The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV

by Anne Somerset

  Following Madame’s death on 29 June, she transferred to the Queen’s household. Before long the King was showing signs of being attracted to her, perhaps seduced in part by her distinctive lisp, which other court ladies delighted in parodying. Shortly afterwards all the Queen’s maids of honour were dismissed and replaced by married ladies-in-waiting. This was ostensibly at the wish of Marie-Thérèse, but it was generally assumed that the change had been engineered by Athénaïs. She was said to have decided that, collectively, these young women were like a hydra and no sooner had she seen off one, than another would start encroaching on her territory.69 However, Mme de Ludres did not have to leave court for in late 1671 the Duc d’Orléans had married his second wife, Elizabeth Charlotte of the Palatinate, and she invited her to become one of her maids. Having been provided with this haven, five years later Mme de Ludres became the King’s mistress.

  Not long after embarking on her affair with the King, Mme de Ludres let it be understood that she was expecting his child. Her standing at court at once became higher, even though it ultimately transpired that she had mistaken her condition. As she entered a room, duchesses and princesses now rose to their feet, only sitting down when she gave the signal. Since such treatment had hitherto been reserved for Mme de Montespan, this alerted the Queen to the fact that her husband had taken a new mistress. By now she was so ‘used … to these infidelities’ that she showed little concern, remarking imperturbably that it ‘was Mme de Montespan’s business’. Athénaïs, in contrast, was roused to fury by the interloper. Her sister, Mme de Thianges, did her best to support her. At the Tuileries Primi Visconti saw her exchange ‘basilisk looks’ with Mme de Ludres and every encounter between the two ladies led to an exchange of insults.70

  On 28 February 1677 the King left to join his army. While he was away Mme de Ludres went to stay at the country house of a rich financier. Mme de Montespan also retired to the country and on 4 May was delivered of another daughter, christened Françoise Marie. By the time the King returned to court at the end of May she had recovered from the birth and was ready to trounce Mme de Ludres. Though people had looked on it as a foregone conclusion that she would be discarded (the Comte de Bussy had even composed a formal letter condoling her on her fall, though in the end he thought better of sending it), it soon emerged that, now she was no longer encumbered by her pregnancy, she had not lost her ability to captivate Louis. She was aided by the fact that he had by now become somewhat irritated by Mme de Ludres’s presumptuous demands on him and the ostentatious way she flaunted their relationship. When he started treating Mme de Ludres more coldly, few people had much sympathy, for she had ‘played the sultana too much’ for their liking.71

  Mme de Sévigné visited court that summer and found Mme de Montespan reinstated. ‘What a triumph at Versailles!’ she told her daughter on 9 June. ‘What redoubled pride!… What a renewal of possession.’ On paying a visit to her bedroom, Mme de Sévigné found Athénaïs looking resplendent. She was reclining on her bed, exchanging sarcastic remarks with her sister at Mme de Ludres’s expense, and Mme de Sévigné reported, ‘One breathes here nothing but prosperity and joy.’72

  For the wretched Mme de Ludres the outlook was much bleaker. She had retained her position as maid of honour but that no longer gave her satisfaction. Occasionally the King still showed her some kindness but when he did so he at once incurred the wrath of Athénaïs and made her angrier still with Mme de Ludres. In June 1677 the King attempted to pay off Mme de Ludres by offering her a pension, but she rejected this, apparently still hoping that their affair had a future. The Comte de Bussy commented that if this prompted the King to return to her he would applaud her decision; if not, he would remember the maxim that honourable people often had to go without shoes.73

  After a few more months of misery Mme de Ludres accepted that her position at court was intolerable and decided to enter a convent in Paris. Monsieur asked the King if he would object to her retiring there, to be met with the response, ‘Isn’t she there already?’ Once she left court Mme de Ludres was forgotten so completely that it was ‘as if she had perished in the flood’.74 In October 1680 she swallowed her pride and accepted a pension of 2000 écus. She then withdrew to a convent in Nancy, where she lived for many years.

