I shall say nothing; you know my delicacy on this point. A
wife should be submissive in everything to her husband, and should
have no thought but to please him and do his will.... The only true
happiness in this world lies in a happy marriage; I know whereof I
speak. Everything depends on the wife if she be yielding, sweet, and
amusing.... I counsel you, my dear daughter, to reread this letter
on the twenty-first of every month. I beg you to be true to me on
this point. My only fear for you is negligence in your prayers and
studies; and lukewarmness succeeds negligence. Fight against it, for
it is more dangerous than a more reprehensible, even wicked state;
one can conquer that more easily. Love your family; be affectionate
to them--to your aunts as well as to your brothers-in-law and
sisters-in-law. Suffer no evil-speaking; you must either silence the
persons, or escape it by withdrawing from them. If you value your
peace of mind, you must from the start avoid this pitfall, which I
greatly fear for you knowing your curiosity....

"Your mother,
"MARIA-THERESA."

The grand annoyance Marie Antoinette experienced upon her entrance
into the French Court, was the necessity of observing a system of
etiquette to which she had been unaccustomed, and soon pronounced,
with girlish vehemence, insupportable. Barriere copies a ridiculous
anecdote in illustration of this from the manuscript fragments of
Madame Campan: "Madame de Noailles" (this was the first lady of
honor to the dauphiness) "abounded in virtues; I cannot pretend to
deny it. Her piety, charity, and irreproachable morals rendered her
worthy of praise, but etiquette was to her a sort of atmosphere; at
the slightest derangement of the consecrated order, one would have
thought she would have been stifled, and that life would forsake her
frame. One day I unintentionally threw this poor lady into a
terrible agony. The queen was receiving I know not whom--some
persons just presented, I believe; the lady of honor, the queen's
tire-woman, and the ladies of the bed-chamber were behind the queen.
I was near the throne with the two women on duty. All was right; at
least, I thought so. Suddenly I perceived the eyes of Madame de
Noailles fixed on mine. She made a sign with her head, and then
raised her eyebrows to the top of her forehead, lowered them, raised
them again, then began to make little signs with her hand. From all
this pantomime, I could ea