One small yet unforgettable detail taken from Rosalie Lamorliere’s two accounts of the queen’s final morning occurs when Marie Antoinette attempted to change into fresh clothing. A gendarme stepped forward and refused to give her privacy. After the queen asked to be allowed to change in privacy ‘in the name of decency,’ the guard replied that his orders are not to let her out of his sight. Marie Antoinette sighed and then resigned herself to changing as quickly as possible to avoid being exposed.
This incident is sometimes used as an example of the humiliation and degradation that was enforced upon Marie Antoinette, in contrast to the more respectful dignity given to Louis XVI in his last moments.
Whereas Clery makes a scandal out of the officials not removing their hats in the presence of Louis XVI when they come to escort him to the scaffold, Marie Antoinette was placed in a much more humiliating, helpless position during her final hours; she is not only forced to change her clothing in front of a man, but her hands are bound and her hair is roughly cut before she leaves the Conciergerie in an open criminal’s cart.
But… was this officer attempting to humiliate the queen? Was he relishing her the power he held over a once celebrated, exalted figure?
Or was he simply afraid of being denounced and arrested?
The atmosphere in the Conciergerie after the queen’s trial would have been one of tension and fear. At least three people had been arrested for allegedly showing sympathy to Marie Antoinette on the 16th of October alone–her two lawyers were arrested before the trial was even over, for having defended her “too well.” De Busne, another officer employed at the Conciegerie, was arrested for giving Marie Antoinette a glass of water, helping her down some stairs in the dark, and allegedly taking off his hat in front of her.
At least one witness was arrested and at least one person mentioned by a witness was sought out and arrested during the trial. When one of the jurors wanted to be recused on account of having treated Marie Antoinette in the Conciergerie, his request was denied on the grounds that it would be an accusation against him, that he would be so moved by sympathy for the former queen.
Clearly, there is a running theme: any positive association with the accused makes you suspect.
This officer, whose name is unknown but whom Rosalie referred to as a “young man,” was apparently given orders not to let Marie Antoinette out of his sight. Why? It’s possible that, as with Louis XVI when they refused to give him knives after his sentencing, they were worried that she might commit suicide before she was executed. But it’s more likely, in my opinion, that they were worried that someone might attempt another rescue. There had already been one foiled rescue attempt while she was at the Conciergerie, and the truly massive security enacted for her execution was a testament to the fear that she might be saved.
So can we blame this young man, who would have been fully aware of the consequences of showing sympathy towards the accused or allowing anything to happen to her if he lets her out of his sight, for following his orders? I don’t think so.
And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he was one of the officers who seemed to delight in tormenting Marie Antoinette, in blowing smoke in her face and making crass remarks in front of her. But maybe he just happened to be a young man anxious that he would share the same fate as de Busne: denounced and arrested for showing basic human decency.
Additional Information
The original “declaration of Rosalie,” as included in a work by Lafont d'Aussonne, was published in 1823; based on the years mentioned in his book, it’s likely that his interview with Rosalie took place in about 1822 or 1823.
In the 1823 Declaration, the moment is described thusly:
“Her Majesty went into the little space that I usually left between the folding bed and the wall. She herself unfolded a chemise that had probably been brought to her in my absence and having signed to me to stand in front of her bed so as to hide her from the gendarme, she stooped down behind the bed, and slipped off her dress in order to change her underlinen for the last time. The officer of the gendarmerie came forward instantly, and standing by the head of the bed watched the Queen’s proceedings. Her Majesty quickly threw her fichu over her shoulders, and with the greatest gentleness said to the young man: “In the name of decency, monsieur, elt me change my linen without being watched.”
“It is impossible for me to allow it,” answered the gendarme roughly: “my orders are to keep my eye on you, whatever you are doing.” The Queen sighed, slipped her chemise over her head for the last time as cautiously and modestly as possible, and then dressed herself… I was so much disturbed by the gendarme’s brutality…
In the later 1835 interview as recorded by Madame Simon-Vouet, the wording is changed slightly but significantly. The 1835 recount of the events makes Marie Antoinette’s request more dramatic (Marie Antoinette cries out, rather than speaking with gentleness); it allows Rosalie to act as a protector, blocking the view of the queen with her body; and finally, the guard doesn’t simply stand by the bed as he does in the 1820s version… he insolently leans his elbows on the pillow to look at the queen.
“When she was about to undress she slipped into the space between the wall and the truckle-bed, so as to be out of the officer’s sight; but that young man came forward insolently, and leant his elbows on the pillow in order to look at her. The Queen blushed deeply, and hastily covered herself with her large fichu; then, clasping her hands, she turned beseechingly to the officer. "Monsieur,” she cried, “in the name of decency let me change my linen without being watched.”
([Madame: “The man must have felt very much ashamed of his behavior?”]
On the contrary, he answered roughly that his orders were not to lose sight of the prisoner for an instant. The Queen raised her eyes to heaven … I took up my position so as to hide her as much as possible from the eyes of the officer. Then, kneeling behind her bed, with every precaution that her modesty could suggest, her Majesty succeeded in changing her clothes without even uncovering her shoulders or arms.
Was Rosalie embellishing the 1835 version, spurred on by Madame Simon-Vouet? Had Rosalie’s memory of the events shifted and become more dramatic on their own? Did the distinctly royalist Madame Simon-Vouet add her own detail?
It’s hard to say–but it is definitely worth keeping in mind when comparing and contrasting the two versions of the incident.
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