The Squabble for the Guise Fortune

The house of Guise had made itself infamous throughout the 16th century; the house had divided itself into several branches, the eldest of which was headed by the Duc de Guise. However, in 1688, the Ducs de Guise died out with the death of Marie de Lorraine, Duchesse de Guise. 

The reigning ducal couple of Guise was Charles de Lorraine and his wife Henriette Catherine de Joyeuse. The couple had had ten children of which seven were boys - few had probably expected the family to find itself extinct within a generation. Yet, two of their sons died in infancy, one entered the church while the other four died unexpectedly young at the respective ages of 27, 19, 33 and 24. Ironically, the eldest was the son who entered the church and thus fathered no children. As for the daughters, one died in infancy, another entered a nunnery - and then there was Marie.

Marie de Lorraine, Duchesse de 
Guise

Marie de Lorraine was unmarried and thus childless. She had won the guardianship over her nephew, Louis, who was the only surviving male heir to the house of Guise. However, the young boy died in 1675 which left Marie as the sole survivor of the Guise-family.

As the last Guise, Marie enjoyed the benefits of an enormous fortune including several duchies and their numerous incomes. By the late 1680's, Marie was in her early seventies and knew that she had to make a decision as to who would inherit her. When Marie de Lorraine died on 3 March 1688, her last will and testament revealed that she had deliberately attempted to exclude her niece, the Grande Mademoiselle, from inheriting - and so, the legal drama began.

Besides the Grande Mademoiselle, there were two other major players claiming their share of the inheritance. One was Leopold, Duc de Lorraine and another was Anne Henriette, Princesse de Condé. 

The Will

Marie herself had favoured leaving all to Charles Leopold, father of Leopold, and the then-reigning. Duc de Lorraine. However, Charles Leopold died in 1690 before the case was settled at court which meant that Leopold was left to fight for his inheritance. The case might have ended there if there had not been a minor thing to consider: the will of the king. Louis XIV was far from pleased at having such a large fortune - and a duchy on his border - going to a man who served the Holy Roman Emperor as a general. Thus, the Sun King protested the will and sent it to the Parlament de Paris.

As for her hôtel in Paris - lavishly updated by Marie - she left it to a rather surprising recipient: Charles François de Stainville,  Comte de Couvonges. By her own will, Marie had chosen the Hôtel-Dieu in Paris (a charitable hospital) as the executor of her testament - she also left them a hefty sum of 53.000 livres.

One might wonder exactly why this particular will and testament was so vital. For one, the house of Guise had a very large fortune as well as considerable land possessions. However, that was not all at stake. For one, the owner of the duchy of Guise was entitled to having their lawsuits decided by either the king's own council or by their own peers at the Parlament. Furthermore, there was the question of the rank of prince étrangère which in itself gave the incumbent certain privileges such as keeping one's hat on when with ambassadors, sitting with the queen and direct access to the king. Consequently, the will was a matter of vital importance to courtiers who could only hope for advancement from the king himself. 

The Claims

Anne Henriette of Bavaria was amongst those who happily agreed with the king's decision. She had married the Prince de Condé. She based her claim on her great-grandfather Charles of Lorraine (another one!), Duc de Mayenne. He had married Henriette of Savoy with whom he had had Catherine de Lorraine who in turn went on to marry Charles Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua. Their youngest daughter was Anne-Marie who was married off to the Count of Simmern with whom she had Anne Henriette, Princesse de Condé. Another daughter was Bénédicte of the Palatinate who joined her claim to that of her sister.

Thus, Anne's claim rested already on the link through her mother and grandmother. However, there was another potential connection. Anne-Marie had fallen in love with Henri II de Guise, Duc de Guise, and even claimed to have married him - however, Henri denied it and she was packed off to her German husband.

Leopold de Lorraine's claim went back the furthest and was based entirely on the fact that he was the next male in line. His great-great-great-great-great grandfather was René II de Lorraine who fathered two separate lines: Antoine (Duc de Lorraine) and Claude (Duc de Guise). He was therefore a distant cousin to Marie de Lorraine.

Leopold de Lorraine

The Grande Mademoiselle asserted her claim through her grandmother, Henriette Catherine de Joyeuse, whose first marriage had been to the Duc de Montpensier. It was their union that produced Marie de Bourbon who would marry Gaston d'Orléans and give birth to the Grande Mademoiselle. Consequently, the Grande Mademoiselle's claim was entirely through the female line.

While these three were the most illustrious claimants, they were by no means the only ones. Amongst those who turned up at the Hôtel-Dieu to press their claims were Béatrix de Lorraine, the Prince d'Harcourt, Élisabeth de Lorraine, the Prince de Lillebonne and the Prince de Commercy.

