I will tell you a story of a girl. Her name was Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna, but she is better known as:
We have been many times in Paris, both of us, so we didn’t bother us too much of sightseeing. One was still not experienced by both of us: le grand palais de Versailles. Boiling hot was the sun on our skins in the gardens, and the bushes whispered of ancient secrets of lovers playing hide and seek under their shadows.
After the lazy mid-day, most of the tourist queues had vanished and we entered the palace itself. Not too much need to say about it, pompouse monument of power and masculinity as it is. Much of gold and other glossy surfaces. But of course, we just had to try a small valse in the Hall of Mirrors, much to amuse for Japanese tourists.
However, Marie Antoinette’s estates were more than I could ever have imagined. The place somehow managed still build a sad picture of the queen. Her garden with artificial rivers and grottos and especially the imaginary Medieval country village Hameau were just a fairytale land escape from the court.
Marie was just 14 when she married Louis-Auguste, 15. As youngest daughter of Archduchess Maria Theresia of Austria, her destiny was doomed to be a play chip in the international politics. She was considered to be more like royal property than human being. As she moved to France, she didn’t have friends, she didn’t even speak the language.
She was desperately trying to please everyone, had she been neglected by her own mother in her childhood. Also, she didn’t get too much attention from her husband, who was more interested about technical gadgets and books. Nerdee, we might say. King was thought to be impotent, but as it turned out, he just didn’t know what to do in bed. Not before Marie’s brother, Emperor Joseph II of Austria, came to visit. After talking to king himself, Joseph was convinced that his majesty’s erection was satisfactory, but it didn’t stay long enough to ejaculate, since he had know idea what to do with it! Joseph obviously gave some tips, since Marie had her first child next year – after seven years of marriage.
Loathed by most of the court, bitched by her mother in her letters, being bored of the royal court duties and without real love she obviously escaped to her own imaginary world. She had problems with addiction of gambling, she organized wild parties and went hunting with her gang, a few closest friends. When deadly handsome and intelligent Swedish count Axel von Fersen came to the court, it is easy to imagine that she would have fallen on him. There is no real prove that they would have had an affair, but the rumours were that her second son, Louis Charles whom she called “mon chou d’amor”, would actually been Fersen’s.
Von Fersen was an adventurer and womanizer with a mistress in several countries, but eventually he had a close relationship with both Marie and the king. He tried to save them on several occasions in the unfortunate future.
Count wanted his wars though, and meanwhile unhappy Marie concentrated on her fairytale village. She build there 12 houses, of which 9 still exists (its bloody amazing that they didn’t destroy Versailles and Marie’s estates during the revolution – or maybe they had more respect on buildings than humans).
We were in the village almost on sunset. It was eerie quiet and empty, and it was easy to imagine young queen on the rowing boat trips on the lake, making out with the Swede in the Temple of Love dressed as milkmaid or shepardess. She had her own theater even, where she used to sing and have role in plays.
She was a sort of misunderstood blondie of her own time, a bit like Britney Spears – too young to handle the fame and money, used by others – the difference being that Britney didn’t come to her senses after having children unlike Marie.
I somehow felt she had enchanted us since when we tried to leave, we noticed the gates had locked and we were alone in her estates. Surrounded by a wall and a trench, it seemed we have to overnight there with thousands of frogs croaking ear-breakingly. I tried to assure Sasi to kiss one of them just to see what would happen. He refused, coward.
Finally, we managed to find a small, open gate next to pigsty of the village. The charm faded and we were soon back on a busy French highway hitch-hiking our way back to train station, me wondering if it would be time to see that Sofia Coppola film. Is it any good?
Fairytale-teller Maiku
PS. She never said that cake thing.
