of the usual exhortations to remember my duty, never forget for an instant who and what I am, be gracious to all who approach me and to ‘above all smile‘. The letter also contained the interesting news that my brother Leopold and his ugly Spanish wife have had yet another baby, this time a perfect little girl who is to be called Maria Anna. How wonderful. I hugged myself as I read this, dreaming of a time when it will be me whose babies are joyfully announced to all the family.

‘I expect that you already know about your sister Amalia’s pregnancy? I am very pleased indeed as I know that she has had much to try her in her time at Parma. Pray God that she will have a safe delivery. I hope to hear happy news from France before long also. We all do.’

We said a sad farewell to Nymphenburg and its gracious inhabitants this morning and continued on our way, refreshed and rejuvenated by our two days of rest. My ladies and I were in high spirits as our carriage rolled slowly through woods, villages and fields, followed by a huge cloud of dust as the fifty seven coaches of my courtège rumbled behind us, churning up the road as they went.

Tonight we rest in Augsburg, an ancient city in South West Bavaria. I can’t stop yawning and am longing for bed but instead I must allow the maids to bath me before I dress up in my finery, pin on my brightest smile and go out for a banquet followed by the opera.

Waiting for me here was a letter from Amalia, hidden inside a wooden box containing the most lovely pale pink cashmere shawl.

‘My darling little sister,

How are you? I hear that you made the most beautiful bride imaginable and that King Louis is already rubbing his hands with glee at the prospect of having you live with him at Versailles. My poor husband is his favourite grandson you know and they write to each other often, usually about the most mundane subjects imaginable but occasionally about you, my dearest one. I do not know what it is about my husband that makes his grandfather so fond of him but suspect that it is due to his Mama being King Louis’ favourite daughter. She was dead long before I came here but I hear that she was very fat, exceedingly arrogant and extremely and resolutely French. Make of that what you will.

Anyway! I have news! I am sure that this will come as something of a shock but I am expecting a baby. Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, I said ‘baby’. I am told that the small person is due to make their appearance sometime in November, which is not so long is it? I have waited this long before telling anyone because I wanted to be sure and also because I just could not bear the idea of all the fuss that Mama will make about the prospect. It could not be kept secret for much longer though as I am already beginning to grow large and ungainly.

Ferdinand is beside himself with joy, of course and brags of the coming infant in the most embarrassing way. He is so happy though that I cannot bring myself to stop him and so I endure as best I can.

I have written to Karl to let him know. I do not know how he will take the news. Let me know if you hear anything from him? Joseph wrote to tell me that you were staying with Elector Max at Nymphenberg. How envious I am! If only things had been different…

I must go now. Much love to you, my darling! I think of you always.

Your Amélie.’

I have spent the afternoon sitting with the Electress Maria Anna in her green and gold sitting room being plied with sugared cakes, hot chocolate served in beautiful rose patterned Sèvres cups and delicious, wonderful gossip. Do not be fooled by the tiny little Electress of Bavaria’s pretty pink and white face, earnest blue eyes and little girl voice as she sits on her delicate chair and gently pulls the ears of the tiny little white spaniel that lazes comfortably on her pale yellow silk lap. This woman, thanks to personal relationships to every crowned head in Europe and a formidable amount of correspondents in every court has her finger very firmly placed on the pulse, the beating heart of the Western world. She is also, despite her doll like appearance, incredibly shrewd and intensely intelligent. I would not like to have her for an enemy and so I consider myself fortunate indeed that she has decided to be my friend.

‘I am almost forty two years old!’ she trilled with a delighted laugh as I admired her lovely flounced silk dress. ‘Some might say, and I am absolutely sure that they do, that I am far too old to be concerned with such frippery but I don’t care!’

‘You look wonderful,’ I replied with a smile, taken aback by her candour and rather surprised as she absolutely does not look her age.  ‘Truly.’

‘Thank you my dear.’ She waved away the hovering footmen and poured me a cup of hot chocolate with her own hands. ‘I must say that I hope my nephew appreciates how fortunate he is to have such a lovely bride. I am sure that his mother, my poor sister would have been very pleased with you.’ She lifted the ornate silver sugar tongs and cast me a quizzical look. ‘Sugar?’

