THE BAD GIRLS OF VERSAILLES

By

JUDY WILLMORE

PART I

December 2023

Just how bad could ladies get in the court of Louis XIV? Suppressed, dominated, controlled first by their parents, then by their husbands—until they finally exploded. In my historical mystery, The Menagerie, I use the metaphor of the little menagerie Louis built in Versailles–just like a cage for the nobles, trapped, always dependent on the king’s favor. For the ladies, the chains were even tighter, and The Menagerie focused on how they vented their rage through witchcraft and poison. (See below for my sources.)

Witness the famous Mancini sisters—two went on the run from their insanely jealous husbands, zig-zagging across Europe, their escapades followed breathlessly by a shocked public. The other two took a more sinister approach to deal with their annoying spouses and rivals.

And there were two other ladies, collateral damage, so to speak—a royal mother, then her royal daughter, both dead under suspicious circumstances. Poison?

Our story begins in 1646: A little princess landed on the shores of France, fleeing the English Civil War—Henriette d’Angleterre, Henrietta of England, daughter of Charles I, soon to be beheaded; and sister of Charles II, still in England trying to regain the throne. Henriette and her mother went to live in the Louvre with the very young Louis XIV. France was ruled not by the king but by the Italian Cardinal Mazarin, who had replaced Cardinal Richelieu. The Cardinal soon invited his relatives to join him in his very good fortune. (The populace hated him for the wealth he had amassed.)

 THE MAZARINETTES:

In 1654, the Cardinal’s nieces and nephew arrived with their mother, and their mother was uneasy about one of them: their father, Lorenzo Mancini, was an astrologer, and the parents looked at little Marie’s chart with dismay. Mother wanted her to stay behind and spend her life in a convent; but Marie pointed out, “But Mother, there are many convents in France.” What could go wrong?

There were originally five sisters, but the oldest, Laure, died in childbirth, so four remained: Olympe, born July 11, 1638; Marie, born August 28, 1639; Hortense, born June 6, 1646; and Marie-Anne, born 1649. (Her actual date of birth was not recorded.) The sisters arrived with their brother Philippe, born in 1641, and they were all about the same age as Henriette, born June 16, 1644. The girls were known collectively as the Mazarinettes, darlings of the Court of Louis XIV; pretty, talented, and very entitled.

Marie went on to become an accomplished astrologer; and as an astrologer myself, I decided to follow their stories through their charts. Their actual birth times are not recorded, but their father Lorenzo certainly knew. He is described as a necromancer, someone who summons spirits of the dead through magical incantations, and also as an astrologer. He did not know, however, the existence of the three outermost planets: Uranus, the Unpredictable Revolutionary; Neptune, Illusion and Confusion; and Pluto, whose motto is Transform or Die. He might have kept all the girls home if he had considered those planets. And probably their brother.

As they grew older into nubile teens, the siblings entered the world of the Sun King, Louis XIV, an extraordinarily good-looking and very talented young man who could have any woman he wanted (for sex). Still, he had no choice in whom to marry. The Queen Mother and the Cardinal were in charge of that. Throughout his reign, noble ladies plotted and schemed to get into his bed, not for marriage but for the power it brought to them and their families. All that scheming led to The Affair of the Poisons, in which two of these charming little girls played starring roles.

So, who would get the King first? When they were just in their early teens, Louis annoyed his mother when he refused to dance with skinny little Henriette, complaining he would be dancing with the “bones of the Holy Innocents.” (As she blossomed, their relationship would change markedly in a few years.) Who next? 

OLYMPE MANCINI, COMTESSE DE SOISSONS

It was Olympe. She had a quick wit (Venus in Gemini), but she was not as pretty as her sisters: she had a long nose and was nicknamed “The Snipe.” (“The snipe is a common bird,” a courtier observed, “who sticks its nose in the mud in search of prey.”)  When her father Lorenzo did Olympe’s chart, he saw a girl who could take romance seriously, with deep feelings (Sun and Moon in Cancer) and with intense Mars in Sagittarius opposite Venus in Gemini. But Lorenzo didn’t know about the outer planets: Uranus made her offbeat, very original; and he didn’t know about Pluto—it was conjunct her Venus and opposite her Mars, and she was not about to let anyone get in the way of her lust for power.

