The Princesse de Lamballe & the Duchesse de Polignac: Rivals for the Queen's Favour

The duo of the Princesse de Lamballe and the Duchesse de Polignac are usually mentioned as the friends of Marie Antoinette; generally, the three women have been depicted as forming a trio of female friendship through turbulent times. While it is true that both Lamballe and Polignac were integral parts of Marie Antoinette's inner circle, their mutual friendship seem to have been somewhat more prone to petty jealousies and rivalry.

The Savoyard princess Marie Thérèse was married into the extended royal family in 1767 when she became the Princesse de Lamballe. Being widowed at just 19 years old, she enjoyed the privileges of being a princess of the blood. As such, she was there to welcome the new dauphine, Marie Antoinette, when she arrived in 1770.

Meanwhile, Yolande Martine Gabrielle de Polastron was French by birth, but had moved in rather obscure circles of nobility before being invited to Versailles by her cousin, Diane, in 1775. It was there that she was introduced to Marie Antoinette who was said to have been immediately struck by the newcomer. Thus, Yolande was the latest edition to the little group and she would soon become well-acquainted with Madame de Lamballe.

Coincidentally, the two women shared an exact birthday - 8 September 1749. Hierarchically, however, Polignac was far beneath the Princesse de Lamballe. Not only was Marie Thérèse a member of the Savoyard royal family - and thus related to the kings of France - she was also a princess of the blood by marriage. In contrast, Gabrielle's family was old nobility but had become quite impoverished and had hitherto failed to break through into the very elite of the aristocracy. 

Ideally the two women would have found a common cause in the resentment their favour with the queen brought; after all, Marie Antoinette was an extremely generous friend. Both ladies were showered in favours, positions, even money when at the height of their respective favour. While the position of Surintendante of the Queen's household was reinvented for Lamballe, Polignac was granted the post of governess to the royal children. These were two of the most prestigious positions available for women and its distribution shows both the queen's wish to benefit her friends - and their rivalry.

Madame de Polignac

Conveniently, the Austrian ambassador Mercy-Argenteau kept the queen's august mother, Empress Maria Theresia, abreast of everything regarding her daughter's life. This included her social life, and it is partially thanks to the assiduous ambassador's frequent missives to Vienna, that we are able to follow the unfolding rivalry between Lamballe and Polignac.

As early as 15 November 1775, Mercy-Argeanteau wrote:

"Her Majesty (Marie Antoinette) does not know how to reconcile the princesse de Lamballe to the Comtesse de Polignac, because these two favourites, who are jealous of each other, have been presenting the queen with respectful little complaints disguised as marks of the most loving sensitivity"

Remember that Yolande had only been presented to the queen earlier that year. Perhaps - not entirely unfounded - did Lamballe see the new-comer as a threat to her position. Undoubtedly, the queen began to spend more time with the headstrong Yolande and slightly less with the sensitive Lamballe. If Marie Thérèse did indeed feel herself slipping out of royal favour, she was not handling it well.

By May 1776, Marie Antoinette was showing clear signs of being very irritated with Lamballe who was picking fights with everyone in the queen's household. Thus, the queen turned even more to Polignac which only further exasperated the frustrations of Lamballe. As mentioned by Mercy-Argenteau, this (quite frankly silly behaviour) caused the queen to constantly having to act as peacemaker in her own household.

As time went on, Marie Antoinette continued to split her favour somewhat equally - at least outwardly. When Yolande's husband was made the queen's Premier Écuyer, the Duc de Chartres (a dear friend to Lamballe and son of the Duc d'Orléans) was immediately made governor of Poitou. Tit for tat. Yet, these attempts at keeping the peace only worked for brief periods of time.

By January 1777, Mercy-Argenteau once again reported on the state of the queen's closest friends:

"The queen often has some difficulty in keeping up the appearance of friendship between the princesse de Lamballe and the Comtesse de Polignac."

If Mercy-Argenteau was correct in his assessment (and he did have access to the queen which few others did) the relationship had become more than strained. The ambassador was personally in no doubt of the reason for this enmity. In the same letter, he wrote:

"As the latter's favour (Polignac) grows, that of the Surintendante withers away so that she has now become a bore and an annoyance to the queen"

Mercy-Argeanteau might be slightly harsh here. Marie Antoinette was not known for doing things she rarely wished to do and it would have been very easy for her to dispense entirely with the social company of the Princesse de Lamballe. Yet, she did not. As her surintendante, the queen could not escape her company but she did have the option of excluding her from social events which she refrained from doing. There can be little doubt that Lamballe - despite often being likened to an angel - was intensely jealous of her rival.

Madame de Polignac herself was entirely aware of this and - equally as petty as Lamballe's jealousies - took full advantage. As her company was increasingly considered necessary to the queen, Madame de Polignac did not rise above the temptation to "bad-mouth" Madame de Lamballe. Both Marie Antoinette and Yolande de Polastron shared a somewhat sharp sense of humour which (unfortunately) occasionally delighted in ridiculing others. It can easily be imagined that such snide comments were carefully intertwined in otherwise casual conversation in the queen's private company.

Mercy-Argenteau - the man who had
plenty to say of the two ladies

While the Princesse de Lamballe was not known for her intelligence, she was clearly not unaware of the decline of her favour with the queen. The later years of the 1770s, she spent an increasing amount of time away from court, primarily for health reasons. Publicly, this was widely seen as a natural consequence of the clear change in favorites exhibited by the queen; however, when she returned, Lamballe was still welcomed into the queen's inner circle, albeit with less warmth than before. Even so, Lamballe did not surrender without a fight. Knowing the queen's near-constant search for amusement, she ensured that her well-stocked coffers offered what the royal treasury increasingly could not: balls, high-stakes gambling, operas. Alas, even these attempts had little impact as Lamballe often found herself snubbed in favour of La Polignac. 

Socially, they moved in slightly different circles. Besides the all-important company of the queen, the two women drew support from separate groups at court. Whereas Madame de Polignac surrounded herself with her family members and the male members of the queen's entourage, Madame de Lamballe found support in the princes of the blood. Particularly, the Duc de Chartres was a close friend as was the Comte d'Artois. Unfortunately, this division only further added to the schism between the women as their individual supporters gladly took sides in any conflict between them.