‘Yes, please.’ I smiled and blushed. ‘I hope that everyone will be pleased with me. I wish that my… the Dauphin’s mother was still alive so that I could meet her.’ The Dauphine Marie-Josèphe had died  three years previously from tuberculosis.

‘She was not entirely happy with the match you know,’ the Electress was clearly trying to pick her words carefully. ‘My dear sister was very keen that her son should marry our niece, Maria Amalia of Saxony and was quite determined to bring about a match between the two.’ She heaped thick whipped cream on top of my hot chocolate and passed it to me. ‘Amalia is the eldest daughter of our brother, the Elector of Saxony and is very pretty. My poor Maria Josepha had always taken an interest in the girl and had decided that having her at Versailles would be a comfort to her once her own two daughters, Clotilde and Élisabeth had married and gone to live elsewhere.’

‘Oh.’ I could not help but feel downcast. ‘I see.’ At no point had anyone ever mentioned that there had been another Princess in the running and the news made me feel rather insignificant in the general scheme of things. Yes, I had won the prize but it had almost been snatched away from me by some unknown girl, who had furthermore been the favourite of my prospective mother in law. ‘What does she look like?’ I knew that the question made me look foolish and jealous but couldn’t help myself.

The Electress smiled to herself as though she had been expecting my question and did not at all think any less of me for it. ‘Maria Amalia is very pretty but, I think, not as pretty or charming as you.’ She leaned forward and squeezed my hands. ‘You have nothing to worry about, dearest!’ She beckoned forward a footman who held a long mahogany box in his hands. ‘Here, I will show you.’

The box was opened to reveal a collection of several dozen miniatures arranged in neat rows against pale blue velvet. The Electress frowned as she scanned the painted faces. ‘Aha!’ She selected a miniature and handed it to me. ‘Maria Amalia.’

I looked down at the miniature, half expecting to see some sort of heavy lidded, voluptuous temptress depicted within but instead I beheld an attractive girl with regular features, slightly protruding blue eyes and corn coloured hair drawn back in a pearl studded chignon. In short she looked like any other German princess and the only sign of any character that I could discern was a certain mutinous tilt to her chin, which probably boded no good to any future husband.  She was nothing special, in fact she was absolutely ordinary. I hated her.

‘See?’ The Electress took back the miniature and replaced it in the box. ‘Nothing to be frightened of.’ She selected another picture. ‘Now, who do you suppose this is?’ She handed me a picture of a pale youth with dark eyes and an untidy mop of dark hair, pulled back with a blue ribbon.

‘I do not know.’ I scrutinised his face for a clue but found none.

She laughed, delighted with her game. ‘Why, it is my other nephew, Ferdinand of Naples!’

‘Carolina’s husband?’ I stared at him in amazement. He was not at all as I had imagined him to be. ‘I did not realise that he was your nephew as well.’ Was there no one that this woman was not related to?

The Electress smiled. ‘Ah yes, he is the son of my other sister, Amalia who married the King of Spain. She is dead now too of course, which is very sad.’ She handed me a miniature of a lovely pink cheeked girl in a red hat. ‘She was so pretty, poor thing. I do not think that the climate in Spain agreed with her at all.’

‘What a pity,’ I agreed.

And so it went on. Miniature after miniature came out of the box, portraits of princesses, dukes and kings, their eyes gazing up into mine as I cradled them on my palm and listened to the Electress hold forth.

On Louis XV: ‘The most charming man imaginable. Terribly shy of course, thanks to his upbringing and early loss of his entire family to an outbreak of measles. Yes, they all died within a week of each other and only Louis survived thanks to his governess having the presence of mind to hide him away from the royal doctors.’

On Madame de Pompadour: ‘The most cultured woman imaginable. Her death was a true tragedy. I wish that she was still alive to welcome you to Versailles as I am sure that she would have been delighted with you. The match with Austria was her doing you know so you have much to than her for!’

On the Dauphine Maria Josepha: ‘My beautiful sister. She was the sweetiest, funniest girl imaginable. The King adored her, you know and called her his ‘Pepa’. I hear that he was quite berefit when she died. More so than when La Pompadour passed away. She was truly devout and yet at the same time was so full of laughter and fun. I am sure that she is still missed at Versailles.’

