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. 

The King Without a Mistress: Louis XVI

The Bourbons were a dynasty of big appetites - for power, food and love. The position of maitresse-en-titre to the king was a coveted and influential one and the kings certainly did not hold back. Whereas both Louis XIV and Louis XV had several official mistresses - and a myriad of unofficial ones - the last king of Versailles never followed in his forefathers' footsteps.

The place of the king's official mistress brought an avalanche of benefits for the people connected with the lady in question. Positions at court, favours, estates, money - everything was within reach for the family of the one who had the king's ear. Thus, it is hardly surprising that the courtiers of Versailles were eager to place a suitable young mistress before the new king, Louis XVI.

For years, the marriage between Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette was infamously sterile; the constant scrutiny and humiliating rumours can hardly have induced the king to take a mistress, especially as it would undoubtedly raise questions regarding his marriage. After all, if the king turned out to be able to have a physical relationship with another woman, what would that say about the queen?

Louis XVI

However, once Marie Antoinette fell pregnant in 1778, the court immediately expected Louis to take a mistress. For one, he had proven that he was physically capable of intimacy. Furthermore, it was customary not to continue nocturnal visits to one's wife if she was pregnant for fear of a miscarriage; especially, if the baby was the longed-for heir to the throne. 

Interestingly, even Marie Antoinette herself was concerned that her husband might turn his attentions elsewhere. She confided in her brother that she would do her utmost to regain his affections, if he were to stray. Meanwhile, the courtiers snatched at straws in feeble attempts at placing the king's affections. The poor Louis could hardly look at a woman without immediately hearing rumours of his being infatuated with her. On one occasion, he had innocently looked at a newcomer to the theatre and asked her name - immediately, rumours began circulating that the king was interested in her.

Lady Antonia Fraser claims that the Duc de Fronsac even attempted to tempt the king by parading his own, very beautiful mistress before the king. The result was futile as the king considered the "offering" to be offensive. The lady in question - an opera dancer - was far from the only one who was assumed to be a viable candidate for the king's affections.

Some were more loyal to the king's decision. For instance, at a supper at M. de Merville, a lady asked who the king's mistress was. In response, the gracious host allegedly responded with "the Nation". 

Finally, in February 1782, Louis XVI made the matter clear once and for all. He was heard to loudly disclaim:

"Everyone would like me to take a mistress but I have no intention of doing so. I do not wish to recreate the scenes of the previous reigns"

The king undoubtedly referred to both the public humiliations endured by Marie Thérèse and Marie Leszczynska as well as the immoral concept of adultery. It should also not be disregarded that his relationship with Marie Antoinette had grown considerably closer and he might not have wished to cause her any distress. From that period on, it would seem that the court had accepted the king's position. There were no fresh attempts - recorded at least - of pushing a mistress on the king.

Louis XVI was a man of strong morals. He firmly believed in the sanctity of marriage and the idea of committing adultery upset both his sense of duty towards his wife and his religious feelings. There is no doubt that the decision to remain without a mistress was entirely his own. After all, who could have stopped him, if he had chosen a lady to fulfill the traditional role?

It is not unlikely that Louis XVI was influenced by his late parents. Both Louis Ferdinand and Marie Josèphe de Saxe were deeply religious and openly hostile towards both the king's mistresses and the concept of adultery. Louis XVI was just eleven years old when his father died which means that he had spent his formative years under the influence of his parents' viewpoints.

Sadly, as was the established pattern, the decision was blamed almost entirely on Marie Antoinette. Frustrated at not being able to exhort favours from the favourite, they blamed the queen for this deprivation of an opportunity for advancement. The public, for once, agreed entirely with the court. Surely, this reluctance on behalf of the king was a sign of the unnatural influence exerted by the queen over her husband? As such it was taken as an example of how powerful the queen had become. 

The point was that queens did not play a political role but a royal mistress could influence ministerial appointments or even international events. One need only look to Madame de Pompadour to see how politically powerful a mistress could become. In lieu of a mistress, that influence was instead thought to belong to the queen now. In reality, Louis XVI never allowed Marie Antoinette to exert political power nor is there any particular proof that she sought it. 