In 1657, the same year she married the Comte de Soissons, Olympe maneuvered her way into the King’s favor. It seems to have been a transactional relationship based on desire and her need for status. It’s unknown how far this went; the courtiers noted them bantering back and forth, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. Luckily, her husband didn’t care; he was perhaps involved in his own affairs. (At court, jealous husbands were actually looked down on as being bourgeoise.) Olympe wound up having eight children, presumably by her husband. Or perhaps by others.

 PHILIPPE MANCINI, DUC DE NEVERS

Meanwhile, the girls’ brother Philippe, with the Crown’s permission, had introduced Louis’ younger brother (titled Monsieur) to gay sex so he would be feminine and not be a rival to Louis. But Monsieur much preferred men anyway—he was not only gay, he was flamboyant with rouge and lace. Being the King’s brother, other men pursued him just like the women went after Louis for power and favors. Because of Monsieur, the Crown couldn’t go after homosexuality, even though it was illegal. We shall see the girls’ brother Philippe keep popping up occasionally, in and out of trouble with his wandering sisters.

 MARIE MANCINI, PRINCESS COLONNA

In 1658, little sister Marie joined the court. She was very pretty and could dance and sing, a big plus for a court always putting on ballets. Big sister Olympe must have been annoyed because Marie and Louis spent a lot of time together; and when he fell seriously ill, it was Marie who wept and constantly inquired about his health. And that cinched it. They became inseparable. And both their mothers, not to mention the Cardinal, were alarmed.

Queen Mother Anne fretted because her son was destined to wed royalty, not a niece of the Cardinal. And Marie’s mother now regretted not putting her daughter in a convent. She undoubtedly told the Cardinal about Marie’s astrological chart. They moved her miles away and tried to stop their letters, but nothing worked. The Cardinal finally pleaded with Louis in a letter that reads like a textbook description of Mars in Leo conjunct her Moon and Sun in Virgo. He wrote: “…she has an ambition without bounds, a restless and awkward spirit, a contempt for all the world, no prudence in her conduct…”

Surely the Cardinal, plus both mothers, also knew Louis’ chart, which reveals the depth of their attraction: he also has a Sun in Virgo and Moon and Venus conjunct in Leo. The two lovers matched up completely. Leo demands to be the center of attention, and for a woman, especially in that day and age, her forceful Mars in Leo foretold big trouble. The separated lovers were in tears, sending each other secret messages. The Cardinal and Queen Anne were furious.

But while negotiations began for Louis to marry Spanish princess Marie-Therese, the Cardinal’s spies had an idea: why not distract Louis with another girl? And they had just the one—Marie’s sister, Olympe. They encouraged Olympe to spend even more time with him, promising her she could be the new Queen’s Household Superintendent. So, while Marie languished far from court, Louis again hooked up with Olympe.

Marie was humiliated by being supplanted first by her sister; then she had to attend Louis’ royal wedding, where she was received politely, but coldly. She realized she needed a suitable marriage for herself. The Cardinal soon found Lorenzo Colonna, an Italian nobleman with a long list of titles (Duke, Prince, Constable, etc.). Marie agreed, sight unseen, and in February 1661, signed the marriage contract. But she was hearing stories about how Italian women were treated, even worse than French women, with very little freedom. What would happen to her?

Marie set off on the sea journey to Italy, and in June 1661, she finally arrived in Naples to wed Lorenzo in person. She had gotten quite ill on the way, but her new husband was in a hurry—he had heard she had been the beloved of the King of France, and he had to find out how beloved. Just after the quick wedding, he dragged her downstairs of her royal barge and promptly deflowered her. Soon after, he emerged from the bedroom displaying a bloody towel, declaring to all, astonished, that she had been a virgin. And that was her introduction to Italian marriages.

