Welcome to today's Deep Dive. We have a really
fascinating journey ahead today. We really do.
And for you, the learner tuning in, our mission
today is to unpack a life that honestly reads
like a high -spaced political thriller. Completely.
We are looking at a historical overview from
our sources detailing the life of a woman who
started out hawking trinkets on the grimy streets
of Paris, eventually ruled the private boudoir
of King Louis the Kiffith at Versailles, and,
uh... ultimately met a tragic end to the guillotine.
It is just a staggering trajectory. I mean, we
are focusing on Jean Bécu, though you might recognize
her by her later, much more famous title, Madame
du Barry. Right. She holds the distinction of
being the very last maîtresse en titre. The official
chief mistress. Exactly. The official chief mistress
of the French court. Our source material today
provides a really comprehensive look at her life.
We're going to extract the most critical insights
about her improbable ascent, the sheer extravagance
of her time at court, her infamous rivalries.
and, well, her harrowing execution. For a listener
who just wants to understand the mechanics of
power or the realities of extreme social mobility
and the brutal whiplash of the French Revolution,
this story serves as a masterclass. It really
does. It is a narrative built on unimaginable
wealth, forged documents, and a society teetering
on the brink of total collapse. Okay, let's unpack
this. Starting with her humble beginnings. Because
you have to imagine being dropped into 18th century
Paris with zero safety net. Zero. That was Jean's
reality in 1743. She was the illegitimate daughter
of a 30 -year -old seamstress named Anne Becu.
Officially, her father is unidentified, though
the sources do mention rumors he might have been
a friar. The lack of a safety net in that era,
it dictated every single choice. Yeah. Without
family wealth or a recognized name, survival
required constant hustle. Hustle is the perfect
word for it. She received some basic education
at a convent. But by the time she was 15, she
was out on the streets of Paris selling cheap
trinkets just to get by. From there, she becomes
an assistant to a young hairdresser. Then she
pivots to working as a companion to an elderly
widow. But that didn't last long. No, it ended
abruptly when she was fired for attracting the
romantic attentions of the widow's two married
sons. And that detail points to a recurring theme
in her life. Her presence disrupted the established
order, often through her physical appeal. She
eventually lands a position as a milliner's assistant
in a highly fashionable haberdashery shop called
La Toilette. And the sources emphasize that she
possessed striking looks. Thick blonde ringlets.
Yes, and distinctive almond -shaped blue eyes.
So in 1763, while visiting a brothel casino,
she catches the eye of a man named Jean -Baptiste
Duberry. Right, and he installs her in his household
and gives her the professional moniker Mademoiselle
Lange. Which is a huge turning point. That moment
marks a fundamental shift. Becoming a high class
courtesan in 18th century Paris was a strategic
enterprise. It wasn't just about looks. Not at
all. It required far more than physical beauty.
It demanded sharp social intelligence. She had
to build and manage an elite aristocratic clientele.
And she proved to be brilliant at this, cultivating
a roster of government ministers and royal courtiers.
It was essentially high profile networking. Exactly.
She leveraged those connections so effectively
that by 1768, she was brought to Versailles,
where she managed to draw the attention of King
Louis the Kiffkeith himself. And the king was
entirely captivated. He was. But Versailles was
governed by this absurd bureaucracy. To become
the maitresse en titre, you could not be a commoner.
You had to be married to a high courtier and
possess a title. And Jeanne was a single woman
from the working class. What's fascinating here
is how easily the highest echelons of power bent
their own rigid rules to accommodate the king's
desires. Oh, absolutely. I mean, Versailles was
built on the strictest etiquette imaginable.
It was an entire ecosystem obsessed with bloodlines
and protocol. Right. Yet when the absolute monarch
wanted something, they casually falsified reality
to make it happen. They fabricated a new reality
out of thin air. The king ordered that she be
married off to a man of good lineage. So Jean
-Baptiste du Barry... Her former lover orchestrated
a hasty marriage between Jean and his own younger
brother. Comte de Guillaume de Berry. Yes, in
September 1768. The paperwork involved is astounding.
