Marie Jossel

I am currently working through one of Jeanne de la Motte-Valois’s memoirs. It is available online through Google Books (click this link to go there). This version is the original English translation, published in London’s Paternoster row in 1791. At this time, Jeanne was living in London. Shortly after the publication of this memoir, she died after a fall from a London window onto the London streets (some say she was pushed).

Jeanne de la Motte-Valois

Presumably, Jeanne told her story in French. Unless her English was very good, someone translated this work. Whoever did it was not a great prose stylist. The wording is clunky at best. Most of the sentences stretch on for a week or two without any reason for doing so. Combined with the fact that the English of 220 years ago was slightly different from the English of today, the language of the memoir itself can be a bit tedious. But once you get used to it, it’s worth the trouble. The story is extraordinary.

Google Books offers a text version of the book. You can highlight, copy, and paste the words. But because the software isn’t perfect, and because the page images have some flaws, the text version is messy. As I go, I am copying the text and cleaning it up. I’m doing it roughly; there’s simply too much work for me to go through it with a fine-toothed comb. However, I will bring to the readers of this blog some of the results of this clean-up.

The first of these posts will be about Marie Jossel, Jeanne’s mother. Jeanne was not, to say the least, her mother’s biggest fan. According to Jeanne, her father–the son of a minor nobleman, descended from the illegitimate child of Henri II, unprepared to support his family in any way–had been intended to marry a young noblewoman practically since his birth. As a young man, he fell for a maid in his household, the lovely but barbed Marie. Jeanne’s father, named Jacques like Jeanne’s brother, wanted to marry Marie, but his father disapproved. In spite of his father’s disapproval, Jacques married Marie (the English translation refers to her as Maria for no discernible reason).

As Jeanne herself puts it:

Maria [or Marie] Jossel, a girl who had the charge of the house at Fontette [meaning she was a maid], was the person who had attracted his [Jeanne's father Jacques's] eye. She was solicitous to please him and in a short time became pregnant. My father, wishing at once to make her an honorable reparation and to legitimate his child, was induced to ask my grandfather’s consent to marry her; [Jacques's father], thinking such a union degrading to an illustrious line of ancestry, gave a pointed and formal refusal. This opposition did but increase my father’s ardor; who, after many unsuccessful efforts to win my grandfather to compliance, and remaining unmarried till he was thirty-six years of age (four years longer than the law required) [until the age of thirty, men were required to seek their father's approval to marry in France], at length solemnized the marriage at Langres in Champaign, under the names of James de Luz and Maria Jossel, where my father had purchased an estate upon which he resided some time previous to the nuptials. About a year after, my grandfather, upon his deathbed, forgave the indiscretion of his son; after whose decease my father and mother left Langres to take possession of the estate at Fontette [the family estate, where Jeanne herself was born].

click below to continue reading…..

The Memoirs of Jeanne de La Motte

There’s nothing like reading the first-hand accounts of the main players in a thrilling historical drama. Or a dramatic historical thriller–you could use either to describe the Affair of the Diamond Necklace. Jeanne wrote several memoirs. They came out in French and English and sometimes in more than one volume, making for a confusing array of texts.

Here are the original versions of two memoirs by Jeanne de La Motte:

Mémoires justificatifs de la Comtesse de Valois de La Motte–In French, dense, and probably not accessible for people who don’t know French very well.

The life of Jane de St. Remy de Valois, heretofore Countess de La Motte–An English translation published while Jeanne was in London. Much more accessible to English-speakers if you don’t mind extraneous commas.

My take on the Memoirs:

Jeanne de La Motte’s story is fascinating from beginning to end, and no one would agree more than Jeanne herself. From a very young age, Jeanne learned to tell her own story to the best of her abilities, with the aim of capturing the attention and sympathy of those around her. She told her story while begging on the streets and she told her story while trying to get noticed at the court of Versailles. When the Affair of the Diamond Necklace broke, her audience became much wider and the list of antagonists in her story increased by (at least) one: now Queen Marie-Antoinette was on the list of people out to victimize her.

You can’t take Jeanne at her word. The outline of her life is almost certainly true, as well as those details that she had no reason to lie about (for instance, the date of her arrival in Paris) or that were easily verifiable fact (for instance, the date of her birth or marriage). But, otherwise, in her memoirs Jeanne makes herself into the tragic heroine, constantly wronged by fate and, more to the point, by those around her. The first villain of Jeanne’s story is her own mother. Jeanne’s mother is presented as a gold-digger who ruined her husband (Jeanne’s good-hearted father) and never loved him in return. Jeanne’s mother constantly beat her, forced them all to go to Paris where the children had to beg on the streets, barely mourned her husband’s death, and asked her children to claim that her new lover was their father. How much of this is true, it’s hard to tell. No doubt, Jeanne’s mother would tell a very different version of the story.

