Daily Life During the French Revolution (12 page)

Well before the light of dawn, the palace hummed with
activity. Footmen, pages, grooms, and kitchen personnel all emerged from their
tiny, draughty rooms, washed, dressed in their distinctive clothes, and got
ready to work. They had just enough time to sip a little coffee and swallow
some morsels of bread before hurrying off to their posts. There were close to
900 noble officials at the court of Louis XVI, as listed in the
Alma-nach de
Versailles.
They also rose early to prepare for the day, waited on by their
own servants. While exalted by society for their high birth, they were little
more than subordinate adjuncts to the monarch and his family. Their duties
consisted of such things as arranging flowers in the queen’s apartments,
opening doors for their majesties, assisting them with their elaborate toilets,
giving the king his rubdown with perfumed essence, holding their wigs for them
to make a selection, or handing the king his cane or knotting his tie. They had
to be prepared to perform these tasks as soon as the members of the royal
family arose from bed. Each one had specifically defined duties and privileges.
The one who combed the king’s hair, for example, would never empty the king’s
chamber pot. That was another gentleman’s job.

New members of the royal staff, both officers and servants,
were hard pressed to master the numerous rules of etiquette that were demanded.
On some doors one knocked; on others one scratched with one’s fingernails. In
some rooms the servants were allowed to sit; in others, such as the king’s
chambers, only standing was permissible, even if no one was present. The king’s
family and intimate friends could speak to him directly. Others used the third
person: “Did His Majesty enjoy his dinner?” Servants had to learn which uniform
to wear when the court went to other locations; they wore blue at the palace at
Choisy and green at Compiègne. Absolute obedience to superiors was required,
and any failure could result in a beating, extra duties, or discharge from
service.

The position of royal page was open only to boys who could
demonstrate aristocratic ancestry dating back at least 200 years. The young men
were also required to have a pension from their families of no less than 600
livres annually for incidental expenses. Everything else—copious food,
clothing, medical care, and education—was supplied. Not all young noble
gentlemen were fortunate enough to become royal pages, which generally required
having the right connections, such as an uncle or aunt already in royal
service. At the court there were some 58 pages—the figure varied— but 8 of
these were assigned directly to the king. They had to be present when he rose
from bed, which was generally late morning, to attend his needs; they
accompanied him to Mass, lit his way with torches when he arrived home after
dark, often from hunting excursions, and fetched his slippers in the evenings.
The duties of the pages were relatively light, but new ones were often treated
with cruel disrespect by the older boys who had served several years and who
punished the novice severely for any mistake.

When not attending the king, these young men spent their
time with tutors studying mathematics, horsemanship, firearms, German (the
native language of the queen), and dancing. Sometimes, when tempers flared,
they fought duels with each other that generally resulted in few serious
wounds. All expected at the end of their term, at about age 17 or 18, to be
given a commission in the guards.

Fifty sons of noble families were assigned to the royal
stables, where up to 3,000 horses were kept. The boys lived in the stables in
small rooms and learned to groom and care for the animals under the supervision
of the prince de Lambesc of the royal house of Lorraine, a distant relative of
the queen. Their work began at five o’clock in the morning but the pages were
free to roam around the town of Versailles for much of the later day. Those who
became superb riders were chosen to accompany the king on his frequent hunts to
carry his guns, hand them to him, and take them back when discharged, giving
them to the arquebusier, who loaded them again, after which the process
repeated.

The queen’s
ménage,
smaller than the king’s but of
greater complexity, contained about 500 officers and servants. Marie-Antoinette
revived the office of Superintendent of the Queen’s Household, appointing the princess
of Lamballe to the job in 1774. Under her was the chief lady-in-waiting, who
oversaw the work of a host of servants. The loyal Madame Campan was one of two
women in charge of all the bedchamber servants, as well as being responsible
for the queen’s private funds, including her jewels. Several secretaries
handled the correspondence and paid the bills. Whenever the court moved
residence, thousands of invitations were sent out for suppers, hunting parties,
and balls. Overseeing the payment of pensions to former servants and others was
a large job, as was maintaining the queen’s carriages and the gilded sleds she
kept to ride in if and when enough snow fell in the area. Apothecaries and
surgeons were on hand to tend to the health of the household, and scores of
other people looked after the glassware and silver, the ordering of food, and
the cleaning and storing of underclothes, robes and dresses, shoes, bags, fans,
gloves, and towels. Linen was replaced every few years, and the sheets and
pillowslips on the queen’s bed were changed every day.

THE QUEEN’S DAY

When Marie-Antoinette awoke each morning around ten o’clock
and said her prayers, a gaggle of ladies in waiting entered the queen’s
bedchamber with a basket of underclothes and towels, and she was presented with
a choice of dresses to wear. She would select something for the morning,
something for the afternoon, a gown for supper, and perhaps another for the
evening entertainment. There were so many outfits that she made her choices
from a picture book, and several ladies then scurried off to find those chosen
in the immense wardrobe.

Next, the queen took her bath in a portable tub wheeled
into the room, accompanied by another squadron of women armed with all the
paraphernalia of soaps and perfumes. Antoinette bathed clad in a flannel gown
buttoned up from ankles to neck. Emerging from the tub, she was shielded from
curious eyes by a sheet as she slipped into a robe before returning to bed to
await her breakfast of hot chocolate or coffee.

When she arose again, the bed was stripped and the sheets
sent off to the laundry. Then four footmen entered the room, turned the heavy
mattress, and quickly departed. The bed was remade with fresh linen, while the
furniture was dusted and all was tidied up. The lady-in-waiting sat in an
armchair watching that everything was done correctly.