By 1780, Mercy-Argenteau bluntly reported Lamballe's deroutement to the Empress of Austria:

"The Comtesse Jules (Polignac) has completely succeeded her rival in the affection of the queen"

Did this mean that Madame de Lamballe was entirely excluded? Not quite. Hers was the lot of previous royal favourites whose time has run its course. She was welcomed politely into the queen's circle but over the following years, the queen made no attempt at hiding her preference for Polignac. There was nothing for Lamballe to do but to accept her new position and attempt to regain her former ascendancy. For a brief period towards the latter half of the 1780s, Madame de Polignac felt briefly out of favour with Marie Antoinette. The result was a trip to London where Gabrielle basked in the company of the Duchess of Devonshire. Upon her return, things seem to have mended (perhaps she had rid herself of a noisome alleged lover, the Comte de Vaudreuil, infamous despised by the queen?).  

Marie Antoinette

If Lamballe was jealous, what was Polignac? Considering the immensity of the favours she reaped from her friendship with the queen, it is possible that Yolande never truly considered Madame de Lamballe a threat to her position. The queen's generosity ensured that she had amble proof of Marie Antoinette's esteem, so maybe her somewhat backhanded comments regarding Lamballe was considered sufficient to keep her rival at bay.

While Mercy-Argenteau provides a wonderful insight into the private sphere of the queen, it should be remembered why he was at the French court. He was, first and foremost, a politician. Throughout his correspondence, he rarely refers to the two ladies solely in their own capacity. In his eyes, they each represented a different faction; each was carefully weighed and measured according to the level of threat he regarded them as. It should be pointed out that Mercy-Argenteau had continuously reported to the Empress that Polignac was the greater threat but he still would prefer if the two ladies could cancel their respective influences out. Either one - he mused - presented a threat in her own right to the queen's reputation and proper conduct. This should be kept in mind when discussion his depiction of their relationship.

It is highly unlikely that the queen considered her relationships with the same political cynicism. To be sure, she might have found Madame de Lamballe slightly boring after a while, but she never ceased caring for her first friend in France. When Madame de Lamballe fell ill at her private estate, the queen assiduously inquired after her and never excluded her entirely from her private apartments.

What the queen did do, however, was almost as mortifying. As Madame de Polignac's influence grew, so did the number of relatives of hers who surrounded the queen. It was noted by Madame Campan (another insider to the queen) that Lamballe had been greatly concerned at the rapidity with which Madame de Polignac gained the queen's favour. Her concern turned to mortification when the queen began shutting herself in her private apartments. This, of course, had always been the queen's tendency, but hitherto, Madame de Lamballe had been on the other side of the door. While not exiled from the queen's presence, she was not invited to the gatherings when they consisted of Madame de Polignac and her family and friends.

The possibility exist that Mesdames de Polignac and de Lamballe were not so irreconcilable as observers such as Mercy-Argenteau mused. Both would have known full well that royal favour was fleeting. Considering that they seemingly kept any quarrels somewhat private - very few contemporary sources noted any concrete examples of outright infighting - it is possible that their relationship had developed into one of necessary tolerance rather than blatant enmity. After all, by the mid-1780s, they had both been in the queen's company for ten years and neither had succeeded in formally ousting the other. Perhaps, then, it was better to seek the queen's good graces by more subtle, courtly manners. 

While neither Lamballe nor Polignac have left written testament to their personal feelings for one another, their outward conduct tells its own tale. Neither woman visited the other at their private estates - not even following an illness or an accouchement. The separation of the Polignac-clan from Madame de Lamballe's company is a further indicator that they did not see eye to eye. Finally, whereas Marie Antoinette wrote them both assiduously, they did not seem to have corresponded.

Madame de Lamballe

When the revolution broke out, once again the two ladies found themselves in completely different situations - but with the same outcome. By the end of 1793, Marie Antoinette, the Princesse de Lamballe and the Duchesse de Polignac were all dead.

The first to succumb to the violence of the time was the Princesse de Lamballe. Having been hauled before a tribunal, her captors demanded that she swore an oath to liberty and denounced the royal family. She agreed to the former but utterly refused to denounce her friend. Upon leaving the courthouse, a furious mob set upon her and massacred her. Stabbed, beaten and decapitated, her head was placed on a pike and placed outside the queen's window. The queen herself died on the guillotine just a month later. 

This left Madame de Polignac. By the time of her erst-while rival's grisly death, she was long gone. Her unpopularity had reached almost unprecedented heights and she had fled France and gone to Vienna, the birthplace of Marie Antoinette. There, she died in December 1793 of an unknown illness.

Mesdames de Lamballe and de Polignac had certainly been rivals for the queen's affection and the bounty of royal favour. Yet, they had also shared years of their lives together with their mutual friend. None of them survived the Revolution and thus their relationship remains inextricably tied with their lives at Versailles. 

Were They, Weren't They? Yolande de Polignac & the Comte de Vaudreuil

The relationship between the Duchesse de Polignac and the Comte de Vaudreuil was a stormy one, at best. The queen's (in)famous friend, Yolande de Polastron, had been married to Jules de Polignac since 1767 whereas Joseph Hyacinthe François de Paule de Rigaud remained unmarried until after Yolande's death. While at Versailles, the Comte served as Captain of the Gardes du Corps which would have brought him into contact with both the queen and - by extension - Yolande. He might already have known Yolande, though, as they were distant cousins. Legend has it that the two were actually intended to have married when both very young but Joseph refused after glimpsing her in a convent and finding her not pretty enough - he would later drastically change his mind but she had already been married off. He had also attached himself to the company of the Comte d'Artois and therefore already had an "in" with the royal family's inner circle.

As the relationship between the two grew, it caused many of Yolande's friends - including Marie Antoinette - to worry. The Comte de Vaudreuil was known for his violent temper and his extreme ambition which made him unwelcome in most circles. However, as the two became closer, he became indispensable to the queen's favourite. Even Marie Antoinette begrudgingly accepted his presence in their small circle of friends, despite often lamenting his presence - notably, the queen was outraged that a raging Vaudreuil had broken one of her billiard cues. 

Interestingly, the exact nature of Yolande and Joseph's relationship is not quite clear. Even at the time, people were doubting whether their liaison had become physical. Yolande was considered to be a rather cold woman who did not lend herself easily to a physical relationship. This has been further evidenced by the ease with which she distanced herself from Vaudreuil when he overstepped the queen's patience. If they were in love, it was evidently not a blinding sort of love, and Yolande was not willing to risk her position for him.

Yolande de Polignac

Meanwhile, others gleefully (and loudly) speculated that when Yolande gave birth to a son in 1780, it was Vaudreuil's. Neither Marie Antoinette nor Louis XVI believed that particular rumour, though, and even went so far as to visit the infant which was otherwise not done.

Another intriguing fact about their relationship is the utter lack of correspondence between them. It is possible that they burned or otherwise destroyed such evidence - or maybe they did not write to each other? 