Traditionally, the queen was a chaste and pious figure in the public imagination whereas the king's mistress - by her very definition - was the opposite. As such, there is a rich history of public outrage and outright hatred against the king's chosen companion, but that option was now removed. The position of the queen was thus doubly despised. For one, she was blamed for the king's choice to remain faithful while simultaneously attracting the hatred of the public usually reserved for the mistress.

The paradox is that if Louis XVI had taken a mistress, the reputation of Marie Antoinette might just have been considerably better.

The Battle of the Brothers: Philippe & Louis

The balance of power between Louis XIV and his only brother, Philippe, had never been the slightest askew. Philippe was left entirely out of power and would eventually see his successful military career be halted, as well. Over the years, Philippe might have grumbled at the state of affairs, but he nevertheless understood the ways of the worlds.

Knowing full well that the instruments of power were out of his reach, the Duc d'Orléans focused his attentions on his satellite court at his various splendid residences, including the Palais-Royal and Saint-Cloud. Here, the death of his first wife, Henrietta of England, had left him without an heir to his immense fortune. After contracting his second marriage, the new Madame had quickly provided him with two sons and a daughter - both very much legitimate.

At Versailles, the king was not quite that fortunate. Marie Thérèse had given her husband six children but just one had survived childhood - the Grand Dauphin. On the other hand, the king's mistresses were far more fortunate in that department as both Louise de La Vallière and Françoise-Athénaise de Montespan had given him several living children. Living - but illegitimate. 

The king did his utmost to integrate his otherwise disenfranchised children a firm foothold in the upper echelons of French nobility. First by legitimising them, then by arranging marriage after marriage to the legitimate princes and princesses of the blood. Finally, the children of Philippe had grown enough to contemplate marriage and Louis eyed an opportunity.

Philippe, Duc d'Orléans

Initially, the idea had been a double marriage between the cousins. The heir to Philippe - the Duc de Chartres - was intended for Françoise Marie de Bourbon while Elisabeth-Charlotte was destined for the Duc du Maine. The attitudes of the parents were not particularly encouraging. The Duchesse d'Orléans was aghast and famously retorted to slapping her son in public for his acquiescence to the marriage before turning her back to the king himself. Philippe, too, was not pleased at the prospect but knew too well that his brother's will always carried in the end - better to agree immediately and reap the benefits of cooperation. 

In the end, only one of the marriages materialised: that of the Duc de Chartres to Françoise Marie. The couple were infamously ill-matched; he would later refer to her by the moniker "Madame Lucifer" whereas Françoise herself had made her sentiments clear when she declared that she cared not whether he loved her, only that he married her.

The official reasoning was that there were no other suitable candidate for the 17-year old Chartres. The on-going war ruled out any Catholic princess, the princesses of the blood were too young - so the only possible alternative was to bestow the king's own natural daughter on his nephew. The fact that a marriage could possible wait a year or two apparently did not seem reasonable.

Duc de Chartres, son of Philippe

The scene was set for family bliss (outwardly at least) which ought to have benefited the Orléans-family immensely. That was clearly the expectation of Philippe and his thought-process is not hard to follow. By bestowing his only surviving male heir on a woman who was a result of double adultery and legitimised to boot, the Duc d'Orléans was surely justified in expecting something in return. His own military career had been very promising but he had quickly become sidelined by the king. The turn had now come for his son to reap his own laurels. Consequently, the Duc de Chartres had been trained for years and by 1701 the War of the Spanish Succession had erupted.

Understandably, Chartres clearly expected to be given a prime command by his uncle/father-in-law. Yet, that was not to happen. Rather than being deployed to the front, the king kept him back to the scandal of both Philippe and Chartres. To the on-lookers, it was definitely a slap in the face and neither father nor son were prepared to overlook the snub.

Louis XIV's reasoning for denying his nephew a chance to shine was to be found in the very marriage that Philippe had reluctantly agreed to. As mentioned, the Duc and Duchesse de Chartres were anything but a happy couple, and the Duc had quickly taken an official mistress by the name of Mademoiselle de Séry. While not particularly unusual, Chartres had then taken to parading Mademoiselle de Séry for everyone to see. She was not the first one either - there had been two other ladies of dubious reputation which hardly added to the loving atmosphere at home. Naturally, the Duchesse could hardly help but seeing it as an insult - regardless of their clear dislike for each other, it was still an affront to her position.

