Flaunting, Extravagant Queen

by Jean Plaidy

  The dark man was on his feet. He had taken her hand.

  She proffered the rose which he took eagerly.

  At that moment Jeanne whispered in a voice of great alarm: ‘Come away … quickly, Madame. Someone comes this way. You must not be discovered.’

  Only too glad to have played her part, Mademoiselle d’Oliva turned and hurried away with Jeanne.

  After that incident it was easy to draw more sums from the Cardinal.

  Then to Jeanne came the great idea of making herself rich for ever.

  She was entertaining lavishly on the money which the Cardinal had provided; her friends were certain that she had some high place at Court. Several times a week they saw her ride out in her carriage for Versailles. There she would alight and wait with the crowds in the courtyards or the Galerie, and whenever possible study the Queen. She could then go home and describe to her friends what the Queen wore, what she looked like that day – in fact, with the aid of her memory and her vivid imagination, she was able to give credibility to this story of her friendship with Antoinette.

  And to one of her parties a friend brought Boehmer the Court jeweller. He was very deferential to the Comtesse de Lamotte-Valois, and asked if he might speak to her alone.

  ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘I find myself in great financial difficulties. There is a diamond necklace which I made in the hope that the Queen would buy it. I have put myself and my partners deeply in debt in order to procure only the finest stones; and the skilled workmanship which has gone into the making of this necklace is the best in the world. But if the Queen cannot be persuaded to buy this necklace – and no one else in the country could afford to do so – I and my partner are ruined men. Now you are the Queen’s dear friend. If you could persuade her to buy this necklace, believe me, dear Comtesse, I should be ready to offer you a very big commission.’

  Jeanne considered this. It would have been a pleasant way of earning money, if she had known the Queen, if she had been in a position to persuade her.

  She said she would do what she could, and the jeweller went away somewhat relieved.

  She continued to think of the necklace, and eventually asked the jeweller if he would bring it to her house and show it to her.

  As soon as she set eyes on it her fertile mind began to work. She dreamed of the necklace. She did not see the beauty of those magnificent stones and their clever setting; she saw 1,600,000 livres – a fortune.

  She paid a visit to the Cardinal.

  ‘I have news, Excellency, of Her Majesty.’

  The Cardinal’s handsome eyes gleamed with excitement.

  ‘The Queen needs your help. She says that if you will help her in this matter she will know you are truly her friend. She wishes to buy a diamond necklace. The King will not buy it for her, so she must do it herself; and this means doing it secretly.’

  ‘I will do all in my power …’ murmured the Cardinal.

  ‘These are the Queen’s instructions. You are to visit the jeweller and tell him that you have the Queen’s order to purchase the necklace for her. The price is 1,600,000 livres, and the Queen finds it difficult to raise this large sum; so she wants you to arrange that it shall be paid in four parts … the first of these to be payable on August 1st. The necklace should be handed to you on February 1st. Would you agree to make this transaction for the Queen?’

  ‘There is nothing on earth I would not do for the Queen.’

  ‘Then if you will write out the agreement I will submit it to Her Majesty for her approval.’

  The Cardinal sat down at once and drew up the document. Jeanne took this, and a few days later returned to the Cardinal.

  ‘Her Majesty is satisfied with this document and agrees to abide by the terms,’ she said. ‘She asks that you take it to the jeweller, who will give you the necklace. Then she wishes you to hand it to me that I may take it to her at once.’

  The Cardinal hesitated.

  ‘You do not wish to undertake this transaction for the Queen?’ asked Jeanne quickly.

  ‘I wish to please Her Majesty in every way. But this is a very big undertaking. It involves a great deal of money. I feel that the jeweller will wish to see Her Majesty’s signature on the agreement.’

  Jeanne could hardly suppress a sigh of relief. Her Majesty’s signature – what could be easier than that? She took the document home and Rétaux signed each clause: ‘Approved, Marie Antoinette de France.’

  It was so simple that it was almost unbelievable that it could have worked out so easily.

  Rohan took the document to the jeweller, and the next day the necklace was in Jeanne’s hands.