After her mother abandons Jeanne, other villains continue to plague her life: the nemesis is her foster father, or the officials at court, or Madame Elisabeth, or Marie-Antoinette herself, or the police, or the monarchy at large. Throughout her memoirs, Jeanne casts herself as the victim of wicked people. And yet, all the evidence points to her as the culprit in the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, no matter how poorly she was treated by how many people. It’s incredibly telling that the thief is the victim here, over and over again.

Even if Jeanne only partially believed her own tales, this was the way she chose to defend her actions: she placed herself as the victim. In her own mind, she was merely responding to a cruel world as best she could–and maybe her response wasn’t perfect, but it was no worse than could be expected in the circumstances. Underlying this is Jeanne’s assumption that she deserved much, much better. Jeanne denies ever having stolen the Diamond Necklace, but if you take it for granted that she did steal it, then you can see her memoirs as a lengthy justification for why she deserved that necklace that didn’t belong to her. Her entire unfair life led up to a point where she saw for herself the chance to get some justice. Everyone from her mother to the queen had denied her what was her right. The necklace became a chance to reclaim what she felt she deserved. When that fell through, the memoirs became her form of revenge–because her story was much more damaging to the Queen than the loss of the necklace.

The morality is suspect; just because a person was constantly abused (and there’s little doubt Jeanne was abused) doesn’t justify theft, cheating, and adultery (all of which Jeanne was almost certainly guilty of). When you take into account her motives and point of view, Jeanne’s memoirs make a fascinating study of morals and how flexible they can be.

If you are patient with language, whether its French or mind-numbingly archaic English, then I suggest you take a look at these memoirs and judge for yourself.

Textile Delight Part 2

Someone noted in the comments of my Textile Delight post that I hadn’t added any details about the cloth I took pictures of at the Victoria & Albert Museum and posted here on Marie Antoinette’s Diamonds. It’s true–I just posted the beautiful textiles and went merrily on my way. After I read the comment, I remembered that I probably had taken pictures of the information tags for each textile. I looked and didn’t find any such pictures until the other day. They were hiding on my camera, never having been transferred to my computer. I was thrilled to find them.

What I found was not a surprise. I remembered for the most part what they were. They were all French (or probably French) brocaded silk from the 1750′s to 1770′s–approximately the same time period as the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, though a little earlier. Here are a few details on each of the four textiles I got decent photos of.

Brocaded silk, probably French, 1760's. Tissue with a tabby ground and a flush pattern. Brocaded with colored silks.

Brocaded silk, French, 1770's. Tabby weave, brocaded in colored silk. The lacey pattern distracts from the lines of flowers., a common design in the 3rd quarter of the 18th century.

Brocaded silk in the French style of 1765-1775 but not necessarily French. Silk tabby striped in the warp, brocaded with metal thread, colored silk, and cordonnet.

Richly brocaded silk, French 1750-55. Woven in tabby, brocaded in silk and metal thread. The flush pattern in the field is created by a blue pattern weft.

America, France, and the Affair of the Diamond Necklace

I had the great pleasure this weekend of attending the National Book Festival in Washington, D.C., where I got to hear David McCullough speak. I enjoyed it immensely.

The theme was sharing knowledge across borders and generations. He spent a lot of time outlining the need to get students interested in learning and exploring. I get the greatest joy out of life by discovering something that I didn’t know. I love nothing more than to put together the puzzle pieces and make a story. I wish more people realized just how fun and interesting history really is–it’s one long string of great stories.

Mr McCullough suggested that students be shown real documents and be taken to historical sites, and I agree whole-heartedly. Nothing will interest young people in history more than showing them items held by other people just as alive two hundred years ago as they, the student, are now. Walking through the same places they walked through, standing in the same rooms as them–I know for me that kind of experience has had a powerful effect. Asking students to discover something for themselves–to use real documents, archaeology, or architecture–gives that all-important sense of achievement.

I take a lot of interest in this sort of thing, because I’m aware that for people my age (and younger) it’s unusual to be interested in history. More people my age and younger need to get excited about diving into the stories of history. Fact really is stranger than fiction. The Affair of the Diamond Necklace is one example. But there are millions of stories involving normal people with extraordinary tales to tell.

Mr. McCullough’s discussion of learning was not just about teaching new generations to appreciate history; it was also about learning from other cultures. In the case of his newest book, the exchange is between France (especially Paris) and America in the nineteenth century. As he put it, people often don’t realize how much we owe the French (the French army and navy were key in winning our independence, and after all the French gave us the Statue of Liberty). The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris, Mr McCullough’s newest book, is about the cultural gifts that France gave us: art, medicine, architecture.