Years of unfulfilled potential and seeing the pattern continue with his son - despite their sacrifice - brought Philippe to a rare outwards burst of rage against his brother. Meanwhile, Louis felt utterly justified in his conduct. The ground was laid for a serious clash on 8 June 1701 when the two brothers met for dinner at Marly. 

Françoise Marie

Initially, Louis reproached his brother for his nephew's "scandalous" behaviour towards his beloved daughter, Françoise. It is likely that Louis had expected the conversation to go as usual - a bit back and forth but eventually he would come out on top. However, Philippe was in no mood to humour his elder brother and immediately retorted that Chartres had done nothing which the king had not done himself to his long-suffering wife, Marie Thérèse. Apparently, Philippe pointed out that Louis had not exactly been discreet in his affairs so the argument that flaunting one's mistress was ground for public punishment was absurd. Amongst the things which Philippe allegedly threw in the king's face was the disrespect shown to Marie Thérèse when she was obliged to share the coach with both Mesdames de La Vallière and de Montespan - an incident which had caused people to gather to look at "the three queens".

One can only imagine the shock of Louis who had become increasingly focused on his religious persona after the ascent of Madame de Maintenon. Having his former behaviour thrown back at him was likely neither welcome nor even comparable to the aging king. However, if Louis had expected the reprimand to be a brief - and singular - charge from his brother, he was sorely mistaken.

Years of pent up frustrations were bubbling up to the surface. Whilst unspoken at this particular meeting, Philippe had had to suffer much at the hands of his brother - and Louis undoubtedly felt the same way. One thing was being utterly kept from any influence but the passing over entirely of Philippe - and his son - when it came to the candidature for the throne of Spain was insufferable. Given that Louis had secured his line (the devastating year of 1712 was still a decade away) it was incomprehensible to Philippe that he was not even considered when the crown of Spain became vacant. Louis XIV had chosen his second-oldest grandson, the Duc d'Anjou, as his official candidate and even presented him to the court as the king of Spain. Philippe was - once again - passed over and left wondering where his claim had gone. After all, his own claim to the Spanish crown was equally as strong as the Duc d'Anjou's, stronger even, if one considers that Philippe was the elder.

Philippe had clearly not forgotten the promises made when he agreed to let Chartres marry Françoise - promises that Louis had not kept entirely. Whilst the official ownership of the Palais-Royal had indeed changed hands and the Chevalier de Lorraine had received a handsome pay-off and a knighthood of the Saint-Esprit, there was something vital missing from the bride's dowry: a key role for the Duc de Chartres in the coming war. 

Added to that was the payment in full of the immense dowry promised. Considering the circumstances, Louis had seen fit to double to dowry he had given to his other daughter which raised the sum to 2.000.000 livres. Yet, the dowry itself had only been paid in full five years after the marriage upon the end of the Nine Years' War. One might argue that Madame was the greatest loser in the game - she had "lost" her son to the one thing she dreaded the most: an illegitimate princess. Adding to the injury was that fact that the marriage was largely promoted by her arch-enemy, Madame de Maintenon. She could not even rejoice at the financial gains as they were all given to either Philippe or the Chevalier de Lorraine. Madame herself saw not a sou.

Louis XIV in 1701

The problem was that although Louis loved his children, he was not blind either. He knew full well that the mésalliance between a legitimised person (even a king's daughter) and a legitimate prince of the blood was a massive concession on his brother's part. According to Hugh Stokes, the king retorted with a thinly veiled threat: the drain on the treasury caused by the new war meant that retrenchments in the royal pensions were inevitable. In other words - watch it or I'll cut you off.

This latest attack on the king's lack of fulfilling his own part was interrupted by the announcement of dinner. For a brief period, the brothers cooled down while dining but tempers were still raw when they parted after the food was cleared away. Whether anything of note was said between them is known only to them yet Philippe had clearly not obtained his goal of greater recognition for his son. During the whole of the dinner - witness, of course, by spectators - the king was noted to be his usual stoic self while Philippe was so obviously livid that some suggested he be bled immediately. Upon his departure, he was noticeably still furious.

