the most miserable union that even the ancient mythology had recorded
was a singularly inappropriate and ill-omened ornament for nuptial
festivities.[4]

A bridge reached from the island to the left bank of the river; and, on
quitting the pavilion, the archduchess found the carriages, which had been
built for her in Paris, ready to receive her, that she might make her
state entry into Strasburg. They were marvels of the coach-maker's art.
The prime minister himself had furnished the designs, and they had
attracted the curiosity of the fashionable world in Paris throughout the
winter. One was covered with crimson velvet, having pictures, emblematical
of the four seasons, embroidered in gold on the principal panels; on the
other the velvet was blue, and the elements took the place of the seasons;
while the roof of each was surmounted by nosegays of flowers, carved in
gold, enameled in appropriate colors, and wrought with such exquisite
delicacy that every movement of the carriage, or even the lightest breeze,
caused them to wave as if they were the natural produce of the garden.[5]

In this superb conveyance Marie Antoinette passed on under a succession of
triumphal arches to the gates of Strasburg, which, on this auspicious
occasion, seemed as if it desired to put itself forward as the
representative of the joy of the whole nation by the splendid cordiality
of its welcome. Whole regiments of cavalry, drawn up in line of battle,
received her with a grand salute as she advanced. Battery after battery
pealed forth along the whole extent of the vast ramparts; the bells of
every church rang out a festive peal; fountains ran with wine in the Grand
Square. She proceeded to the episcopal palace, where the archbishop, the
Cardinal de Rohan, with his coadjutor, the Prince Louis de Rohan (a man
afterward rendered unhappily notorious by his complicity in a vile
conspiracy against her) received her at the head of the most august
chapter that the whole land could produce, the counts of the cathedral, as
they were styled; the Prince of Lorraine being the grand dean, the
Archbishop of Bordeaux the grand provost, and not one post in the chapter
being filled by any one below the rank of count. She held a court for the
reception of all the female nobility of the province. She dined publicly
in state; a procession of the municipal magistrates presented her a sample
of the wines of the district; and, as she tasted the luscious offering,
the