The idea of Americans going to Paris to soak up its culture is apropos to the time period of the Affair of the Diamond Necklace. Eighteenth-century France was the acknowledged leader in all fine things–art, ballet, fashion, food. This was true when Marie-Antoinette was setting the fashion for three-foot-tall hair, and it is still true today. If it comes from Paris, it’s automatically the best (and, let’s face it, much more expensive). In the other direction, there was quite the vogue for all things American during and after the American Revolution. Suddenly ideas of rebellion, freedom, and quaint rusticism were all the rage.

Americans were very much in Paris at the time of the Affair. Just before the time of the Affair, Benjamin Franklin made an enormous splash by being both very American and very French. He wore a fur hat but made himself well-liked by playing politics their way. French politics was still wrapped up in a hierarchy of nobility and royalty. John Adams was commendably moral (too moral?), but not quite as successful at making friends in France as Franklin was. Thomas Jefferson was very much at home in a place with so much beauty and knowledge to soak in. It was the efforts of men like Franklin that convinced Louis XVI to aid the Americans in their fight against the English in spite of the cost and the danger inherent in helping rebels overturn a monarchy. The Americans in Paris at the time of the Affair of the Necklace spread the idea of government by the people. Ten years after America won its war against Britain, France executed its monarchs. That, more than anything, speaks to the important links between the United States and France at the time of the Affair of the Diamond Necklace.

The Bastille and the Diamond Necklace

Since Bastille Day was just a few days ago, I am taking the chance to write about the role of the infamous, famous, and perhaps misunderstood Bastille, in particular as it concerns the Affair of the Diamond Necklace.

The Bastille was famous in its day. In the public imagination, the Bastille was a dark hulk of a prison full of terror. Unlike other prisons, the inmates of the Bastille were largely important, or well-to-do, or liable to rouse the rabble. The fortress, built in the 14th century,

The Bastille

was deep, dark, mysterious, and secretive. Jeanne de La Motte referred to it as “that dread prison, the very name of which brings a shudder.” “There, countless victims of arbitrary power languished amidst groans, tears, and curses for the day that gave them birth,” according again to Jeanne (who had a tendency for melodrama when it came to her own suffering and who liked to play victim to the monarchy, justifiably or not).

Like the Tower of London, it was a place of legend, where people had a tendency to simply disappear. Like the Tower, its reputation probably wasn’t entirely earned: Less than a dozen people were executed inside the Tower, and a grand total of seven prisoners were being held in the Bastille when it fell.

But three years before the Bastille was stormed on July 14, 1789, it was the holding pen for Cardinal Rohan, Jeanne de La Motte, Count Cagliostro, and Nicole d’Olva.

Happy Bastille Day!

For those in and out of France, happy Bastille Day! Today is the day the Bastille fell back in 1789. It was the beginning of a long and messy revolution that ended the monarchy in France (it came back for a while). The Bastille was stormed because of the dissatisfaction of the people with the monarchy; a portion of that unrest can be traced to the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, which damaged Marie-Antoinette’s reputation badly; so in some ways, the storming of the Bastille happened as a result of our favorite jewel heist.

I will try to write more about the Bastille in connection to our beloved hucksters, prostitutes, and monarchs this weekend. Until then, enjoy what’s left of Bastille Day!

Versailles: The Dream of a King

Here’s a treat for everyone. This was one of BBC’s wonderful documentaries. I miss a lot of things about the UK, but I think I miss the fantastic nonfiction programming the most. They put on shows with–shocker–real history instead of fluff or stuff that isn’t in the least bit historical (I’m looking at you, History Channel).

The Chateau de Versailles

This program focuses largely on Louis XIV, the Sun King, who of course built Versailles. Louis was extraordinarily important to ancien regime France. He essentially created the court culture, which was the culture of the ruling elite of the country. He chose to bring his nobility to him, to have them wait on him, and to have them squabble with one another over who got to hand him his shirt. In the meantime, they weren’t causing Louis any trouble. When he was very young, those pesky nobles had been causing all kinds of trouble. They called it the Fronde.

A hundred years later or so, at the time of the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, Louis’s rules were still being strictly enforced. The king and queen were put on very public display and their every bodily function was accompanied by a list of rules and precedents. Marie-Antoinette hated the stuffy rules. She wanted to do things her way, meaning less formally. That got her in trouble all around, but that is another story altogether. The point is that even in the time of Jeanne de La Motte, Marie-Antoinette, and all our favorite characters, Louis’s presence was still very much felt.

This documentary is a very nice overview of Louis and his palace, which were intertwined  both during his life and after his death.

Note: This is part one. You’ll have to click on part two when this video ends.

The Affair of the Necklace–Playing with History

The Affair of the Necklace (2001) staring Hilary Swank, Simon Baker, and Adrian Brody among others, has touches of historical accuracy that make the inaccuracies all the more difficult to bear.

