Madame du Barry 36 x 24 inches, Acrylic on Cradled Gessoboard, 2018
Madame du Barry (1743 - 1793) was the second-most famous mistress of French king Louis XV (Madame de Pompadour being the most famous). She was born Jeanne Bécu in Vaucouleur, a town in Lorraine that figures in the story of Joan of Arc. She was the illegitimate daughter of a seamstress and a friar. When she was three, a M. Billard-Dumonceaux, a friend (or lover) of her mother’s took her to Paris. Dumonceaux’s mistress took a shine to the girl, doted on her, and assured that she had a decent education in a convent. After she had “graduated” at the age of 15, Jeanne had difficulty finding permanent employment. By the time she was 18, she was engaged as a grisette, a milliner’s assistant at the haberdashery of a Madame Labille. There she befriended Labille’s daughter, Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, who became a notable miniaturist and portrait painter.
A beautiful blonde with blue, bedroom eyes, Jeanne attracted the attention of a certain Jean-Baptiste du Barry, who owned a casino and was a procurer to the rich and powerful. He made her his mistress, installed her in his home, and, under the name of Mademoiselle Lang, launched her career as a courtesan. Mademoiselle Lange reached the top of her profession and, with clients like the aged Maréchal-Duc de Richelieu, she became the rage of Paris. Jean du Barry, sporting delusions of grandeur, thought that he could use her be a player in court politics, especially when Jeanne favorably impressed King Louis himself. He arranged for the king to meet his protégé. When the king was willing to install her as his titled mistress, du Barry got to work making her acceptable. In September of 1768 he married Jeanne to his brother, Guillaume, making her the Countess du Barry. He even crafted a phony birth certificate for her, making her years younger and of noble birth.
The new Countess succeeded in becoming Louis XV’s titled mistress and while she was skilled in delighting the shy, diffident 58-year old king, she could not appear at court until she had been formally presented there. Richelieu championed her and eventually coerced a noblewoman into sponsoring her. After a couple false starts, Madame du Barry was presented at court on April 22, 1769, extravagantly, spectacularly gowned and coiffed. An impression she did surely make, but most at court still dismissed her as shameless street walker: ladies had to be bribed to share her company.
Jeanne could not aspire to fill the role of her predecessor, Madame de Pompadour, a lady of grace and culture, a patron of the arts and a deft politician. But she quickly adapted to a life at court, a life of luxury and excess. She availed upon an indulgent Louis to furnish her with the most extravagant dresses and the most expensive jewels. The king even bought a black slave boy for her, a Bantu who was named Zamor. Elegantly attired, Zamor was pampered by Jeanne, and the king liked nothing more than to play with the boy.
The Countess surprisingly did not let her success go to her head; she never put on airs, she remained generous and good-hearted. Her charm eventually won over most at court, although, like all king’s mistresses, she acquired enemies as well. Duc de Choiseul, the influential Minister of Foreign Affairs, whose patron had been Mme de Pompadour, hated her from the start. He and his sister, Duchesse de Gramont, a famous salon hostess who coveted her place (despite the fact that she was past 60!), conspired to undermine her in any way they could. Choiseul, who had overseen the French defeat in the Seven Years’ War, secretly tried to draw France into another war. Cleverly, Choiseul’s enemies informed Madame du Barry of the particulars of Choisel’s scheme and it was she who told them to King Louis — who was furious. On Christmas Eve, 1791, the King stripped Duc de Choiseul of his post and exiled him from court along with his sister, the thorn in Mme du Barry’s side. Choiseul was replaced with a friend of the Countess, Duc d’Aiguillon, a nephew of Richelieu.
After the fall of Choiseul, the Countess du Barry was riding high. Her family and the du Barry’s were rewarded with titles and incomes; even Jeanne’s mother was made a Marquise! Jeanne was happy to support artists and indulge her passion for luxurious clothes. A château at Louveciennes, just west of Paris was purchased and elaborately redecorated for her. She stayed out of politics for the most part and when she asked a favor of the king it was usually to beg mercy for some malefactor who had gained her sympathy.
The only false note at court was her relations with the wife of the Dauphin, King Louis’ grandson, the future Louis XVI. This was the daughter of the Austrian empress, Maria Theresa, Maria Antonia, who would be known in France as Marie Antoinette. A naive, prudish, and clueless red-headed 14-year old, Marie Antoinette was outraged when she understood that du Barry’s was the king’s mistress. Detesting such a disreputable woman, she refused to speak to du Barry, in defiance of court etiquette. It didn’t help that the Duchess de Gramont had been her lady-in-waiting; it was due to du Barry that she had been expelled from court. Pressure, though, was put on the young Marie Antoinette to acknowledge Mme du Barry, for her continued snubbing of his mistress annoyed the king and even jeopardized Franco-Austrian relations. Finally, at a ball on New Year’s Eve, 1772 , Maria Antoinette famously murmured in du Barry’s direction, “There are many people at Versailles today.” Graciously, Jeanne was mollified, everyone else appeased, and a political crisis ended.