HORTENSE MANCINI, DUCHESSE DE MAZARIN

Meanwhile, back at court, the Cardinal had another pressing problem: he was in failing health and had another niece left to marry off: 15-year-old Hortense. Also, what to do with his fabulous possessions? He was perhaps the wealthiest man in Europe. Who should inherit his priceless paintings, sculptures, and jewelry? He considered Charles II, King of England, but Charles had just recently regained the throne and needed a royal wife. Then there was the Duke of Savoy, but those negotiations fizzled. (Ironically, both Charles and the Duke would reappear in Hortense’s life, and just in time.)

Then the Cardinal found just the man: Armand-Charles de la Meilleraye, who had been lusting after the girl since she was ten. The Cardinal ignored this very inappropriate fixation. Armand-Charles was incredibly devout and strict; surely he would keep Hortense, who loved pleasure, in check. And so, the Cardinal gave away his niece, his possessions, and his name: Hortense’s husband took her family name, becoming Duke Mazarin.

Hortense sighed and accepted it. Unlike her sisters, she was not a romantic and really didn’t understand Marie’s obsession with the King. She was offbeat, different, and quite possibly what we would call now queer—and rather unstable, with her Moon in Pisces square Pluto conjunct her Sun in Gemini.

She married Armand-Charles on March 1, 1661, and they moved into the Cardinal’s magnificent chateau filled with priceless paintings and sculpture. One week later, Cardinal Mazarin died. “Thank God he’s croaked!” she exclaimed, and that comment says as much about her as it does about the Cardinal, for Hortense found out quickly what kind of man she married. Her husband wasn’t just crazy jealous; he was just crazy. Armand-Charles was obsessed with sex and religion: he claimed the Angel Gabriel spoke to him; he was worried about milkmaids milking cows and their “immodest” gestures churning milk; he even knocked the teeth out of one milkmaid because she was too pretty. Anything Hortense thought was amusing, anyone she enjoyed, he forbade. He had to have her within sight sat all times, and when not with him, she had to be praying. He kept her pregnant and isolated and insisted she accompany him on long journeys. At one point, far from home, she had to give birth in their carriage. He was paranoid about anything she did and every conversation she had with anyone other than himself. And under French law, he had every right.

One baby after another, Hortense plotted her escape.

MADAME HENRIETTE

At the end of March 1661, Henriette d’Angleterre, sister of Charles II, married Louis XIV’s gay brother Philippe. He was titled Monsieur, so she became Madame. She was no longer the skinny little girl Louis had turned down for a dance: Henriette was lovely, charming—but she was not very stable. She was a Gemini, flitting about like a butterfly, her Venus in Leo and Mars in Aries, bouncing her from lover to lover. Her Moon conjunct Uranus in Scorpio destined her to conspiracies, and her Mars in Aries conjunct Saturn led her to “Mr. Wrong” more than once.

At first, Madame and Monsieur got along. But Monsieur had his own male lovers, and they wound up making Henriette’s life miserable. It started with Monsieur’s former lover, the Comte de Guiche.

For the women weren’t the only ones to rebel. Two years before Madame Henriette married Monsieur, there was a scandalous debauch on Good Friday in which the drunken gay participants parodied the holiday by waylaying a priest and forcing him to baptize a pig “carp” so they could eat meat. They turned paschal tunes into very irreverent choruses, and it went downhill from there. Present were, among others, the girls’ brother Philippe Mancini, the Comte de Guiche, and the Chevalier de Lorainne. When the Cardinal found out, all the participants were banished to their respective chateaus. Probably because Monsieur and his dear friends were gay, the Crown did not go any farther. When Philippe finally emerged from his banishment, the Cardinal made him Captain-Lieutenant of the King’s Musketeers; but his lack of interest in the military led to the post going to the famous Captain d’Artagnan.