In summary, two distinct families within the house of Bourbon contested the will: the Bourbon-Condé (through Anne Henriette and Bénédicte) and the Bourbon-Montpensier (through the Grande Mademoiselle).

Yet, there was one person who was conspicuous by their absence: the Duc d'Elbeuf. He was technically the next male in line, so it would seem odd that he did not press his own claim. Liesbeth Geevers and Mirella Marini has pointed to the fact that the dukedom of Guise would bestow a peerage on the recipient but the Duc d'Elbeuf was already a peer in his own right. It therefore made no sense to go through an expensive and likely drawn-out legal battle to obtain what he already possessed. 

La Grande Mademoiselle

The Decision

By order of the king, the Parisian Parlament examined the last will and testament of Marie de Lorraine for a month and a half. They reached their final decision on 26 April 1688. Considering the king's clear opinion on the matter, their decision did not come as much of a surprise: it was completely overturned, thus stripping the Comte de Couvonges of his dues.

Consequently, the titles were divided between these two women. The principality of Joinville (title: Prince de Joinville) went to the Grande Mademoiselle, the duchy of Guise (title: Duc de Guise) to Anne Henriette while the Duc d'Elbeuf (another Lorraine) got the Duchy of Joyeuse.

The Arguments

The case of the Duchesse de Guise's will is a complex one due primarily to the intricate familial links between several aristocratic houses across various borders. When all was said and done, the Parlament rested their decision on the piece of legislation known as the Droit d'Aubaine.

Amongst others, the Droit d'Aubaine made it impossible for French estates to be left to people who had been born on foreign soil - unless they had been naturalised. This immediately excluded several of the would-be pretenders to the duchies and principalities in hand:

Leopold's father, Charles V of Lorraine, was born in Vienna but was naturalised as a Frenchman in the 1650's - however Leopold himself had never been naturalised. He could therefore not inherit either the duchies or the principalities, much to the delight of Louis XIV.

Another potential candidate, the Prince de Salm, based his claim on the very same basis as both Anne Henriette and Bénédicte. His mother had been their elder sister, Louise-Marie, who had died before the Duchesse de Guise. However, by virtue of his being the son of the eldest daughter, he was a likely candidate to inherit. But to his great misfortune - in this case at least - he had not been born in Paris like his mother but in Aachen. Furthermore, he was not even residing in France but in Vienna. He therefore made just as unpalatable an heir to Louis XIV as Leopold. Luckily for Louis, the Droit d'Aubaine also excluded him.

Even then, there were two other people who could have pressed their claims: the Duke of Mantua (through Charles de Lorraine, Duc de Mayenne) and his immediate heir Archduchess Eleonora Maria. The Duke of Mantua had no sons and Eleonora was his niece. As they had both descended from a male "higher up" in the family tree, both the Duke of Mantua and the Archduchess might have laid claim to the titles if they had not been born foreigners. The Duke of Mantua had been born in his own duchy while Eleonora was born in Regensburg.

Consequently, the Parlament de Paris concluded that the most senior natural heir to the Duchesse de Guise was Anne Henriette, Princesse de Condé by marriage.

Anne Henriette - the overall
winner of the case

Robes à la Levantine & à la Lévite

Robe à la Levantine

Despite its name, the robe à la Levantine is not a gown in itself like a robe à la Française or à l'Anglaise. Instead, it is a sleeveless - or short-sleeved - robe which was worn over a usually gown with long sleeves which would pass through the sleeves of the Levantine.  Compared to the very tight-fitted gowns usually worn by French aristocrats the robe à la Levantine was loose and was fitted at the back with somewhat loose pleating. Typically, it would be hemmed with fur, particularly ermine.

The robe à la Levantine was amongst the styles which became popular with the trend for "turquerie" or Turkish fashions. According to the Galerie des Modes et Costumes of 1779, the robe à la Levantine was the invention of Sarrazier who served as a costumier to the Princes of the Blood. 

The example given by the 1779
edition of the Galerie des 
Modes

It is easy to mistake the robe à la Levantine for a robe à la Reine - the latter is the name of a loose-fitting robe worn by Marie Antoinette during her first pregnancy. The lack of tightness around the waist made it a far more comfortable alternative to the rigid whalebone-supported court gowns; it is therefore not surprising that many women at court were pleased to adopt this new, exotic trend. While few ladies would venture beyond their own threshold, it suited just fine for a quiet day at home.

