How to Ruin a Queen: Marie Antoinette and the Diamond Necklace Affair (17 page)

The Boehmers considered this denial little more than a coquettish tease by a woman with a reputation for extravagance. At the beginning of 1782, the prospect of a sale recrudesced when the king retained the necklace with a view to acquiring it, but considerations of greater magnitude confounded matters: on 12 April, the French
Caribbean fleet was defeated by the British in the Battle of the Saintes, losing five vessels. When the jewellers finally asked the queen whether she intended to buy the necklace, she reportedly replied that ‘we stand more in need of
ships than jewels’.

The jewellers’ business was suffocated by the interest payments. Boehmer tried hawking the necklace around the courts of Europe – a paste model was sent to the Spanish Court for the Princess de Asturias to examine – but no sovereign was prepared to meet the asking price. In despair, he sought an audience with Marie Antoinette, who did not suspect that her jeweller would hurl himself on the floor weeping, wring his hands and declare:
‘Madame I am ruined and disgraced if you do not purchase my necklace. I cannot outlive so many misfortunes. When I leave here, I shall throw myself into the river.’

Queens do not expect to be emotionally blackmailed by tradesmen, and Marie Antoinette scolded Boehmer for his outburst:

Rise Boehmer, I do not like these rhapsodies. Honest men have no need to fall to their knees when making their petitions. If you were to kill yourself, I should regret it as the act of a madman in whom I have taken an interest, but I would not hold myself responsible in any way for that misfortune. Not only did I never order the article that is the cause of your present despair, but whenever you have talked to me about that fine collection of jewels, I have told you that I should not add four diamonds to those which I already possess. I told you in person that I refuse to buy the necklace; the king wished to give it to me, but I refused him also. Never mention it again to me. Divide it and try to sell it piecemeal, and do not drown yourself. I am very angry with you acting out this scene of despair in my presence and before my child.
*
Never let me see you behave in this way again. Go.

Boehmer would not countenance dismembering the creation he saw as the pinnacle of his professional career, and flogging the diamonds individually might pay for the interest but would reflect poorly on his commercial acumen. In its safebox the necklace continued to
hang like a halter, blistering the partnership. All the while the Boehmers’ creditors circled, pecking away with enquiries about repayment.

Optimistic to the point of delusion, Boehmer convinced himself that the crown’s financial retrenchment would be abandoned once peace with Britain was concluded at the end of the American War of Independence. Then, he was certain, the king or queen would be disposed towards buying the necklace. By the end of 1784, nearly two years after the treaty was signed, the queen’s pregnancy was evident to all, and the jewellers knew that a royal birth meant presents for everyone. But, having exhausted all their goodwill with Marie Antoinette, they sought a more acceptable paraclete.

Bassenge hoped that a friend of his, Louis-François Achet, a lawyer who held an office in the comte de Provence’s household, might know someone – or at least know someone who knew someone. In December 1784 Achet told the jewellers that his son-in-law Jean-Baptiste Laporte, another lawyer, was an acquaintance of the comtesse de La Motte-Valois, who everyone knew – didn’t they? – was a bosom friend of the queen. Laporte agreed to broach the matter with Jeanne.

Jeanne was initially coy, ducking away from any commitment. She did agree to examine the necklace, which gave the jewellers hope of convincing her to intervene, and Jeanne time to ponder how she might inflect this opportunity to her advantage. On 29 December, Bassenge, Achet and Laporte escorted the necklace from the jewellers’ atelier to the rue Neuve-Saint-Gilles (Boehmer, who had a feeble constitution, was laid up in bed). Bassenge dropped the small talk. As soon as he was introduced to Jeanne, he implored her to speak to the king and queen on his behalf. Tell them, he said as he raised the lid on the necklace’s case, that they would secure the Boehmers’ happiness ‘if they deigned to unload
such a heavy burden’.

Jeanne affected a polite lack of interest: ‘I desire greatly
to be useful,’ she said, ‘but I don’t like to embroil myself in these sorts of affairs’ (something of a surprise to Laporte, who knew all about the Lyonnaise merchants). But the meeting was not entirely fruitless for the jewellers – if the chance arose, Jeanne promised, she would speak to the queen of their concerns.