Greed was an unfortunate characteristic shared by both Yolande and Joseph. They both shamelessly exploited their proximity to a generous queen, although Yolande was considerably more successful. However, as the 1780s wore on, Marie Antoinette became increasingly disillusioned with the grasping nature of Madame de Polignac. The queen had already showered her with money, favours, positions, etc. yet, the demands kept coming. The relentless pressure from Vaudreuil is said to have contributed to the cooling of their relationship, although it did not end entirely.

When Yolande died in late 1793, Joseph wrote a letter to the exiled Comte d'Artois. The letter clearly expresses the Comte's seemingly heartfelt sorrow at her death - but also ends on an entirely different note. Rather than focusing the short letter on the death of a woman he cared for, Joseph ends it with a practical note regarding his financial matters. It does give the impression that Joseph was not that distraught - despite his eloquent expressions.

On another note, the memoirs of Yolande's life - written by her own sister-in-law - does not mention Vaudreuil at all. Likewise, Yolande's last will and testament also left nothing to Joseph. Rather unhelpfully, the attitude of Yolande's husband does not help clear the situation up. The relationship between husband and wife was rather more like two friends; they got along, but no one suspected that they had any particular romantic love for one another. The fact that Joseph was welcomed into their home - by both parties - consequently cannot be taken as a token of platonic relationship.

Collectively, these clues give their relationship an odd character. Joseph was clearly important enough for Yolande for her to risk the queen's wrath by bringing him with her - but not important enough to risk the queen's displeasure. It poses the question of whether Vaudreuil - in his capacity as a relation - was yet another blindly ambitious family member who was more than willing to use Yolande's relationship for his own advantage? If so, he succeeded, as he was granted both a pension of 30.000 livres and the position of Grand Fauconnier of France - neither of which he would have gained without Yolande.

Comte de Vaudreuil

Their behaviour during the revolution is quite telling, too. Both fled France during the revolution but went in separate directions. Yolande embarked on a journey through Europe, ending in Vienna where she herself died shortly after Marie Antoinette's execution. Joseph, meanwhile, had left far in advance. Already by the storming of the Bastille in 1789 - before the attack on Versailles, mind you - Joseph had left for the Austrian Netherlands. Furthermore, there is nothing to suggest that Yolande made any attempt at contacting Joseph after she fled France. It should not be ignored, either, that Joseph did not attend her funeral. Therefore, it seems likely that any connection they might have had in France was well and truly over by 1789.

Coincidentally, Yolande experienced a resurgence in her relationship with Marie Antoinette in the dying years of the 1780s. Whereas the queen had - as mentioned - become exasperated by her friend's demands, something changed after Yolande had spent a bit of time in England. Perhaps that change was the discarding of Vaudreuil? It would explain both why the queen happily accepted her friend back as her pushy lover would no longer be an inconvenience. It would also explain the seemingly sudden rupture of Yolande and Joseph's relationship. Considering that just a few years before, Yolande had been constantly flanked by Joseph, it would have taken quite a turn-around for something to change that drastically.

Given Yolande's willingness to remain in the queen's good graces, it might have become obvious that her relationship (whatever its nature) with Vaudreuil was more hindrance than help.

1783: Marie Antoinette's Mysterious Pregnancy

The year-long struggle for Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette to have children is well-known; once they did manage to consummate their marriage, Marie Antoinette found herself pregnant fairly frequently. The birth of Marie Thérèse in 1778 was followed by Louis Joseph in 1781, Louis Charles in 1785 and Sophie in 1786.

It is also known that the queen suffered a miscarriage in 1779; however, in 1783 something odd happened. That happened to be the year of the queen's mysteriously discreet pregnancy. Extremely few court sources mention the queen being pregnant in 1783 at all - except for the queen herself.

References to this mysterious pregnancy are found in the intimate correspondance between Marie Antoinette and her brother, Emperor Joseph II. In September 1783, Joseph II wrote to his sister: "I await with infinite impatience ... the news of your pregnancy". On first glance, this might just have been an expression of the emperor's wish to see his sister have another child; yet, the queen herself responded to the letter by informing him that "My pregnancy and health are marvelous" - then ... nothing. None of either Marie Antoinette or Joseph's ensuing letters ever referenced the pregnancy again. 

The obvious implication was that the queen miscarried again. In fact, it is widely accepted that the queen did indeed suffer a dramatic miscarriage in November, about the time of her own birthday. The pregnancy had apparently been difficult from the beginning and the ordeal made her health worse for months. However, this does not explain the utter silence of the courtiers on the subject. After all, the pregnancy of a queen was not personal news - it was state business. The fact that Marie Antoinette was apparently certain herself that she was pregnant implies that the pregnancy was established. Consequently, it ought to have been remarked upon by everyone. Yet it was not.

It is generally accepted that the queen's pregnancy was announced in June 1783 which would mean that she was at least three months pregnant by the time of the September letters. Consequently, when she lost the baby in November, she was at least five months along.

Marie Antoinette in 1783

The oddity of the radio silence of the court is the marked oddness of it. Nothing at court was ever truly secret, especially not when it came to the lives of the royals. It has even been suggested that the child was not even Louis XVI's but that of Count Fersen. This, alone, would have made it gold for gossip mongers set on further destroying the queen's reputation. Sadly, that particular story has been repeated by authors such as Evelyn Farr who remains convinced that Marie Antoinette not merely loved Fersen, but had a physical affair with him, too. Farr speculate that the queen had fallen pregnant by Fersen. The theory is extremely doubtful, at best. 

There is nothing concrete to suggest that Marie Antoinette and Count Fersen ever developed a physical liaison. On the contrary, throughout her life, the queen had shown marked distaste for adultery and relations outside marriage - even going as far as entirely snubbing Madame du Barry because of her role as royal mistress. While the subject of Marie Antoinette and Fersen deserves its own post, suffice it to say, that the theory lacks credibility of any kind.

Considering that the pregnancy was allegedly a difficult one it is puzzling that no one bothered to mention it. Discretion or consideration of the queen's loss seems unlikely. By this point in time, Marie Antoinette was already the object of remarkably vicious rumours and slander. There is nothing to suggest that everyone at court would suddenly have become gracious enough not to torment her on that head. The fact that no one then suggested that the child was not the king's adds to the unlikeliness of the Evelyn Farr-theory. Her detractors would have given anything to be able to pin such a story on the queen - just imagine the outrage it would cause, if the already deeply unpopular queen was thought to have fallen pregnant by another man! The story would have been too tantalizing to receive so little attention. 