As the gown opened in the front, it became necessary to have something to fasten it with. Usually, this was done with a simple pin but a brooch might serve as well.

Robe à la Lévite

Popularly said to be inspired by Racine's "Athalie" in which the choir wore similar gowns to the robe à la Lévite. Like the Levantine, the Lévite was opened in the front but was often worn with a belt or rather a sash tied loosely into a fashionable knot. Besides the belt, it was also fastened with bows or buttons - always placed above the waist. It also sported a large collar, typically accentuated with a fichu.

Robe à la Lévite - note the belt and the
somewhat loose-fitted waist

Another aspect which connected the Levantine with the Lévite was the sheer comfort. As the gown was not meant to be worn with a stiff corset, it became far more preferable. Initially, the gown was ankle-length but it eventually developed a train. Unlike the Levantine, the Lévite had full sleeves extending down to the wrists but were not nearly as snug as the usual court gowns.

Marie Antoinette was very fond of this type of gown and had worn it during her first pregnancy in 1778; by 1782, they made up a third of her substantial wardrobe. 

Se how the bodice is held together

While the queen was celebrated for making the gown fashionable, the Vicomtesse de Jaucourt caused quite a stir of her own in 1781 when she appeared in the Luxembourg garden in a Lévite with a new twist: a so-called "monkey's tail" which apparently intended to raise the gown a little. Its name was derived from the long, twisted train. It was said to have caused such a stir that the Swiss Guards belonging to the Comte de Provence had to ask her to leave.

Foreign Influences: Turkey

The allure of the Ottoman Empire had already taken hold of the European courts during the 17th century and would continue on-and-off until the fall of Versailles. By the reign of Louis XVI, it was at its height. At court, the exotic style was called "turquerie" - and it influenced everything from fashion to interior design.

Mademoiselle de Clermont, 1723

The French court's interest was already piqued in 1669 when Sultan Süleyman Agha Müteferrika's envoy arrived in Paris. Although the visit was hardly a diplomatic success - the French refused to acknowledge the Turks as proper ambassadors and the Turks were unwilling to show the demanded adoration of the king - but the fascination with the Ottoman Empire caught hold. Besides several instances of portraits à la Turque, the envoys also brought popular trends to court: coffee and tobacco.

The Ottomans had long been a inspiration for the creatives mind at court - although not always positively. Molière's "Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme" had clear Oriental inspirations,  Racine's "Bajazet" of 1672 took place within a harem while Mozart's L'Enlèvement au sérail" dealt with a couple of Westerners sold to "Pacha Selim"; later Salieri's "Tarare" took Paris by storm. Unsurprisingly, many of the plays, books or operas which included Ottomans often depicted them in a negative (on occasion even rather racist) manner. The contemporary Western society viewed the Ottoman Empire with a mixture of fascination, contempt and fear. The incredible luxury of the sultan's court, the exotic finery and goods imported from his lands and the foreign customs all intrigued the courtiers. Yet, it had not been long since the sultan's armies had massed outside of Vienna and his military prowess remained a constant threat. Finally, there were certain stereotypes which seem to have had a firm hold on the Western courts. Many considered the Turks to be more wildly passionate, less scrupulous and prone to deceit - such prejudices were bound to spill into popular culture such as operas.

Reconstruction of the Comte d'Artois'
boudoir 

Madame de Pompadour - who is otherwise best known for her delicate rococo style - appears to have indulged in the fashion for "turquerie". Besides owning several pairs of so-called harem-trousers, she also had herself painted as a sultana. Furthermore, Madame de Pompadour ordered several paintings with Turkish motifs for her apartments at the Château de Bellevue.

Such portraits usually entailed turbans and kaftans for the strikingly pale gentlemen and layers upon layers of various colourful fabrics loosely draped for the ladies. The fashion thus contracted sharply with the tightly laced bodices of the gentlewomen at court - and also illustrates the common belief that Turks were more free in their bedroom manners.

Daughter of the Earl of Carlisle

The fascination with the seemingly unending riches of the Orient also provided inspiration for the merchant providers to the court. Of these, the most infamous was Rose Bertin whose couture-shop "Le Grand Mogol" pandered to the rich and powerful while exotic silks could be bought at the similarly titled "Au Grand Turc". The dresses à la Turque were as colourful as could possibly be and often included a loosely draped belt in a contrasting colour. One of the main selling points was how comfortable these more loose-fitting gowns were compared to the rigid robes à la Française with their unbending whalebone corsets. In total, three different types of gowns were introduced as a by-product of the mania for turquerie: robe à la Turque, robe à la Sultana and robe à la Levantine. All were loose-fitting, all were colourful - and all were popular.