On the Dauphin: ‘A loving and intelligent boy, who is much sharper than anyone gives him credit for. They all think that he is dull, boring and stupid but if they only made the effort to truly know him they would soon realise that there is much more to him. I am sure that you will get along famously. I am sure that a pretty girl like you will find it easy to draw him out of his shell.’

On Karl: ‘An impetuous and dangerous young man.’

Hm.

I woke up early this morning in the beautiful yellow and silver bedroom of the Amalienburg pavilion, just as the fresh Spring sunlight was beginning to filter between the heavy yellow brocade curtains, spilling over the parquet floor and highlighting the soft motes that fluttered through the air.

I wriggled my toes beneath the embroidered counterpane then stretched out luxuriously and lay back against the lace edged linen pillows, enjoying the solitude, the peace. In only a few moments the servants would begin their daily routine and their chattering would pierce the spell but for now I could pretend that I was just like any other girl, waking up alone in my bedroom and preparing for the day ahead.

Of course it wasn’t long before there was a gentle knock on the door and Clara poked her head around with a smile. ‘Oh, you are already awake! What a lovely day it is! Would you like your breakfast now? Soft rolls and hot chocolate or something else?’ Her red high heels clip clopped on the shiny parquet flooring as she went to the windows and pulled open the heavy curtains so that light flooded the room. ‘What glorious sunshine! Shall we take a walk in the gardens this morning?’

I sighed, resenting the intrusion and bustle but not daring to let my smile slip even for a second. ‘Yes, why not?’ A troupe of maids followed her into the room and began to fuss around me, lifting the pillows, arranging the counterpane neatly over my legs, dusting tables and the finally producing a large silver tray laden with the promised soft rolls, strawberry conserve, curls of butter and a steaming, silver pot of hot chocolate.

The morning passed very pleasantly. After donning my favourite pink and white striped silk dress we all went out and walked about the lovely formal garden that surrounded the pavilion. I trailed my hands over the sweetly scented roses and lilies and thought how lovely it would be to have a little pleasure palace of my own one day. Perhaps Louis will build me one? Or I could build my own? The Antoniaberg? I must ask my Abbé how that would translate into French. I can imagine Durfort’s face should I try to introduce a German sounding building to his beloved Versailles. Which almost makes me want to do it.

Anyway, I must go. We are spending the afternoon with the Duchess and she is apparently keen to talk to me about her elusive nephew. I can’t wait!

Forget what I said about Karl last night. I was tired and didn’t know what I was talking about.

We arrived in Munich this afternoon. I pinned on a happy smile and waved without cease as the carriage bounced over the cobbled streets past thousands of cheering, ecstatic people. We have been on the road for five days now. Five long days. It seems like I left Vienna only yesterday and yet at the same time it already feels so far away. In between stops I lean my head against the padded blue velvet carriage seat and stare listlessly out across the verdant, beautiful landscape as we meander past, seeing nothing and caring even less.

My ladies whisper together and look at me with concern. They ask me how I feel, pat my hands ineffectually, coo and sigh and flutter about me and pour endless, unwanted drinks which are destined to sit between us untouched and cooling rapidly in the sharp, chill Spring air. I don’t have the words to tell them how I really feel right now and they wouldn’t understand anyway. I am the princess after all. I am above pain, above sorrow, above regret. I am only fulfilling my destiny and in comparison to other girls, in comparison to them, I am fortunate indeed.

After all, who wouldn’t want to marry a prince and live out their days in a legendary palace? Who wouldn’t want all the beautiful dresses, the jewels, the servants? Who wouldn’t want the power?

We are in a palace now, the beautiful white stone Nymphenburg, Summer home of the Duke of Bavaria who is a cousin of my mother (no surprise there as all the crowned heads in Europe are related to each other – even the Dauphin is a cousin of mine) and, disconcertingly, the older brother of poor unlamented Josephina while his wife is the Dauphin’s aunt.  The Duke and Josephina look so similar that I would have known them for siblings instantly as Duke Max has his sister’s melancholy direct gaze and straight nose. I was worried that he might greet me coldly as all the world knows that my brother was not exactly the fondest husband ever but my fears were entirely allayed when I stepped into the lovely, lofty entrance hall and Duke Max, magnificently dressed in crimson brocade, black silk and an abundance of gold strode forward,  took me into his arms and hugged me tightly, surrounding me with a clean male scent of lemons and rosemary while his pretty little blonde haired Saxon wife, Maria Anna smiled benevolently upon us both and nodded her head approvingly.

