Marie Antoinette: Princess of Versailles, Austria - France, 1769 Read online

  Title Page

  Vienna, Austria 1769

  January 1, 1769

  January 3, 1769

  January 4, 1769

  January 5, 1769

  January 9, 1769

  January 11, 1769

  January 13, 1769

  January 14, 1769

  January 19, 1769

  January 20, 1769

  January 23, 1769

  January 30, 1769

  February 1, 1769

  February 4, 1769

  February 5, 1769

  February 6, 1769

  February 8, 1769

  February 9, 1769

  February 10, 1769

  February 11, 1769

  February 12, 1769

  February 14, 1769

  February 18, 1769

  February 27, 1769

  March 4, 1769

  March 5, 1769

  March 6, 1769

  March 7, 1769

  March 10, 1769

  March 11, 1769

  April 5, 1769

  April 6, 1769

  April 17, 1769

  April 25, 1769

  April 27, 1769

  April 29, 1769

  May 5, 1769

  May 6, 1769

  May 7, 1769

  May 10, 1769

  May 11, 1769

  May 14, 1769

  May 19, 1769

  May 20, 1769

  May 23, 1769

  May 27, 1769

  May 28, 1769

  May 29, 1769

  June 2, 1769

  June 4, 1769

  June 5, 1769

  June 7, 1769

  June 13, 1769

  June 14, 1769

  June 15, 1769

  July 5, 1769

  July 7, 1769

  July 12, 1769

  July 15, 1769

  July 18, 1769

  July 19, 1769

  July 24, 1769

  July 27, 1769

  July 28, 1769

  August 1, 1769

  August 2, 1769

  August 3, 1769

  August 4, 1769

  August 27, 1769

  August 30, 1769

  September 3, 1769

  September 9, 1769

  September 10, 1769

  September 11, 1769

  October 11, 1769

  October 14, 1769

  October 17, 1769

  October 23, 1769

  October 24, 1769

  October 29, 1769

  November 3, 1769

  November 8, 1769

  November 9, 1769

  November 10, 1769

  November 13, 1769

  November 17, 1769

  November 20, 1769

  November 25, 1769

  November 27, 1769

  November 30, 1769

  December 8, 1769

  December 10, 1769

  December 12, 1769

  December 13, 1769

  December 14, 1769

  December 17, 1769

  December 20, 1769

  December 21, 1769

  December 26, 1769

  January 1, 1770

  January 7, 1770

  January 8, 1770

  January 12, 1770

  January 14, 1770

  January 19, 1770

  January 20, 1770

  January 23, 1770

  January 25, 1770

  February 7, 1770

  February 10, 1770

  February 11, 1770

  February 20, 1770

  February 23, 1770

  February 24, 1770

  March 1, 1770

  March 2, 1770

  March 4, 1770

  March 8, 1770

  March 12, 1770

  March 17, 1770

  March 18, 1770

  March 20, 1770

  March 21, 1770

  March 22, 1770

  March 25, 1770

  March 26, 1770

  March 31, 1770

  April 1, 1770

  April 2, 1770

  April 3, 1770

  April 6, 1770

  April 10, 1770

  April 12, 1770

  April 13, 1770

  April 14, 1770

  April 15, 1770

  April 16, 1770

  April 17, 1770

  April 18, 1770

  April 19, 1770

  April 22, 1770

  April 25, 1770

  April 28, 1770

  April 29, 1770

  May 1, 1770

  May 2, 1770

  May 3, 1770

  May 4, 1770

  May 5, 1770

  May 6, 1770

  May 7, 1770

  Later: Strasbourg

  May 9, 1770

  May 11, 1770

  May 14, 1770

  May 15, 1770

  May 17, 1770

  May 18, 1770

  May 22, 1770

  May 24, 1770

  May 26, 1770

  June 1, 1770

  June 3, 1770

  June 5, 1770

  June 6, 1770

  June 8, 1770

  June 18, 1770

  June 20, 1770

  June 21, 1770

  June 22, 1770

  June 25, 1770

  June 26, 1770

  July 2, 1770

  July 5, 1770

  July 7, 1770

  July 11, 1770

  July 12, 1770

  July 18, 1770

  July 20, 1770

  July 23, 1770

  July 24, 1770

  August 1, 1770

  August 5, 1770

  August 12, 1770

  August 15, 1770

  August 18, 1770

  August 23, 1770

  August 27, 1770

  August 28, 1770

  August 30, 1770

  August 31, 1770

  September 4, 1770

  September 6, 1770

  September 10, 1770

  September 12, 1770

  September 15, 1770

  September 17, 1770

  September 20, 1770

  September 25, 1770

  September 26, 1770

  September 27, 1770

  September 28, 1770

  October 5, 1770

  October 10, 1770

  October 11, 1770

  October 14, 1770

  October 15, 1770

  November 5, 1770

  November 7, 1770

  November 15, 1770

  November 17, 1770

  November 26, 1770

  November 27, 1770

  December 3, 1770

  December 4, 1770

  December 8, 1770

  December 9, 1770

  January 1, 1771

  Epilogue

  Life in Austria–France in 1769

  Historical Note

  The Habsburg-Bourbon Family

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

&n
bsp; January 1, 1769

  Hofburg Palace, Vienna, Austria

  I do solemnly promise to write in this diary given to me by my tutor, Abbé de Vermond, if not every day, at least every week, even though writing is not easy for me. For I shape my letters poorly and do not too often know the proper spelling. Still, this is my resolution for the new year.