Anyone would have been astonished by the sheer quantity of gems in the
collier d’esclavage
, by the sheer amount of crystallised money bound up in it, by its unsold dead weight. The image did not lie inert in Jeanne’s mind. The necklace unlaced itself, stones spun loose, each diamond splintered into thousands of hard specks; these flattened into gold coins, flashed into silk and taffeta, ormolu and marble, carriage clocks and music boxes and firedogs and rosewood cabinets, a motte of horses and houses and coaches and bobbing servants, and at the summit of this profusion, drunk on riches, Jeanne and Nicolas sat, surrounded by more money than they could ever squander.

On 5 January 1785, the last day of Christmas, the cardinal de Rohan was summoned from Saverne to Paris by an enigmatic note from Marie Antoinette. She was still not in a position to recognise publicly their reconcilement, but spoke of ‘a
secret negotiation’ for which she needed his assistance. The comtesse would explain everything. On his arrival, Jeanne presented Rohan with another letter from the queen, in which Marie Antoinette declared her wish to buy the Boehmers’ necklace and, not wanting to bargain in person, asked the cardinal to negotiate on her behalf. It was a mark of her high regard, the queen added, that she had entrusted him with such a delicate task.

Rohan was eager to assist, but needed some time to consider the matter. It was unclear from the queen’s note if he was expected to advance the money himself and, if so, when he would be paid back. Saddled with the Guéméné debts, and with the restoration of Saverne ongoing, he was not in a position to tap the amount required – the baron
de Planta was horrified Rohan was even contemplating involvement. Yet at no point did Rohan pause over the queen’s decision to buy the necklace secretly – her well-known debts and prodigality led him to surmise that she needed to hide the acquisition from the king.

For three weeks the jewellers heard nothing, eventually assuming that Jeanne had decided to remain aloof. Bassenge told Achet that his anxiety over the necklace was overwhelming and he was prepared to offer 1,000 louis to whoever could engineer a sale, an enticement which convinced Achet it was worth supplicating Jeanne just one
more time. Before he had an opportunity to call on her, however, she summoned him to dinner, where she announced that she needed to speak with the jewellers as soon as possible.

On the next day, 21 January, Bassenge and Achet returned to Jeanne’s apartment. She informed them that, within a few days, they would have
‘heartwarming news’ about the necklace. The queen desired it but, for reasons which could not be revealed, would not deal directly with the jewellers. A
‘distinguished nobleman’ had been instructed to settle all the arrangements. Jeanne warned, at the same time, that all necessary precautions should be taken with this man. Bassenge, with a jig of relief,
offered to reward Jeanne for her brokerage, but she refused – the only gratification she needed was the pleasure which came from helping those in difficulties.

Had you looked out of a glacial window on the rue Neuve-Saint-Louis early in the morning of the 24 January 1785, you might have noticed two figures scuttling up the road. If you were suspiciously minded, you would have seen that the cloaks hugged tightly against the frost served also to mask their faces. They were headed to the Boehmers’ shop on the rue de Vendôme, now the rue Béranger, in the north-eastern corner of the Marais. Wary of being spotted, the pair slid in through the coach door. The jewellers, who lived on the first floor, were still in bed. Bassenge, his mind still lumbering with sleep, told his servant that whoever had arrived must come upstairs if they wished to speak to him. He crackled awake when Jeanne and Nicolas entered. They informed him that the distinguished nobleman would arrive shortly to discuss buying the necklace. Jeanne reiterated that it was Bassenge’s responsibility to ensure due diligence was carried out; she also asked that her name and the necklace should never again be mentioned together.

As soon as the La Mottes had left, Bassenge dashed into Boehmer’s room and shook his ailing partner awake. Boehmer had barely dressed when Rohan entered the shop, fifteen minutes after Jeanne’s departure. Both parties hummed with nerves, both were wary of raising the matter of the necklace, as though mentioning it might break it. The Boehmers showed Rohan some other pieces of jewellery; Rohan cooed politely. Finally, Rohan asked to see the
‘item of great importance’, the
‘unique specimen’ of which he had heard so much.
The jewellers produced the necklace, indicating ‘the unprecedented arrangement of stones’. ‘How much is it?’ Rohan asked. Only 1.6 million livres, they replied, the estimated price six years previously.