Lady wearing a robe à la Levantine,
1775

At masked balls, it became fashionable to wear dresses à la Turque and others emulated Madame de Pompadour's Turkish inspired portraits. Interestingly, the celebrated drawing by Cochin of the Ball of the Yew Trees (the masked ball celebrating the dauphin's marriage in 1745) clearly show two guests dressed as Ottomans. Courtiers would attempt to make their costumes as accurate as possible; luckily for those without first-hand experience of the Near East, books were at hand to help out. A courtier preparing for a ball might consult the Recueil Ferriol by the Comte de Ferriol which depicted no less than 100 different outfits worn by different social classes.

Madame de Pompadour as a Sultana by Charles-
André van Loo

By the mid-1750's and onwards, the siege of Vienna was long forgotten by the French courtiers and the fashion with everything à la Turque tended to focus more on fashion and interior design than politically charged plays.

During the 1770's and 1780's it became fashionable to decorate entire rooms in the "Turkish style". The Comte d'Artois was one who was very taken with the style. He had boudoirs installed in 1774-75 at Versailles itself, no less than three ensuite rooms in the south wing. Today, the designs chosen for such rooms would probably be seen as stereotypes. Of the surviving wall panels images such as crescent moons, men in turbans and harems were the focal points.

Marie Antoinette herself followed the footsteps of her brother-in-law and had a Turkish boudoir installed at Fontainebleau in 1777 (it was restored in its entirety in 2015). She purchased several plaques with "Turkish" motifs from 1774 until 1782; even Louis XVI bought some as late as 1787. It says something of the popularity of having a boudoir in this particular style that the otherwise sombre Madame Élisabeth also had one installed in her own estate.

The restored boudoir de Turc at Fontainebleau
- it now stands as Marie Antoinette designed it

Surprisingly, especially considering the extravagance involved, the taste for turqurie survived the turmoil of the revolution.

Marly: The Sun King's Retreat

While work was ongoing on Versailles, the Sun King set his sight on a far smaller - but far more exclusive - retreat for himself and his nearest and dearest. The plot chosen was located to the north of Versailles' park; as such, it was a secluded place, ideal for more intimate outings.

The idea was to create a space where only the king, chosen members of his family and favoured courtiers could indulge in a few days of respite from the throng of courtiers, commoners and soldiers usually found at court. Begun on 22 March 1679, the estate was the result of the cooperation between Mansart and Le Brun; their idea was to divide the château itself in a rather unusual way. Rather than having a single large palace to house all the guests, the building plan was split up. At the very centre would be the royal pavilion flanked on both sides by a total of 12 smaller pavilions (6 on each side) intended to provide housing for the chosen courtiers. The result was that the royal family lived together as a family in way that was simply not possible at Versailles.

View of the royal pavilion at the centre
with the combined 12 smaller ones for invited
guests

In true form, the pavilions were immediately dedicated to characters whose presence was already found in abundance at Versailles: Apollo (for the king's own pavilion), Hercules and Thetis as well Victory, Fame and Abundance. 

As is clear from the painting above, the masterplan behind the king's new pleasure ground required water - and lots of it. However much like Versailles, the design chosen required a lot of water. Luckily for Marly, it had more natural sources than Versailles and would eventually supply water for the fountains of the palace. This meant that a complicated hydraulic system had to be invented, installed and tested before the château could finally inaugurated. It took five whole years for that process but the fountains successfully sprouted in 1684 with the king standing by to watch. As the fountains filled with water, so the earth was filled with flowers. Immense quantities of flowers were grown and transported to the parterres of Marly. John Dixon Hunt and Michel Conan illustrated how no less than 24 % of the flowers grown for the royal estates of Versailles went to Marly. 

These two gentlemen has even provided us with the specific numbers of flowers concerned (see their book Tradition and Innovation in French Garden Art); amongst the deliveries to Marly, narcissi were by far the most dominant flower. 144.850 of them went to Marly along with 144 cases of tulips, 1.100 Spanish carnations, 1.075 irises etc. Like the greenhouses of Versailles, Marly's gardens were later chosen for the king's gardeners to grow especially rare and beautiful flowers.

Yet, it was not until 1686 - four years after the court moved to Versailles - that the buildings were finally finished enough to allow for the king to stay there. The wait was worth it: the pavilions and their lush gardens created a wonderful arena for the king to withdraw a bit from his own court. 