  How they gloated over it – she, her husband and Rétaux. Their fortunes were made. The most magnificent diamonds in the world were in their hands. They immediately set about breaking up the necklace. They disposed of some of the diamonds in Paris but, as they were so startlingly magnificent, this caused a little questioning; Rétaux was able to tell the police that he had been charged to sell them by the lady whom he served. She was the Comtesse de Lamotte-Valois. The royal name allayed the suspicions of the police; but after that it was decided that it was too dangerous to sell the remainder of the jewels in Paris, so the Comte de Lamotte-Valois took them to London to dispose of them there.

  Now the Comtesse began to live up to her royal name. She had a carriage and four English mares to draw it; she had her servants dressed in royal livery. On her berline she had engraved the royal arms of Valois, not forgetting the lilies of France and the inscription ‘From the King, my ancestor, I derive my blood, my name and the lilies.’

  Meanwhile the Cardinal was restive.

  There was no message from the Queen to say she had received the necklace and that she was delighted with it; she never wore it at any state ceremonies at which, as Grand Almoner, the Cardinal was present. It seemed strange that she who had been so eager to possess the necklace should never wear it. When he questioned her Jeanne’s answer was: ‘The Queen has told me that she will not wear the necklace until it is paid for. She hesitates to let the King know she has bought it, until she can say that she has made the last payment.’

  This sounded reasonable, but the Cardinal was still impatient; it seemed to him that the Queen should show some sign of gratitude to a man who had arranged such an unusual transaction for her; yet at all functions she was as haughty as ever.

  But even the carefree Jeanne could not hold back time, and the 1st of August was near. The jeweller would demand payment on that date and, since he had been told to put about the rumour that he had sold the necklace to the Sultan of Constantinople (Jeanne had told him the same story as she had told Rohan, of the Queen’s not wishing it to be known that she possessed the necklace until it was paid for) he might begin to grow suspicious if he were not paid, and go to the Queen.

  ‘We must hold out a little longer,’ said Jeanne to her accomplice. ‘I will tell them that the Queen thinks the price too high and demands a reduction of, say, 400,000 livres. They will not want to agree to that, and I shall then tell them that the Queen will return the necklace if they do not. That will involve a great deal of argument and put off the day of payment.’

  Rétaux was worried. ‘But can you put off the day of payment indefinitely, and what if they refuse to make the reduction?’

  ‘They are bound to argue. Then if necessary I shall explain the whole thing to the Cardinal. He will find some means of paying the jewellers because he will not dare do otherwise.’

  ‘He will denounce us.’

  ‘Not he! He is too deeply involved. To denounce us would be to show the world what a fool he is to have been so duped. Don’t be afraid. We are safe enough.’

  But Jeanne’s good luck was beginning to desert her. When she visited the Cardinal’s palace she saw Cagliostro in the distance; he did not seek her out; she fancied that he was smiling in a satisfied way, as though something he had desired had fallen straight into his lap.

  She thought then: Did he plan the whole
thing? Why? Is it because he likes to make us dance to his piping? Is he really a sort of god?

  The jewellers, in desperate need of the money, immediately agreed to reduce the price of the necklace, so that there was no delay on account of the argument which Jeanne had hoped for.

  She then went to the Cardinal and told him that the Queen could not raise the money, but wished him to arrange with the jewellers that there should be a double payment on the 1st October instead of the first being paid on the 1st August.

  The Cardinal was alarmed. Jeanne began to see great cracks in her scheme. She had planned from move to move; and now she saw only one left to her.

  She went to the jewellers.

  ‘Monsieur Boehmer,’ she said, ‘I am worried. I have reason to believe that the Queen’s signature on the contract may have been forged.’

  Boehmer was pale with terror; he began to tremble.

  ‘What shall I do?’ wailed the jeweller. ‘What can I do?’

  Jeanne said almost blithely: ‘You must go to the Cardinal. He will look into this matter, and if he finds there has been fraud … well, the Cardinal will never allow it to be said that he has been the victim of such a disgraceful fraud. Have no fear, Monsieur Boehmer. The Cardinal will pay you your money.’

