OPINION:
In December 1793, with the Reign of Terror phase of the French Revolution well underway, Jeanne Becu, better known as Madame du Barry, Louis XV’s last mistress, was condemned to death by the courts of the ruling French revolutionaries. In short order, she was taken to the guillotine and decapitated.
Since public executions of aristocrats and political opponents to the regime were commonplace, there was nothing special about the condemnation and execution of Madame du Barry. Yet there was something unique about the event.
As the French Revolution reached a boiling point in late 1793, the use of the guillotine to eliminate or, as we might say today, cancel, political opponents of the Revolution was becoming an ordinary occurrence. Virtually every day, one or more and frequently many individuals would be taken in a tumbril to a public place where a voyeuristic crowd would await the bloody spectacle and make a holiday of the event.
In spite of the horror of the process, virtually all of those who were subjected to the ordeal, whether aristocrats, politicians and even common criminals, seemed to bear their martyrdom with enormous courage and dignity.
While this stoicism generally epitomized the gory application of revolutionary justice, there was one notable exception — Madame du Barry.
Instead of displaying the “noblesse oblige” comportment of most of the victims, as she was being led to her execution, Madame du Barry begged for her life. She cried and screamed while being taken to the place of beheading and struggled mightily as the executioners sought to tie her to the plank that would put her neck under the blade of the guillotine. It was noted that it took four executioners several minutes of efforts before the execution could be carried out. All the while, Madame du Barry’s cries resounded throughout the area as the gathered crowd steadily became silent. Many of the spectators, moved by the screams of the victim, appeared shocked by the sudden realization of the horror to which a fellow human was being subjected. As Madame du Barry cried out in abject fear of her impending fate, some of those in attendance even turned away in disgust from the deeply disturbing event.
The great artist Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun, who had painted portraits of Madame du Barry on a number of occasions and had grown to be her friend, was deeply affected by Madame du Barry’s execution. Subsequently, she made the observation that she was convinced “that if the victims [of the Revolution] had not been so proud, had not met death with such courage, the Terror would have ended much earlier.”
I was reminded of the tragic end of Madame du Barry and her desperate cries when my wife emotionally recounted an encounter she had just had with a homeless person on Wisconsin Avenue in the heart of Washington’s Georgetown neighborhood. Apparently, my wife was about to enter a store when she was accosted by a man who reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. As she explained, a blend of fear and anger took hold of her and instinctively she let out a loud and piercing scream that could be heard for quite a distance.
Her cry scared the homeless individual, who quickly ran away from the scene. But it also seemed to freeze passers-by who, stunned by my wife’s cry of anguish, displayed concern for her welfare. One individual even called the police. Contrary to the usual encounters with the panhandling and often troubled homeless people that wander our urban centers freely, this encounter drew attention and dispatched the homeless individual out of the area.
My wife’s explanation of the situation presented an example of why sometimes a primal scream can awaken in each of us concern for others and the incentive to avoid becoming victims. From her explanation, I doubt that my wife intended to cry out; she did so instinctively, expressing a profound and innate sense of fear accompanied by a powerful feeling of anger at having been accosted and touched without permission.
As crimes and unpleasant encounters proliferate and have become ordinary occurrences for those of us who live in urban centers, the time may have come for us to consider reacting to those encounters with our voices and loudly. Silence seems to provide encouragement for bad behavior or, at least, appears to condone it. Confronting that behavior is essential if the behavior is to be suppressed.
Just as Madame du Barry’s primal screams confronted the cruelty of the radical form of justice of the French Revolution and, if emulated, might have stopped that cruelty, cries of indignation against the reprehensible behavior on our streets could reduce that behavior. To the extent that no one is willing to forcefully express their anger, fear and resistance, nothing will stop the pervasive and disturbing behavior.
My wife’s anguished cry may have scared away her assailant, but it also served as a powerful wake-up call to all of those around her who might not otherwise have been alerted to the presence of a disturbed individual who could have caused harm. Perhaps, if everyone who was subjected to unwanted and potentially dangerous harassment reacted firmly and confronted that behavior, such harassment might end. While dignity and stoicism have their place, sometimes the du Barry approach can be the right one.
• Gerard Leval is a partner in the Washington office of a national law firm. His book, “Lobbying for Equality, Jacques Godard and the Struggle for Jewish Civil Rights during the French Revolution,” was published by HUC Press earlier this year.
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