Hotel Soubise,
built for one of the king’s mistresses
The Marais, the most stylish neighborhood in 17th
century Paris, would never be the same after the reign of Louis
XIV. The Sun King, who did so much to make France the power in Europe,
inadvertently cast a shadow on the Marais.
Louis’s
reign was defined by prestige, glamour and glory. In deciding to
move to Versailles, he shifted the center of power southwest, about
30 kilometers from Paris, to his magnificent palace, showcasing
splendid gardens and fountains, a stunning hall of mirrors, but
above all, his absolute power. Versailles became the hub of refinement.
And the king was at its center.
As time went on, Parisian high-society began to flock
to the Left Bank, an easier commute to Versailles. This was toward
the end of the 17th century, after the king officially moved his
court in 1682. And so the elegant quarter of the 18th century sprang
up around the grand and incongruent church of St. Sulpice and its
surroundings and the Marais went into decline.
The debonair Louis XIV
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Hotel d’Albret
meeting place of the well-heeled
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The callow Louise de la Vallière,
Louis’s chaste mistress |
However, the Marais remained a nucleus of culture
during the 17th century. Aristocrats attended salons to banter and
parry their wit. An ambitious host or hostess would open their townhouse
to the smart set. Amusement was the aim, along with refining tastes
and gaining knowledge through clever conversation and readings.
Unexpectedly, however, the Marais and the salon soon became the
breeding ground for one of the king’s most notorious vices:
his mistresses.
Two
of Louis’s long-term mistresses, Athénaïs de Montespan
and Françoise Scarron, later Mme de Maintenon, would meet
at the Hôtel d’Albret (31, rue des Francs Bourgeois).
This elegant townhouse still stands. The sinuous street, rue Franc
Bourgeois, lined with one mansion after another, was the Park Avenue
of its day. And it is no surprise that the Hôtel d’Albret
was one of the finest gathering places for the well-heeled. Athénaïs
was a regular when she was already Louis’s mistress. Françoise,
a bit down-on-her-luck, was also gravitating to this world.
For a royal, marriage in the 17th century was
rarely an affair of the heart. The arrangement usually came with
some political alliance. When Louis was married to the Infanta of
Spain (Maria-Thérèse) in 1660, peace between the two
great powers was assured. However, it was said that Louis blanched
at the sight of his new bride. No great beauty, she was Louis’s
first cousin and looked slightly inbred. The Infanta was dumpy,
had stubby black teeth and stumpy legs. She always spoke French
with a thick Spanish accent, and worst of all, she lacked wit! The
king made do, and always treated her respectfully. After the King
had provided an heir to the throne, his attentions began to wander...
Louis’s
first serious affair of the heart was Louise de la Vallière.
His mother, Anne of Austria, engineered the meeting. Anne, concerned
that Louis was showing interest in Henriette, the wife of Louis’s
flamboyant homosexual brother, came up with a distraction. She had
several attractive single women fluttering around Louis during meals.
Her ploy worked. Louis became smitten with the lovely Louise.
As a young adult, the Sun King was somewhat shy.
The sweet, unsophisticated Louise was his first initiation into
love and historians cast this bond as an idyllic affair. However,
the callow Louise always felt uncomfortable in her role as the titular
mistress. Everyone’s favorite 17th century gossip, the Marquise
de Sévigné, dubbed Louise “a shrinking violet.”
Perhaps Louise’s greatest error was to choose as friend and
confidante (someone to shield herself from the back-biting court),
the sultry Athénaïs de Montespan.
Françoise Athénaïs de Mortemart,
Madame de Montespan, was a tempestuous creature. An exquisitely
beautiful woman, one courtier called her “the rare masterpiece
of the gods.” Voluptuous, clever and charming, she had sex
appeal. And the king noticed.
The sultry Athénaïs
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Madame de Maintenon
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Princess Soubise,
another mistress |
Athénaïs held the king’s attentions
for an incredible 12 years, having seven illegitimate children thanks
to his ardent affections. This was precisely the problem. Athénaïs
was already married, so the children needed to be brought up with
prudence and in secrecy.
