Many mistresses were either too stupid or too self-absorbed to be interested in politics and limited themselves to appointing their friends and relatives to government positions. Most kings, prickly with pride in their God-given authority, were repelled at the thought of a woman’s meddling. After hours of discussing politics with his ministers, the king visited his mistress for a cozy dinner, light conversation, and good sex.
In the 1570s and 1580s, Archduke Francesco de Medici (1541–1587) fumed that he would brook no interference in politics by women. His mistress Bianca Cappello tactfully made Francesco believe her ideas had originated in his own brilliant mind. The archduke sank so frequently into irretrievable pits of depression that Bianca effectively ran Tuscany with her friend Secretary of State Serguidi. Together they made most of the political decisions and appointments to important posts. Even after the archduke married his mistress in 1578, Bianca, now the archduchess of Tuscany, still remained seemingly in her woman’s role in the background, quietly pulling all the strings.
Some kings, however, cherished the sage political advice of their clever mistresses, many of whom spoke honestly, unlike the royal ministers. The quiet pillow talk in a curtained four-poster bed often had greater effect than the bobbing and angling of ambitious ministers pushing one self-aggrandizing plan or another. “Ah, and who is left now to tell one the truth?” lamented Louis XV upon hearing of the death of his mistress Madame de Châteauroux.1
The first mistress to wield true royal power in her own right was, naturally, French. In the 1550s Diane de Poitiers, the older, wiser mistress of Henri II, signed official documents; appointed ministers; bestowed honors, pensions, and titles; and bequeathed and revoked great estates. She became a member of the privy council and exerted great influence over the other members.
To help fill the empty royal treasury Diane imposed taxes—most notably on salt and church bells. She signed her name simply as Diane—as royalty did—not bothering with the string of ungainly titles most nobles proudly trailed behind their names. Sometimes both Diane and the king signed a document, their signatures running together as “HenriDiane.” When a group of cardinals protested her influence, she sent thirteen of them to Rome, ostensibly to represent French interests, but really to get them out of her way at court.
“Paris is well worth a Mass”
In the 1590s, Henri IV of France issued a royal decree that all foreign ambassadors be presented to his mistress Gabrielle d’Estrées, stipulating that all French nobility, clerics, and officials visiting the court wait on her immediately after speaking to the king himself.
Gabrielle possessed a great gift for using women’s weapons—persuasion, conciliation, and charm—rather than men’s—battle axes, cannonballs, and swords—to iron out the turbulent conflicts besetting France. Born Catholic, Gabrielle convinced Protestant Henri to convert to Catholicism to end the religious civil war, prompting him to maintain, “Paris is well worth a Mass.”2
Although the king made Gabrielle the marquise de Monceaux and later the duchesse de Beaufort, she had no official position at court to match her diplomatic duties. No-nonsense Henri, adept at calling a spade a spade, appointed her “Titulary Mistress of His Majesty, the King of France.”3 Armed with her new title, Gabrielle communicated directly with the pope. The Vatican had been supporting the Catholic League led by Spain against Henri and had not stopped supporting it after what they considered to be his fraudulent and politically motivated conversion to Catholicism. Philip II of Spain made routine incursions into the south of France, draining Henri’s resources.
Gabrielle, sending the pope copies of her letters patent naming her “titulary mistress,” politely requested that His Holiness stop supporting a useless war now that Henri had become a true son of the church. She reminded him that it was she who had convinced Henri to become Catholic, and hinted darkly at the possibility of France breaking with the church completely, as England had sixty years earlier, if the Vatican continued to support the kingdom’s enemies. Two weeks later, the pope instructed all religious houses in France to pray for the health of King Henri IV. When Henri was informed of the pope’s acceptance of his conversion he was heard to say, “Gabrielle has succeeded where others have failed.”4
Gabrielle then set to work settling the differences between Henri and the duc de Mayenne, head of the powerful de Guise family. Mayenne had been the leader of the Catholic League; he still held a large body of troops and refused to make peace with the king. Mayenne’s female relatives were close to Gabrielle; a scheme was hatched among the women to force the men to make peace. Gabrielle persuaded Henri to be more conciliatory to his adversary, and the de Guise women set to work on Mayenne to give up a lost cause. Finally, Gabrielle conferred with Mayenne himself for two days in a small château, ironing out the details of his surrender. Henri made many concessions—including a large sum in gold and three châteaus—to pacify his enemy.
Gabrielle had become Henri’s most important diplomat but had no official seat in the council, where national policy was made. Yet there was a precedent—only forty years earlier Diane de Poitiers had served on the council. In March 1596, bypassing with royal aplomb the customary steps, Henri bestowed on Gabrielle the set of gold keys which gave her the right to join the council. To deflect criticism, at the same time he wisely gave an identical set to his sister, the devout Catherine. And so he appointed two female council members in one fell swoop, Gabrielle known for her diplomatic skill, and Catherine for her saintliness. On many public occasions after this it was observed that Gabrielle, instead of flaunting her magnificent diamonds, proudly wore her little gold keys on a chain about her neck.