The remainder of the morning was taken up by a few minutes
with her husband followed by visits from those possessing the
petite entrée
—a
bishop or two, the royal physician or surgeon, secretaries, and perhaps a
reader with the news from Paris.

At noon came time for the ceremony of the
grande
toilette,
when a large, ornate table was moved into the center of the room
and chairs and sofas placed around it. The queen sat at the table, and dignitaries
arrived, including the king’s brothers, Artois and Provence, the princes of the
blood, high court officials, and others possessing the
grande entrée,
which
allowed them to visit the queen at any convenient time. Each received a nod,
the inclination of which depended on their rank. The bedchamber women then
retired to a nearby room, and the ladies of honor, accompanied by their maids,
began the ceremony.

First the queen had her coiffure completed. Then a chemise
was put on, and the wide-hooped skirt of her gown was attached, a neckerchief
adjusted, and jewels put in place. The long train came next. While she was
being dressed, an usher stood in the doorway and announced the name of visitors
to the lady of honor, who in turn announced them to the queen, who signed
petitions and received notables, who, departing the palace, said their
farewells. Much of the conversation dealt with the theater in Paris: how well
did the actors and actresses do? How many people attended? What lords and
ladies were there?

The formalities over and the queen fitted out, she returned
to her bedchamber. There the ladies-in-waiting assembled, along with the
bedchamber attendants, the maids, the first gentleman usher, and the clergy who
had the duty that day to escort the queen and the royal princesses with their
entire entourages to Mass. They went off together to the chapel, meeting up
with the king and his large assemblage on the way.

This procession was most elaborate on Sundays, when the
first gentleman of the king’s bedchamber led the way, followed by the captain
of the guard and then the king and queen. Behind them came the highest-ranking
ladies and gentlemen of the aristocracy. Lesser individuals lined the hallways
to bow and curtsy as the line, four abreast, passed by. Afterwards, the queen
made a deep curtsey to the king before setting off with her entourage to her
rooms.

Next came the midday dinner, and all of its ritual, which,
again, was the most resplendent on Sundays. Surrounded by their servants, the
king and queen dined together on silver dishes with gilded cutlery. They were
given a menu card to choose from and dishes of fowl, meat, fish, and puddings
were brought before them in great profusion. The wine was tasted by two lackeys
before it was served. Behind the king’s chair stood the captain of the guards
and the first gentleman of the chamber. Behind the queen stood her first
gentleman usher and the chief equerry. The meal began when the
maître d
’
hôtel
entered the room with a seven-foot staff crowned with a
fleur-de-lys,
followed
by a legion of servants from the kitchens balancing an array of dishes for the
royals to select from.

The sumptuous feast finished, the royal pair repaired to
their separate rooms. The queen changed into something less formal and
cumbersome, after which she spent the rest of the afternoon in conversation
with friends and relatives, often playing and listening to harp music. Later
she would take walks in the gardens or perhaps a coach ride in the forest. The
evening was filled first by a splendid supper, the guests carefully selected
for their wit, sociability, and polished manners. An orchestra entertained, the
wine flowed generously, the talk and gossip went on sometimes late in the
candlelight, and women stifled their yawns behind jewel-studded fans.

Afterwards, in a grand salon, the evening entertainment
continued with various types of gambling. Billiards, card games, or throwing
dice continued long after the king went to bed. Servants stood by to fulfill
all needs, and, once more, the ladies-in-waiting were obliged to attend. The
king retired to bed about eleven every night, and the queen’s ladies were
escorted back to their cell-like rooms to catch a few hours’ sleep before the
routine began all over again. At a late hour, Marie-Antoinette often went
visiting her young friends, such as the princesses de Lamballe and Guéménée in
their apartments—activities that caused much gossip.

The queen’s favorite haunt was the Petit Trianon, an
elegant seven-room neoclassical building about a mile from the palace. There
she felt comfortable and more serene among the wall hangings, her works of art,
marble fireplaces, writing desks, and cabinets of exotic wood. Ubiquitous
flowers, both inside and out, added to the beauty of the surroundings. She had
had a lake excavated, little hills created, lawns laid down, a temple of love
constructed, and groves of trees from exotic and distant places planted. In
this quiet place she shed her cares, sometimes remaining for an entire month at
a time.

She also had created a little village there that became her
own private fairyland. Eight thatched cottages were built with fractures in the
plaster walls to make them appear old, their gardens filled with fruit trees
and vegetables. There were barns for livestock, cows in a small field, a
poultry yard, and a little mill. A farmer was hired to look after it all. To
the cows, goats, sheep, rabbits, pigeons, and chickens Antoinette gave pet
names, and derived contentment from the miniature farm and her imaginary world.
She enjoyed dressing like a peasant and amused herself acting out the life of a
rural woman in the mock village. All the queen’s enormous expenses were met by
the public purse, and the people knew it and resented it. Those who paid the
bills through their toil and taxes were not so enamored of her little hamlet or
with anything else she spent money on to gratify her desires. A real peasant
girl working as a farm servant would have earned fewer than 30 livres per year.
Many of the inhabitants of France were in a state of near-starvation in 1789
because of a bad harvest, and most of them by this time vehemently hated the
queen. Some imagined that the shortage of bread and the soaring prices were
deliberate—an aristocratic conspiracy to keep them down and in their place.
“Let them eat cake!,” a statement in circulation (wrongly attributed to the
queen), increased the people’s appetite for revenge on the foreigner from
Vienna who was so indifferent to their plight.

The palace at Versailles was a microcosm of artificiality,
conceit, jealousy, gossip, social climbing, stiffness of manners, cumbersome
dress, flirtations, secret notes, and clandestine rendezvous, with little
bearing on the reality of the ordinary people of France.