Reconstruction of the king's pavilion
( (c) Aristéas)

The king's pavilion - recreated above - had four large apartments on the ground floor reserved for four people: the king, the queen, Monsieur and Madame. Each apartment was accorded its own colour scheme and was associated with a season; the king's was red for the summer, the queen's was green for the spring while Monsieur's apartment was orange for autumn and Madame's blue for winter. At the very centre was a large octagonal salon built in the "Italian" style. It was likely this particular salon which formed the center piece for the numerous entertainments and gambling nights.

Floor plan of the king's pavilion

As can be seen from the floor plan above, the royal family were not the only ones to occupy the king's own pavilion. The first floor - left plan - was divided into a series of smaller apartments. Interestingly, the plan above indicate that Monsieur had been moved to the first floor while his apartment had been taken over by the Duchesse de Berry; meanwhile the queen's apartment was often lend out to the Grand Dauphin. Amongst those of the court who were given apartments on the first floor were the Duchesse du Lude, the Princesse de Conti, the Captain of the Bodyguard and several ladies of the court.

Note that the apartments on the ground floor was separated by salons of the same size - these were called Salons des Seigneurs and one housed a large billiard table.

In a rather ironic twist, Marly was meant to be a hunting château - located close to the hunting lodge-turned-palace of Versailles. The dense forests of the royal park ensured that game was plentiful and to ease the royal pastime, horses were moved there permanently. As the years went by the king - and his court - grew older. This required a few alterations such as wide paths through the park which allowed them to follow the hunt either in carriages.

Unlike the court at Versailles, Marly was a closed world. Only those invited especially by the king was allowed to reside there. But how to know if one was invited? In the true spirit of Versailles, even this became a ritual. For the gentlemen, they would approach the king after a hunt and simply ask "Sire, Marly?" - if the king approved, they were invited. If not, they were mortified. After a while, though, the king became tired of the constant questions. Instead, a list of the invited was drawn up by the king's trusted Bontemps and hung for all to see. It was generally a given that if a lady had been invited, she was entitled to bring her husband with her. 

View of the royal pavilion

Life at Marly was generally more relaxed than at court, although etiquette still reigned. However, to a regular at Versailles, it must have seemed down-right extraordinary. For instance, gentlemen were allowed to keep their hats on and everyone could sit down to gamble. Likewise, gentlemen were allowed to dine in the same room as the king - at Versailles the only man to ever be granted the honour of sharing the king's table was his brother. At Marly, the king ate at one table with the ladies while his son and grandsons entertained at other tables with the gentlemen. Several of the princesses were caught smoking pipes which the Swiss guards had provided them - after a thorough reprimand from their royal father that did not happen again. 

Quiet gambling evenings, theatrical performances and promenades made up the more usual entertainment, interspersed with the rarer - but absolutely sublime - fêtes. One thing that stood out in particular about the festivities held at Marly was their sheer extravagance. Exotic themes mingled with more rural inspired tableaux as decorations and costumes changed; some would be considered less than politically correct today such as "Chinamen" or the Ottoman Sultans. 

Plan of the park of Marly (the king's 
pavilion is the red square in the centre)

While the entertainment was splendid, there appear to have been some complaints about the living conditions. For one, the pavilions were almost inhabitable in winter due to the complete lack of insulation.  Yet the almost unrestricted closeness to the king enjoyed by those invited made up for such things. In all, the estate is estimated to have cost about 4,5 million livres. Marly became quite an expense for the royal treasury. Unlike at Versailles, the king picked up the bill for everyone involved - the guests were truly guests.

Even at Marly, the cares of state could not wait. While initially the château was intended only a pleasure house, a council chamber was soon made. During the War of the League of Augsburg, the king was kept regularly updated while staying there. The closeness to Versailles meant that sending a message would not take too long.

Courtiers were enchanted with the place; for one, the second Madame opined that Marly was much superior to Versailles. Undoubtedly, the increased relaxation and decreased number of people had a certain influence on that. Louis XIV himself never lost interest with his retreat. Throughout his life he would continue to make adjustments, embellish where he could and alter the things he no longer liked. By the end of his record-breaking reign, the Sun King spent a third of his time there.

Sadly, his enthusiasm for Marly was not shared by his successors. Neither Louis XV nor Louis XVI were enamoured with the place and let it largely go to waste. After the revolution, few of the buildings would remain and none of the magic that once reigned there.

The Terrible Household Management of the Princesse de Guéméné

Victoire-Armande-Josèphe de Rohan became the Princesse de Guéméné when she married her cousin, Henri-Louis-Marie de Rohan in 1761. As a member of the powerful Rohan-family, she was bound to lead a life at the very top of society. It was therefore not surprising when Victoire was given the prestigious post of governess to the children of France. As it happens, that precious charge had been in her family for generations as she counted amongst her relatives Madame de Ventadour (governess of Louis XV) and the Comtesse de Marsan (governess of Louis XVI).