That same evening, Philippe collapsed from a massive stroke which eventually proved to be his death. He died the next day at noon.

Cabinet of Curiosities: The Duc de Sully

Few people managed to assemble a truly curious collection of oddities to rival that of the Duc de Sully. Louis-Pierre-Maximilien de Béthune was born in 1685 and seemingly took the conventional path of a male aristocrat: he joined the military. Over the years, he would acquire the rank of colonel of the queen's regiment but it was his taste for the oddities of life that never truly left him.

Art, natural history, medallions, and weaponry - all featured in the duke's collection which was housed in his private residences. The collection was divided into twenty categories of which a few choice pieces are repeated here.

Plenty of courtiers shared his taste but few collections are as well-documented as his. This is due to the fact that upon his death in 1761, his collection was sold - for this purpose, an exhaustive inventory was drawn up which has survived to this day. No fewer than 792 lots were put up for auction which shows the sheer size of the collection. The auction took place on 8 March 1762.

The Duc de Sully

The collection contained numerous pieces of antiquity, including several very finely preserved statues of Egyptian priests and gods. Of the ancient Roman statues, the duke appears to have been particularly fond of Venus and Jupiter; both of whom he had several likenesses. Likewise, Etruscan antiquities, medallions and etchings were plentiful. Rather tellingly, the long list of bronze antiquities is quaintly ended with the listing of a bronze equestrian statue of none other than Louis XIV.

However, the "curious" pieces in the collection are the ones that truly draws attention:

• An ivory tooth (likely an elephant tusk) delicately carved with bacchanalian scenes

• A red coral still attached to a rock

• Two nautiluses mounted on golden stands

• Skin of a rattlesnake 

• Petrified wood

• A collection of starfish

• A lantern discovered in an ancient sepulcher 

• A gondola cut from rock crystal

• A rhinoceros' tail and two horns

• Fossil of marine animals

• Antique weapons from the Far East 

• A narwhale's horn

• Various clusters of minerals 

• A taxidermy ibis 

• 326 coins from foreign countries

• Various sea urchins 

Besides his obvious fascination with antiquity, the Duc de Sully had two other interests which clearly shines through: the Far East and natural history, particularly pertaining to the ocean. His collection was full of various types of sea creatures (both living and fossilized) including rare species of fish, starfish, corals, crabs etc. Likewise, he had an entire collection of gemstones, minerals and silver.

Animals, too, seems to have generally been a topic of interest for him. Amongst his numerous bronze sculptures, he had an entire little menagerie which included a wolf, a horse, a dog, a lion, a crab, a frog - even mythological creatures such as dragons and sphinxes.

Meanwhile, China and India has an entirely separate category dedicated solely to such exotic influences. Figurines, books, and even fabrics could be found amongst the lots at the auction. Japanese lacquerwork was also a frequent material amongst his cabinets. The duke would not have been alone in this fascination; Europe was deeply intrigued by the wonders of Asia with its magnificent luxury, revolutionary technology and utterly different traditions in art. The collection of books on the subject in his collection shows that the duke's interest was more than a mere trend but a genuine interest in the societies of the Orient.

The duc de Sully had arranged his collection in four connected rooms, as reported by d'Argenville. The first one housed etchings, maps and various drawings including numerous sculptures, particularly busts and two cabinets with fossils. The second room held his antiques, mainly the Egyptian ones, as well as his collection of engraved precious stones and antique jewellery. These were - like the fossils - kept safe in their own boxes. The third room was dominated by sea-shells - and the antique lantern - while the fourth room had medallions, coins and more antiques.

Frontispiece of the catalogue prepared for the auction

The amount of antiquities amongst his collection might indicate that the duc de Sully had a penchant solely for times long gone. However, his collection also included several pieces of far newer date, including an etching of the wedding of princess Louise Élisabeth (Louis XV's eldest daughter) to the Duke of Parma - an event which he himself would have attended. This could indicate that the duke merely appreciated good craftsmanship. 

While the duke was not particularly scholarly himself, he was allegedly always prepared to show his collection off to those who might be interested.