Boehmer, never one to rein in his self-pity, now spewed out the whole saga: he would have sold the necklace had the king not so inconsiderately declared war on Britain; he had crafted it to adorn a queen but Marie Antoinette seemed utterly uninterested; his life’s work was crushing his business. Rohan responded coolly to the blethering. He did not know if a sale would take place but, if it did, he was certain they would approve of the buyer and her terms. Whether he would be allowed to name the person he was acting for, he could not yet say; if he wasn’t, the purchase would be made in his name. The Boehmers, who knew perfectly well whom Rohan represented, were amenable to any suggested payment plan, so long as a proportion of the cost was deposited upfront.

When Rohan recounted his conversation with the jewellers to Jeanne, he added, as a frank and loyal friend of the queen, a word of advice. It was an
‘act of folly’ to spend so much on a single piece of ugly and unfashionable jewellery. Buying the necklace was ‘madness’ as Marie Antoinette ‘had no need for it in order to appear glamorous’. Perhaps, underneath, lay an unformed worry about the exposure – financial and political – he risked: he was well aware he was collaborating with Marie Antoinette to deceive the king. Presumably these objections were dismissed because he never raised them again. Every command, however misguided, had to be endured if Rohan was to become prime minister.

On 29 January, Rohan told the jewellers that he had been authorised to strike a deal – but absolute secrecy needed to be maintained. The price of 1.6 million livres was provisionally accepted, though the necklace would have to be revalued independently. Once the price had been agreed, the first payment of 400,000 livres would fall after six months, with further instalments following at half-yearly intervals. The Boehmers, with no other prospective buyers, had no option but to agree, even though no deposit was offered. The necklace was to be delivered on 1 February, the eve of Candlemas, the first anniversary of Jeanne’s staged fit in front of the queen. Rohan scribbled down the conditions of sale, which the jewellers signed.

This was not a formal contract – it was not notarised, nor did the Boehmers retain a copy – but the jewellers, knowing the buyer’s true identity, may have thought such a document unnecessary, or felt it improper to demand one. They were desperate to conclude the transaction as soon as possible, even if the terms were not ideal: only a few weeks previously they had told another potential intermediary, the comte de Valbonne, they would prefer to sell to the king, since they doubted the queen had sufficient funds, and worried, were she to die in childbirth, that they
would be left unpaid.

Rohan handed the terms of sale to Jeanne, asking that the queen sign them. Jeanne returned the deed unmarked. ‘It is utterly unnecessary’, she said, ‘as the queen
will pay shortly.’ But Rohan insisted on a signature. The Boehmers had placed enormous faith in him. It was their interests that needed protecting, he emphasised, not his. This time the document was returned to Rohan with the signature ‘Marie Antoinette de France’ affixed to the bottom. Each article was neatly tagged with the word ‘approuvé’. Accompanying it was a snippy letter from the queen: ‘I am not accustomed to dealing in this way with my jewellers. You will keep this document at your house and you will arrange the rest as you see fit.’
*

The cardinal moved swiftly to finalise the exchange. On 1 February he wrote to the jewellers: ‘I would like Monsieur Boehmer and his partner to come as soon as possible to my house this morning with the object in question.’ Only now did Rohan show the Boehmers the signature, telling them ‘it was only right that you should know to whom you have sold the jewels’. It is strange that Rohan should have done so without authorisation. He may have convinced himself that secrecy was required only during the course of negotiations; once the deal had been completed, he was free to talk. He had shown, and would continue to show, genuine concern for the vulnerable position in which the jewellers had placed themselves: later that month Rohan wrote on the deed that ‘in case of death, this document should be handed over to
Monsieurs Boehmer and Bassenge’. But perhaps there was another, less altruistic motivation.
Finally, here were two people to whom he could speak about his friendship with the queen – and they had a commercial incentive not to gossip about it. Here was a valve through which Rohan could safely vent his pride and hope for the future, feelings he had bottled up for nine months.

Rohan forced the jewellers to take an unsigned copy of the terms of sale, though they protested that this was unnecessary. He also wrote to Boehmer, clarifying that interest on monies owed would start to accrue only after the first payment in August. Again, Rohan explicitly mentioned the identity of the purchaser: ‘the queen has made known
her intentions to me’, a phrase that would be scrutinised intensely in the coming months.