To justify her presence at court, Jean -Baptiste
forged a fake birth certificate for the wedding
ceremony. He shaved three years off her age.
And invented a fictitious noble lineage for her.
Just like that. The illegitimate daughter of
a seamstress became a countess. It raises an
interesting question about the nature of power,
really. The courtiers at Versailles weren't foolish.
They likely suspected or even outright knew the
documents were forged. Of course they did. But
the absolute power of the king made the objective
truth irrelevant. The paperwork was just a polite
fiction they all implicitly agreed to uphold
because challenging it meant challenging the
king. Having the paperwork is one thing, but
getting the snobbish nobility to actually accept
her was another battle entirely. At first, she
lived a very lonely life at Versailles. Protocol
dictated that no one could acknowledge her until
she had been formally presented at court. And
getting that presentation was a logistical nightmare.
She needed a noble sponsor. Right. And finding
someone willing to risk their social standing
to sponsor a known former courtesan proved extremely
difficult. They eventually found Madame de Bayarn,
but they had to heavily bribe her. by paying
off her massive gambling debts. And even with
the debts paid, Madame de Bearn panicked. She
did. On the first scheduled attempt, she faked
a sprained ankle to get out of it. You can't
make this up. They rescheduled, but the second
attempt was canceled because the king fell off
his horse while hunting and broke his arm. The
anticipation, combined with the vicious gossip
echoing through the halls of Versailles, must
have made the atmosphere incredibly tense. When
she finally made her grand entrance on April
20, 1769, she ensured it was unforgettable. She
arrived in a spectacular silvery white down.
brocaded with gold. And the side panniers? Oh,
yes. She wore massive side panniers, those giant
hoops built into the undergarments that extended
a woman's skirt several feet on either side.
Right. She was covered in royal jewels and her
coiffure, her hairstyle was so enormous they
had to keep the entire court waiting just to
finish styling it. It was a visual declaration
of her newly cemented power, but the sources
highlight a striking duality in her character.
She engaged in staggering extravagance. Massive
extravagance. She received an allowance of up
to 3 ,000 lever a month and still remained perpetually
in debt due to her spending on diamonds and fashion.
But alongside that financial drain, she demonstrated
a remarkable capacity for mercy. She really did.
She used her unprecedented access to bypass the
sluggish, often cruel legal system. For instance,
there was an older, noble couple, the Delusines.
They were being forcibly evicted due to heavy
debts, and during the chaos, the Comtesse shot
and killed a bailiff and a police officer. Wow.
They were sentenced to death. When Jeanne heard
about this, she threw herself at the king's feet.
She refused to rise from her knees until he pardoned
them. And Louis V was moved by the gesture. He
reportedly told her he was delighted that the
very first favor she ever asked of him was an
act of mercy. She also saved a young girl who
had been condemned to the gallows for infanticide
simply by writing a letter to the chancellor.
But saving lives didn't endear her to everyone.
No, it certainly didn't save her from the ultimate
rival at Versailles. A 14 -year -old Marie Antoinette.
The clash between the two of them is legendary.
And here's where it gets really interesting.
Marie Antoinette arrived as the new Dauphine,
the future queen. She was deeply offended by
Jeanne's lower -class background and open immorality.
Marie Antoinette decided to defy court protocol
by outright refusing to speak to Madame du Barry.
To a modern listener, that might sound like standard
high school drama. But in the highly codified
world of Versailles, a royal refusing to address
the king's official representative was akin to
an earthquake. It escalated to the point of a
diplomatic crisis. Jeanne complained to the king.
The king complained to the Austrian ambassador.
And the ambassador had to step in. He had to
beg Marie Antoinette to say just one word to
Jeanne to prevent the political alliance between
France and Austria from fracturing over the silent
treatment. The situation finally resolved on
New Year's Day 1772. Marie Antoinette capitulated,
but she did so with a masterful stroke of passive
aggression. It is arguably the most famous indirect
greeting in history. Think about the most passive
-aggressive thing a co -worker has ever said
to you. It doesn't top this. Not even close.