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  Athénaïs’s victory had been convincing but it did not make her secure. Her hold over the King had been revealed as precarious and she now lived in perpetual fear that he would take another lover. The Comte de Bussy remarked that such uncertainty was a worse torment than actually losing the King and her temper became more volatile under the strain. Throughout the autumn of 1677 Louis kept flirting with other ladies, provoking an outburst of ‘pure jealousy’ from Mme de Montespan.75

  In early 1678, despite being heavily pregnant, she accompanied the King on the final campaign of the Dutch War. The conditions were particularly gruelling: the ladies often had to sleep in their carriages, which kept getting bogged down in the mud, and at one point Athénaïs went down with a fever. She had put on so much weight during the pregnancy that she was no longer fit enough to endure such rigours and she was clearly very relieved to return to court after the war ended.76

  In early May Mme de Montmorency reported that Athénaïs’s downfall was considered imminent, although for the moment the King clung to her purely out of habit. Since she was ‘in no state to serve the King’, Athénaïs withdrew to the country to await the birth of her baby and Louis did not seem sorry to see her go.77 On 6 June 1678 she was delivered of a son, who was subsequently created Comte de Toulouse. This was her last child by the King (she had borne him seven in all, of whom four survived to adulthood) and some people maintained that after this point he never slept with her again.

  Certainly, her looks were not what they were, for after this birth, she did not regain her figure. On one occasion Primi Visconti saw her getting out of her carriage and was shocked by how ungainly she had become. Having caught a glimpse of her thigh, he claimed that it was the same size as his waist though, ‘to be fair’, he admitted he was now very slim. Perhaps in the hope of being pummelled into shape, Athénaïs had daily massages during which she was rubbed with scented pomades, but unfortunately the King was allergic to perfume and found the smell offensive. After her return to court it was noted that he now seemed reluctant to take her in his carriage.78

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  It was therefore not surprising that when there appeared at court ‘a beauty far superior to any that had been seen for a long time at Versailles’, the King proved highly susceptible. She came from the Auvergne and was the seventeen-year-old daughter of the Comte de Roussille. Her name was Marie-Angélique de Scorailles, though she was known as Mlle de Fontanges. She had blond hair with a slightly reddish tinge and was lovely ‘from head to foot’, according to Madame, who took her on as a maid of honour in October 1678. Though she was neither intelligent nor amusing – in the Abbé Choisy’s words, she was ‘beautiful as an angel, stupid as a mule’ – her physical attractions sufficed to enrapture the King.79

  Mlle de Fontanges had probably become the King’s mistress by early 1679 but Athénaïs did not at once realise that she had acquired a rival. At the time her energies were being absorbed by frantic gambling, for every day she hazarded grotesque amounts at basset. It was usual for her to lose 100,000 écus a night, though on Christmas Day 1678 her losses amounted to seven times that. Mme de Montmorency mistakenly thought that the King’s readiness to countenance her running up such debts showed that she was higher in favour than ever, when the real reason for his forbearance was that he welcomed the fact that her obsession distracted her from monitoring his activities.80

  However, after Athénaïs had lost a total of 3,400,000 livres,* he became guilty that so much money was being squandered at a time when many of his subjects were oppressed by heavy taxation. He now virtually ceased to gamble, but Athénaïs’s excesses continued. In early March she lost 4 million livres in one sitting but insisted on playing
on through the night. By 8 a.m. she had won it all back and when the bank tried to end the game, she insisted she needed time to recover a further 100,000 pistoles, which she had lost on a previous occasion. Only after regaining this money did she finally retire to bed.81 Having decided that matters had now gone too far, the King announced that he would pay her outstanding gambling debts but that basset could no longer be played at court.