As stated, few remarked on the pregnancy. Amongst these was the Marquis de Bombelles who wrote on 29 August 1783: 

"There is a worrying silence on the Queen's condition. Many people think that she had a miscarriage last Sunday; and conclude this from the fact that at 11.00, the queen sent for Madame de Polignac, who seemed sad and very worried when she returned..."

This snippet further murks the waters. It suggests that even at the time, the court was eerily silent on the matter, although the fear of a miscarriage in itself ought to have set tongues wagging. Bombelles' statement also confirm that the pregnancy was a difficult one. After all, he wrote the excerpt in late August, when the queen was still pregnant. If it was already suspected that she might have miscarried, it is fair to assume that there were considerable problems with the pregnancy. Furthermore, the queen was said to have been so big at just 4-5 months that doctors already predicted twins. Relying again on Bombelles, he himself reported in October that she queen already looked as if she was at least 6 months pregnant.

Bombelles goes on to comment on the fact that the queen's dame d'honneur, Madame de Chimay, was refused access to her mistress - something that was entirely unheard of as Madame de Chimay - in her capacity as dame d'honneur - had the right to enter the queen's apartment at any time. At any rate, the situation was deeply unusual for the court.

Another aspect must be considered which likely contributed to the aura of mystery of this pregnancy. The queen - and king - had already established a court life in which the monarchs were far more withdrawn from their own court than usual. The couple's love of privacy meant that they retired to their own apartments with a select group of friends whereas hitherto the lives of the monarchs were lived entirely in public. It was noted that Marie Antoinette withdrew even further during her difficult pregnancy. Being thus only surrounded by her entourage, the queen might have felt more comfortable, but to the excluded courtiers, the queen's condition became all the more mysterious. After all, it is far easier to conjure up shadows when kept in the dark.

Miscarrying in itself was - and remains - a deeply personal tragedy. Given Marie Antoinette's pride and determination not to appear weak, it is not unlikely that she consoled herself with her friends over her loss. There might have been nothing mysterious, at all, in the entire affair.

When the queen did miscarry in November, Bombelles is again remarkably well-informed. He felt sure enough of his knowledge to state outright that the miscarriage was luck in disguise, as the fetus was deformed. How would he have known? Unlike the birth of a child (stillborn or living) a miscarriage was not a court event; people were not summoned for it, nor had they the right to witness it. Considering that the miscarriage took place in the middle of the night, Bombelles would not have been anywhere near the queen herself. He cannot have seen the "deformed fetus" for himself. It makes it more likely, then, that he was speculating or repeating rumours he had heard elsewhere. 

As for the queen's own silence on the matter - especially in her correspondance with her brother - that has a far more reasonable explanation. The loss of a child in itself was harrowing enough; the situation was only made the worse for the health issues it brought it with. It was not until December 1783 that the queen once again remarked to her brother that her health was good. Interestingly, that same letter reveals her desire to have a second son, but her own assurance that "a few months rest will put me in a better condition to carry it (the pregnancy) through". Clearly the ordeal had been traumatic for both mind and body.

It has been speculated that the queen was remarkably - even unusually - silent about the episode. It can be argued that her behaviour was not different from her typical self. Having a sensitive nature, the queen was not the daughter of Maria Theresia for nothing. Sensitive, yes, but deeply devoted to duty and the image of herself as queen. The latter automatically required her to appear constantly composed - even in the throes of heartache. All in all, it is not unlikely that Marie Antoinette wished to put the episode behind her and focus on the two children she did have.

The Aftermath: The Men who Killed the King

21 January 1793 - the day cemented in history as the execution date of Louis XVI. The king's execution had had a remarkably short prelude; from his arrest on 13 August 1792 the king was still kept prisoner after the official abolition of the monarchy on 21 September 1792. The king was read his indictment on 11 December 1792 although the conclusion of the trial was already apparent - the king himself informed his counsel that he was prepared to die for the good of his country.

Considering that the king was already found guilty of colluding with invading, foreign powers, the question remained - what to do with the former king, now merely called citizen Capet?

That question was put to the 721 deputies. As predicted by Louis XVI, none of them had voted for his acquittal. A total of 693 deputies cast their votes while 23 abstained from voting at all. Most devastating to the king was the involvement of his own cousin - the Duc d'Orléans - who voted for the king's death. Sadly, the king's death was determined by just a single vote.

Several of the men who resisted the death penalty made eloquent responses in which they vehemently refused to act as judge or acknowledge the deputies' right to do so. As they rightly argued, they were not created as a court of law and as such had no authority to sentence anyone to death. Others made their vote of death dependent on certain events, such as invasion of foreign powers.

The vote took place on 15 January 1793; the following day, the deputies once again met to decide whether the king was to be reprieved from his sentence. The suggestion was rejected and five days later the 38-year old king was beheaded.

Besides the Duc d'Orléans, the assembly included several other noblemen, albeit of far lesser status than the king's own cousin. Amongst these were:

Jean Pierre André Amar - voted for execution

From a minor noble family from Dauphiné, his family had been in the lower ranks of the noblesse de robe

Paul de Barras, Vicomte de Barras - voted for execution

He had served in the American Independence War and was not a fervent anti-monarchist before the revolution but was somewhat radicalized during the late 1780s - early 1790s

Aubin Bigorie du Chambon - voted for execution

Another member of the noblesse de robe, he would himself be assassinated on 20 November 1793

Antoine Bonnier d'Alco 

Also a member of the noblesse de robe, he shared the fate of Chambon; Antoine was assassinated in 1799

Jean Dyzès, Comte d'Arène - voted for execution

Having bought the barony of Samadet, he was eventually made Comte d'Arène although his primary occupation was as a lawyer at the parliament of Navarre

Antoine Joseph Marie d'Espinassy de Fontanelle - voted for execution

From a very old but provincial aristocratic family, he served in the military but was eventually accused of leaving his post without leave

Louis-Michel Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau - voted for execution

Descending from a long line of magistrates, he was also a noblesse de robe, even owning a large château in Paris. He was confronted by an old bodyguard of the king's who requested if he had voted for the death of the king. Upon answering in the affirmative, the bodyguard stabbed him to death.

