would.
Then just before Christmas Antoinette lost her most powerful |X)litical ally. Choiseul was sent away from court, deprived of his ministerial responsibilities and exiled to his estate. Madame Du Barry and her party had triumphed, her ally the Due d'Aiguillon replaced Choiseul as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Equally significant was the fact that the Comtesse Du Barry now moved into new quarters at the palace—a sumptuously decorated suite of
JO CAROLLY ERICKSON
rooms linked by a staircase to the King's. These rooms became the informal center of government, the place where the King met with his ministers and ambassadors and where much of the behind-the-scenes work of the court was done. Here Madame Du Barry presided, dressed like a queen and surrounded by regal splendor. And the King, it seemed, was rarely out of her sight, wanting her beside him, sitting on the arm of his chair, while he read letters or discussed business. He even permitted her to sit in on meetings of the royal council, where, Madame Campan wrote, she behaved like a bored child and distracted him with her silliness.^
It was a dangerous situation, one designed to test Antoinette's astuteness. Distasteful though it was, she would have to come to terms with Madame Du Barry's ambiguous but powerful position. The King wished it; she was the King's subject as well as his daughter-in-law.
King Louis summoned Mercy to his mistress's drawing room to make his will known.
"Until now you have been the Empress's ambassador," Louis said with unctuous politeness. "I beg you to be mine, at least for a short time. I love Madame la dauphine dearly. I think she is charming, but as she is lively and has a husband who is not in a position to guide her she cannot possibly avoid the traps set for her by intrigue."
He did not mention Adelaide, but the implication was clear. Antoinette, he insisted, must treat every person presented at court with courtesy. Madame Du Barry was among those who had been presented. Therefore Antoinette owed her some degree of acknowledgment, however slight. If she would speak to her once, that would be sufficient. But speak to her she must.
Far more was iat stake than Antoinette's pride or Madame Du Barry's ego. The fall of Choiseul, coupled with Austria's designs on Poland—France's sometime ally—were bound to affect French foreign policy. Antoinette too was headed for a fall, unless she moved adroitly. Vermond cautioned her to affect grief for Choiseul while not showing anger or mortification at Madame Du Barry's triumph. But Vermond's position too was imperiled by the shifting of power at court; Maria Theresa was certain he would be dismissed, and without him Mercy would have no direct conduit to Antoinette. She would be more isolated than ever, vulnerable to the clever intriguers who surrounded her.
And it was clear, at least to Mercy, that she could not trust her aunts. Once a vehement supporter of Choiseul, Adelaide became one of the first to turn against him the moment he was out of favor. And Mercy noticed that as the new year began, all three of the King's daughters were trimming their sails to the prevailing winds, doing small favors for Madame Du Barry, holding back their caustic comments about her, all the while urging Antoinette to snub her and judge her harshly. They were using Antoinette, Mercy thought, "as an instrument of a hatred they dared not avow."^
Caught in a web of intrigue, yoked to a boorish, pathetically incapable husband, still a child yet burdened with intractable adult problems, Antoinette struggled to maintain her equilibrium. The "somewhat obtrusive gaiety" that wearied Adelaide was partly a pose, a smokescreen designed to obscure anxiety. But the anxiety was at times all too evident. Antoinette fretted when her mother's letters were delayed, and when they finally arrived she dropped whatever she was doing and jumped out of her chair, exclaiming "Go// sei dank!'' —"Thank God!"—as if her survival
Then just before Christmas Antoinette lost her most powerful |X)litical ally. Choiseul was sent away from court, deprived of his ministerial responsibilities and exiled to his estate. Madame Du Barry and her party had triumphed, her ally the Due d'Aiguillon replaced Choiseul as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Equally significant was the fact that the Comtesse Du Barry now moved into new quarters at the palace—a sumptuously decorated suite of
JO CAROLLY ERICKSON
rooms linked by a staircase to the King's. These rooms became the informal center of government, the place where the King met with his ministers and ambassadors and where much of the behind-the-scenes work of the court was done. Here Madame Du Barry presided, dressed like a queen and surrounded by regal splendor. And the King, it seemed, was rarely out of her sight, wanting her beside him, sitting on the arm of his chair, while he read letters or discussed business. He even permitted her to sit in on meetings of the royal council, where, Madame Campan wrote, she behaved like a bored child and distracted him with her silliness.^
It was a dangerous situation, one designed to test Antoinette's astuteness. Distasteful though it was, she would have to come to terms with Madame Du Barry's ambiguous but powerful position. The King wished it; she was the King's subject as well as his daughter-in-law.
King Louis summoned Mercy to his mistress's drawing room to make his will known.
"Until now you have been the Empress's ambassador," Louis said with unctuous politeness. "I beg you to be mine, at least for a short time. I love Madame la dauphine dearly. I think she is charming, but as she is lively and has a husband who is not in a position to guide her she cannot possibly avoid the traps set for her by intrigue."
He did not mention Adelaide, but the implication was clear. Antoinette, he insisted, must treat every person presented at court with courtesy. Madame Du Barry was among those who had been presented. Therefore Antoinette owed her some degree of acknowledgment, however slight. If she would speak to her once, that would be sufficient. But speak to her she must.
Far more was iat stake than Antoinette's pride or Madame Du Barry's ego. The fall of Choiseul, coupled with Austria's designs on Poland—France's sometime ally—were bound to affect French foreign policy. Antoinette too was headed for a fall, unless she moved adroitly. Vermond cautioned her to affect grief for Choiseul while not showing anger or mortification at Madame Du Barry's triumph. But Vermond's position too was imperiled by the shifting of power at court; Maria Theresa was certain he would be dismissed, and without him Mercy would have no direct conduit to Antoinette. She would be more isolated than ever, vulnerable to the clever intriguers who surrounded her.
And it was clear, at least to Mercy, that she could not trust her aunts. Once a vehement supporter of Choiseul, Adelaide became one of the first to turn against him the moment he was out of favor. And Mercy noticed that as the new year began, all three of the King's daughters were trimming their sails to the prevailing winds, doing small favors for Madame Du Barry, holding back their caustic comments about her, all the while urging Antoinette to snub her and judge her harshly. They were using Antoinette, Mercy thought, "as an instrument of a hatred they dared not avow."^
Caught in a web of intrigue, yoked to a boorish, pathetically incapable husband, still a child yet burdened with intractable adult problems, Antoinette struggled to maintain her equilibrium. The "somewhat obtrusive gaiety" that wearied Adelaide was partly a pose, a smokescreen designed to obscure anxiety. But the anxiety was at times all too evident. Antoinette fretted when her mother's letters were delayed, and when they finally arrived she dropped whatever she was doing and jumped out of her chair, exclaiming "Go// sei dank!'' —"Thank God!"—as if her survival
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