In 1597 the duc de Mercoeur, virtual ruler of the state of Brittany, led the last pocket of rebellion. When war looked inevitable and the two armies faced each other across the battlefield, Gabrielle invited Mercoeur’s wife to a tête-à-tête with her in a carriage. The two women arranged Mercoeur’s surrender under honorable terms and a marriage between their children. They then set to work persuading their men to agree to their decision. And so Henri’s last victory was achieved without shedding a drop of blood. It was a woman’s victory.
The civil war having been finally quelled, Henri looked toward preventing another one. Tensions between Catholics and Protestants ran deep, and Henri looked for a way to reconcile the two groups. Henri’s Huguenot sister and Catholic mistress set to work. The duc de Montmorency, constable of France, wrote, “Madame [Catherine] and the Duchess de Beaufort have begun their formidable task of reconciling the unreconcilable. They will need to exercise their command of the arts of persuasion to the utmost and to utilize the natural charms with which they are endowed, for surely no two women have ever undertaken a more difficult task.”5
Some Catholics resented being lectured on the subject of religion by the king’s mistress. These were reminded that it was Gabrielle who had convinced the pope himself to accept Henri into the church. Henri was thrilled at Gabrielle’s success in convincing powerful Catholics, one by one, to accept his decree of religious toleration. He wrote, “My mistress has become an orator of unequaled excellence, so fiercely does she argue the cause of the new Edict.”6 Through a combination of warm charm and cold threats Gabrielle pushed her point home. In 1598 the Edict of Nantes was signed granting Huguenots certain rights while deferring to Catholics. The sure sign of the edict’s justice was the fact that both sides went away grumbling. But Henri was thrilled and knew he could not have issued the edict without Gabrielle’s diplomatic skill.
“We must never yield our mind”
Henri’s grandson Louis XIV did not permit his mistresses any great exercise of political power. Louis himself in his memoirs, which were intended to help his heir rule after him, wrote, “Time given up to love affairs must never be allowed to prejudice affairs of state…. And if we yield our heart, we must never yield our mind or will…. We must maintain a rigorous distinction between a lover’s tenderness and a sovereign’s resolution…
and we must make sure that the beauty who is the source of our delight never takes the liberty of interfering in political affairs.”7
Louis’s Madame de Montespan had little interest in politics, but she demanded that her views be heard in the realms of art, architecture, literature, and music. Her protégés included Molière, Racine, Boileau-Despréaux, and La Fontaine. Her only success in the political domain was in getting her candidates appointed to high-level positions—and even then, she usually promised much and delivered little.
One courtier, the marquis de Puyguilhem, tired of waiting for her to procure for him a coveted position at the king’s disposal, actually hid beneath her bed while she was out having lunch with Louis, knowing they would return to her room for sex afterward. Silent as the grave, the marquis listened to the royal lovemaking and their postcoital conversation. He was furious to hear Madame de Montespan argue against his appointment, despite her glittering promises.
Later, as Madame de Montespan and her ladies started walking toward the palace theater, the marquis accosted her, calling her a dog’s whore and a liar and repeating word for word what she had said to the king. Shaking with fear—certain that the devil himself was in league with Puyguilhem against her—the royal mistress stumbled to the theater, where she promptly fainted and was revived only with great difficulty.
“Ladies have a great influence over the mind of the King of England”
While Louis XIV did not allow his mistresses political influence, he knew his cousin Charles II was far more susceptible to their blandishments. In 1670 Charles first spotted Louise de Kéroualle among the retinue of his sister Princess Henrietta, who had married Louis XIV’s brother, during her visit to England. Thunderstruck with admiration, Charles asked to keep the girl at his court. Knowing her brother’s debauchery, Henrietta firmly refused and took Louise back to France. Within weeks Henriette was dead, and the French king, hoping Louise could help France more than Charles’s mistress Lady Castlemaine had, agreed that Louise should be sent to England.
The ambassador of Savoy informed his monarch of Louise’s arrival at the English court. “Mademoiselle de Kéroualle… is a beautiful girl,” he related, “and it is thought the plan is to make her mistress to the King of Great Britain. He [Louis XIV] would like to dethrone Lady Castlemaine, who is his enemy, and… his Most Christian Majesty would not be sorry to see the position filled by one of his subjects, for it is said the ladies have a great influence over the mind of the King of England.”8
Louise was in no rush to give her virginity to the English king. She wanted to make sure he appreciated the great gift she was about to bestow on him, and thought that his gratitude would be proportionate to the amount of time he was required to wait. As the months went by, and Charles’s admiration for Louise remained encouraged but unsated, the French ambassador began to stir uneasily—Louise was taking so long that she risked losing the king’s interest entirely.