Madame du Barry popularity soon waned owing to her extravagance and a sombre tone engulfing the country. D’Aiguillon’s reformist ministry was not successful and France’s star seem to be falling. King Louis, growing old, became more morose, brooding about his approaching death and uncharacteristically embracing religion. He seldom came to Jeanne’s bed chamber.
In late April 1774 Louis fell ill. When it seemed as if he had smallpox, there was little alarm, because he had the disease before and presumably had acquired immunity. Madame du Barry remained with him, even as the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette were asked to leave. With what promised to be virulent and most likely fatal case of smallpox, Madame du Barry was finally ordered to leave the King’s side on May 4th. Hideously disfigured by the disease that afflicted him, King Louis XV died on May, 17, 1774 leaving the French throne to his grandson, the ill-prepared and feckless Louis XVI.
At the death of the king, Countess du Barry, now 31, was forced into exile, for a time almost a prisoner in a convent 25 miles northeast of Paris. The nuns there initially did not appreciate a former king’s mistress being thrust upon them, but they were soon won over by Jeanne’s charm. After a few years Jeanne was given the freedom to live in her beloved château at Louceviennes, where she hosted a salon and engaged in philanthropic enterprises. In 1786 she received the artist Mme Elisabeth Vigee-LeBrun, who would eventually paint three portraits of her. She found the former royal mistress living simply, in good health, still pretty and coquettish. Jeanne acquired two lovers at this period, Henry Seymour, an Englishman politician, and the Duc de Brissac, a soldier and courtier.
When the Revolution began, Madame du Barry found that her beloved servant Zamor, now a man, had joined the radical Jacobin Club. She discharged him and he, in retaliation, denounced her before the Revolutionary Tribunal. During 1792 she made several trips to England, smuggling out some of her jewels to help French emigres finding refuge there. On her last trip she was seriously warned about returning to France. Since she was not an aristocrat, she foolishly felt she was in no danger. (She should had remembered that her former lover, Duc de Brissac had been torn apart by a mob and his severed head tossed through her window).
When she came back to France she was immediately arrested and charged with treason. At her trial her chief accuser was Zamor, the servant she had treated so indulgently. Desperately, she tried to save her life by offering to reveal the hiding places of her gems, but instead she was condemned to death. On December 8, 1793 she was carted off to the guillotine. Unlike the stern aristocrats who faced death stoically, she broke down, screamed and cried, protested, begged the crowd for mercy, and had to be dragged up the stairs to the scaffold. Probably the only victim of the guillotine to arouse the mob’s sympathy even as they were resolved to hate her, she nevertheless lost her head. She was 50.
Madame du Barry has been portrayed many times on film, by Theda Bara and Pola Negri in silent movies, and later by Norma Talmadge, Dolores del Rio, Gladys George, Margot Grahame, and, most notably, by the only French actress to play her, Martine Carol.
A beautiful blonde with blue, bedroom eyes, Jeanne attracted the attention of a certain Jean-Baptiste du Barry, who owned a casino and was a procurer to the rich and powerful. He made her his mistress, installed her in his home, and, under the name of Mademoiselle Lang, launched her career as a courtesan. Mademoiselle Lange reached the top of her profession and, with clients like the aged Maréchal-Duc de Richelieu, she became the rage of Paris. Jean du Barry, sporting delusions of grandeur, thought that he could use her be a player in court politics, especially when Jeanne favorably impressed King Louis himself. He arranged for the king to meet his protégé. When the king was willing to install her as his titled mistress, du Barry got to work making her acceptable. In September of 1768 he married Jeanne to his brother, Guillaume, making her the Countess du Barry. He even crafted a phony birth certificate for her, making her years younger and of noble birth.
The new Countess succeeded in becoming Louis XV’s titled mistress and while she was skilled in delighting the shy, diffident 58-year old king, she could not appear at court until she had been formally presented there. Richelieu championed her and eventually coerced a noblewoman into sponsoring her. After a couple false starts, Madame du Barry was presented at court on April 22, 1769, extravagantly, spectacularly gowned and coiffed. An impression she did surely make, but most at court still dismissed her as shameless street walker: ladies had to be bribed to share her company.
Jeanne could not aspire to fill the role of her predecessor, Madame de Pompadour, a lady of grace and culture, a patron of the arts and a deft politician. But she quickly adapted to a life at court, a life of luxury and excess. She availed upon an indulgent Louis to furnish her with the most extravagant dresses and the most expensive jewels. The king even bought a black slave boy for her, a Bantu who was named Zamor. Elegantly attired, Zamor was pampered by Jeanne, and the king liked nothing more than to play with the boy.
