The Wedding of the Century
On May 16, 1770, the Palace of Versailles witnessed one of the most magnificent weddings in European history. The marriage of Louis-Auguste, Dauphin of France, to Marie Antoinette, Archduchess of Austria, was intended to dazzle Europe with French grandeur while cementing the new alliance between former enemies. Every detail had been planned to perfection—or so it seemed.
The day began before dawn for Marie Antoinette. Her elaborate toilette, supervised by the Countess de Noailles, took over three hours. The wedding dress itself was a masterpiece of French craftsmanship: white brocade encrusted with diamonds, worn over enormous side hoops that made navigation through doorways a careful operation. Her hair, powdered white and built up nearly two feet high, was adorned with diamonds and white roses. The physical discomfort was considerable—the dress weighed nearly fifty pounds—but the visual effect was stunning.
Behind the scenes, an army of servants worked frantically to ensure everything ran smoothly. Marie-Louise Campan, who would later become one of Marie Antoinette's most trusted attendants, was then a young reader to the king's daughters. Her memoirs provide intimate details of the controlled chaos: ladies-in-waiting fainting from the heat and the pressure of their corsets, last-minute repairs to torn lace, and the constant worry that the elaborate hair constructions would collapse.
The ceremony itself took place in the Chapel Royal, with the Archbishop of Rheims presiding. Louis-Auguste, dressed in cloth of gold, looked uncomfortable and mumbled his responses. Marie Antoinette, despite her exhaustion and anxiety, maintained perfect composure, speaking her vows in clear, though accented, French. King Louis XV beamed with satisfaction at the successful conclusion of his diplomatic masterpiece.
But the day was marred by a terrible omen that many would recall years later. During the evening festivities, a display of fireworks in Paris turned to tragedy when a fire broke out, causing a stampede that killed 132 people. The news was kept from the young couple initially, but when they learned of it days later, Marie Antoinette insisted on donating her private spending money for a month to the victims' families—a gesture that won her early popularity but also set a precedent for spontaneous generosity that would later be used against her.