Abel-François Poisson, Marquis de Marigny

When Abel-François Poisson de Vandières was born in 1725, no one expected him to cut a figure at the French court. His family were not aristocratic but rather financiers. Little to nothing is known of his early childhood; it was not until his 20th birthday that his life was drastically changed. 

In 1745, his sister became the official mistress of Louis XV and assumed the name of Madame de Pompadour. The elevation of his sister was the cataclysm of his career. Once established as the maitresse-en-titre, favours began raining down on Madame de Pompadour's relatives, including Abel-François. It did not take long before he was granted an important position as the next Dirécteur-Général of the Batiments du Roi - the head of the king's buildings. The post gave him a suitable reason to remain at court, an income and some status.

Abel-François was still a young man and he was entrusted to the care of Charles Antoine Coypel for his education. He was sent on a tour of Italy in 1749 during which he collected numerous pieces of art for the royal collection. Some of the pieces were put on display at the Palais du Luxembourg; this happened to make the exhibition the first museum in France.

Abel-François

Upon the death of the current Dirécteur-Général in 1751, he was recalled to France to assume his post. To the surprise of most people, he managed to survive the premature death of his sister and remained in his post until 1773 - the longest term served in an administrative post.

Yet, despite his lucrative post and obvious favour with the king, Abel-François was not particularly well-liked by his fellow courtiers. His temper was notorious and he was never able to escape the sense of inferiority of not having a noble background. It did not help his ego that his lack of an aristocratic title meant that he was known simply as Monsieur de Vandières at court; to remedy the situation, a marquisate de Vandières was quickly discovered. The friends he did manage to gather around him praised his intelligence and his keen sense for organisation - both key characteristics of a good administrator.

His character was difficult for the courtiers to understand. He never did acquire that tact which was necessary for court life and did not seem particularly interested in advancing himself as an aristocrat. For instance, he could easily have agreed to the demands of his sister that he marry an impoverished nobleman's daughter but he did not. At the same time, he was deeply conscious of the very lack of a coat-of-arms; perhaps he resented the idea of owing his nobility to a wife?

Abel-François even shocked his dinner guests one particular evening with an unexpected display of brutality. A household servant committed some minor blunder which caused Abel-François to fly into a rage which he did little to control. In front of his horrified dinner guests, he beat his servant mercilessly before dismissing him. The event caused considerable outrage amongst his fellow courtiers. While physical punishment had long been a stable of a household, the upper classes began to consider it uncivilized to use such methods. After all, noblesse oblige. 

The incident caused Abel-François to be shunned by several high-ranking contemporaries.  However, not everyone was so easily deterred especially as Louis XV continued to show him considerable favour. Madame de Pompadour teasingly referred to him as petit frère which the king began imitating. Immediately, the star of Abel-François sky-rocketed as such a term undoubtedly indicated unbounded royal favour. To be sure, Abel-François enjoyed access to the king in a manner which few others could boast of. 

Nevertheless, he assumed to title of Marquis de Marigny in 1754. Over the years, he began to display the same taste for building as Madame de Pompadour had. He acquired numerous private residences which he filled with his immense collection of art. Professionally, he lend his considerable knowledge to various institutions including the École Militaire while acting as patron for now-esteemed painters such as Boucher, Soufflot and van Loo.

With his background as a bourgeois, an aristocratic marriage of the first class was out of the question. For years, he remained unmarried, despite the efforts of his sister to establish him firmly in the nobility. At last, he married at the age of forty-two to the just sixteen-year old Julie Marie Françoise Filleul. She was the illegitimate and unrecognised daughter of Louis XV by Irene du Buisson de Longpré. 

At this point, he remained largely out of sight. After the death of his sister several decades previously, Abel-François' tendency for privacy had increased. He had never shared her personal ambition and seemingly did nothing to further advance himself under the reign of the new king. On the contrary, he assumed a rather private existence.

The couple had a single child, a daughter who did not survive infancy. As he grew older, Abel-François began suffering from gout which greatly impeded him. He outlived Louis XV, saw the ascension of Louis XVI and the birth of the new generation of royal princes; despite his gout, his health was seemingly good. However, Abel-François died suddenly at the age of 56 in 1781.