The Countess surprisingly did not let her success go to her head; she never put on airs, she remained generous and good-hearted. Her charm eventually won over most at court, although, like all king’s mistresses, she acquired enemies as well. Duc de Choiseul, the influential Minister of Foreign Affairs, whose patron had been Mme de Pompadour, hated her from the start. He and his sister, Duchesse de Gramont, a famous salon hostess who coveted her place (despite the fact that she was past 60!), conspired to undermine her in any way they could. Choiseul, who had overseen the French defeat in the Seven Years’ War, secretly tried to draw France into another war. Cleverly, Choiseul’s enemies informed Madame du Barry of the particulars of Choisel’s scheme and it was she who told them to King Louis — who was furious. On Christmas Eve, 1791, the King stripped Duc de Choiseul of his post and exiled him from court along with his sister, the thorn in Mme du Barry’s side. Choiseul was replaced with a friend of the Countess, Duc d’Aiguillon, a nephew of Richelieu.
After the fall of Choiseul, the Countess du Barry was riding high. Her family and the du Barry’s were rewarded with titles and incomes; even Jeanne’s mother was made a Marquise! Jeanne was happy to support artists and indulge her passion for luxurious clothes. A château at Louveciennes, just west of Paris was purchased and elaborately redecorated for her. She stayed out of politics for the most part and when she asked a favor of the king it was usually to beg mercy for some malefactor who had gained her sympathy.
The only false note at court was her relations with the wife of the Dauphin, King Louis’ grandson, the future Louis XVI. This was the daughter of the Austrian empress, Maria Theresa, Maria Antonia, who would be known in France as Marie Antoinette. A naive, prudish, and clueless red-headed 14-year old, Marie Antoinette was outraged when she understood that du Barry’s was the king’s mistress. Detesting such a disreputable woman, she refused to speak to du Barry, in defiance of court etiquette. It didn’t help that the Duchess de Gramont had been her lady-in-waiting; it was due to du Barry that she had been expelled from court. Pressure, though, was put on the young Marie Antoinette to acknowledge Mme du Barry, for her continued snubbing of his mistress annoyed the king and even jeopardized Franco-Austrian relations. Finally, at a ball on New Year’s Eve, 1772 , Maria Antoinette famously murmured in du Barry’s direction, “There are many people at Versailles today.” Graciously, Jeanne was mollified, everyone else appeased, and a political crisis ended.
Madame du Barry popularity soon waned owing to her extravagance and a sombre tone engulfing the country. D’Aiguillon’s reformist ministry was not successful and France’s star seem to be falling. King Louis, growing old, became more morose, brooding about his approaching death and uncharacteristically embracing religion. He seldom came to Jeanne’s bed chamber.
In late April 1774 Louis fell ill. When it seemed as if he had smallpox, there was little alarm, because he had the disease before and presumably had acquired immunity. Madame du Barry remained with him, even as the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette were asked to leave. With what promised to be virulent and most likely fatal case of smallpox, Madame du Barry was finally ordered to leave the King’s side on May 4th. Hideously disfigured by the disease that afflicted him, King Louis XV died on May, 17, 1774 leaving the French throne to his grandson, the ill-prepared and feckless Louis XVI.
At the death of the king, Countess du Barry, now 31, was forced into exile, for a time almost a prisoner in a convent 25 miles northeast of Paris. The nuns there initially did not appreciate a former king’s mistress being thrust upon them, but they were soon won over by Jeanne’s charm. After a few years Jeanne was given the freedom to live in her beloved château at Louceviennes, where she hosted a salon and engaged in philanthropic enterprises. In 1786 she received the artist Mme Elisabeth Vigee-LeBrun, who would eventually paint three portraits of her. She found the former royal mistress living simply, in good health, still pretty and coquettish. Jeanne acquired two lovers at this period, Henry Seymour, an Englishman politician, and the Duc de Brissac, a soldier and courtier.
When the Revolution began, Madame du Barry found that her beloved servant Zamor, now a man, had joined the radical Jacobin Club. She discharged him and he, in retaliation, denounced her before the Revolutionary Tribunal. During 1792 she made several trips to England, smuggling out some of her jewels to help French emigres finding refuge there. On her last trip she was seriously warned about returning to France. Since she was not an aristocrat, she foolishly felt she was in no danger. (She should had remembered that her former lover, Duc de Brissac had been torn apart by a mob and his severed head tossed through her window).
When she came back to France she was immediately arrested and charged with treason. At her trial her chief accuser was Zamor, the servant she had treated so indulgently. Desperately, she tried to save her life by offering to reveal the hiding places of her gems, but instead she was condemned to death. On December 8, 1793 she was carted off to the guillotine. Unlike the stern aristocrats who faced death stoically, she broke down, screamed and cried, protested, begged the crowd for mercy, and had to be dragged up the stairs to the scaffold. Probably the only victim of the guillotine to arouse the mob’s sympathy even as they were resolved to hate her, she nevertheless lost her head. She was 50.
Madame du Barry has been portrayed many times on film, by Theda Bara and Pola Negri in silent movies, and later by Norma Talmadge, Dolores del Rio, Gladys George, Margot Grahame, and, most notably, by the only French actress to play her, Martine Carol.
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