  Jeanne thought that she had slipped gracefully out of the difficulty. She had the château she had bought at Bar-sur-Aube; so she retired to the country.

  There she would stay for a while; then perhaps she would join her husband in London where he was disposing of the diamonds.

  But the jeweller did not go to the Cardinal. Instead he went to Madame de Campan and through her reached the Queen.

  Jeanne was dining in state in her country home when a messenger arrived at her château.

  ‘Madame,’ he cried, ‘Monsieur le Cardinal de Rohan was arrested at Versailles this day.’

  Jeanne was alarmed. It seemed to her that for the first time luck had gone against her.

  She retired hastily to her bedroom where she burned all the letters which the Cardinal had sent to her regarding the transaction.

  She felt better after that.

  She went to bed and tried to compose herself; she was already making plans to join her husband in London. It would be safer to be out of the country for a spell.

  At five o’clock in the morning there was a disturbance in the courtyard. She rose and threw a robe about herself. Her maid came hurrying to her.

  ‘They come from Paris,’ she stammered.

  ‘Who?’ demanded Jeanne.

  But they were already on the staircase. They marched straight to her bedroom.

  ‘Jeanne de Lamotte,’ they cried, ‘you are under arrest.’

  ‘By whose orders, and on what charge?’

  ‘On the order of the King, and for being concerned in the theft of a diamond necklace.’

  In the Queen’s theatre was played that delightful comedy, Le Barbier de Seville – the Queen playing Rosine enchantingly, looking exquisite, tripping daintily across the stage in a delightful gown made for the occasion by Madame Bertin at great cost. Vaudreuil played Almaviva with great verve; and Artois strutted across the stage, an amusing Figaro: ‘Ah, who knows if the world is going to last three weeks!’

  The glittering audience applauded, but between the acts they were saying to one another: ‘What does this mean – this matter of the necklace? Is it true that the Cardinal was the Queen’s lover? There must be a trial, must there not? Then who knows what we shall hear!’

  They were certain that what they heard would be of greater interest than the play they had come to Trianon to watch.

  In Bellevue where, under Adelaide, those older disgruntled members of the nobility gathered, they talked of the latest scandal. ‘What this matter will reveal I would not like to prophesy,’ declared Adelaide, looking sternly at Victoire. (Sophie had died some years before.) Victoire knew what she was prophesying and that she would be greatly disappointed if it did not come to pass.

  In the Luxembourg, Provence’s friends gathered about him. They confessed themselves astonished with this newest scandal, and they asked one another how the children of such a woman could possibly become good Kings of France. For one thing, how could it be certain that they had any right to be Kings of France?

  In the cafés of the Palais Royal, men and women were thronging in greater numbers than ever before. A diamond necklace, they murmured. 1,600,000 livres spent on one ornament while many in France starved. Their hero, Duc d’Orléans (Chartres had assumed the title on the recent death of his father) went among them, his eyes gleaming with ambition. ‘This cannot go on,’ murmured the people. ‘It cannot go on,’ echoed Orléans. ‘And when it is stopped … what then?’

  And throughout the Rohan family and its connections there were many hurried conferences. A member of their family was in danger. They must all rally to his side. Connected with the Rohans were the houses of Guémenée, Soubise, Condé and Conti, some of whom declared they had already been slighted by the Queen.

  They would all stand together; and they determined that all blame should be shifted from the shoulders of their relative. And the best way of doing this was to place it on those of a more eminent person.

  So, as the affair of the necklace became the topic of the times, the Queen’s enemies began to mass on all sides.

  Antoinette lay on her bed. She was pregnant and in two months’ time was expecting the birth of a child. She had had the curtains drawn about her bed because she wanted to shut out reminders of that tension which she sensed all about her.

  Everyone in the Palace, everyone in Versailles and Paris was eagerly awaiting the verdict in the necklace trial.

