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The Affair of the Diamond Necklace artwork

The Affair of the Diamond Necklace

A Twist of History

September 24, 2025

Marie Antoinette’s world renowned extravagance made her an icon and then an example as the Queen of France, but her beheading, and the French Revolution, may never have come to pass if not for a lavish piece of jewelry at the center of a salacious con. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company.

Speakers Mr. Ballen, Joel Blackwell

TopicsHistory

SPEAKER_1 (0:00)

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Mr. Ballen (0:30)

Hey guys, it's me, Mr. Ballen. If you listened to last week's episode of A Twist of History, then you probably heard me mention that this show is coming to an end. This is the final episode of A Twist of History. I want to thank all of you once again for supporting us and for being such amazing fans of great storytelling. I also want to let you know again that this show's departure does not say anything about core Mr. Ballen content. It's not going anywhere. In fact, part of the reason we're winding this show down is specifically to double our efforts on core Mr. Ballen content. So keep an eye out for even more of the signature storytelling style that you all love coming very soon. And now enjoy the final episode of A Twist of History. Thank you.

Joel Blackwell (1:15)

There's no queen more notorious than Marie Antoinette. You've heard of her. The out-of-touch royal who said, Let them eat cake, when her subjects were out of bread. The last queen of France famously beheaded by the guillotine. In popular imagination, she was the problem that led to the entire French Revolution. But the truth is, Marie Antoinette wasn't the real main character in her own downfall. She was just a high-profile casualty of a bizarre scheme involving a con artist, a look-alike prostitute, and a staggeringly expensive piece of jewelry.

On today's episode, The Affair of the Diamond Necklace. This is A Twist of History.