Antoine de Mailly, Marquis de Châteaurenaud - voted for execution

His family had been raised to the marquisate by Louis XV and he himself would seek out Voltaire - he became his secretary before becoming a member of the parliament 

Ironically, several of these men also faced their own demise on the scaffold:

• Louis-Philippe, Duc d'Orléans - beheaded on the very same scaffold that he sent his cousin to
• Charles Jean Marie Barbaroux, guillotined on 25 June 1794
• Claude Basire, guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Jacquirs Boilleau d'Ausson, guillotined on 31 October 1793
• Pierre Bourbotte, guillotined on 17 June 1795
• Jean-Baptiste Boyer-Fonfrède, guillotined on 31 October 1793
• Jean-Baptiste Carrier, guillotined on 16 December 1794
• François Chabot (former cleric), guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Georges Couthon, guillotined on 28 July 1794
• Joseph-Marie Cusset, shot on 10 October 1796
• George Jacques Danton, guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Jean-François Delacroix, guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Camille Desmoulins, guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Jean Duprat, guillotined on 31 October 1793
• Jean-Michel Duroy, guillotined on 17 June 1795
• Marc-Antoine Huguet, shot on 9 October 1796
• François Joseph Antoine de Hell, guillotined on 22 April 1794
• Élie Guadet, guillotined on 19 June 1794
• Armand Gensonné, guillotined on 31 October 1793
• Jean-Bertrand Féraud, massacred on 20 May 1795
• Fabre d'Églantine, guillotined 5 April 1794
• Claude Javogues, shot on 10 October 1796
• Charles-Nicolas Osselin, guillotined on 26 June 1794
• Pierre Philippeaux, guillotined on 5 April 1794
• Maximilien de Robespierre, guillotined on 28 July 1794
• Louis Antoine de Saint-Just, guillotined on 28 July 1794
• Pierre-Amable de Soubrany, guillotined on 17 June 1795
• Pierre Victurnien Vergniaud, guillotined on 31 October 1793

Execution of Robespierre

Other fates of the men involved included:

• François Buzot - committed suicide in 1794. He would likely have been guillotined if he had not taken his own life first.
• Étienne Nicolas de Calon - became mayor of Saint-Leu-la Fôret. He was a very old man at that point, as he had served Louis XV as a general; he had also voted for the execution of Louis XVI.
• Jean-François Delmars - died in 1798 (at 47 years old) after having been committed to a mental institute.
• Ernest Dominique François Joseph Duquesnoy - also committed suicide in 1795. He had just been found guilty and was sentenced to the guillotine.
• Thomas-Augustin de Gasparin - died of gangrene in November 1793
• Joseph-Pierre-Marie Fayau - was arrested but finally released in the grand amnesty in 1795. He returned to his native village where he was initially elected to a minor post before having his election overturned. He then died at just 33. 
• Claude Dominique Côme Fabre - despite being a lawyer by trade, he was involved in the attacks on the French from the Catalonian coast. He was killed in battle and his widow awarded a pension by Robespierre 
• Philippe-François-Joseph Le Bas - remained a loyal follower of Robespierre, even after his downfall. Committed suicide on 28 July 1794.
• Jean-Paul Marat - assassinated by Marie Anne Charlotte Cordray d'Armont, an aristocrat with a vengeance 
• Jérôme Pétion de Villeneuve - found himself with the tables turned when he was accused of wrongdoing following the insurrection of 2 June 1793. He fled the capital but was recaptured which prompted him to commit suicide.

There are clear indications that the men above were subjected to downright threats in the effort to force a verdict of guilty and punishment of execution. Several of those who refrained from sentencing clearly mention the "menacing" they experienced as well as the "tricks" employed; including perhaps physical threats (at least one referred to the threat of weapons). Louis XVI was seemingly quite right in assuming that his fate was already decided.

The Queen Versailles Did Not Want: Marie Leszczynska

When the Duc de Bourbon proclaimed that the then-15 year old Louis XV was to marry the 22-year old Marie Leszczynska, the reaction was prompt. Neither the court nor the Parisians - for once on the same page - considered the young woman suitable for the throne of France.

For one, who was she? Marie Leszczynska was the daughter of Stanislaus I Leszczynski and Catherine Opalinska - the deposed king and queen of Poland. Not only had her father lost his throne, her mother had lost her immense fortune. The family had fled to one place after another before being finally granted permission to reside in Wissembourg. As such, they were under the protection of the king of France (as France had annexed Alsace where Wissembourg is located) but they had no influence, no power, no money. Even more bleak, there was nothing to suggest that they would ever regain their former grandeur. 

Thus, the main question was - what did Marie Leszczynska bring to France? As far as the public was concerned, it was not much. Her marriage would not provide France with a new, powerful ally nor with a significant dowry. In fact, her father had to borrow heavily to even scrape one together for her.

Also, there was no prestige in the marriage. To the French, the king of France was the most eligible match in the world (literally). The idea that he should be "squandered" on an unknown, impoverished princess - seven years his senior even - was completely unfathomable. Therefore, it did not take long before vicious tongues started wagging; rumours soon began that Marie Leszczynska was not just a poor choice but a dangerous one.

The entire point of importing a royal bride was to produce an heir. Therefore, her health was vital and any doubts were immense causes for concern. It is not difficult to see, then, why the rumour of Marie Leszczynska being epileptic started.

Alarmed, the court of France demanded that she be subjected to a medical exam - performed by French doctors, of course. The examination took place on 6 May 1725 by doctors Duphénix and Mouges. Their report was unequivocal - the princess was not epileptic. The rumour had it that her mother had frequently taken her to a nunnery where one of the sisters aided the symptoms. The Duc de Bourbon promptly - and discreetly - sent out scouts to discover the truth. As it happens, Catherine Opalinska was a frequent visitor to the nunnery but - as it was found - the nun was a life-long friend of hers.

Their good report was further bolstered by Marie's personal doctors who proved that her menstrual cycle was "perfectly regular" - thus alleviating accusations of infertility. On the contrary, the doctors found her health to be robust.

Marie Leszczynska

Other unpleasant accusations were hurled her way too - that some of her fingers were webbed or even entirely paralysed (the latter being reported directly to the Duc de Bourbon by Cardinal Rohan), that she was hideously ugly etc. Neither were true nor did they need to be particularly counter proven.

Her nationality was a thorn in the eye of most people. It was said that the French "could not love" the Polish; they were considered to be republican (because their king was elected, not born to the role) and far too different from the French. There were even fears that her Polish-ness would result in a massive European war - however, this seems unlikely. Augustus II (the reigning king of Poland) was understandably not pleased at this development but upon being assured that France would not attempt to replace him with Stanislaus, he backed down.

The other European powers were equally stunned - few mentioned anything about the bride herself with the exception of the king of Sardinia. He was Louis XV's grandfather and thus in a position to publicly disclaim that the marriage was a massive mésalliance. To his shame, the Sardinian king also repeated the rumours of physical disabilities. Madame (Elizabeth Charlotte of the Palatinate) were equally aghast at the marriage, writing to her friend that the trend of mésalliances had even reached the king himself. Some has claimed that the rumour of epilepsy originated in the court of Lorraine where none other than Madame's own daughter was the reigning duchess. The point was that the Duchesse de Lorraine had several, very eligible daughters herself whom she considered to be far worthier of Louis XV - after all, they were already related!

