Courage! I have shown it for years; think you I shall lose it at

Hear now the final words of a queen brought low, yet unbroken in spirit—Marie Antoinette, whose life ended upon the blade of the guillotine, but whose dignity endured beyond death. As she stood before her executioners in the trembling dawn of October 16, 1793, she declared: “Courage! I have shown it for years; think you I shall lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end?” These words, spoken on the threshold between life and eternity, shine as a testament to the indomitable power of the human will. They remind us that true courage is not born in comfort, but in the long endurance of pain—and that those who have carried their burden faithfully in life will not lay it down in the face of death.

The origin of this quote lies in the final chapter of the French Revolution, when the world was gripped by fury and the old order crumbled beneath the cries for liberty. Once the glittering queen of Versailles, Marie Antoinette became, in the eyes of the people, a symbol of decadence and oppression. She lost her crown, her husband, her children, and her freedom. Yet in those dark years of humiliation and captivity, she bore her trials with a composure that astonished even her enemies. When the end came, she faced it not as a fallen monarch, but as a soul stripped of everything except her own courage. Her words to the priest who accompanied her to the scaffold were not of despair, but of defiance—proof that inner strength cannot be beheaded.

In her cry—“Courage! I have shown it for years”—we hear not pride, but the weary grace of one who has suffered much and still chooses dignity. For courage is not a momentary blaze of heroism; it is a flame kept alive through long nights of hardship. It is the strength to endure when the world has turned against you, the calm to meet fate without surrender. The ancients, too, honored such strength. The Stoics spoke of fortitude as the highest virtue—the power to accept suffering without bitterness and to meet death as an equal. Marie Antoinette, though born to splendor, discovered in her downfall what many never learn in their triumph: that greatness of soul is revealed only when all else is taken away.

Consider also the story of Socrates, who, like Marie Antoinette, faced his own death with serenity. Condemned to drink poison for teaching the truth, he comforted his weeping friends, saying that no evil can happen to a good man, whether in life or in death. He drank the hemlock calmly, speaking of the immortality of the soul. Both Socrates and Marie Antoinette, though centuries apart, shared the same radiant truth—that courage in the face of the inevitable transforms tragedy into transcendence. Death becomes not defeat, but fulfillment—the final act in a life lived with integrity.

Marie Antoinette’s words also speak to all who suffer in silence, who face long struggles with dignity. She reminds us that courage is not always loud or visible; sometimes it is the quiet persistence of the heart that refuses to give in. When she said, “Think you I shall lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end?”, she declared her faith in something higher than fear. To her, death was not horror, but release—the closing of a long, painful journey. The one who has endured faithfully does not tremble at the finish line.

There is deep wisdom here for every soul that walks through hardship. We, too, must learn to cultivate this courage that endures—not the courage of battle or glory, but the daily courage to face pain, injustice, and uncertainty without surrendering our inner light. The world will test us with loss, with betrayal, with the slow weariness of time. Yet in each trial lies the chance to grow nobler, to stand a little taller in the face of fate. Courage is not about conquering life—it is about meeting it with calm eyes and a steadfast heart.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching into your own life. When hardship comes, do not curse it; let it be the forge that tempers your spirit. When the world strips away your comforts, hold fast to your integrity, for that is the only crown that cannot be taken. Remember Marie Antoinette, standing before death with grace still upon her lips, and say to yourself: “I have shown courage for years; shall I lose it now?” Let your heart echo hers, not in despair, but in triumph.

For in the end, her words are not the lament of a fallen queen, but the anthem of the human soul itself—eternal, unconquered, and serene. Courage, once chosen, becomes its own kind of immortality. And those who live bravely, even in suffering, will never truly die, for their spirit will outshine the ages, whispering still: Stand firm. Endure. Be not afraid.