Take for instance Jeanne’s fainting spell at the beginning of the movie. Jeanne is trying to get the attention of the queen, Marie-Antoinette. The normal ways have failed, so Jeanne decides to “faint” in the middle of one of the queen’s chambers (probably one of the ones furthest from the queen because that’s all she could get access to). Jeanne de La Motte-Valois, self-styled Comtesse de La Motte, did indeed faint in front of an important personage in an attempt to get attention. The person was Madame Elisabeth, the king’s sister, not Marie-Antoinette, the king’s wife. And Madame Elisabeth and her friend the Comtesse d’Artois (sister-in-law to the king) actually helped Jeanne for a short period, until Jeane started sleeping with the prolific Comte d’Artois. Or, that’s how rumor would have it.

In fact, speaking first in general terms, Jeanne’s character is ever so slightly off. First of all, she doesn’t have the smart, witty, and greedy edge of the real Jeanne, who was always brazen and unabashed. And the mentality was too modern–which is to say too sexually moral. Jeanne’s era was very loose as far as sexual matters go. Today, it’s hard to quite get a grip on the mentality. Everyone says that Hollywood is full of sex, but France in the ancien regime was a pretty lascivious place. It was assumed men had mistresses as well as wives and that women had lovers as well as husbands; in fact, it was unusual for husbands and wives to have much to do with one another at all. At least, this was the case in high society (this may be due to the way knowledge comes down to us–all the salacious stories make for interesting reading so we hear about them more than the faithful couples, whoever they were ). There was a fairly simple code: as long as marital duties were fulfilled and no one made too much of a spectacle of themselves, pretty much anything was acceptable behind closed doors.

Jeanne in particular wasn’t exactly known for chastity. She was married to Nicolas de la Motte, but was almost certainly sleeping with Retaux de Villette much of the time that she was married to Nicolas. She probably slept with Jacques Claude Beugnot (an old friend) and Cardinal Rohan, too, and there were stories about her and a cleric in her earlier days. In any case, this is pretty well glossed over in the movie, though they make hay out of the fact that Retaux was a gigolo (the historical Retaux was, too). There’s very little to suggest that Jeanne loved Retaux or vice-versa. In fact, Retaux spilled his guts when he was arrested. Jeanne did refuse to name him and a handsome young servant in Cardinal Rohan’s household when she was questioned, but she probably spared them for the simple fact that they were handsome. But since this is a product of Hollywood, the heroin had to have her love interest.

The Movie: The Affair of the Necklace

A REVIEW OF THE FILM

In 2001, The Affair of the Necklace, a high-budget Hollywood production with A-list stars (okay, maybe B-list), was released to the world. The movie is about my favorite jewel heist: the Affair of the Diamond Necklace. Or, more pithily, the Affair of the Necklace. Hilary Swank stars as Jeanne de La Motte-Valois, Simon Baker as Retaux de Villette, Adrian Brody as Nicolas de La Motte, and Christopher Walken as Count Cagliostro. A very young Hayden Panetierre plays Jeanne as a child. The complete list of actors, as well as other info, pictures, and comments, is available over here at IMDB.

The movie is narrated by Baron de Breteuil, a relatively tangential character. His voice is useful because this story needs some narration; dialogue simply couldn’t get across all the information that the audience needs to make sense of this complicated story. It’s effective in getting that information out, but it also gives a slightly melodramatic tinge to the movie. It’s as if someone thinks it’s Othello. His narrating harps on a comment made by Napoleon (yes, that Napoleon) concerning the affair of the necklace–that the affair was one three events that brought down the French monarchy. One of the failings of the film is that it doesn’t address that statement. While Marie Antoinette, played by Joely Richardson, plays a part, the conditions in France at the time aren’t explored at all…….

History, Close to Home

Because of the demands of the real world, I have been neglecting this blog shamefully fora while, now. But I thought that I would share a little of what I discovered over the past few weeks. No, it doesn’t have to do with the Affair of the Diamond Necklace, or even with France or the French Revolution or the ancien regime.

The old Farmhouse in the snow.

It’s the history of the old house I grew up in. I have always known the old farmhouse was built before the Civil War. Many years ago, my mother did some research on the house that my father bought in 1978. She couldn’t finish the research then, so that’s where the research stood for about twenty years.

Having a historically curious mind, I decided I wanted to know how old this house is. I could guess from the size, style, and height of the windows at its approximate age. I’m no expert, but I put it in the early 1800′s. It has an almost Federalist style to it. But I wanted some facts, so I began at the beginning by going to the old Cecil County courthouse in Elkton. In the land records archives, I started with my parents’ deed from the 70′s. From there, it was easy to trace it backwards in time. Each deed states that the land being conveyed to so-and-so by so-and-so is the same land conveyed to so-and-so by so-and-so as recorded in such-and-such a book on such-and-such a page. So I moved back in time, through the 20th and 19th centuries……..