The governess of the children of France (that is, the children of the king) was the most influential position available for women since the oppression of that of Surintendante of the Queen's Household. Besides a healthy wage the post was a goldmine for various benefits; her apartment was spacious and luxurious, she was entitled to a pension as well as the necessities provided for the children once these were changed for new ones - the latter was a very lucrative benefit, as these "necessities" included everything from linen to silverware. 

Having been appointed in 1776, the Princesse de Guéméné expected to remain in her post until her death; due to the importance of the task assigned to the royal governess, it was one of the few posts at court of which the incumbent could not be dismissed. However, behind the scenes, the personal finances of the Prince and Princesse de Guéméné were abysmal - even considering the standards of their time. By 1782 the couple was left with no other choice but to declare bankruptcy when their debts reached a staggering 33.000.000 livres.

To complete the humiliation, the bankruptcy forced Victoire to resign from her post and retire from court entirely. Once a successor had been found - the Duchesse de Polignac - it became clear exactly how mismanaged the Princesse de Guéméné's tenure had been.

Princesse de Guéméné

The household of the children of France was in utter disarray during the years 1776-82. The Princesse de Guéméné had no sense of economy and did nothing to restrict the expenditure of the household. In contrast, the household was hemorrhaging money in the six years she was in charge. It should be remembered that during her time as governess, she only had one child to look after: Madame Royale. It was not until 1781 that the dauphin was born. Therefore, the expenses ought to have been significantly lower than her predecessor, Madame de Marsan, who had had no less than five royal children to attend to: Louis XVI, the Comtes de Provence and d'Artois and Mesdames Clotilde and Élisabeth. Yet, the difference in the two households' expenditure could not have been more different.

During Madame de Marsan, the annual expenditure amounted to 100-200.000 livres. However, the Princesse de Guéméné managed to spend no less than 299.253 livres in 1779 - for Madame Royale alone! The situation became downright ridiculous when that sum rose to a staggering 539.334 livres in 1781.

Understandably, such clear financial abuse led to suspicions of deliberate abuse. Consequently a report was drawn up to clarify to the king exactly how the Princesse de Guéméné had managed his children's household. The auditor (an anonymous man) concluded that Victoire was not guilty of deliberate fraud or embezzlement. While thus cleared of criminal charges, the auditor also made it abundantly clear that her management had been disastrous. 

As an example, each royal child was given a so-called "layette" which consisted of all the necessities the child might need including and was replaced every few years. As mentioned above, it was the prerogative of the royal governess to retain whatever she wanted from the discarded layette. The auditor lamented that for some unknown reason, the Princesse de Guéméné had spent no less than five times more on Madame Royale's layette than what was usual. As stated by the unknown (but clearly exasperated) man 234.795 livres had been "thrown out the window for nothing".

Madame de Guéméné with 
Madame Royale on her lap - 
the girl's parents are represented by a bust
and a portrait respectively

The king himself does not appear to have blamed Victoire for the dismal finances either. Instead, he believed that she had gained no financial advantage from her mismanagement but had been the subject of abuse and exploitation from those around her. 

She certainly had plenty of opportunity to abuse her position. As the governess, she ordered new supplies for her charges and needed only the approval of the king himself, with the Secretary of State for the King's Household as her intermediary. As she was responsible for hiring staff for the household, it was indeed possible that she might have received a gratuity of sorts; considering that buying and selling offices were the norm, it is not unlikely.

Yet, despite the glaringly obvious explosion in expenses, few of her contemporaries appear to have truly considered it to be the fruit of malicious intent. For one, the bankruptcy of her and her husband had been caused by speculation on his behalf (and his acquaintance Marchand) - not her's. Likewise, she was generally described as a remarkably honest woman which would not correspond well with an embezzler. Even if she had siphoned money it clearly had done little to nothing to ease her own financial situation. 

As a person, Victoire might have been both honest and kind but she was undeniable deeply irresponsible when it came to her finances. While she might not have had the same amount of control over their finances  as her husband, she certainly showed no restraint in her personal expenditure. Besides owing 60.000 livres to her shoemaker alone, the Princesse de Guéméné was also had an immense gambling problem. She has been discredited with introducing Marie Antoinette to gambling for high stakes and would herself continue to place astronomical bets until the very last minute before their public declaration of bankruptcy. It does not seem that remarkable then that she would have had such difficulties managing the finances of the royal children.