It's a spring afternoon in France in 1783 A 27-year-old beauty named Jeanne de la Motte strolls down the sunny streets of Versailles with her husband Nicolas. Jeanne has blue eyes and brown hair, a bright smile, and the self-assured posture of a noble woman. She's dressed like one too, in a nice silk gown. She lifts the hem to keep it from dragging on the dirty cobblestone. Jeanne does her best to ignore the stares of the beggars lining the street as they cock their heads in confusion. What are two nobles doing walking in the Palace of Versailles? Don't they have a carriage? But Jeanne doesn't break character. She continues on, chin held high. She knows she's an imposter in these clothes, but she also knows it's all about faking it until you make it. She can't let these beggars suspect she's one of their own. Jeanne's father was born noble, but after marrying a maidservant and squandering his tiny inheritance, the family wound up on the streets of Paris. Jeanne's father died young and her mother abandoned her, leaving Jeanne with nothing. So, in order to survive, she had to learn to be crafty. Jeanne's only hope for escaping a life of squalor was to marry well, but unfortunately, she got stuck with Nicolas de la Motte. His family is minor nobility, but financially, they aren't doing much better than Jeanne's family. Truthfully, the only reason they got married three years ago was that Jeanne was pregnant, but their twins died in infancy and the newlywed's fortunes sank. And now Jeanne is back to being poor. Today, she and her husband are headed to the palace in a desperate attempt to win the favor of the royal court. The court is the only social safety net for nobles who fall on hard times, so if they fail, Jeanne might wind up back on the streets. She just has to hope the torrents of sweat soaking through her gown don't give her away as a frie. After an exhausting five-hour walk from Paris, Jeanne and Nicolas finally reach the golden gates of the Palace of Versailles. Jeanne flashes the guard a bright smile as Nicolas introduces them by their noble titles, the Comte and Comtesse de la Morte. When she notices the guard hesitate, she quickly adds that she's a distant relation of Henry II, the former king of France. She asks for an audience with Queen Marie Antoinette. Her noble lineage should entitle her to an introduction. The guard looks jean up and down. Her confident, comfortable expression never falters, even though behind the mask, her mind is racing. She prays the light dusting of dirt on her hem won't betray the humiliating truth that she walked there, all twelve miles from Paris. She hopes the pain from her tight bodice, which has her on the verge of suffocation, won't read across her face. After what feels like an eternity, the guard nods and shows them into the courtyard, where black and white marble pavement glimmers in the sunlight. Jean feels a sense of relief wash over her. She squeezes Nicolas' sweaty hand and throws him a satisfied smile. As she ascends the gilded bronze stairs in the entryway, she gazes in awe at the ceiling fresco illuminated by the warm glow of a skylight. As a child, she dreamed of moving through rooms like this. In her heart, she always felt like this was where she belonged. Leading Nicolas by the hand, Jean wanders into the Hall of Mirrors, a grand gallery that connects the kings and queens' chambers. The dozens of courtiers and servants milling about are multiplied by a wall of massive mirrors. A man in liturgical robes crosses her path. He's clearly a high-ranking figure in the church, a cardinal by the look of it. The man casts a glance in Jean's direction. His gaze lingers a little too long. She's a stunner, after all. Jean smiles coyly, returning the flirtation. Nicolas notices, but he doesn't seem to mind, not at all. He whispers in Jean's ear that the man in the robes is the Cardinal de Rowan. He's extremely powerful, has noble blood, and is filthy rich. But he's on the outs with the royal family because he opposed the king's marriage to the Austrian-born Marie Antoinette. And the rumor is, he doesn't take his vow of chastity very seriously. Jean catches the subtext. She and Nicolas don't take their marriage vows very seriously either. With her husband's tacit permission and one more squeeze of his hand, she turns back and shoots the cardinal another smile. They're looking for help any way they can get it. Just then, she notices a guard approaching. He says the queen has politely declined Jean's request to meet. She's never even heard of a comtesse de la motte. Jean tries not to show her embarrassment, but she can feel her cheeks reddening. Her eyes land on two noble women standing within earshot. They turn their faces away and whisper, snickering. The truth is, even though Nicolas really is a comte, Jean has no claim to the title of comtesse. She figured no one would actually find out, but now that they have, there's only one course of action. Loudly doubled down on the lie. Jean insists that she is in fact a comtesse. This uneducated guard must have no idea what he's talking about. But despite her protests, she and Nicolas are escorted from the palace grounds. Four hours later, Jean and Nicolas stumble toward their humble apartment. The streets of Paris are a far cry from the luxury of the Palace of Versailles. The French economy is in a tailspin, and for everyone except the ultra-rich, times are hard. As Jean and Nicolas stumble through their neighborhood's dirty alleys and overcrowded tenements, a beggar woman spits on Jean's silk dress. The commoners hate to see nobles cavorting in their finery while thousands starve in the streets. Marie Antoinette in particular is blamed for the country's economic woes. Madame Déficit, as she's nicknamed, is accused of draining France's coffers to pay for her grand balls and jeweled headdresses. Jean thinks those accusations are ridiculous. Marie Antoinette has expensive tastes, but she's not spending enough on shoes to drive the national economy into the ground. Besides, their hatred of the nobility is only misplaced jealousy. Who wouldn't want to live lavishly if they had the opportunity? When they reach their door, Nicolas' childhood friend, Louis Reto Duvaletta, is already waiting. He had plans to join them for dinner before heading off for the night shift. He makes his living as a gigolo, pimp, forger, and occasional blackmailer in Paris' seedy underbelly. Jean rips off her sweatcake bodice the moment she gets inside. She sighs with relief as she pries the shoes off her blistered feet. Then she gets to work preparing a simple French meal, bread. In an economy like this, only the wealthy can afford meat. Jean serves three meager portions while fuming about how she was snubbed by the queen. What a humiliating insult. When she sits down, Veletta touches her thigh under the table. He points out that it sounds like there's at least one person at the palace who likes her, whether she's a comtesse or not. Jean understands immediately who he's referring to. The Cardinal de Roa. The clergyman who'd shot Jean a flirtatious look. It's a good point. Jean may not have a legitimate title, but she has sex appeal, and that can get her pretty far. Suddenly her face lights up with an idea. She intertwines the fingers of her left hand with Veletta's, and reaches her right hand across the table to link fingers with Nicolas. She has a plan for all three of them to get rich, and weasel their way in to the royal court. Jean lowers her voice, and the men both lean in to hear. She explains that she has an old friend, a charitable neighbor who briefly took her in as a child, who could introduce her to the Cardinal de Roa. From there, she'll win his trust with her feminine wiles, and by dangling the one thing he wants more than anything else, which is to get back in the royal family's good graces. Jean has always been a good liar, and she's confident she can convince the Cardinal that she's close friends with Marie Antoinette. She'll promise to put in a good word for him with the Queen. Once he's on the hook, she'll have Valette to help her by forging letters supposedly from the Queen, professing her deepest appreciation for the Cardinal, and asking him for cash. Jeanne looks around the table to see both men gaping in silent awe. They're both enamored by her criminal mind.

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