Other, anonymous letters arrived, all warning against the ghastly deformities said to plague the queen-to-be. Hunchbacked, one-eyed - if even half the things said against her were true, she would truly have been an unfortunate woman. Some even pointed to the fact that Marie was unmarried at the ripe old age of 22 - surely something must be wrong with her? Poor Marie!

The people were quickly won over by Marie Leszczynska as she travelled toward Versailles. Once they saw her, they could dismiss the rumours of hideousness and her grace and kindness did much to endear her to them. It certainly helped that she would become pregnant very quickly after the marriage which further disproved any theory of infertility - on the contrary, as she would go on to be pregnant for a decade in total. 

The Men in the Queen's Inner Circle

The intimate circle of Marie Antoinette was largely dominated by her two most famous friends - the Princesse de Lamballe and the Duchesse de Polignac. Whereas these two women have received the majority of focus, they were far from the only ones in the intimate social circle of Marie Antoinette. In fact, her circle were unisex in nature and included four prominent gentlemen:

Pierre Victor, Baron de Besenval

Like Marie Antoinette, the Baron was a foreigner who found himself in France due to the nature of his birth. A Swiss by birth, Pierre Victor had entered French military service where he had quickly come into contact with the Duc de Choiseul - the very man responsible for bringing Marie Antoinette to France.

What attracted the baron to the queen's company was a shared sense of humor. Marie Antoinette had a somewhat sharp sense of humor - according to some of her contemporaries - which Besenval was said to encourage. He amused her, he made her laugh - and he did not correct her when her humor bordered on mockery. 

He made a fatal faux pas, though, in assuming he could rise further by engaging the queen's romantic feelings. Feeling secure enough to declare his feelings (on his knees, no less), she icily rebuked him and reminded him of his place. At the end of the day, the whole episode appears to have been a misunderstanding which did not exclude Besenval from her company - although he never attempted such a maneuver again.

Amusing as he was, Besenval recognised the sensitive side to Marie Antoinette. It was he who mused on the heartfelt sympathy she felt for those in need; he himself had seen it on numerous occasions which were increasingly not broadcast to the public. Genuine recognition was something that Marie Antoinette sorely lacked. As queen, there was no end to the sycophants willing to proclaim her to be the most empathetic woman in the world. As a friend, he was actually honest. 

Furthermore, Besenval does not appear to be entirely blinded by the prospect of riches and favour. For one, he admitted that there were women who exceeded her in beauty but maintained that her bearing and dignity made her ideal for her position. 

It is easy to see why Marie Antoinette cherished his company. Besenval amused her endlessly - and he saw her in a realistic light. 

Besenval

Adrien-Louis, Duc de Guines

One word was said to encompass Guines: Vanity. He was a member of Polignac's social circle and had been implicated in a very unfortunate affair whilst serving as ambassador to England. This scandal had actually resulted in his dismissal from both his ambassador post and court - despite Marie Antoinette's pleas. He was later made Duc de Guines - a gesture of goodwill from Louis XVI to his dismayed wife.

Whereas Besenval's career in the army was largely out of her domain, Marie Antoinette went out of her way to promote Guines.

In the private sphere of Petit Trianon, the Duc de Guines had the important asset of being a remarkably good flutist. Considering that Marie Antoinette had a lifelong passion for music and often staged private performances, it is likely that they bonded over music.

He also had another character trait which was seemingly irresistible to the queen: he was funny. Despite his vanity - even to excess - he greatly amused the queen with whom he could freely share his passion for music. Nevertheless, there were those who were deeply concerned at the friendship. The Austrian ambassador, Comte de Mercy-d'Argenteau, attempted to sever their friendship and not without reason. Vain was one thing but the Duc de Guines had several, more dangerous characteristics which it would be wisest for the queen to steer clear of. For one, he had a taste for intrigue but without a capacity for discretion - a fatal combination. Added to that was his intelligence and obvious ambition.

The latter raises the question whether his friendship with the queen was based on mutual admiration or rather a stepping stone for greater things? After all, she had been the one to rescue him on numerous occasions when his ill-advised behaviour overtook his cleverness. It would be career suicide to sever ties with her now.

Finally, he had a tendency to simply not pay his bills. Having hired Mozart himself to compose a concerto, he refrained from ever paying for it. Such an attitude was hardly convenient when desperately trying to have the queen moderate her own expenses.

Marie Antoinette herself considered him a fixture of her social circle but perhaps not as close as the others. She refused to cut ties with him when approached by Mercy-d'Argenteau - she simply enjoyed his company too much.

Guines

François-Henri, Duc de Coigny

The Duc de Coigny was amongst those grey-haired gentlemen whom Marie Antoinette favoured. He had been a soldier in his youth, distinguishing himself in the Seven Years' War. His contemporaries agreed that he was an elegant man with flawless manners (to women) which was exactly what a queen ought to be surrounded by. Furthermore, he possessed a polished, suave manner - in other words, he was good company.

Upon her arrival in France, he was known as a rather moderate man - however a few years at the new court, he became more wasteful. Like Madame de Polignac, he had realised that the queen would do anything for those dear to her. Unfortunately, he took advantage of his favour with Marie Antoinette and rather shamelessly exploited the good terms he was on with her.

Coigny

Comte Valentin Esterhazy

Another foreigner (Hungarian by birth) on French soil, the Comte Esterhazy had also entered French military service. He had first met Marie Antoinette when she was still in Austria; it was he who had been commissioned with bringing her portrait to the court of Versailles. Thus, when Empress Maria Theresia redirected him to France, the now-queen Marie Antoinette fondly embraced him as an arbiter of her marriage. 

The queen made little attempt to hide her favoritism towards him, calling him such pet names as her "brother" and showered him with attention. They shared a private correspondence - much disapproved of by her mother due to the relaxed and thus intimate nature - when he was away from court. She did her utmost to secure his comfort whether financially or by appointments. 

Madame Campan relate a rather touching moment following the dramatic first delivery of the queen. Esterhazy was - due to his limited rank - relegated to awaiting both the sex of the baby and other news with the others in the Salon des Nobles. Having lost consciousness, it was feared that the queen would not survive the labour; however, when she did regain her senses, Madame Campan went to inform those awaiting news, the first of whom was Esterhazy. He was apparently so relieved that he promptly embraced Campan.

He never left her circle, not even when she found herself imprisoned in the Tuileries. It was he whom she entrusted with smuggling out personal belongings and letters.