Victoire in the later 1780's

While the financial aspect of her (mis)management of the children's household undoubtedly drew the most attention, the governess does not appear to have been quite up to par on her other duties. As governess to the most important children at court it was her responsibility to maintain a constant vigilance near them. Yet, when a lower-ranking servant accidentally left a sharp piece of glass in the dauphin's food, Victoire not only failed to notice but even attempted to cover up the whole affair afterwards. As a consequence, the much-prayed-for infant came dangerously close to dying in infancy. 

It says a good deal of the society at Versailles that the financial mismanagement would occasion little surprise but the carelessness of the governess caused outrage. Finances were tough for most families at court so few people could truly claim to be debt free. However, the heir to the throne - and one who had been long in the making - was entirely different. It was around him that the courtiers expected to focus their lives when he should come of age; he represented the future of the monarchy - and the nobles themselves - and the idea that he should nearly die needlessly was unacceptable.

Despite her good intentions, it would seem that the Princesse de Guéméné was entirely unsuitable for the task bestowed upon her.

The court and public at large naturally pointed a finger at the Guéméné-couple themselves but in a sadly all too familiar twist, one other person became the designated scapegoat for their ultimate bankruptcy: Marie Antoinette.

The enemies of the beleaguered queen were quick to argue that she herself had "encouraged" the couple's ludicrous spending by attending their soirées - it was argued that by doing so, she led them to host others despite not being able to afford it. The queen was also singled about - amongst a large group of people - as a party to their ferocious gambling parties. Others complained that she had not acted with sufficient decorum in the handling of the resignation of her children's governess. Few of these critics recognised that the king and queen granted the former governess an astounding pension of 60.000 livres which was large even for her former position. Unfortunately for Marie Antoinette, she had already become the go-to scapegoat for misfortune.

As for Victoire and her husband, they retired to a palace provided by her father, Charles de Rohan. During the revolution, she fled to Austria and then Bohemia where she settled permanently - her family remained there for 125 years.

The Exiles of the Chevalier de Lorraine

Philippe de Lorraine is best known under his title of Chevalier de Lorraine, the life-long passion of Philippe, Duc d'Orléans. The chevalier was a controversial figure even in his own time - as beautiful and charming as he could be, he was equally unscrupulous, manipulating and even brutal. His open relationship with the Duc d'Orléans in a time when homosexuality usually led to a death sentence was in itself enough to cause a stir. However, given the willingness shown by Louis XIV to turn a blind eye to his brother's escapades, the Chevalier might have gone unscathed through life if he had been wise enough to stay under the radar - yet, that was not in his nature.

During his lifetime, Philippe would find himself exiled from court - and the Duc d'Orléans - twice. The first exile came in January 1670 when Philippe was 27 years old and had been the Duc's lover for twelve years. After such a long time as the favourite of the king's beloved brother, the Chevalier might have considered himself somewhat untouchable. However, when the king's men barged into the Chevalier's chambers in the early hours of 30th January 1670, that illusion shattered. 

By this point, several factors had led to the forcibly removal of the Chevalier de Lorraine. The most important one has historically been attributed to none other than the Duchesse d'Orléans. Henriette of England, first wife of Monsieur, found her marriage increasingly crowded. While she might have expected her husband to take a mistress, she certainly could not have expected him to flaunt his lover in such a open manner. As the two Philippes became ever closer, it soon became clear that the Chevalier de Lorraine  held complete sway over the Duc d'Orléans - and he was scrupulous enough to take advantage of it. Hitherto, his influence had been on the increase but this development was considered problematic on two accounts.

First, Henriette had become a dear companion to the king who haboured a genuine affection for his sister-in-law. Whereas she had previously been welcomed as a new addition to the family, the king now considered her to be a valued companion. Secondly, Louis XIV was seeking an alliance with Charles II of England who happened to be Henriette's brother. It would not do to attempt an alliance while the English king's most beloved sister was subjected to various humiliations in her own house by her husband's lover. Thus, it became a matter of urgency to have the Chevalier removed, at least temporarily.

Yet, Olivier Lefèvre d'Ormesson's diary gives another hint as to why the king chose that moment to strike against his brother. The Bishop of Langres has recently died and as his diocese was located within the territory belonging to the Duc d'Orléans, he had thought himself free to bestow it as he saw fit. According to Ormesson, the Duc d'Orléans had promptly promised two abbeys in the diocese - and their incomes - to the Chevalier de Lorraine . Yet, Louis XIV refused to ratify the gift which had caused Philippe to angrily leave his brother's presence making his intentions of removing himself entirely from court obvious. He chose to retreat to the rather remote Villers-Cotterets. 

