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apart. There would have hardly been time to dandle us on her lap. I do remember sitting on Papa’s lap. Papa had not nearly so much to do, however. For although Papa had the title of Emperor, he was not the one who ruled through birthright. That is Mama. Papa had been the Duke of Lorraine. Lorraine was a duchy, or province. Although it is now part of the Austrian Empire, it sits in the northeast corner of France. Very inconvenient, for it made it a borderland that has always been fought over between France and Austria, and Prussia and Spain, too. It was Mama and Papa’s marriage that set off a terrible fracas that is now called the Austrian War of Succession. The French wanted this horrid Bavarian lout to rule and be Emperor. The only way Mama could be Empress was to give Lorraine to Poland with the agreement that when Papa died, it would go back to France. And so it did, in 1766. Now if I marry the Dauphin and then become Queen at least I shall be ruling over what once belonged to Papa. That will make me most happy, and I hope from heaven Papa will smile down, too.
June 7, 1769
Mama has been having me visit her every morning for twenty minutes. Lulu accompanies me and we go over the etiquette of the Court of Versailles. I think as I see Mama reading the charts that Lulu has prepared that she sometimes thinks it is too much herself. Her eyebrow shot up this morning. “What is this? There is the Lady of Honor and then there is the tirewoman and the first femme de chambre and then there is the undertirewoman and a wardrobe woman? All that to get dressed?”
Mama especially does not like the part where the femmes de chambre have the right to sell the old discarded clothes of the Dauphine or the Queen and that they can have, as needed, all the wax candles of the bedchamber and card room for their own use. I asked Mama why not, and she answered simply, “It gives them too much power over others beneath them; they can buy and sell their influence this way. Not good. I would never permit it.”
Indeed, I had the distinct feeling that Mama felt the whole system was too elaborate and much too costly. “Two Ladies of the Bath! Ridiculous! You’ve been bathing yourself since you were six years old.” Then she paused. “Of course, if you insist on riding through muddy creeks, it might take four Ladies of the Bath!” and I thought I saw a little twinkle in Mama’s eye and a twitch at the corner of her lip. But she whisked out of the room so suddenly I couldn’t tell. But I do believe that this is the first joke Mama has ever made. I think it’s wonderful. Mama made a joke!
June 13, 1769
Oh my God! It has come at last — the marriage proposal! King Louis XV’s personal envoys arrived this morning. I was called immediately to Mama’s summer house, the Gloriette, where she works on the hottest days. I did not know what I was being called for. Indeed, I thought maybe Maria Luisa had told Mama about our picnic and I was to be reprimanded for hill rolling! But as soon as I set foot in the cool marble receiving room, Mama was out of her chair behind her desk and running toward me. She crushed me to her bosom and whispered, “Antonia, you are to be married! You are to be the Queen of France!” Her cheeks were wet with tears and soon mine were, too! She took me immediately to the chapel, where we both fell on our knees and thanked God for this great and good fortune. Mama held my hand tightly all through the prayers as they were chanted by Father Confessor. So it has all worked. All of Mama’s planning — the lessons, the hair treatment — all of it has worked. I have come so far in six months. Dear diary, I write so fluently now. Did you know that in the past when I was required to write even the simplest of notes, my old governess, Brandy, would first prepare the note in pencil and then I would write over the words in ink? And look at me now. Oh, I think when I am Queen of France I shall probably have to do much writing. Or