‘You are most welcome,’ Duke Max said with a grin, leading me forward to meet his wife, who sank into a low curtsey at my feet, her pale blue silk skirts billowing around her. ‘I hope that you will be comfortable here with us.’

I smiled up at him, reassured and instantly at my ease for who could not be in the face of such warmth? ‘I am sure that I will be.’

The Duchess, who is a wonderful little chatterbox and a mine of information about her nephew, my bridegroom, took me to her own rooms to prepare for dinner and discreetly removed herself as I sank down upon the pink velvet coverlet on her bed and wearily closed my eyes while the maids busied themselves around me, pouring out hot water and lavender oil into a porcelain basin, arranging fine linen towels and shaking out the yellow silk dress that I was to wear to dinner that evening.

‘It is so lovely here,’ Clementina said with a sigh from her post beside the window. ‘I had no idea that Munich was so beautiful! I expected rain and gloom and ugliness but instead there is light and beauty in abundance.’ She breathed on the window and traced a rudimentary face with her fingertip.

I went to stand beside her and gasped at the view across the immense formal garden with its long canal bordered on each side with intricately shaped flower beds crammed full of brightly hued seasonal blooms. Splendidly dressed courtiers wandered about in groups on the wide parterres and as I watched a group of girls laughed and shrieked with delight after getting too close to the huge golden fountain at the very centre of the garden. Josephina had seemed so provincial and dowdy with her plain, dark dresses and un-powdered hair that it seemed ridiculous that she had grown up in the midst of so much splendour.

‘Did the Empress Josephina really come from here?’ Anna asked in a disbelieving whisper, almost as though she had read my shamefully irreverent thoughts. ‘She was so very austere wasn’t she? Do you remember?’

‘Of course I remember!’ I snapped. ‘It was not so very long ago.’ I looked across the gardens that she must once have known so well and now would never see again and understood for the very first time just how miserable and out of place and alienated she must have felt in Vienna. ‘Poor Josephina.’ I felt a sharp stab of guilt, remembering how carelessly cruel we had all been to her and how meekly she had borne it.

Before dinner we all donned our hats and shawls and went out for a stroll in the park, with Duke Max himself firmly placing my gloved hand on his crimson sleeve with an avuncular wink and insisting that I allow him to accompany me. I had taken a great liking to him and so was pleased to let him lead me across the parterre and down to the great canal, the gravel crunching loudly beneath our feet as we walked. A stray stone became caught in my pink silk shoes but I was too polite to pause and remove it and so hobbled on, smiling all the while to mask my discomfort. ‘I wanted you to see my view before sunset,’ he said, gazing proudly at the vista that unfolded before us and inhaling deeply. ‘I always think that it looks its best at this time of the day.’

‘It is very lovely,’ I remarked softly. ‘You must be so proud.’ There were miniature barges and gondolas on the canal, piloted by grinning sailors who waved and shouted at us in Italian as we watched them row. I dread to think what they were calling. ‘How delightful!’

The Duke smiled down at me, evidently pleased with my reaction. ‘I know that it could be considered big headed to say so but I truly believe that there is no finer spot in all the World. Versailles itself is nothing to this.’ I stiffened a little, already feeling a little defensive of my future home but then relaxed my shoulders as he winked and raised my hand to his lips. ‘I mean no harm,’ he murmured. ‘Let me have my moment.’

We turned away and made our way back up to the palace. ‘I hope that you do not mind but I have arranged for you to spend the next two nights at the Amalienburg lodge in the park rather than the palace itself. It was built for my mother and is quite enchanting so I am sure that you will be very happy there.’ He smiled and kissed my hand again. ‘I will escort you there after dinner.’

‘You are too kind,’ I replied, thinking how unusual this arrangement was and wondering if there was to be a revenge for our treatment of Josephina after all? Perhaps the Amalienburg was damp or full of spiders and beetles? Perhaps it had no roof?