As the Chevalier de Lorraine was known to dictate his lover's actions, it is not unlikely that the king considered this anger partially due to the slighted Chevalier.

Whichever - if not all - was the reason behind the disgrace, Philippe de Lorraine found himself on the road to Lyons which would serve as his initial place of imprisonment. Here he would be held under guard at the Pierre-Encise. 

Presumed to be the
Chevalier de Lorraine

Back at court, Monsieur was furious with his brother. He bombarded the king with in turn threats, tantrums and pleas but the Duc d'Orléans himself remained away from court. Not only had he removed himself from court, but he had also used his legal prerogative as a husband to force his wife to accompany him. Perhaps that was why the king decided to have the Chevalier de Lorraine moved from Lyons into the notorious Château d'If located in the Mediterranean. If the king truly did move the Chevalier de Lorraine as a means of pressuring his brother, it worked. On 24th February - almost a month after his lover's arrest - Philippe returned reluctantly to court.

As for Philippe de Lorraine, he was released from his gloomy prison but was not welcomed back to court. Instead, it was made abundantly clear that he was to remove himself to Rome. There he would arrive in the spring of 1670 - and there he would learn of the unexpected death of Henriette. Immediately, there were those at court who insisted that he must have sent poison from Rome to be administered to his rival - after all, Italy was infamous for overflowing with poisons. 

Although he certainly did not appreciate it, Philippe de Lorraine ought to have counted himself lucky. Amongst his many titles was that of Knight of Malta and Louis XIV had allegedly been inclined to force him into fulfilling his duties as such - undoubtedly, Philippe would not have appreciated swapping his luxurious and comfortable lifestyle for one of harsher military service far removed from any semblance of influence.

While the court mourned the loss of Henriette, the Chevalier de Lorraine was sulking in Rome where he was bound to spend two whole years before finally being recalled to the French court. Once he had returned, he found a new Madame to contest with: Elizabeth-Charlotte of the Palatinate.

As it happens, it has been suggested that the Duc d'Orléans - knowing full well that his house had no male heir - made the return of the Chevalier de Lorraine  a bargaining point for agreeing to remarry. Whether true or not can be guessed at but it is a remarkable coincidence that the Chevalier de Lorraine was given his permission to return on the same day that the German princess arrived in Strasbourg...

For several years, life at the Palais-Royal marched on as it had before Philippe's first exile. His relationship with the Duc d'Orléans was as brazen as ever, as was Philippe's imposing attitude towards his lover's wife. An entire decade would elapse before Philippe once more found himself in hot water with the king - and this time it was not instigated by the king's sister-in-law, but by his own son.

Versailles had recently become the fixed residence of the fixed court in 1682 when the court was rocked by a scandal. The scandal included several young men of the finest families who were revealed to be using the gardens for their "unnatural meetings" - amongst them was the king's own son, the Comte de Vermandois. Having been born of Louise de La Vallière, the Comte de Vermandois was the king's first illegitimate son to be recognised at court. When he was implicated in the scandals, he was immediately hauled before his august father whose intense questioning finally broke the 15-year old. Vermandois confessed to having been "debauched" by a long list of high-ranking men, including the Prince de Conti - and the Chevalier de Lorraine.

Louis XIV could not public exile the Prince de Conti, a prince of the blood, without causing international scandal. However, the Chevalier de Lorraine was a different matter entirely. Probably further angered by Vermandois' claims that Lorraine had been amongst those who had attempted to entice the dauphin himself into the Italian vice, the king decided to once more made his fury known.

This time, the king chose not to send Philippe into outright exile. Instead, he informed his brother's lover that it would be in his best interest not to be seen at court too often. One could hardly be clearer. 

Yet, once the storm had passed, it did not take long for the Chevalier de Lorraine to find his place at court once more - and the king refrained from commenting on it. It is not clear exactly whether the Chevalier de Lorraine actually had "debauched" the young prince; he certainly was a part of a so-called brotherhood but it is not unthinkable that the Comte de Vermandois mentioned him when pressured by his father, the king. It would certainly seem very odd if Louis XIV should permit Philippe de Lorraine to return to court so shortly after the scandal had been exposed, if he had indeed been the driving force behind it.

While it would certainly not be the last scandal of the Chevalier de Lorraine, he would not find himself exiled again. Until his death in 1702 he remained a constant companion of Philippe - and thus continued to be a shadow that undoubtedly irritated both Philippe's brother and wife.