Esterhazy

Charles-Joseph, Prince de Ligne

This lesser-known gentleman only entered the queen's circle towards the end of the reign. He was considered to be the most intelligent of the bunch. Yet another foreigner, this time from a Belgian family although residing elsewhere, he was also known to Marie Antoinette's mother, Empress Maria Theresia. The Empress described him as frivolous but full of wit and good qualities. In a letter to her mother, Marie Antoinette admitted that she recognised his frivolity but also conceded that he was very well-liked in France. 

There was a very clear reason why the two might have connected. Marie Antoinette famously suffered for being an Austrian in France; Ligne himself could relate to that. He was said to be considered to be French in Austria but Austrian in France. It would be very unlikely if the two did not bond over being considered an outsider. However, unlike Marie Antoinette he absolutely adored Versailles.

Interestingly, he is said to have been the most disinterested amongst her party. Unlike particularly the Polignac-set, he did not attempt to use their friendship for further advancement. Instead, he genuinely respected the queen for herself. He defended her against her detractors - even after her execution. It is worthwhile reiterating his perception of the impossible predicament which constantly surrounded the queen:

"As for the queen, the radiance of her presence harmed her. The jealousy of the women whom she crushed by the beauty of her complexion and the carriage of her head, ever seeking to harm her as a woman, harmed her also as a queen. Frédégonde and Brunehaut, Catherine and Marie de Medici, Anne and Theresa of Austria never laughed; Marie Antoinette when she was fifteen laughed much; therefore she was declared "satirical."

She defended herself against the intrigues of two parties, each of whom wanted to give her a lover; on which they declared her "inimical to Frenchmen"; and all the more because she was friendly with foreigners, from whom she had neither traps nor importunity to fear.

An unfortunate dispute about a visit between her brother the Elector of Cologne and the princes of the blood, of which she was wholly ignorant, offended the etiquette of the Court, which then called her "proud."

She dines with one friend, and sometimes goes to see another friend, after supper, and they say she is "familiar." That is not what the few persons who lived in her familiarity would say. Her delicate, sure sense of the becoming awed them as much as her majesty. It was as impossible to for get it as it was to forget one's self. 

She is sensible of the friendship of certain persons who are the most devoted to her; then she is declared to be "amorous" of them. Sometimes she requires too much for their families; then she is “unreasonable.” 

She gives little fêtes, and works herself at her Trianon: that is called “bourgeoise.” She buys Saint-Cloud for the health of her children and to take them from the malaria of Versailles: they pronounce her “extravagant." 

Her promenades in the evening on the terrace, or on horseback in the Bois de Boulogne, or sometimes on foot round the music in the Orangery "seem suspicious." Her most innocent pleasures are thought criminal; her general loving kindness is “coquettish.” She fears to win at cards, at which she is compelled to play, and they say she “wastes the money of the State."

She laughed and sang and danced until she was twenty five years old: they declared her “frivolous." The affairs of the kingdom became embroiled, the spirit of party arose and divided society; she would take no side, and they called her “ungrateful.”

She no longer amused herself; she foresaw misfortunes: they declared her “intriguing.” She dropped certain little requests or recommendations she had made to the king or the ministers as soon as she feared they were troublesome, and then she was “fickle."

With so many crimes to her charge, and all so well-proved, did she not deserve her misfortunes? But I see I have forgotten the greatest [crime]. 

The queen, who was almost a prisoner of State in her château of Versailles, took the liberty sometimes to go on foot, followed by a servant, through one of the galleries, to the apartments of Mme. de Lamballe or Mme . de Polignac. How shocking a scandal! "

Prince de Ligne

These men were frequent guests at the Petit Trianon; they were even amongst the very few permitted to join the queen during her recovery from measles. Naturally, this led her detractors to immediately speculate whether the king would be supplied with four ladies of the court if he should find himself ill?

The risk to her reputation (romantically, at least) was a great concern to Marie Antoinette. Nothing in her behavior suggests that she was naturally flirtatious and she fully understood the utter necessity of not appearing to be so as queen. Consequently, it has been speculated that one of the reasons she embraced men who were often much older than her was to avoid just that type of speculation. The Comte Esterhazy, for one, was 15 years older than the queen while the Duc de Coigny was almost twenty years her senior - Besenval was in his fifties! If her entourage included respectable, elder men, surely people would be less eager to accuse her of improper conduct? 

Alas, that was sadly not the case. As her unpopularity grew, her enemies attacked the very essential characteristic of a proper, French queen: her chastity. First, they accused her of engaging in lesbian relationships with Lamballe and/or Polignac, then with taking one or several of the gentlemen above as her lover. Realistically, there was nothing to suggest this to be the case - on the contrary, she publicly refuted the few misguided advances made to her by enthusiastic followers.

It is easy to see why the likes of Mercy-d'Argenteau would frown at some of the characters in Marie Antoinette's circle. While clearly devoted to her, for instance, Madame de Polignac was also shamelessly grasping whatever the queen could throw her way, often using her influence to advance both herself, her family, and her friends. Likewise, characters such as Coigny or Guines were also boosted by their relationship with the queen.

The problem was that a queen of France traditionally had no political influence with the exception of when she acted as regent for an underage son. Louis XVI was very wary of involving her in the major decisions - and truthfully, she does not appear to have sought that kind of influence. However, Marie Antoinette did exert her influence when it came to appointments within the court machinery. Considering that this might have direct influence on the policies enacted, even that little influence was seen as highly improper. This further supported her opposers' arguments that she was meddling in affairs that were none of her concern.

So, Mercy-d'Argenteau recognised these risks and even dared to approach the queen. Unfortunately, Marie Antoinette often brushed his concerns on such matters aside - surely she should be allowed to chose her own friends? Any other person would be given that privilege but Marie Antoinette was doomed by having alert enemies who were willing - and able - to spin anything into something sinister.

Even if her public detractors were not considered worthwhile paying attention to, it should be admitted that it was not a particularly good look for the queen. She had already turned the majority of the court against her by secluding herself at her private estates (thus depriving them of the traditional focal point of the court) but further excluding anyone else from her company was unfortunate. It gave the impression that the queen cared little for the opinions of her courtiers, not even bothering to pay them the slightest attention. It made her inaccessible, unapproachable - and her very role required her to be the opposite.

Furthermore, the spendthrift habits of some of her companions did little to either curb her own expenditure nor her reputation in that regard. 

Yet, the queen's inner circle was not merely made up of money grasping sycophants. Interestingly, most of the people who exploited her position happened to be associates of Madame de Polignac. It would seem that that particular lady had a tendency to attract some rather unscrupulous types. Yet, while there is little doubt that Madame de Polignac used her favour with the queen to her utmost advantage, it would be inaccurate to assume that there was no real friendship between them.

