Artois was gay and amusing, very flirtatious, constantly gazing at me with a wistful expression behind which mischief lurked. Mercy was always dropping hints that I should be wary of Artois. Then there were the aunts, throwing out a hundred suggestions, always trying to discover what was happening between “Poor Berry’ and myself.

But when my mother wrote that perhaps it was best that things were as they were because we ‘were both so young,” I felt I could put the matter out of my mind for a while and try to enjoy life as well as I could.

There was one man who was my friend at Court and this was the Due de Choiseul. He was eager that my marriage should be a success, because he had arranged it. It was my misfortune that I should have come to France when his power was on the wane, for he would have been as helpful to me as Mercy was and far more powerful since he was the King’s chief minister. He was rather an ugly man, but it was a charming ugliness; he was fascinating and I was fond of him from the moment we met. My mother had told me that I could trust him because he was a friend of Austria, and that drew me to him. But he was in disgrace.

Mademoiselle Genet told me that he had made friends with Madame de Pompadour to their mutual advantage, but had underrated the power of Madame du Barry, and that was one of the reasons why he fell.

Although I had at first found Madame du Barry fascinating, I now childishly loathed her because the King had allowed her to come to that first intimate supper, and, according to Mercy, that was an insult to me. I wrote to my mother, “She is a silly and impertinent woman,” believing that, knowing her function at Court, my mother would consider my attitude towards the woman the correct one.

“Don’t meddle in politics or interfere in other people’s affairs,” was my mother’s reply, but I did not realise she was referring to Madame du Barry, and like so many other important matters it went right over my head. I did not want to meddle in politics. It was as much as I could manage, to do my lessons. I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to see Paris but I was not allowed to until I did so officially, and that was a matter which had to be considered in all sorts of ways before it could be put into action.

“Etiquette !’ I groaned.

“At least,” I said to Mercy, “I could have two of my dogs brought from Vienna.”

“You already have two dogs,” he answered sternly.

“Yes, I know, but I love them and they’ll be pining for me in Vienna.

Little Mops will, I know. Please ask them to send him. “

He wanted to refuse but could not very well go so blatantly against my wishes. I had my four dogs. When puppies arrived I should have more and I would not be parted from them, although Mercy was hinting at unclean habits which would be frowned on in the elaborate Versailles apartments.

During those first weeks the Due de Choiseui visited me frequently and he too told me how I should behave to the King.

“Be earnest and natural,” he said, ‘and not too childish, although His Majesty does not expect you to have a knowledge of politics. “

I said I was glad of that and told him of my dislike of Madame du Barry.

“I cannot bear to hear her silly lisp, and she seems to think she is the most important lady of the Court. I always look straight through her when I see her as though she does not exist. Yet she always looks hopefully my way as though she is imploring me to speak to her.”

Monsieur de Choiseui laughed and said that naturally she wanted a show of friendship from the Dauphine.

“She will not get it,” I retorted, and since this was exactly what Monsieur de Choiseui wanted me to say I made up my mind that I would keep to it.

Dear Monsieur de Choiseui! He was so charming and at the same time so sincere . where I was concerned. I am sure that if he could have stayed near me I should have been saved from many follies.

When I arrived in France the odious du Barry had already become the centre of a party which called itself the Barriens, and in this were some of the most powerful ministers, such as the Due d’Aiguillon, the Due de Vauguyon and the Due de Richelieu—and these men were all enemies of Choiseui and sought to bring him down. This they were managing very successfully, blaming him for the disaster of the Seven Years War—which had broken out the year I was born and in which my country was involved—and the loss of the French Colonies to England.

He was blamed for everything; and I understood afterwards that the Austrian marriage was a plan of his to attempt to reinstate himself.

He must have been a very worried man when I met him, but he gave no sign of this; he was one of the gayest people I had ever met.

It was a great blow to me when he received his lettre de cachet from the King banishing him to his chateau at Chanteloup. It happened suddenly—on Christmas Eve. He simply disappeared and I could not believe he had gone. It was sad to lose a friend, and at the same time it alarmed me that such a fate could befall someone so rapidly. I was particularly hurt by Mercy’s attitude towards the Due.

“He has hastened his disgrace by his indiscretion,” he said.

“It would have surprised me if he had stayed in office much longer. Let us hope that he may not be replaced by someone who is an even greater meddler than he.”

“He is our friend!” I cried aghast.

“He is of no use to us now,” replied Mercy cynically.

I was very hurt and sorry, but we did hear of him now and then. He was living very grandly at Chanteloup and sending out chansons about Madame du Barry, whom he regarded as his enemy in chief. She was constantly ending scraps of paper covered with obscene rhymes in her apartments but she always laughed at them and they seemed to lose their impact.

Letters continued to flow from Vienna, and every time a letter from my mother was put into my hands I would shiver. What had I done now! I had not worn my stays my hateful corps de baleine which made me sit bolt upright or in discomfort. It was necessary for me to wear them at this stage of my growth, I was warned. I must always be aware of my appearance. The French were very susceptible to appearance and I must always think of pleasing my husband. Always there were hints about my relationship with my husband.

