constructed for the ceremony. I am, however, still not quite sure what the ceremony is. People have been vague about it. I shall write more later. In a few hours I am to put on my gown for the ceremony along with my Austrian jewels, but then immediately following I am to change my clothing again.
Later: Strasbourg
It is now near midnight. I cannot sleep although I am so tired. There are to be two days of festivities. I must smile. I must look gracious. I must listen attentively, but now, dear diary, please listen to me, for I may cry, I may grimace, and I must pour out my heart. Today’s ceremony was the hardest thing I have ever done. The remise was supposed to be a ceremony of state. I cannot think of it as anything but a funeral — my own! I had the odd sensation of standing outside my own body and watching as people disposed of it as they willed.
At midday I was taken by boat to the Isle des Epis in the middle of two branches of the Rhine near the gates of the city of Strasbourg. I walked then through two rows of soldiers and a crowd of a thousand to a makeshift building. I entered one door which was on the Austrian side of the border. There was a large drawing room hung with tapestries, and I was to sit down in a chair on a platform under a canopy. There were long speeches and much passing of documents. Outside it began to pour and perhaps because this building had been so quickly constructed there were some leaks, but in many places streams of water poured in. I saw the Countess de Noailles edging away from a puddle. Everyone ignored the rain, for their eyes were fastened on me. I, however, did not. I studied with ferocity the plinking of the drops straight in front of my chair. In this way I could hold my head erect and appear calm, as hundreds of eyes seemed to feast on me. The raindrops were my only diversion, my only comfort. So absorbed had I been with the raindrops that I failed to notice that most of the people in the room had left, including the entire Austrian delegation, and that I was alone in the midst of foreigners. Count Mercy gone. Trautie gone. Brunhilda gone. My groomsmen and equerries gone. And standing before me were the Count and Countess de Noailles, their sharp faces pallid, with a slightly greenish tinge. The Count’s beauty mark had slid to an unfashionable position near his ear.
I was then directed to a room off the main hall. There I was at first delighted to see my old servants Brunhilda and Trautie and several other chambermaids. But I was shocked when they told me that the orders were for me to take off every stitch of clothing, including my pantaloons and stockings and chemise, and to leave these Austrian clothes behind. I was then to walk through a door to another room completely naked! Trautie assured me that there would be no men, only women, to meet me, and that when I passed through this portal to the other room I would have crossed some invisible frontier and entered France. I would then be dressed entirely in French clothing.
So they began to remove my dress, my rings, my shoes. Not a buckle or lace hanky could travel across. Although I was as naked as the day I was born, I felt death in the air. I was a body being prepared for the burial. I was to curtsy to the Countess de Noailles, who stood holding a robe of golden drapery, but I cannot curtsy naked. Instead I rushed at her and snatched the robe with such shocking speed that there was a gasp from all the other Ladies-in-Waiting. The Countess hissed at me that only she as the Lady of Honor was to cloak me in the robe and that I was to curtsy to acknowledge her position as the highest ranking of the ladies in Royal service. “That is the etiquette.” I did not reply. I merely wrapped myself tighter in the robe. I wanted to scream at her, “Corpses don’t curtsy, you idiot!” but I did not.
May 9, 1770
Castle of Saverne, outside of Strasbourg
I am somewhat recovered from my ordeal on the Isle des Epis. However, I do not know
Later: Strasbourg
It is now near midnight. I cannot sleep although I am so tired. There are to be two days of festivities. I must smile. I must look gracious. I must listen attentively, but now, dear diary, please listen to me, for I may cry, I may grimace, and I must pour out my heart. Today’s ceremony was the hardest thing I have ever done. The remise was supposed to be a ceremony of state. I cannot think of it as anything but a funeral — my own! I had the odd sensation of standing outside my own body and watching as people disposed of it as they willed.
At midday I was taken by boat to the Isle des Epis in the middle of two branches of the Rhine near the gates of the city of Strasbourg. I walked then through two rows of soldiers and a crowd of a thousand to a makeshift building. I entered one door which was on the Austrian side of the border. There was a large drawing room hung with tapestries, and I was to sit down in a chair on a platform under a canopy. There were long speeches and much passing of documents. Outside it began to pour and perhaps because this building had been so quickly constructed there were some leaks, but in many places streams of water poured in. I saw the Countess de Noailles edging away from a puddle. Everyone ignored the rain, for their eyes were fastened on me. I, however, did not. I studied with ferocity the plinking of the drops straight in front of my chair. In this way I could hold my head erect and appear calm, as hundreds of eyes seemed to feast on me. The raindrops were my only diversion, my only comfort. So absorbed had I been with the raindrops that I failed to notice that most of the people in the room had left, including the entire Austrian delegation, and that I was alone in the midst of foreigners. Count Mercy gone. Trautie gone. Brunhilda gone. My groomsmen and equerries gone. And standing before me were the Count and Countess de Noailles, their sharp faces pallid, with a slightly greenish tinge. The Count’s beauty mark had slid to an unfashionable position near his ear.
I was then directed to a room off the main hall. There I was at first delighted to see my old servants Brunhilda and Trautie and several other chambermaids. But I was shocked when they told me that the orders were for me to take off every stitch of clothing, including my pantaloons and stockings and chemise, and to leave these Austrian clothes behind. I was then to walk through a door to another room completely naked! Trautie assured me that there would be no men, only women, to meet me, and that when I passed through this portal to the other room I would have crossed some invisible frontier and entered France. I would then be dressed entirely in French clothing.
So they began to remove my dress, my rings, my shoes. Not a buckle or lace hanky could travel across. Although I was as naked as the day I was born, I felt death in the air. I was a body being prepared for the burial. I was to curtsy to the Countess de Noailles, who stood holding a robe of golden drapery, but I cannot curtsy naked. Instead I rushed at her and snatched the robe with such shocking speed that there was a gasp from all the other Ladies-in-Waiting. The Countess hissed at me that only she as the Lady of Honor was to cloak me in the robe and that I was to curtsy to acknowledge her position as the highest ranking of the ladies in Royal service. “That is the etiquette.” I did not reply. I merely wrapped myself tighter in the robe. I wanted to scream at her, “Corpses don’t curtsy, you idiot!” but I did not.
May 9, 1770
Castle of Saverne, outside of Strasbourg
I am somewhat recovered from my ordeal on the Isle des Epis. However, I do not know
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