Likewise, men such as the Prince de Ligne or the Comte de Besenval appears to have genuinely appreciated Marie Antoinette for her good qualities. Their friendships were undoubtedly necessary for the queen's happiness, particularly when her unpopularity seemed to grow daily, no matter what she did. Having true friends around her must have been a true comfort.

Behind the Myths: Louis XIV

Considering his record-breaking reign, it is little wonder that Louis XIV has become a person surrounded by numerous tales and stories - some more shocking than others. The following examines a total of five myths surrounding the legendary Sun King - four untrue but one quite accurate.

Myth #1: The Baths

One of the more pervasive rumours surrounding Louis XIV concerns his personal hygiene. The rumour states that the Sun King only bathed thrice in his life. It must be understood that the concept of hygiene was vastly different in the 17th century. Usually, submerging the body fully in water was associated with either a medical cure or recreational pleasure. For instance, both Louis XIV and Marie Adélaide of Savoy were frequent swimmers in their youths. 

The medical faculties of the times strongly discouraged their patients from bathing frequently because water was seen as a carrier of disease. This was not quite untrue, either. Most villages and towns used water sources to discard their refuse in which left most bodies of water (particularly stagnant ones) utterly filthy. In that regard the doctors were probably right in warning of the dangers of bathing.

Most hygienic practices consisted of a dry wash - rubbing the body with either a dry towel or moist with scented water / alcohol. The frequent changes of linen and inner clothing also attributed to keeping odours at bay. The reasoning behind this was that doctors believed sitting in hot water would dilate the pores (true) which let in dangerous miasmas into the bloodstream (false). The latter was then thought to bring disease.

The fact that the king had an entire bathing suite on the ground floor of Versailles is another testimony to a sense of hygiene. Albeit, that suite was often used for more romantic pursuits but the massive marble tub there was supplied with both hot and cold water. Even before the bathing suite was built, Louis XIV had a cabinet des Bains installed in the early 1670's. That chamber contained two bath tubs; one for rinsing and one for scrubbing.

While Louis XIV was probably hardly a paragon of hygiene, the idea that he only had three baths in his long life-time simply does not correspond to reality.

Louis XIV

Myth #2: The Child Births

One disturbing myth that has recently sprung up - and been spread on some social media platforms - is that it was Louis XIV who invented the method of childbirth in which the labouring mother lies on her back.

That particular birthing method has (rightly) come into scrutiny lately, as many women are questioning why a woman already enduring immense stress and pain must also fight against gravity. Child birth at Versailles was a public spectacle which did indeed take place with the mother on her back. However, Louis XIV can hardly be given the dubious "honour" of imposing that position on the women of his time. For royal women, the presence of spectators was a matter of legitimacy. If the birth took place in front of witnesses it would be nearly impossible to later claim that one child had been switched with another. That could be the case if the child was stillborn, deformed - or a girl. So, to ensure that no doubts as to the child's legitimacy was raised, royal women had to undergo that demeaning practice.

The very practice itself of a lying-back childbirth was not for the convenience of the mothers - but for their doctors. Midwifery was typically a woman-dominated field for the majority of the population but doctors took over when it came to the high-born ladies. Sadly, this meant that the doctors relied entirely on  often non-sensical medical practice and their own convenience. After all, it is far easier (for the doctor) to see what is happening if the woman is in that position.

So, this practice was in place long before Louis was born - he can hardly be blamed for that.

 

Myth #3: The Gods

Some sources have questioned whether Louis XIV thought himself to be divine - or perhaps even the personification of the god Apollo.

The answer to that is yes and no. The entire world order of the baroque age was based on the so-called "divine order" which the catholic church had imposed for centuries. This order stated that each person's state in life was divinely chosen - and the king himself was divinely chosen by god to rule as his representative. Throughout his life, Louis XIV was a devout catholic and had been brought up with this belief. But did he actually believe that he was touched by the divine?

It is hard to say - he certainly believed in the divine right to rule for a king but he never made any allusion personally to considering himself as being divine himself.

As for Apollo, this one is easier to tackle. Baroque art heavily relies on allegories - particularly linking reigning royalty to Roman or Greek gods. Having chosen the Sun as his emblem, it was an easy offshoot to go with Apollo who also had a solar emblem. Throughout Versailles itself many of the mesmerizing paintings portrays either the king as Apollo or references to that deity. Likewise, the King himself appeared as Apollo in a ballet in his younger years. Yet, it is almost certain that he did not see himself as being Apollo.

Myth #4: The Biological Weapons

Biological weapons are not a product of the modern age - although they have become far more advanced over the years. Throughout the centuries, warring countries have adapted various types of biological warfare; these techniques included poisoning wells and throwing disease-ridden corpses into the enemy camp.

Unlike the other entries in this post, this myth is factual - however paradoxical that statement might seem. The Italian Martin Poli had been granted permission to establish his own laboratory. Exactly what he developed there is not quite certain although it would seem to have been either incendiary or bacteriological in nature; nevertheless, it was described as utterly terrifying. 

If the weapon was indeed bacteriological it would explain why a thorough description has not survived. After all, the early 18th century was still far off the discovery of bacteria. Any bacteriological effect would have seemed almost supernatural albeit very much real.

In 1702, Poli went to France and obtained an audience with the king. Upon this meeting, Louis XIV was offered the weapon which would have come in very handy in the on-going War of the Spanish Succession.  Yet, the king refused. Legend (unconfirmed) has it that he responded by saying that he already had numerous means of destroying life. Louis might have sent Poli on his way but instead he offered him a lifelong pension and appointed him to the Academy of Sciences. The condition was that Poli could never sell his invention to anyone.

Myth #5: The Paternity

The marriage between Louis XIII and Anne of Austria was notoriously sterile for a staggering 23 years when the queen announced her pregnancy. By this point, most people had assumed that their marriage would remain childless - but then along came Louis.

Rumours began circulating that maybe the queen had become desperate to deliver an heir and had turned from her husband to another - particularly Cardinal Mazarin?

This rumour is luckily easy to dispel. Louis was born 5 September 1638; by January that year the royal doctors estimated the queen to be six weeks along. This would place the time of conception to late November 1637. The romantic legend has it that the child was conceived when the queen was staying at Saint-Maur; the king was forced to spend the night there due to a sudden storm - and the rest is history. Whether that is how it happened will naturally never be known.

What is known, however, is that Cardinal Mazarin cannot have been Louis XIV's father - he was not even in France when Louis was conceived.