“Imagine who was to take the part of Rosine, that pretty little mignonne, sweet, tender, affable, fresh and tempting, with furtive foot, artful figure, well formed, plump arms, rosy mouth, and hands! and cheeks! and teeth! and eyes! (Le Barbier de Séville, Act II, Scene 2). Yes, this part of
Rosine, this charming child, thus described by Figaro, was to be played by whom? By the most imposing and majestic of women, the queen of France and Navarre.
“The rehearsals began under the direction of one of the best actors of the Comédie-Française, Dazincourt, who previously had obtained a brilliant success in the Mariage de Figaro. It was during the rehearsals that the first rumor of the terrible affair of the diamond necklace reached the Queen. Nevertheless she did not weaken.—Four days after the arrest of the Cardinal de Rohan, grand-almoner of France, Marie Antoinette appeared in the rôle of Rosine.
“Beaumarchais was present. The rôle of Figaro was taken by the Comte d’Artois....
“A soirée, certainly the most singular. At the very hour when so many catastrophes were preparing, was it not curious to hear the brother of Louis XVI, the Comte d’Artois, cry out in the language of the Andalusian barber, ‘Faith, Monsieur, who knows whether the world will last three weeks longer?’ (Act III, Scene 5). He the zealous partisan of the old régime, he the future émigré, he the prince who would one day bear the title of Charles X, it was he who uttered such democratic phrases as these: ‘I believe myself only too happy to be forgotten, persuaded that a great lord has done us enough good, when he has done us no harm.’ (Act I, Scene 2)
“‘From the virtues required in a domestic, does your Excellency know many masters who are worthy of being valets?’ (Act I, Scene 2)
“Was there not something like a prediction in these words of Figaro in the mouth of the brother of Louis XVI, ‘I hasten to laugh at everything for fear of being obliged to weep’? (Act I, Scene 2)
“Ah, let Marie Antoinette pay attention and listen! At
this moment when the affair of the necklace begins, would not one say that all the maneuvers of her calumniators were announced to her by Basile: ‘Calumny, Sir....’ Beautiful and unfortunate Queen, on hearing that definition of the crescendo of calumny would she not turn pale?
“With this representation of the Barbier de Séville, ended the private theatricals of the Petit-Trianon. What was preparing was the drama, not the fictitious drama, but the drama real, the drama terrible, the drama where Providence reserved to the unhappy queen the most tragic, the most touching of all the rôles....” (For the full details of this fatal affair of the diamond necklace, see L’ancien Régime, by Imbert de Saint-Amand.)