THE TEMPLE OF ETIQUETTE.
The hour for the queen's toilet was one of ravishment to Madame de
Noailles; for it was a daily glorification of that etiquette which she
worshipped, and which Marie Antoinette abhorred. In that hour, its
chains were on her hands and feet. She could neither breathe, speak, nor
move, but within the narrow limits of its weary exactions.
The queen's toilet, then, was Madame de Noailles' triumph; and she
always made her appearance in the dressing-room with an air of supreme
satisfaction.
The first lady of honor poured the water into the golden basin, and
Marie Antoinette, who at least had the privilege of washing her own
hands, stood patiently waiting until the towel had been passed by a lady
of the bedchamber to the same lady of honor who had poured out the
water. The latter, on one knee, gave the towel, and the queen wiped her
hands.
The second act of the royal toilet began at the solemn moment when the
queen changed her richly-embroidered night-chemise for the simpler one
she wore during the day. This changing of garments was a sublime
ceremonial, not only in the queen's dressing-room, but also in that of
the king. At the king's great levee, none but a prince of the blood had
the right to reach him his shirt. At the lesser levee, the nobleman whom
the king wished to honor, was called upon to fill this high office; and
the enviable mortal, thus honored, remained near the king's person for
the whole day; was entitled to dine at the royal table, and had a seat
in the king's hunting-wagon.
Now, at the toilet of the queen, the ceremonial was different; and, as
in all such matters, more onerous for the woman than for the man. The
honor of presenting the chemise, devolved upon the lady present whose
rank was the highest.
On the particular day to which we allude, it was the privilege of Madame
de Noailles. Marie Antoinette had allowed her night-dress to slip from
her shoulders, and stood, bare to the waist, awaiting the pleasure of
her mistress of ceremonies. She crossed her beautiful arms, and bent her
head in readiness to receive the chemise, which the lady of the
bedchamber was in the act of passing to Madame de Noailles.
At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the Duchess of Orleans
entered the room. A triumphant smile lit up the face of Madame
Etiquette, for now the ceremony would be prolonged. It was no longer her
duty, it was that of the duchess, to wait upon the queen. But the proud
Countess de Noailles could not condescend to pass the garment to the
duchess. That was the duty of the aforesaid lady of the bedchamber. The
mistress of ceremonies motioned her to approach, and the duchess began
to draw off her gloves.
Meanwhile, Marie Antoinette, with folded arms, stood beautiful as one of
Dian's nymphs, but very uncomfortable in her beauty; for she was
beginning to grow chilly, and her teeth chattered. At last the
preparations were made, and the duchess advanced with the coveted
garment.
Suddenly she stopped, and stood perfectly still. She had heard the voice
of "Madame," the Countess of Provence; and it would have been an
unpardonable sin for the Duchess of Orleans to deprive a princess of the
blood, of handing the chemise to the queen.
The door opened, and the sister-in-law of Marie Antoinette came in. The
duchess retreated--Madame de Noailles approached slowly and relieved her
of the chemise, and with unflinching deliberation, again gave it into
the hands of the lady of the bedchamber.
And there stood the queen, shivering and waiting. Scarlet with shame and
anger, though trembling from head to foot, she murmured resentful words
against her tormentors. The princess saw it all, and hastened to her
relief. Without stopping to remove her gloves, she took the chemise, and
advancing, in great haste, to throw it over the queen's head, she struck
against her high toupet and disarranged the headdress.
"Oh, my dear sister," said the queen, laughing, "my hair will have to be
dressed anew."
Madame de Noailles drew down her eyebrows, as she was accustomed to do
when irritated by indecorum, and motioned to the second lady of the
bedchamber to put on the queen's shoes, The royal toilet now went on
more smoothly, and was completed according to form. This done, it became
the duty of the victim to pass into her reception-room, attended by her
ladies. Madame de Noailles had opened the door and stood before it like
a she-cerberus waiting for her prey to pass within, when the queen,
still laughing at her disordered coiffure, threw herself into a chair
before cheval-glass, and said:
"I hope, madame, that etiquette does not require of the Queen of France
to appear before her court with dishevelled hair. If I may be permitted
to express a preference in the matter, I would like to have my hair in
order."