A full year after her arrival in England, the envoys were happy to inform the French minister that Louise had been nauseated. The dispatch reported, “The affection of the King of England for Mademoiselle de Kéroualle increases every day, and the little attack of nausea which she had yesterday when dining with me makes me hope that her good fortune will continue.”9
The French foreign minister replied eagerly, “The King was surprised at what you wrote me concerning Mademoiselle de Kéroualle, whose conduct while she was here, and since she has been in England, did not inspire much expectation that she would succeed in achieving such good fortune. His Majesty is anxious to be informed of the result of the connection which you believe exists between the King and her.”10
But these royal hopes were inspired, after all, by only a fit of indigestion. There had been no sex between Charles and Louise. Disappointed, the French envoys felt that Louise didnot understand the importance of her position and was not doing her duty for her country. They were afraid that another pretty face—one less prudish than Louise—would steal the English king away, and Louise would irrevocably lose her chance. But after applying pressure to her from all sides—including the threat of sending her to a strict convent—the French ambassador wrote, “I believe that I can assure you that if she has made sufficient progress in the King’s affection to be of use in some way to his Majesty, she will do her duty.”11
Louise finally did her duty in late October 1671. It is reported that she lounged around in a state of undress—petticoats and shift, but no stays—and after a mock marriage ceremony, finally bedded the king. The proof was in the pudding—nine months later she gave birth to a son, whom she named Charles.
The French ambassador—and Louis XIV—were ecstatic at their success. Now they finally had King Charles under their thumb. Ambassador Colbert wrote to Minister Louvois, “I have made Mademoiselle de Kéroualle very joyful by assuring her that his Majesty would be very pleased that she maintains herself in the good graces of the King. There is every appearance that she will possess them for a long time, to the exclusion of everyone else.”12
The ambassador was correct. Louise initially took over the official duties of the queen, and finally, some offices of the worn-out king. By the early 1680s, Charles had passed his fiftieth birthday and was aging rapidly. A lifetime of hard living, combined with the long-term effects of venereal disease, was gently pushing him toward the grave. He often left London to frolic at Windsor with Nell Gwynn, leaving affairs of state in the capable hands of Louise, who, though she had no official power, worked assiduously behind the scenes in elections, appointments, arrests, and foreign policy. Charles, who twenty years earlier had vowed never to allow a woman to hold the reins of power, gratefully handed them to Louise.
It was a wise choice, for Louise had political talents unlike any of the king’s other mistresses. Lady Castlemaine was solely concerned with stuffing honors, titles, jewels, and subsidies into her pockets and then howling for more. The fiery Hortense Mancini was too busy conducting love affairs with men and women at court to meddle in affairs of state. Nell Gwynn preferred practical jokes to politics, calling herself “a sleeping partner in the ship of state.”13
“You are turning the King yellow”
More powerful even than Louise de Kéroualle, Madame de Pompadour wielded the greatest power of any royal mistress ever. Initially she was interested only in her romance with Louis XV. But once she found herself clawing for survival in the snake pit of Versailles, she was clever enough to know she needed friends in high places. The new mistress started—tentatively at first—sounding out which courtiers were her friends and which were her enemies. She used her influence with Louis to dismiss high-level officials who stood resolutely against her and replace them with her friends. One of her first steps was to replace the comptroller, who had remonstrated against her extravagance, with a friend of hers who immediately paid all her bills without question.
Soon, Madame de Pompadour controlled the plum prizes of pensions, titles, honors, and positions at court. The king, relieved that he did not have to make all the decisions himself, gratefully relied on his mistress to take care of them. The great majority of courtiers, ministers, government officials, and even struggling artists decided to befriend her. In the morning, they were allowed to crowd into her rooms to watch in awestruck admiration as she applied her makeup. A young writer named Marmontel handed her a manuscript he was working on and asked for her comments. Several days later, he wrote, “I presented myself one morning at her toilette when the room was crowded by an assemblage of courtiers.” To his surprise, Madame de Pompadour took the young man into her private office to return his manuscript marked with corrections and suggestions. When they returned to the pool of humanity swimming in her drawing room, “All eyes were turned on me,” Marmontel relates, “on every side I was greeted by little nods and friendly smiles, and before I left the room I had received enough dinner invitations to last the whole week.”14
As the sexual relationship between Madame de Pompadour and the k
ing waned, her political power increased. Messages designed for the king’s eyes alone first had to pass through the mistress’s hands, and it was she who decided if they were important enough to bother Louis. Ambassadors found they could see the king only in the company of the maîtresse-en-titre, who carefully observed to see if Louis was turning yellow, a clear indication that the conversation was upsetting him. When Monsieur de Maurepas, minister of Paris as well as secretary of state and secretary of the navy, involved the king in a long, boring discourse, Madame de Pompadour dismissed him smartly by saying, “Monsieur de Maurepas, you are turning the King yellow. Good day to you, Monsieur de Maurepas.”15 The minister waited in vain for the king to countermand his mistress’s order. When this did not come he withdrew, seething with anger that a middle-class female nobody should throw him out.
After five years as the king’s mistress, Madame de Pompadour moved from her cozy apartments under the eaves of Versailles, directly above the king’s chambers, to palatial apartments on the ground floor, directly below them. Again, her suite was connected to the king’s with a secret staircase. In these grand rooms, she worked for thirteen years as the unofficial prime minister of France. Indeed, she had far more power than any of Louis’s ministers, as it was she who appointed them. In 1753 the marquis d’Argenson wrote, “The mistress is Prime Minister, and is becoming more and more despotic, such as a favorite has never been in France.”16
Sex with Kings Page 17