Marie Antoinette walks past Shane in a crowded
room and casually remarks to no one in particular,
there are many people at Versailles today. That
was it. It technically broke the silence, satisfying
the diplomatic requirement while perfectly maintaining
her disdain. That interaction underscores how
precarious Jeanne's power really was. Her influence
was entirely dependent on the king's favor. However,
while she had that favor, she wielded significant
influence. She did. Unlike her predecessor, Madame
de Pompadour, Jeanne generally preferred fashion
over statecraft, but she still engaged in high
-stakes politics when necessary. She actually
sat in on state councils. She dismantled political
rivals with lethal efficiency. Like the Duke
de Choiseul. Exactly. The Duc de Choiseul, a
powerful minister, despised her and constantly
plotted her downfall. Choiseul was attempting
to orchestrate a war with Britain over the Falkland
Islands. Right. Jean uncovered his plot, exposed
it to the king on Christmas Eve 1770, and successfully
orchestrated Choiseul's dismissal and exile.
Amidst this political maneuvering and extreme
luxury, the king gifted her a young enslaved
boy named Zamor. The sources indicate Zamor was
likely of city origin, born in Bengal. Jeanne
dressed him in elegant clothes, developed a fondness
for him, and took it upon herself to educate
him. His education is a crucial detail to keep
in mind, as Zemmour plays a devastating role
in the final act of her life. Before we reach
that final act, we need to discuss a legendary
piece of jewelry. Ah, yes. Louis V was so infatuated
with Jeanne that in 1772 he commissioned an unfathomably
expensive gift, a diamond necklace created by
Parisian jewelers. estimated at two million leaf
a staggering amount it was designed to be a piece
of unprecedented extravagance the king died before
the necklace was finished and crucially before
it was paid for and the historical ripples of
that single piece of jewelry are astounding they
really are that exact unpaid necklace eventually
became the centerpiece of the infamous affair
of the diamond necklace this was a massive scandal
where marie antoinette was falsely accused of
attempting to fraudulently acquire it and it
was devastating for her The scandal irreparably
damaged the Queen's reputation, serving as a
major catalyst in turning the French public against
the monarchy and helping to ignite the French
Revolution. It is wild to consider that a diamond
necklace commissioned from Madame du Barry ended
up contributing to the downfall of her great
rival, Marie Antoinette. The irony is incredible.
But Jeanne was far away from Versailles when
that fallout occurred. In May of 1774, Louis
the Kith contracted smallpox. Knowing he was
dying and needed to prepare for his last rites,
he sent Jeanne away to a convent, the Abbey de
Pont -au -Dame. In an instant, her absolute power
vanished. Upon the king's death, Marie Antoinette
became queen, and one of her first acts was to
formalize Jeanne's exile. Jeanne eventually charmed
the nuns at the convent and was granted permission
to move to her Chateau de Loupsienne. But her
life took a deeply morbid turn as the French
Revolution began to boil over. It did. She entered
into a romance with the Duc de Brissac. As the
reign of terror swept the nation, the violence
of the revolution quite literally arrived at
her doorstep. Brissac was captured by a revolutionary
mob in Paris and lynched. It is a horrifying
scene. Late one night, she heard a screaming
crowd approaching her chateau. When she looked
out her open window, the mob threw a blood -stained
cloth straight into her room. My goodness. Inside
it was the severed head of her lover, the Duc
du Brissac. The sources note she fainted on the
spot. That brutal act signaled that her past
as the ultimate symbol of royal excess made her
a prime target. Which brings us back to Zamor.
Zamor, the enslaved boy she had educated, had
grown up and embraced the revolution. He joined
the radical Jacobin Club. For context, the Jacobin
Club was the extremist political group driving
the reign of terror. Zaymor also became an office
bearer in the Committee of Public Safety, which
operated essentially as the secret police responsible
for sending thousands to the guillotine. When
Jean discovered the depth of his revolutionary
involvement in 1792, she gave him three days'
notice to quit her service. In retaliation, Zaymor
denounced her to the Revolutionary Tribunal.