Madame de Noailles closed the door, and turned stiffly to the first lady
of the bedchamber.
"Oh, no," said Marie Antoinette, "I will not trouble my good Madame de
Campan today. Did my secretary fetch the hair-dresser from Paris?"
"Yes, your majesty," said a lady in waiting, "the hair-dresser is in the
outer room."
"Go and call him, De Campan. And now, ladies," said Marie Antionette to
the princesses, "you shall see one of the demi-gods. Leonard is called
in the world of fashion 'le dieu des coiffures.'"
"Leonard!" exclaimed Madame de Noailles. "And has your majesty then
forgotten that the queen is not permitted to be waited upon by any but
womanly hands?"
"The queen not permitted!" echoed Marie Antoinette, proudly. "We shall
see whether the Queen of France asks permission of her subjects to
employ a male or female hair dresser!"
The door opened, and the discussion was stopped by the entrance of
Madame de Campan with Leonard.
"Now, ladies," continued the queen, "be so good as to await me in the
reception-room." As she saw that the prim lips of De Noailles were about
to be opened, she added: "The mistress of ceremonies and the ladies of
the bedchamber will remain."
Leonard's skilful hands were soon at work, loosening the queen's hair;
and it glistened, as it fell, like glimmering gold. He surveyed it with
such looks of enthusiasm as a statuary might bestow upon the spotless
block of marble, whence he will fashion, ere long, the statue of a
goddess.
Marie Antoinette, from the mirror, saw his complacent face, and smiled.
"What style do you intend to adopt for me?" asked she.
"The coiffure a la Marie Antoinette," said Leonard.
"I have never seen it."
Here Leonard sank the subject, and became the artiste. His head went
proudly back with a look of conscious power.
"Your majesty must not think me so barren of invention that I should
deck the head of my queen with a coiffure that has been seen before by
mortal eyes."
"Then you are about to invent a coiffure?"
"If it please your majesty--if your majesty will condescend to leave its
fashion to the inspiration of my genius."
"Follow your inspiration by all means," said the queen, highly amused,
and Leonard began his work. A long, solemn pause ensued, and all eyes
were strained to see the result. He combed the queen's hair over a
trellis of fine wire, then he introduced two down cushions, which he had
brought in his band-box, and after he had built him a tower of a foot
high, he took a long breath and surveyed the structure. Then he glanced
at the toilet-table where lay a mass of flowers, feathers, and laces,
which Bertin had left.
"May I be allowed to select from these?" asked he.
The queen nodded, and Leonard chose a bunch of white ostrich-feathers,
which he prepared to place in her head.
"Feathers!" cried Marie Antoinette. "You surely are not going to put
feathers in my hair!"
"Pardon me, your majesty," said Leonard, with an air of supreme wisdom,
"if I beg you to allow me to complete my coiffure, before you decide
upon its merits." And he went to work to fasten the feathers in his
tower.
"This is really becoming," said the queen, not reflecting that her
beautiful face with its lofty brow and exquisite contour could bear any
abomination with which Leonard chose to invest it.
"I adopt the feathers," said she, "and allow you to call the coiffure
after me. Poor ostriches, they will not thank me! From this day you are
in my service, Monsieur Leonard, and my steward will assign you your
apartments."
Leonard bowed with the dignity of an artist who feels that in the favor
of his sovereign he receives his merited reward.
"Come every morning at this hour, and every evening at seven o'clock,"
said Marie Antoinette. "Meanwhile, you are at liberty to dress the hair
of as many ladies as you choose."
"Pardon me, your majesty," interposed Madame de Noailles. "An old
immutable regulation of the French court forbids any person employed by
the royal family to serve a subject; and the coiffeur of the queen
cannot be allowed to dress the hair of any lady in France."
"Nevertheless, I give him permission to dress as many heads as he
pleases, when he is not in attendance upon myself. What is the use of a
man's taste and talent if it is all to be wasted on one monotonous
employment? Let Monsieur Leonard exercise his ingenuity upon different
styles of women, that he may have scope for his imagination."
The mistress of ceremonies sighed, and opened the door. Marie Antoinette
approached it gayly, for she was all anxiety to test the effect of her
coiffure upon the ladies in waiting.