  She had heard that all day the people had been crowding into Paris, that every important member of the Rohan family and its connexions had come to the Capital. They paraded the streets of the city dressed in deep mourning, all their servants similarly clad; they were clad in mourning on account of their innocent relative. It was preposterous, they implied, that a noble Prince, a Rohan, should be made a prisoner merely because he had been selected as a shield behind which the lascivious, acquisitive and wicked Austrian woman might cower.

  ‘Why must they go on and on about this matter?’ Antoinette had asked Louis wearily. ‘The necklace is stolen, the stones have been broken up and sold. That should be an end to the matter. Why not let it rest?’

  ‘Your honour is at stake,’ said the King sadly. ‘We must defend it.’

  ‘Do they think that I stole the necklace?’

  ‘They will think anything until we convince them to the contrary.’

  Then she had thrown back her head and declared: ‘Well, if they want this thing made public, so let it be. Let us have this matter tried by the Parlement. Then my complete innocence will be proved, and all France must acknowledge it.’

  So on this May day, nine months after the arrest of the Cardinal, the case of the Diamond Necklace was being tried by the Parlement of Paris.

  The judges had entered the great hall of the Palais de Justice. The crowds who had gathered in the square cheered them as they went in. The streets, the river banks, the taverns and cafés were full; all who could had come to Paris on this May day that they might immediately hear the verdict on the most notorious case of the age.

  Among the prisoners was the fabulous Comte de Cagliostro, for Jeanne’s quick mind had searched about her for someone on whom she could fix the blame. She remembered an occasion when she had walked in the gardens of the Cardinal’s palace with Cagliostro, and she made herself believe that the Count had put the idea of fraud into her head. She therefore accused him of the theft, and as a result he was arrested.

  Now, in alliance with the mighty members of the Rohan family were the Freemasons, one of the most powerful societies in France and throughout the world. Cagliostro was Master of a lodge, one of the leading men of the movement, and it was inconceivable that the mighty Cagliostro should be treated as a criminal.

  Th
ere were two minor prisoners involved – Rétaux the forger and Oliva the modiste prostitute. Jeanne’s husband had, fortunately for him, been in England when the arrests were made, and there he stayed and the diamonds with him.

  This meant that the diamonds could not be produced, and the rumour which found most favour was that the Queen had been behind the whole thing, that the Cardinal had destroyed her letters to him out of gallantry, and that the Queen kept the necklace in a secret jewel box.

  Trembling before the judges the little Oliva told of her meeting with the Cardinal in the Grove of Venus. The Cardinal told how he had been duped, and as he spoke he kept his eyes on the commanding figure of Cagliostro, seeming to draw as much strength from him as he did from his assembled relations who, dressed in mourning which they had been wearing ever since the arrest of this member of their family, presented a formidable company.

  The sixty-four judges and members of the Parlement knew that they were expected to declare the Cardinal and Cagliostro innocent; they were also aware that they were dealing with more than a case of theft. The verdict they would give would be more than one of guilty or not guilty; it might be an indictment of the monarchy, for Joly de Fleury, in the name of the King, had made it clear that even if the Cardinal were acquitted as a dupe in the affair, he had been guilty of ‘Criminal presumption’ in imagining that the Queen would meet him in the gardens of Versailles. Unless a verdict of Guilty was given, the Queen must surely be exposed as a woman of light reputation, since a Cardinal who was also a Prince could imagine she would meet him thus; and on this incident was based the whole structure of the case.

  The Contis, the Condés, the Soubises and the Rohans, the Freemasons, all the friends of the aunts, and the Queen’s sisters-in-law, all those who congregated in the Palais Royal to talk of liberty, were determined on one thing: whatever the sentence passed on those concerned in the Necklace affair, the Queen should not escape unscathed.

  And after long arguments the verdict for which all waited was given. The minor actors in the drama were quickly dealt with. Oliva was acquitted as a dupe, a prostitute who was accustomed to do what was asked of her for payment; this she had done in this instance and merely followed her trade. She was guiltless, and freed. Rétaux was banished from France. Cagliostro was quickly admitted to have no hand in the affair whatsoever. His cool and almost indifferent answers to their questions, together with the pressure of the Freemasons, made it necessary for him to be quickly acquitted.