Based largely on his testimony, she was accused
of treason. Specifically, she was charged with
financially assisting emigres. The aristocrats
who were fleeing France to escape the revolution.
Exactly. She was arrested in 1793 and condemned
to death. Her final moments were harrowing. Unlike
many of the stoic nobles who went to the guillotine
trying to maintain a brave, defiant face, Jeanne
unraveled. She did. On December 8th, 1793, on
her way to the scaffold, she collapsed in the
cart. She wept, crying out to the crowd, You're
going to hurt me. Why? It's heartbreaking. She
vainly tried to bargain for her life by offering
up the secret locations where she had hidden
her gemstones. Her final heartbreaking words
to the executioner were, De grâce, Monsieur Le
Barreau. Encore un petit moment. Which translates
to, One more moment, Mr. Executioner. I beg you.
If we connect this to the bigger picture, her
death encapsulates the chaotic tragedy of the
Reign of Terror. And to be clear, we aren't taking
sides or endorsing the political viewpoints of
the historical sources regarding the Jacobins,
the Royalists, or any faction of the French Revolution.
Absolutely not. We are simply unpacking the historical
reality our source material presents. Here was
a woman born into poverty, a woman of the working
class, who used the only avenues available to
her to survive and climb to the pinnacle of society.
Yet, she was ultimately executed by a revolution
of the people, targeted because she had assimilated
so fully into the aristocracy. It is a profound
historical irony. It is a staggering irony. Despite
her tragic end, she managed to leave a legacy
that outlasted the revolution, slipping into
our everyday lives in some unexpected ways. That's
true. For instance, Lerner, if you've ever ordered
soup to berry at a restaurant, you're eating
a dish named directly after her. I didn't know
that. Yeah. The soup features a creamy white
sauce and cauliflower, which is an homage to
her massive powdered wigs, which were piled high
with curls resembling cauliflower florets. A
slightly more domestic legacy than The Diamonds,
but a lasting one nonetheless. She has also lived
on extensively in pop culture. She has been portrayed
on screen by everyone from Lucille Ball in the
1940s to Asia Argento, and recently by Maywin,
starring alongside Johnny Depp. She even received
a poignant mention in classic Russian literature.
A character in Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel The
Idiot recounts the story of her execution and
prays for her soul. Her cultural footprint remains
significant. It is incredible to step back and
look at the sheer whiplash of Jean Bacuse's life.
From hawking trinkets on the streets to dodging
the guillotine. Truly a wild ride. When you consider
the extreme information she navigated, the vicious
court gossip she managed. and the survival tactics
she employed in the 1700s, it isn't entirely
removed from how we navigate our own complex,
information -heavy world today. That's a great
point. The literal stakes may be different, but
the underlying human behaviors, the networking,
the rivalries, the pursuit of security, are remarkably
similar. So what does this all mean? To fully
grasp the scope of her story, we should look
at one final lingering detail from the sources.
We mentioned earlier that Madame du Barry tried
to trade the location of her hidden gems to save
her life. Well, prior to her arrest, she had
successfully smuggled a fortune in jewels out
of France to London. Even after her execution,
she continued to influence global events. In
1795, those smuggled jewels were sold at a Christie's
auction in London. And the British government
took the money generated from that exact sale
and used it to pay Hessian mercenaries. Those
mercenaries then marched off to fight in the
Battle of Mainz. I invite you to mull over that
strange, echoing butterfly effect of history.
It's unbelievable. The diamonds belonging to
the executed mistress of a French king ended
up funding German mercenaries, paid by the British,
to fight against the very same French revolution
that had just put her to death. That is an unbelievable
connection and the perfect place to leave our
discussion. Lerner, thank you for joining us
as we unpack this incredible source material.
We hope you found this deep. dive as captivating
as we did. Farewell and keep exploring.