Royal love lives got complicated in July 1661, when Madame Henriette and the King fell for each other. They tried to keep it a secret, so they set up the very young and naïve Louise de la Vallière to pretend to the world that she, not Henriette, was the King’s mistress. It worked all too well. The King and Louise actually fell in love, which disappointed Madame and infuriated Olympe, stuck on the sidelines. The versatile Comte de Guiche, described as very handsome and arrogant, saw his chance and seduced Madame. Her husband Monsieur, who up to then was quite fond of her—and a sometime lover of Guiche—was furious. He got into an argument with Guiche, who treated him with disdain, and Guiche was sent back to Paris by his father.

And now Madame was pregnant. Nine months later, on March 26, 1662, she delivered Marie-Louise, who was destined to become Queen of Spain. But who was the father?

What happened next was a plot likely cooked up late at night over copious amounts of brandy. (Their conspiracy was later unraveled in court records.) The schemers were Olympe; her lover, the Marquis de Vardes; Madame, and the Comte de Guiche. All of them were annoyed by innocent little Louise becoming the king’s mistress. Louise wasn’t part of their fast crowd, and she had all the King’s attention. And the King’s attention amounted to power and privilege.

Power, certainly. It was probably Olympe’s idea:

            “Why not?” she might have declared over a second glass of brandy, “Why not send a letter to the Queen telling her about Louise?”

            “What?” they exclaimed in a chorus of giggles. “Whatever for?”

            “So we can get rid of that little fool.”

            A chorus of cheers, and they drafted the anonymous letter. Henriette probably felt somewhat uneasy about this.

But the letter never made it to the Queen: it was intercepted by the King. (Courtiers knew they had to be careful what they wrote.) He was furious but couldn’t do anything because the letter was anonymous.

It took three years before the secret was revealed. It started with a catfight at the ballet: Olympe angrily confronted Madame, who had expelled Olympe’s lover, Marquis de Vardes, from court because he had insulted her. Nasty words followed, and Madame kicked her out of her box. Olympe charged off with one thing in mind: revenge. She went to Louis, telling him that she had proof that Madame had written a letter that proved she had been disloyal to him and her honor had been compromised.

 Big mistake. Louis confronted Madame, who told him the entire story, that Olympe and Vardes had written the letter. Furious, Louis finally realized who he could trust or not. He sent Vardes to prison, and Olympe got the silent treatment. She and her husband slunk off to their estates until he calmed down. She was finally allowed back in October 1666, the King pretending nothing had happened. He declared that she wouldn’t get into trouble if she could just stay away from people who were a bad influence. That would prove impossible.

 MARIE-ANNE MANCINI, DUCHESSE DE BOUILLON

There is one sister left: the youngest, Marie-Anne, born in 1649, actual date unknown. I suspect she was a Gemini like her siblings: she was witty and vivacious, and she hosted a literary salon. When she was only a child, she (her household, actually) was given to raise her late sister Laure’s sons, who were only a few years younger than her. While her husband was rather dull, he loved her dearly. He allowed her multiple lovers, to the point where, to assuage his horrified family, she retreated to a convent. The duke, however, missed her so much he made her return. But her sharp wit and arrogance—and her relationship with her handsome nephew—got her into trouble when she and big sister Olympe wound up as suspects in the Affair of the Poisons.

UP NEXT:

Hortense, trapped in a ghastly marriage, takes off on horseback; Marie pores over her astrological chart, anxious to see just how bad her marriage was going to get; and Madame Henriette, mired in international—and very personal—conspiracies, fights for her life.

Sources: The Affair of the Poisons is the subject of many books, which in turn draw on trial transcripts and the memoirs and letters of members of the court. Two of the Mancini girls are immortalized in those documents, and the other two are famous for their flight from loveless marriages. For them, I have relied on their memoirs and their biography, The Kings’ Mistresses by Elizabeth Goldsmith. You can find more tidbits on a very cool website, Party Like It’s 1660 (https://partylike1660.com/).