and clapped. They clapped for me too, and reached out to touch my gown as I passed. So many grimy hands, clutching at my skirts. So many grinning faces, toothless mouths, calling out and cheering.
On our way back to Versailles Louis snored in the carriage, still wearing his ermine and velvet. There were poor people kneeling by the side of the road calling out “Give us bread, your majesty!” but we had no bread to give them, and rode on.
FIVE
April 13, 1777
Joseph is here! I have not seen him in so long, I want to be near him every minute. I can’t get over how much he has changed. He has gotten old-looking and is almost bald, like the paintings of grandfather in maman’s study. His clothes are out of fashion and he says he doesn’t care. Father Kunibert is with him and I am trying to stay out of his way, so he doesn’t lecture me.
April 17, 1777
I lied to Father Kunibert. I told him I no longer wrote in my journal and that it was lost years ago. He says I look like the Whore of Babylon in my high-piled hair and silken gowns.
“Oh no, father,” Joseph corrected him with a smile. “The Queen of Babylon, surely.”
“You babble on a good deal yourself, brother,” I said, making Joseph laugh so that all the lines around his eyes creased deeply. “Please tell me all about maman and the others.”
He obliged me, and described the many changes at our court in Schönbrunn since I left. There was much to tell, and Joseph does like to talk. Finally he came to the subject closest to my heart.
“How is maman?” I asked him. “Tell me truly.”
He patted my hand. “Our dear maman is growing old. It is as simple as that. Her strength is declining. There are the usual aches and pains of old age, but something else eats away at her and is a deeper pitfall for her to surmount. She is fearful.”
“She fears the pains of hell,” Father Kunibert put in. “She is a sinner.”
Ignoring him, Joseph went on. “As she grows weaker, she fears losing her power. She gives more and more of it to me, yet she resents me for accepting it. She fears that I will change our empire, and she is right. I shall change it.
“Despite her old-fashioned ideas, she is a very wise and far-sighted woman. She has glimpsed the future, and it frightens her, for she knows she will not be here to prevent it.”
I do not know what Joseph means by this, but just hearing him talk about it is enough to frighten me.
“The future, hah!” spat out Father Kunibert. “It is all right there, in the Book of Revelation. This world has no future. It is going to end, and soon. All the signs are here. Plague, pestilence, wars and rumors of wars—”
“Is there going to be a war?” I interrupted, asking Joseph. “Count Mercy is always saying so.”
Joseph looked at me. “Our mother sent me here to help preserve the peace. By talking to you, as she would if she could travel so far, and if she could be spared in Vienna, which she could not.
“If I may be blunt, Antonia, and I hardly know how to speak otherwise, your frivolous behavior, and your failure to have a son, are harming Austria far more than you imagine. The result may well be war.”
“They call me the Austrian bitch.”
“And worse.”
“What could be worse?” I asked.
“The Whore of Babylon,” said Father Kunibert, and shuffled out of the room, shaking his head.
Joseph and I dined together in private, with Dr. Boisgilbert as our only guest. We discussed Louis.
“He has a slight deformity of the foreskin, nothing more,” the doctor told Joseph. “Antonia knows all about it. I explained the problem to her. Two or three swift incisions would correct it. But he cannot face the pain. One look at my knives and he practically faints.”
“Why not let him faint, and then perform the operation?”
“I could hardly do that, merely on my own initiative.”
“No, of course you couldn’t,” Joseph said, suddenly thoughtful. “But what if I authorized it—indeed insisted
On our way back to Versailles Louis snored in the carriage, still wearing his ermine and velvet. There were poor people kneeling by the side of the road calling out “Give us bread, your majesty!” but we had no bread to give them, and rode on.
FIVE
April 13, 1777
Joseph is here! I have not seen him in so long, I want to be near him every minute. I can’t get over how much he has changed. He has gotten old-looking and is almost bald, like the paintings of grandfather in maman’s study. His clothes are out of fashion and he says he doesn’t care. Father Kunibert is with him and I am trying to stay out of his way, so he doesn’t lecture me.
April 17, 1777
I lied to Father Kunibert. I told him I no longer wrote in my journal and that it was lost years ago. He says I look like the Whore of Babylon in my high-piled hair and silken gowns.
“Oh no, father,” Joseph corrected him with a smile. “The Queen of Babylon, surely.”
“You babble on a good deal yourself, brother,” I said, making Joseph laugh so that all the lines around his eyes creased deeply. “Please tell me all about maman and the others.”
He obliged me, and described the many changes at our court in Schönbrunn since I left. There was much to tell, and Joseph does like to talk. Finally he came to the subject closest to my heart.
“How is maman?” I asked him. “Tell me truly.”
He patted my hand. “Our dear maman is growing old. It is as simple as that. Her strength is declining. There are the usual aches and pains of old age, but something else eats away at her and is a deeper pitfall for her to surmount. She is fearful.”
“She fears the pains of hell,” Father Kunibert put in. “She is a sinner.”
Ignoring him, Joseph went on. “As she grows weaker, she fears losing her power. She gives more and more of it to me, yet she resents me for accepting it. She fears that I will change our empire, and she is right. I shall change it.
“Despite her old-fashioned ideas, she is a very wise and far-sighted woman. She has glimpsed the future, and it frightens her, for she knows she will not be here to prevent it.”
I do not know what Joseph means by this, but just hearing him talk about it is enough to frighten me.
“The future, hah!” spat out Father Kunibert. “It is all right there, in the Book of Revelation. This world has no future. It is going to end, and soon. All the signs are here. Plague, pestilence, wars and rumors of wars—”
“Is there going to be a war?” I interrupted, asking Joseph. “Count Mercy is always saying so.”
Joseph looked at me. “Our mother sent me here to help preserve the peace. By talking to you, as she would if she could travel so far, and if she could be spared in Vienna, which she could not.
“If I may be blunt, Antonia, and I hardly know how to speak otherwise, your frivolous behavior, and your failure to have a son, are harming Austria far more than you imagine. The result may well be war.”
“They call me the Austrian bitch.”
“And worse.”
“What could be worse?” I asked.
“The Whore of Babylon,” said Father Kunibert, and shuffled out of the room, shaking his head.
Joseph and I dined together in private, with Dr. Boisgilbert as our only guest. We discussed Louis.
“He has a slight deformity of the foreskin, nothing more,” the doctor told Joseph. “Antonia knows all about it. I explained the problem to her. Two or three swift incisions would correct it. But he cannot face the pain. One look at my knives and he practically faints.”
“Why not let him faint, and then perform the operation?”
“I could hardly do that, merely on my own initiative.”
“No, of course you couldn’t,” Joseph said, suddenly thoughtful. “But what if I authorized it—indeed insisted
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