Mme
de Montespan’s choice of governess was clear from the outset.
She wanted someone who would pose no threat in terms of Louis’s
affections as she herself had with Louise. She immediately thought
of her friend, the Widow Scarron, her chum from the Albret home.
In an ironic twist, however, each of Louis’s
long-term mistresses would be provided unwittingly by the previous
one. This is precisely what happened with Widow Scarron.
A bright, extremely Catholic and reserved woman,
Françoise d’Aubigny was attractive, but not alluring
like Athénaïs. At first, the King was not fond of her,
but he soon grew to appreciate her kindness to his children and
her discretion.
Hers was an incredible destiny filled with reversals.
Born in a debtor’s prison, Françoise d’Aubigny
came from a noble, but penniless family. She lost her parents early
on. Without a proper dowry, the nunnery seemed her only option.
However the bawdy wit Paul Scarron, a twisted invalid in a new-fangled
wheelchair, offered her marriage. He held court at his salon in
the Marais (his mansion no longer exists), and it was there Françoise
met great artists and intellects of the day. She mingled with the
upper crust and learned to make herself indispensable to them.
This was a wise move on her part, because when Scarron
died, he left her nothing but debts. The wealthy came to her aid
and she was given a small allowance by the King’s mother,
Anne of Austria. During this period she spent a lot of time at the
Albret home and met Athénaïs. She would eventually receive
the job offer of a lifetime: secret governess to the king’s
“royal bastards.”
Bringing
these children up in the utmost secrecy was not an easy task, but
the Widow Scarron fulfilled her role. In time, the king legitimized
the children and moved them to apartments at Versailles along with
Françoise, on whom he bestowed the title: Madame de Maintenon.
Perhaps she was a woman with a mission. As a pious
Catholic, Madame de Maintenon wanted to save the king’s soul.
This was no easy feat. Even the King’s confessor, Père
la Chaise, the priest associated with the Baroque church St. Paul
in the Marais (rue St. Antoine) had to take his leave when he saw
a situation looming that would be tricky to absolve.
And in retrospect, even while the king was head-over-heels in love with Athénaïs, he had countless passing
fancies: Madame de Ludre, Mademoiselle des Oeillets, Mme de Thiange
(Athénaïs’s sister), the Princess Soubise (eventually
she built the largest mansion in the Marais thanks to her liaison
with the king), and Mademoiselle de Fontange are the most notable.
Clearly, the king had powerful lusts when it
came to food, sex and building. His appetites could hardly be quelled
and polygamy seemed to be the rule. At one point, his mother criticized
him for his philandering, saying he was a poor role model. The king
actually broke down, but claimed he couldn’t help himself.
Later he began to lose interest in Athénaïs.
Her weight gain was one of the causes. The King also grew tired
of her explosive fits. And her implication in the Affair of the
Poisons was probably the fatal blow.
Wags at court had a field day as it became obvious the king was infatuated with Madame de Maintenon.
They would say the king was with the “has-been” and
the “now” (the name “Maintenon” is a homonym
for the word “maintenant” meaning “now”
in French).
Eventually
Athénaïs had no choice but to retire from court. And
when the Queen, Marie-Therese, died in 1683, everyone wondered who
the most powerful man in Europe would wed? What Royal would have
him? It turned out to be Madame de Maintenon. They married in a
secret ceremony. Louis was faithful to her in the end. So much so,
that Françoise complained of having to perform her marital
duties into her 70s. Yet the king’s devotion to her was touching
and he called her “my solidity.”
And so the extraordinary story of the Sun King, his
many loves, the Marais and Versailles comes to a close.
Pamela Grant organizes some of the best tours you
can find in le Marais, in both English and French. Just write to
her and ask for more information or a full tour on the Marais.
Pamela Grant
Paris Perspectives
pamela.grant@noos.fr |
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