  Yours truly,

  Archduchess Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna, daughter of Maria Theresa of Habsburg, Empress of the Holy Roman Empire of the Germanic Nations, and the late Emperor Francis of Lorraine

  January 3, 1769

  My second time writing. I am keeping the resolution. Abbé de Vermond would be proud. I spelled the word solemnly correctly, too, I think. I am grateful to the Abbé for giving me this beautiful little diary. It is blue, the color of the sky, and has gold fleurs de lis engraved — the symbol of the French Court — or one of the many symbols. I must learn all the symbols of the French Court. I must learn French! Here now I shall list all the things I must learn over the next year:

  • to write and read French (I speak it well, as it is the language of the Court here)

  • gambling

  • to dance in the French manner

  • to walk, in the manner of the French Court, as if I float in the immense panniers, or side hoops, of the French ladies’ dresses

  • to read better

  • to write better

  Why must I learn these things better than other girls my age, better than any of my sisters or brothers, of which I have fifteen? Why? Because I am to be Queen of France. More about that later. My hand and my brain are too tired to explain.

  January 4, 1769

  I now am refreshed so I shall explain. I am just thirteen and before I become Queen, I must first be what the French call the Dauphine. It is their word for the highest Princess in the land. The Dauphine is the wife of the Dauphin, the eldest son of the King. The French King is Louis XV. His son died. So now his eldest grandson is the Dauphin. His name is Louis Auguste. I am to marry him, probably next year. And when Louis XV dies, the Dauphin shall become King Louis XVI and I shall become Queen Marie Antoinette. Together we shall rule. But for now I am an Archduchess. I am thirteen and everyone calls me Antonia. I am not yet ready to be a Dauphine, let alone a Queen. Everyone tells me this at least sixteen times a day.

  Here is a list of the people who tell me this:

  • Mama, the Empress

  • Countess Lerchenfeld, my Grand Mistress, or governess. I call her Lulu for short.

  • Noverre, my dance instructor

  • Monsieur Larseneur, the French hairdresser

  • Abbé de Vermond, the French tutor

  • many brothers and sisters

  I am not ready because I do not write or read in my own language well, not to mention French. Although I am a better reader than a writer, I just hate to read. But I am not stupid. I think some thought I was stupid. But Abbé de Vermond told Mama that I am “clever” and that I am “capable of learning and eager to please” but that I am a bit lazy. He gave me this diary because he thought that if I had someplace private to put my innermost thoughts, I would be more eager to write and thus improve my awful handwriting and spelling. He promises never to read it and, best of all, never to tell Mama I am keeping it. That is important because Mama is very nosy. Extremely nosy. I spelled that word, extremely, right. The Abbé would be very pleased but he shall never see it, if he keeps his promise. And I shall keep mine to him to keep writing. It does become easier each day. I think soon I shall write some more about my innermost thoughts. I’ll make a list of the topics now for next time so I won’t forget.

  • Nosy Mama

  • Caroline, my dearest sister

  • My fat dead awful sister-in-law

  • My favorite niece

  January 5, 1769

  This is fun. And Abbé de Vermond says I am improving in my writing and my reading. Already! And it has been only five days.

  Now to my list.

  1) Nosy Mama — I love the Empress my mother very much. But she and I are quite different. She is not so lazy as me. She never wastes a minute. Indeed, when she was in labor giving birth to me she called a dentist to come along with the midwife, for she decided to have an old rotten tooth pulled at the same time. She felt it was efficient to be in pain all at one time for two things. She is very orderly. Nothing is ever out of place. I misplace my handkerchief all the time and I lost my fan, the good one, that belonged to Brandy, my old governess whom Lulu replaced. Mama never forgets or misplaces things. But Mama is nosy. She wants to know everything I am doing, every bit I am learning. She tries to peek when I am getting dressed or undressed. She worries that my bosom might remain too flat, but with Caroline I remember her worrying that her bosom might be too large. “A heavy bosom adds age to a young girl.” That is one of Mama’s sayings. She has many sayings, including the family motto, which she recites all the time. “Others make war, but thou, oh happy Austria, make marriages.” These words are written in Latin on many crests and emblems around the palace. But that is not enough for Mama. She says it all the time — in Latin, in French, in German, and in Italian.

