The Hidden Diary of Marie Antoinette Read Free Page A

Josepha only had seventeen years on earth, so brief a season! Why do some die and some live? I can write no more about this, I am too full of sorrow.
    July 15, 1769
    Finally Dr. Van Swieten has let me return to the apartments I share with Carlotta. I do not have the cowpox.
    July 28, 1769
    This morning Sophie got me up early and dressed me with extra care. I asked her why but she wouldn’t tell me. I knew it had to be something important when I saw her bring out my pale blue silk ball gown with the silver lamé trim and the pink satin rosettes on the bodice.
    My hair was brushed and pinned back from my face and a silver-gray wig put over it. The wig was becoming, and made me look very old I thought, especially when Sophie threaded pearls through it.
    I have always been told that I look like my father, who was very handsome. Like him I have a wide forehead and large eyes set far apart. My eyes are light blue like my mother’s and she likes me to dress in blue to bring out their color.
    I could tell, as Sophie dressed me, that she was satisfied with the effect. She smiled to herself and hummed as she worked. Sophie has been my maid ever since I was seven years old and she was fifteen, and she knows me better than anyone, better even than my mother and Carlotta.
    When I was ready I was taken into the grand salon where my mother was. There were several men with her, and they all stared hard at me as I entered the room and walked to my mother’s side.
    “Antonia, dear, this is Prince Kaunitz and this is the Duc de Choiseul.” Both men bowed to me and I inclined my head in acknowledgment, feeling the unaccustomed weight of the wig as I did so.
    My dancing master Monsieur Noverre came forward and signaled for the court musicians to play. He led me in the polonaise and then the allemande as the gentlemen watched closely. My harp was brought forward and I played several simple tunes—I am not a very accomplished harpist—and I sang an aria by Herr Gluck who had taught me to play the clavichord when I was younger.
    Trays of coffee and pastries were brought in and I sat with my mother and the prince and the duke talking of one thing and another. I felt rather foolish in my ball gown but we passed a pleasant half-hour chatting, and I did my best to answer the questions put to me, questions about everything from my religious education to my knowledge of geography and history to my ideas about marriage.
    “Naturally you hope to marry one day,” Prince Kaunitz said amiably. “And what is your idea of the perfect wife?”
    “One who loves her husband dearly, as my mother loved my father.”
    “And presents him with sons,” the Duc de Choiseul added.
    “Yes, of course. And daughters too, if the lord wills it.”
    “To be sure. Daughters too.”
    “Do you believe, archduchess, that a wife must obey her husband in all things?”
    I thought for a moment. “I hope that when I marry, my husband and I will decide together what is best, and act as one.”
    The two men looked at one another, and I thought I saw a faint look of amusement in their faces.
    “Thank you, Archduchess Antonia, for your frankness and your courtesy.”
    My mother and the men rose and walked the length of the enormous room, deep in conversation.
    “Physically, she is perfect,” the duke said. “Her education has been inadequate, but she can be taught. There is great charm—”
    “And a good heart, a very good heart,” I heard my mother add.
    They took their time, walking and talking, Prince Kaunitz gesticulating, the duke more measured, more calculated in his movements and his tone.
    “This is the alliance we have long hoped for,” I heard my mother say. “The union of Hapsburg and Bourbon will secure our fortune, long after I am gone.”
    “Austria is not our enemy,” the duke said. “Britain is. We must fortify ourselves against Britain.”
    “And we must fortify ourselves against Prussia,” Prince Kaunitz countered. “The interests of both