“You must not be in too much of a hurry, for increasing his uneasiness will only make matters worse On one occasion she wrote:

“You must not take this disappointment too much to heart. You must never show it. Never be peevish. Be tender but by no means demanding.

If you caress your husband, do so in moderation. If you show impatience you could make matters worse. “

Not only the court of France but all the courts of Europe seemed to be discussing the inability of the Dauphin to consummate our marriage.

They were saying he was impotent and that if a girl as attractive as I was could not rouse him, the case was hopeless.

It was tremendously embarrassing for us both. I clung to my childishness, trying not to understand even when I did, playing with my dogs, dancing when I could, trying to pretend I-did not know there was anything strange about our marriage. My husband’s method was to feign indifference which I knew he did not feel. His defence was to pretend to be bored, to shut himself up with his locksmith and builder friends; he hunted whenever possible and would eat heartily as though all he cared about were these things. But I did discover that he was as uneasy as I was more so, because he was more serious and the fault was his; and during the past months he had begun to show me in a him dred little ways how sorry he was that he was not a good husband. He was anxious to please me, and although his tastes were in exact opposition to my own he never tried to stop my doing what I liked.

I was growing quite fond of him and I believed he was of me. But this hateful situation was between us. Had we been two lusty lovers we should have been smiled at indulgently; as it was, the secrets of our bedchamber were the concern of Europe. Envoys were going back and forth from Versailles to Sardinia and Prussia as well as to Austria.

In the streets, songs were being sung about us.

“Can he or can’t he?”

“Has he or hasn’t he?” If my husband’s infirmity were due to some mental conflict this was enough to prevent his ever overcoming it.

My mother reiterated that I was to keep her informed of every detail.

I was to report everything the Dauphin said or did. I was to read her letters and bum them when I had done so. I knew that I was surrounded by spies, and the chief of these was my husband’s tutor, the Due de Vauguyon, who was a friend of Madame du Barry. Once when I was alone with my husband, one of the servants who was in the room suddenly opened the door and there was the Due bending down; his ear had obviously been at the keyhole. I think the servant may have been trying to warn us. I remarked to Louis how inconvenient it was, having people listening at our doors. The Due de Vauguyon was very embarrassed and muttered some excuse; but I don’t think Louis ever had such a high opinion of him again.

It was not in my nature to brood on my position. I wanted to enjoy myself. There was nothing I liked so much as riding, but horses had been forbidden, because my mother thought that violent riding might make me sterile. As if I had a chance to be otherwise! And she and Mercy had decided that they would ask the King to give an order that I should not ride.

This was a great blow to me. I wanted to shout that I was bored at the French Court, that when I was riding with the wind in my face and my hair free from those pins with which the hairdresser tortured me, I was happy.

I went to the King; I was my most appealing; I called him Dear Papa and I told him how unhappy I was because I was being prevented from riding.

He was perplexed. I should have known that he found this kind of situation irritating and hated to be asked to make a decision which was going to offend anyone, particularly a pretty girl. But he gave no sign of this. He was all smiles and sympathy. How was I to know that he was inwardly yawning at my childish problems and wishing me far away? He laid his hand on my shoulder and explained very tenderly that my mother did not wish me to ride horses. Did I not wish to please my mother?

“Oh yes, dear Papa, I do indeed … but I cannot bear not to ride.”

They consider that horses are too dangerous, and I have agreed that you shall not ride them. ” He lifted his hands and his face was illumined by that charming smile which in spite of the pouches under his eyes and the countless wrinkles made him still handsome.

“They did not mention donkeys.” He had the solution.

“No horses … but ride a donkey for a while.”

So I rode donkeys, which I found humiliating.

Nevertheless once I fell from the saddle. It was a foolish incident really. The donkey was stationary and I was sitting loosely; he turned sharply and the next thing I knew was that I was on the ground. I was not in the least hurt, but my attendants were very concerned and they all hurried to me; but I lay there laughing at them.

“Do not touch me!” I cried.

“I am not hurt in the least. I am not even shaken. It was the silliest tumble.” “Will you not allow us to help you rise, then?”

Certainly not. You must call Madame Etiquette. You see, I am not quite sure what ceremonies should be observed when a Dauphine falls from a donkey. “

They all laughed and we resumed our ride very gaily;

but of course the incident was reported. My mother heard of it. She was very hurt that I was riding even donkeys and I know now that she feared she was losing her influence over me. This was no wish for power on her part; it was due to a deep understanding of her daughter’s character and a terrible fear as to what would become of her. She saw me as an innocent lamb among the wolves of Prance and she was, as usual, right.

She wrote to me:

“I hear you are riding a donkey. I have told you I do not care for this equestrian activity. It will do more harm even than spoiling your complexion and your figure.”

When I read the letter I was sorry I had displeased her and I vowed I would not ride again until I had her per mission to do so which would be when I was a little older, when I was a true wife, when I had shown that I could bear children. (How it all came back to this! ) But I soon forgot, and a few days later I was out on my donkey again.