Newspapers / The Chatham Record (Pittsboro, … / Feb. 13, 1930, edition 1 / Page 7
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llfflSIiJBT ss it would Bee written today f ly fiZSYKN S. COBB ■lciirs of a Doornsd Qsieen l irs 5s >L7virO ~ < Marie Antoinette was married. At nineteen she was a Queen, a creature ■v to 'o-k up.:n. At *hirty-se\cn she tiled on the giuilot.ne—one of the most pitiab’e *' w . gi c ,, e 0 f t’:e moot conspicuous among ali the thousands upon thousands who iost I]! c h heads in the French revolution. £---n the daughter of Emperar Francis I of Austria and his ambitious and gifted Meric Tfcerese, she was reared, a princess of the blood, among exceedingly C : '\ e c ,.- r cur.dings. Small wender that the trans Lion from whut a'.most had been a *i )';e'fd ’i:e to the most brilliant, the most dissolute, the most extravagant court in Christendom should have proven disastrous fer her. F era the hour when she became the wife of the heir apparent to the French throne, the -athvny of the girl-bride was beset with difficu.’t’es and pitfalls. She was under tj.c exacting dominion of her imperious father-in-law, Louis XV; she was under the hostile of Louis’ shrewd end unscrupulous mistress, Madame du Barry. She was enmeshed intrigues, envies, jealousies, feuds and plots. That she was frivolous and headstrong and wasteful; that she made enemies by her interference in public affairs; that she estranged those who should have been her friends and her devoted allies—these charges nut evcn her most sympathetic partisan among the chroniclers could deny. Eut when the monarchy fell in bloodied ruins; when the time of the terror came to Pa>is; when she was insulted, imprisoned, widowed by vio’ence; when she barbarously was tom from her children, including that hapless boy who went down in history as the Lost Pauphin; when at her trial she so gallantly faced atrocious accusations affecting her moral character; when finally she was led forth bound like a dangerous malefactor to be done tc death before a shrieking exultant mob, then her courage, her faith and her noble bearing redeemed Marie Antoinette for all the grievous shortcomings of her youth. As a ruler she fell short, as a wife she had her faults, as. a royal politician she was an abject failure. But as a mother, as a woman rising to sublime heights of fortitude in the face of • hideous doom, she stands forth for posterity, an heroic and noble figure. Her old secret foe, Madame du Barry, was bom like a commoner and died like a craven of commoners. Being condemned to the knife she went screaming and struggling to her fate — writhing in her bunds, begging for mercy with her last breath, practically t- ,with fright. But in her death, at least, Marie Antoinette was regal and splendid. THANKS be to the books of hun dreds of chroniclers and to at least one historic painting, every well-informed school child knows something of the last anguished hours of Marie Antoinette— how before be icc !e<l forth for death she protested against the shame of having tier hands lashed behind her as though she were a common criminal, and pointed out that !;er husband had been left un piaioned in ids ride to the place of execution; how her enemies disre garded her plea and so tightly corded her wrists that the kindly priest who accompanied her on the dreadful jour ney repeatedly pressed against the knotted rope in an effort to ease the pain in her bruised flesh; how in a crude cart she jolted over the cobbled streets of Paris, her head held erect and her face bared to the taunts and Jeers of the populace; how when pass ing the palace where she had spent her happiest hours the widowed queen fell into a faint; how, reviving both her will and her spirit, she did not wince at sight of the guillotine, but with dignity climbed its wooden steps and even begged the pardon of one of the executioners upon whose toe Bhe accidentally trod In mounting the platform; how she suffered herself to be strapped to the board and how quietly she lay there while they were adjusting the mechanism of tbe great blade which a moment later sheared through her slender neck. In years she was still young—only thirty-seven —but eye-witnesses recorded that she looked that morning like an old wom an, worn and haggard. Her hair in less thqn three months had turned a)- mJst white. '*~ K Thanks also to many veracious ac counts. we know of the proud courage of so many of Marie Antoinette's fel low-prisoners, doomed as she was. to be sacrificed to tlie fury of the pop ulace acting through the caprices of a tribunal which gave to each of them the mockery of a trial and the cer tainty, in most cases, of conviction. Aristocratic ladies locked ir. foul pris on? almost gayly cropped their heads in anticipation of the fall «f the knife. Courtly gentlemen, nobles of the old regime, rehearsed them in the eti quette suitable for those condemned in order that no one might be con fused or awkward when the summons came; they practiced binding each other. The women discussed the ques tion of appropriate dressing of the neck. A whole code of manners was evolved by these gallant souls that awaited a legalized slaughter. Simple Fare for the Nobility. The vivacious Madame Roland, who. by the narrowest of margins, escaped the fate of so ninny of her compatri ots, was one who lived to record the heroisms and the miseries which the gentry class underwent. The place of her confinement was Saint- Pelagie, a noisome hole. With irony and a trace even of humor, she told of her debut as a guest of the state: "Whilst my name was being reg istered as a newcomer, an evil-looking fellow opens my bundle, fingers it in quisitively; I notice it at the moment when he is placing on the concierge's desk some printed matter which was 1° it (it was some newspapers); sur prised and offended by a proceeding which ought only to take place in the instances of persons secretly Impris oned, l remark that at any rate it ought not to be left to a man to exarn lne with such indecency a woman’s night-clothes; he is ordered to leave it alone; hut he is the turnkey of the corridor in which I am to live aud I an! d oii mo<! to see his ugly face twice ® day. 1 am n>: q if i want a room with one or with two beds. I am alone and don't want a com panion.’ M the room will be too small.’ 14 1 don’t care.’ i hey look and find there Is no s ngle-bedded room vacant; I go into tne double-bedded one; it is .6 feet long ' “ et broad, so that with tbe two . n ‘ d * t:! ’‘des and the two chairs there 18 hard] y any room left. - I hear 1 mst pay in advance the rent for the hrst month. cr« Ut * llere is no water-jug or other conveniences.’ w'Z™* buy theni »’ observes the JV. o l °w, extremely eager to offer ■, ices ie selfish aim of which is I obvious. I learn that here the state i gives nothing for the prisoners. /“How then do they live?’ “ ‘There is merely a portion of beans and a pound and a half of bread a day, but you will not be able to eat either one or the other.’ “ ‘I can well believe the fare is not like what I am used to; but I like to know the peculiarities of every situa tion and to live on the level of that in which I happen to be; I wish to try it.’ A Maid as Reporter. “The part of the building set aside for women is divided into long, very narrow passages, on one of tbe sides of which are small cells like tbe one in which I was lodged; there, under the same roof, on the same level, sep arated by a thin plastering, I live with prostitutes and murderers. On one side of me is one of those creatures whose trade is to seduce youth and sell innocence; above me Is a woman who has forged assignments and torn to pieces on a high road an individual of her own sex with the help of the monsters in whose band she Is en rolled; every cell is shut with a big lock and key, which a man comes every morning to open, looking inso lently to see if you are up or in bed; next, their tenants meet in the corri dors, on the staircases, in a small courtyard or In a damp and stinking hall, a receptacle worthy of such scum,” What Madame Roland so blithely endured, the majority of her captive fellow-aristocrats also endured—that and worse, for nearly all of them per ished, whereas she escaped. Royalty fared no better. Thousands saw how Marie Antoinette faced her end and, as I have just said, distinguished his torians recorded the scene while fa mous novelists embroidered it with fictlonaT touches, Tutu' •emalned for a humble wTtness, a serving maid, to tell future generations how the poor queen passed the final hours of her life. This moving account was handed down to us by Rosalie Lamorliere, a young woman of lowly birth who at tended Marie Antoinette during the latter’s confinement in the eoneier gerie. Her occupation as a domestic in that dismal pile first brought her into contact with the queen. She was fre quently, at times constantly, with the imperial prisoner from the date of her arrival at the prison on August 2, 1793, until the beginning of the third week of October when sentence was inflicted. Os the concluding acts of the tragic drama this Rosalie Lamor liere wrote as follows: 44 At last came the awful day of October 15; tbe queen went np at 8 a. in. into the hall of audiences to re ceive sentence, and as 1 do not re member having taken her that day any kind of nourishment, 1 suppose they made her go fasting. A Doomed Queen. “In the morning I beard some peo ple talking about the hearing of the case. They said: ‘Marie Antoinette will get off, she answered like an an gel ; they will only have her deported.’ “Toward 4 p. m. the doorkeeper said to me: “ ‘The meeting Is suspended for three-quarters of an hour; the ac cused is not to come dovvD. Go up quick, she is asking for a bouillon.’ “I immediately took an excellent broth which I kept in reserve on my stove and went up to the prin cess. As I was approaching near a hall close to her one of the police commissaires named Labuziere, a short stumpy fellow, snatched tbe soup-basin from my hands and hand ing it to a young woman who was ex cessively got up, said to me: “ ‘This young woman is very eager to see Widow Capet; it’s a delightful opportunity for her.’ And the woman at once went off carrying the soup, which was half spilt. “It was no use my begging and en treating Labuziere, he was all-power ful ; 1 had to obey. What must the queen have thought at receiving the basin of soup from the hands of a person she did not know? “A few minutes past four on tbe morning of October 16 they came to tell as the queen of France was con demned! I felt as If a sword bad stabbed my heart and I went and wept in my room, stifling my cries and cuiuuirpu tu Mini ■ iMhgy ,!!an 1, to* pretended to take no interest in it. “About 7 a. ni. he ordered me to go down to the queen and ask her if she wanted any nourishment. < n entering the room, in winch two lights were learning, I saw a gendarmerie officer sitting in the left corner, and ap preaching mudauie I saw her all dressed in black lying in the bed. “With .her face turned to the win dow, she leaned her head on her hand “ 'Madame,’. I said, trembling, ’you took nothing last night and almost nothing during the day. What do you wish for this morning?’ “The queen shed floods of tears. She answered; “ ‘My girl, I don’t want anything more; It’s all ended with me.’ “I took the liberty of adding: “ ‘Madame, I have kept on my stoves a bouillon and a vermicelli; you have need of something to keep you up; allow me to bring you something.’ “Tbe queen's tears redoubled, and she said: -, “‘Rosalie, bring me some soup.’ Prying Eyes. “1 went for It; she took a seat and could swallow only a few spoonfuls; I call God to witness her body re ceived no other food. “A little before this day an ec clesiastic authorized by the govern ment presented himself to the queen and offered to hear her in confession. Her majesty, learning from him that lie was one of the practicing Paris priests, understood he bad taken tbe oath and so she refused his offices. The incident was talked about in the house. “When daylight had coine, that is to say about 8 a. m., I returned to madaine to help her dress, as she had suggested when she took tbe small amount of bouillon on her bed. Her majesty went into the little space 1 usually left between the feather bed and the wall. She herself unfolded a chemise which had been brought her, probably in my absence, and hav ing signed to me to remain in fron< of tbe bed so as to keep tbe sight of her body from the gendarme, she stooped down and doffed her dress in order to change linen for the last time. The gendarmerie officer at once drew near and, stopping by the foot of the bed, watched the change. Her majesty immediately put back the fichu on her shoulders and observed to tbe young man with great gentle ness: “ ‘ln the name of decency, sir, per mit me to change my linen without a witness.’ “T could not agree to it,’ was the gendarme’s rough reply. *My orders are that I must have my eye on all your movements.’ Wretched Remain*. “The queen sighed, put on her last chemise with all possible precautions and all possible modesty, took for her outer garb not the long mourning dress which she wore in the presence of her judges but the white deshabille which served ordinarily as a morning costume, and unfolding her large mus liq fichu, she crossed it under her chin. The worry caused by the gen darme's brutality prevented me from noticing whether she still had she medallion M, Je Dauphin • biH it I waT easy for me to* see Thai sne care fully rolled up her poor chemise; she wrapped it in one of her sleeves as if in a sheath, and then pressed this linen into a space she perceived be tween the canvas-paper and the wall. “The day before, knowing she was about to appear before the public and the judges, she bad arranged her hair rather high from a feeling of decorum. She had added to her linen cap, which was bordered with small ornamental folds, the two streamers with she kept in a cardboard box; and under these mourning streamers she had neatly adjusted a black crepe, which gaye her a pretty widow’s headdress On her way to death she kept only the simple linen cap, without stream ers or marks of mourning, but hav ing only one pair of chaussures, she kept on her black stockings and her kid shoes, which she had not put out of shape or spoilt at all during the seventy-six days she was with us. “I left her without returning to bid her good-by or even to make her a single curtsey for fear of compromis ing and distressing her. I went and cried in my room and prayed to God for her. “When she had left that fearful es tabllshment, the first usher of the tribunal accompanied by three or four persons in his own employ, came and asked the concierge for me and ordered me to follow him to the queen s late room. He let me take hack rny looking-glass and the card board box. As for the other objects which had belonged to her majesty, he commanded me to wrap them up in a bed-sheet. They made me sweep up even a bit of straw which hap pened, I do not know how, to be on the floor of the room, and they took away with them these wretched re mains of the best and most unhappy princess that ever lived.” (© ov the Bel) Syndicate. Inc.) Remarkable Ink A concern that once produced a marking Ink had the following to sa> about its product: “It is remarkable for requiring no preparation, pre-em inently pre-engages peculiar public predilection: produces palpable, plain ly perceptible, perpetual perspicni ties; penetrates powerfully, precluding previous pre-requisite preparations, possesses particular prerogatives; pro tects private property; prevents pre sumptuous, pilfering persons practw ing promiscuous proprietorship; pleas nntly performing plain practical pen tnunship; perfectly precludes puerile panegyrics, preferring proper public put fenny*" v I A Buying Guide Before you order dinner at a restaurant, > you consult the bill-of-fare. Before you take a long trip by motor-car, you pore over road maps. Before you start out on a shop ping trip, you should consult the advertise ments in this paper. For the same reasons! Thq. advertising columns are a buying guide in the purchase of everything you need— including amusements! A guide that saves * ; you time and conserves your energy; that saves useless steps and guards against false ones; that puts the S-T-R-E-T-C-H in fam- I ily budgets. Z'\' The advertisements in this paper are so interesting, it is difficult to see how anyone | could overlook them ... fail to profit by them. Just check with yourself and see that I you are reading the advertisements regu- I larly—-the big ones and the little ones. It I is time well spent ... always. I Avoid time-wasting, money-wasting detours I on the road to merchandise value. Read I the advertising “road maps.” The Chatham Record
The Chatham Record (Pittsboro, N.C.)
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Feb. 13, 1930, edition 1
7
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