  Mama’s goal is to marry all of us children off to Kings or Queens, Princes or Princesses, Dukes or Duchesses. That is how the Empire grows, gets new land, and friends or allies to help us in times of war. Through marriage we can perhaps get peace. It is a very good bargain, in Mama’s mind.

  I think that is why Mama is so nosy. To make marriages, she must stick her nose into all of our businesses. So far she has done well. My sister Maria Christina married Albert of Saxony, and he is now governor of the Austrian Netherlands, the part we call Hungary. Maria Amalia married the Duke of Parma and is therefore a Duchess in Italy. My brother Joseph married fat Josepha of Bavaria, and my favorite sister Caroline was wed to Ferdinand, King of Naples.

  Mama would be more nosy with us children if she had time, but because she is the Empress she is always working. Sometimes we go two weeks without seeing Mama. If someone were to ask me my very first memory of Mama, I would say it was when Brandy led me into her rooms of state at the summer palace, Schönbrunn, and Mama looked up from her papers. She had been peering at them through a large magnifying glass and she continued to hold it up and began to peer at me.

  I had not intended to write this much. I am tired. My hand needs a rest. I shall find my brother Ferdinand and play shuttlecocks.

  January 9, 1769

  I am continuing my list concerning my innermost thoughts. Number two is Caroline. Do I say is or was? She is not dead but she is not here, either. It has been almost a year since I have seen her. Mama insisted that she marry Ferdinand of Naples. You see, my sister Josepha, who was older than Caroline, was supposed to marry him but Josepha died — the smallpox. So Mama insisted that Caroline “step in,” as she put it. I loved Caroline dearly. She is three years older but we were very close. We were as close as . . . let me think . . . bees and honey or roses and thorns.

  chicks in a nest

  leaves to a twig

  bark to a tree trunk

  You might think me nasty for saying this, but Caroline would be the first to agree. You see, I am considered quite pretty with my blue eyes and ash blonde hair and very fair skin. Caroline is not. She is rather stumpy and very ruddy of face, prickly on the outside but lovely and beautiful inside. No matter, every rose must have its thorns — Caroline herself once explained this to me. And Caroline provided the thorns. She is fierce and independent, and she always protected me just as the thorns protect the rose from greedy people in a garden. She made an uproar when Mama insisted she marry the King of Naples. Mama said such an outburst was thoughtless and rude. But I loved Caroline with all my heart. She writes me, but it is not the same Caroline. She seems sad and almost weak in her letters.

  I love my sister Elizabeth, too, but poor Elizabeth hardly comes out of h
er apartments. You see, Elizabeth was once a great beauty, really much more beautiful than I am, and very charming and witty, but she was stricken with smallpox. Her skin is deeply pitted. Elizabeth is twelve years older than I and she had been promised as a bride to the Duke of Bavaria, but of course it could not be, once her skin was ruined. She stays in her rooms now, heavily veiled, but at Schönbrunn in the summer she feels freer and wears thinner veils.

  Before Caroline left for her marriage, I had really learned as much from her as from any of my governesses and maybe even more than from Abbé de Vermond.

  Now number three on my list: Josepha, my sister-in-law. No one liked Josepha, not even my brother who was married to her. Mama made him marry her. Josepha was miserable, cranky, ugly, selfish, and whiney. She caught the smallpox and died. No one was too sad. But Mama felt we had to pretend. She said we must appear to grieve. It was only proper. So she insisted that my older sister, who was by coincidence also named Josepha, visit her tomb. Well, the body was still warm in the coffin and the terrible pox must still have been alive in the air, because the very next day our dear sister came down ill and was dead within three days.

  Josepha had been promised to Ferdinand of Naples as his wife. So that is when Mama insisted that Caroline take her place. So I lost two dear sisters just because of that miserable Josepha’s death and, yes, Mama’s notions about what is proper and a duty. God forgive me for these words but if I cannot help but think them, is it that much worse to write them down in this diary? And remember, God, I am writing this diary so that I might become a more learned person and fulfill Mama’s wishes that I become Queen of France.

  Enough! It makes me sad, and now the snow comes down thickly and we have been promised a sledge ride.

  January 11, 1769

  Today we went sledge riding and sledding. My dear little niece Theresa, or Titi as I call her, comes with us now that she is over her cold. She is just seven. She and I rode on the same sled. She rides stretched out on my back and we go whizzing down the slope. There are better slopes at Schönbrunn Palace out in the country. Here in Vienna there are not that many. It is too flat. But if we can get permission from the chief of the Imperial Guard, then Hans is allowed to take us across the river Danube to the other side where the Vienna woods slope down to the river. We then go to the Hermannskogel, which is the highest point in Vienna. We hope to go there tomorrow.