My fears turned out to be nonsensical of course. After a very delicious dinner with the court and most important grandees of Munich, a small party made up of myself, the Duke and Duchess and our closest attendants climbed into small carriages and we were swiftly carried through the darkness to a corner of the park. I couldn’t see very much in the gloom as a waiting footman helped me down from the vehicle but there was just enough light to make out a most beautiful pale pink and white single storey pavilion shimmering amongst the trees with tall, shuttered windows, all of which were ablaze with light from dozens of candles.

‘I hope that you will be comfortable,’ the Duchess whispered with a reassuring squeeze of my hand as we walked inside. ‘We could think of nowhere more suitable for a lovely young bride to sleep on her way to her wedding. You are my niece now after all!’

I nodded, unable to speak as I gazed around in wonderment at the polished marble and wooden floors, the tall gilt mirrors, the beautiful paintings that covered the walls and ceilings and the mass of gold, silver and mother of pearl decoration that covered every possible surface. It was like stepping inside a fairy tale.

‘My father built this for my mother as a present,’ the Duke said as he led us all from room to room. ‘I think that she would have lived here permanently if she had been allowed.’ He paused for a moment in front of a painting in one of the salons. ‘Ah, Josephina.’ I looked up unwillingly and met her quizzical dark painted eyes. The Duke sighed. ‘My poor little sister.’

‘Yes.’ I didn’t know what to say and trained my gaze upon her pale face, thinking how pretty she had looked in her youth, dressed up in pink, with pearls in her hair and flowers in her hands. What had happened to this smiling girl? What had we done to her?

‘She spoke of you often in her letters,’ Duke Max said with a melancholy smile, so similar to Josephina’s. ‘She was deeply unhappy in Vienna and would seem to have had much to complain about but never failed to comment on how kind you were to her. I think that you must have been her only friend.’

‘I was there when she was taken ill,’ I whispered, wishing that I had more to offer him. ‘I do not think that she suffered.’

He nodded and I saw that his eyes were shining with tears. ‘I am glad, yes, very glad to hear it. It was hard that she died so far away from home.’ He turned to me, his face sad. ‘One always hopes of course that any girl sent away will start to look upon their new country as their home and that in time they will become reconciled to their fate but in poor Josephina’s case that just didn’t seem to happen.’ He seemed to realise then who he was talking to and immediately shook himself and patted my hand. ‘That won’t happen to you though, my dear.’

‘I hope not.’ It was too late though. His words could never be recalled and had already taken root in my mind. What would happen to me if I never became reconciled to my fate, never felt at home in France? Would I be as unhappy as Josephina? Would I one day be spoken of pityingly by my family as ‘poor Antonia’?

We hurried away from the portrait and suddenly there he was before us. I was totally unprepared and could only stop dead and stare in open mouthed shock at the portrait that hung on the opposite wall. ‘Karl? What is he doing here?’ Karl von Zweibrücken looked just as he had done when I last saw him in Vienna, his tawny hair was hidden beneath a formal white wig and his hazel eyes gazed out upon the world with an expression that was at once tender and amused.

The Duke laughed. ‘I forgot that you know my dashing young cousin.’ Of course, we are all cousins here aren’t we?  I might have known that Karl would get in on the act as well. ‘He is in direct line to inherit the Duchy one day should myself and our other cousin Karl Theodor be so unfortunate as to die without any heirs.’

‘Let us hope that that never comes to pass,’ I remarked rather sourly, thinking of poor Maria Amalia and her undoubted chagrin should the relatively humble son of the Duke of Zweibrücken be elevated to Elector of Bavaria. I had never concerned myself with Karl’s lineage but it seemed odd that Mama had not been prepared to take a chance on him.

‘You don’t approve of him?’ We were walking on now and Duke Max was looking down at me with concern in his eyes. ‘I must admit that we are both very fond of him.’

I did not know how much Duke Max knew about Karl and his dealings with my family and so opted for a neutral shrug and laugh and ‘Oh, I like him well enough! I was just surprised to see his painting here, that is all.’

Karl. I do not know what it feels like to be in love but sometimes I wonder…