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Memoirs of Madame de Montespan
Aug. 26th, 2013 06:50 amThese memoirs are sharply, simply written. It's an interesting collection of sketches that depict personalities and scenes of the time - although slightly ahistorial. I'm inclined to believe that Philippe Musoni was the more likely author in 1829. These are just a little too good to be true.
There's a story included about this woman, Louise Marie-Thérèse, known as the Black Nun of Moret - according to a piece of seventeenth-century gossip, the daughter of a black page and the Queen of France! An alternative suggestion for her origins is that she was the daughter of the King and a black woman, which is more likely given the Queen's religious character and the way that pregnancy, birth, and death were closely scrutinised in the royals. (Queen Maria Theresa of Spain gave birth to a daughter in 1664, who had a dark skin due to cyanosis, and died the month after she was born.) There's a slight anti-racist critique of society in this section of the book, as it strongly implies that it's a bad idea to treat black men like court toys rather than people.
Another good story in this one is a very audacious thief who lifted a silver and crystal chandelier from the palace, with the help of an unusual accomplice.
One day the King was passing through some of the large rooms of the palace, at a time of the morning when the courtiers had not yet made their appearance, and when carpenters and workmen were about, each busy in getting his work done.
The King noticed a workman of some sort standing tiptoe on a double ladder, and reaching up to unhook a large chandelier from the ceiling. The fellow seemed likely to break his neck.
"Be careful," cried the King; "don't you see that your ladder is a short one and is on castors? I have just come in time to help you by holding it."
"Monsieur," said the man, "a thousand pardons, but if you will do so, I shall be much obliged. On account of this ambassador who is coming today, all my companions have lost their heads and have left me alone."
Then he unhooked the large crystal and silver chandelier, stepped down carefully, leaning on the King's shoulder, who graciously allowed him to do so. After humbly thanking him, the fellow made off.
That night in the chateau every one was talking about the hardihood of some thief who in sight of everybody had stolen a handsome chandelier; the Lord High Provost had already been apprised of the matter. The King began to smile as he said out loud before every one, "I must request the Lord High Provost to be good enough to hush the matter up, as in cases of theft accomplices are punished as well, and it was I who held the ladder for the thief."
The thief may've been a young woman from the Netherlands who disguised herself as a man and gained a post as feutier. When she was found to have two of the King's lace cravats, two of his shirts, one pair of his shoes, a flowered waistcoat, a plumed hat, and a portrait of him in her cupboard in her bedroom, she claimed that she'd bought the items from his valet de chambre and picked up the portrait when the Marquise de Montespan accidentally dropped it. Her excuse of being a stalker and fan rather than thief gained her twenty thousand livres from the King as a dowry, and apparently she returned home to Holland and lived happily ever after.
Nothing further was found of the chandelier.
There's a story included about this woman, Louise Marie-Thérèse, known as the Black Nun of Moret - according to a piece of seventeenth-century gossip, the daughter of a black page and the Queen of France! An alternative suggestion for her origins is that she was the daughter of the King and a black woman, which is more likely given the Queen's religious character and the way that pregnancy, birth, and death were closely scrutinised in the royals. (Queen Maria Theresa of Spain gave birth to a daughter in 1664, who had a dark skin due to cyanosis, and died the month after she was born.) There's a slight anti-racist critique of society in this section of the book, as it strongly implies that it's a bad idea to treat black men like court toys rather than people.
Another good story in this one is a very audacious thief who lifted a silver and crystal chandelier from the palace, with the help of an unusual accomplice.
One day the King was passing through some of the large rooms of the palace, at a time of the morning when the courtiers had not yet made their appearance, and when carpenters and workmen were about, each busy in getting his work done.
The King noticed a workman of some sort standing tiptoe on a double ladder, and reaching up to unhook a large chandelier from the ceiling. The fellow seemed likely to break his neck.
"Be careful," cried the King; "don't you see that your ladder is a short one and is on castors? I have just come in time to help you by holding it."
"Monsieur," said the man, "a thousand pardons, but if you will do so, I shall be much obliged. On account of this ambassador who is coming today, all my companions have lost their heads and have left me alone."
Then he unhooked the large crystal and silver chandelier, stepped down carefully, leaning on the King's shoulder, who graciously allowed him to do so. After humbly thanking him, the fellow made off.
That night in the chateau every one was talking about the hardihood of some thief who in sight of everybody had stolen a handsome chandelier; the Lord High Provost had already been apprised of the matter. The King began to smile as he said out loud before every one, "I must request the Lord High Provost to be good enough to hush the matter up, as in cases of theft accomplices are punished as well, and it was I who held the ladder for the thief."
The thief may've been a young woman from the Netherlands who disguised herself as a man and gained a post as feutier. When she was found to have two of the King's lace cravats, two of his shirts, one pair of his shoes, a flowered waistcoat, a plumed hat, and a portrait of him in her cupboard in her bedroom, she claimed that she'd bought the items from his valet de chambre and picked up the portrait when the Marquise de Montespan accidentally dropped it. Her excuse of being a stalker and fan rather than thief gained her twenty thousand livres from the King as a dowry, and apparently she returned home to Holland and lived happily ever after.
Nothing further was found of the chandelier.