  By this time Athénaïs had become aware that Louis had taken a new mistress. The King had tried to be secretive, enlisting the aid of the Prince de Marcillac who, despite being one of Athénaïs’s oldest friends, had done all he could to facilitate Louis’s affair with Mlle de Fontanges. Accompanied only by a few bodyguards, the King would travel to Paris under cover of darkness for assignations with Mlle de Fontanges at his brother’s town house, the Palais Royal. However, his attempts to be discreet did not succeed: his movements were observed and Athénaïs was alerted to what was happening.82

  At first she did not appear to mind very much but then, on 4 March, it was reported that there was mounting tension between ‘the two sultanas’. The Comte de Bussy prophesied that ‘jealousy will embroil the seraglio’ and, sure enough, after a row with the King, Mme de Montespan stormed from court on 15 March and went to Paris. Some people assumed that because Easter was approaching the King had suggested she retire for a time, but others were sure that it was her jealousy of Mlle de Fontanges that had prompted her departure. The King’s disgust at her frenzied gambling was thought to have exacerbated the estrangement, while heightening his ardour for his new mistress.83

  The next few weeks were tempestuous as an angry Athénaïs flitted back and forth between Paris and the court. Since she was being so awkward it was thought that the King would soon oblige her to leave the court permanently but in mid-April an accommodation was reached, which apparently resolved the situation. Although Athénaïs had ceased to be the King’s mistress, Louis thought it fitting that ‘in recompense for past services’ she should be offered a position of great status. For years Athénaïs had coveted the post of Surintendante of the Queen’s household, an office which entitled its holder to be ranked as an honorary duchess, bringing with it such privileges as the right to sit on a tabouret in the Queen’s presence. Since 1660 the post had been held by the Comtesse de Soissons, who had defied all Athénaïs’s earlier attempts to dislodge her, but the King now summoned the Comtesse and ordered her to relinquish the position. She had no alternative but to obey and was compensated for her loss with a payment of 200,000 écus.84

  Athénaïs declared herself satisfied with the way things had turned out. To emphasise his regard for her, the King still paid her brief visits after mass and after supper although, to avoid unpleasantness, he was always accompanied by his brother. Athénaïs told her old friend the Duc de Noailles that this suited her very well. ‘Everything is very calm here … It is much better to see each other seldom and on easy terms than frequently and with awkwardness.’85

  For a time it seemed that everything would be civilised. The King was said to be frantically in love with Mlle de Fontanges but he took great pains to conceal it. In public he took no notice of her, reserving his affection for their private meetings. To ensure these went undetected, a small suite of rooms was constructed for Mlle de Fontanges above the King’s bedroom at Saint-Germain, connected by a hidden staircase. Few people were aware of this until, bizarrely, two pet bears belonging to Mme de Montespan found the door open and ‘avenged their mistress’ by devastating the apartment.86

  Meanwhile Mme de Montespan was apparently deriving consolation from religion. She ‘went alone to churches’ and had conferences with the King’s confessor, Père de La Chaise, and another priest named Père Cesar. The Queen, at least, was impressed by what she took to be sincere contrition, though cynics believed that Mme de Montespan was hoping to recapture the King’s heart by this moving display of devotion.87

  A year later allegations would be made suggesting that Athénaïs had been making more sinister use of her time. One suspect arrested during the Affair of the Poisons would imply that during these months Mme de Montespan met with a woman in Paris named Magdelaine Chapelain. Her intention, it was claimed, was to arrange for a servant to be placed in the household of Mlle de Fontanges in order to poison the young woman.

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  Athénaïs’s attempts to convey the impression that she had accepted her altered situation were not wholly successful. It was reported that she frequently broke down in tears and at times she abandoned all pretence of Christian resignation. Apparently without being conscious of any irony, she would rant ‘against the great sin committed by Mlle de Fontanges’.88

  At the end of August 1679 the Electress of Hannover attended the marriage by proxy of Monsieur’s daughter to the King of Spain, which took place at Fontainebleau. She was interested to see that Mme de Montespan and Mlle de Fontanges were seated in the same row of the chapel. She noted that the former ‘seemed sullen and to regard with mortification the triumph of her young rival, who was in full dress and apparently in high spirits’. Athénaïs’s dejection was understandable, for the King ‘looked with far greater devotion at Mlle de Fontanges than at the altar, raising his head frequently to look at her in her raised tribune’. A month later Mme de Montespan and the King were overheard having a furious argument in the orangery at Versailles, in the course of which Louis grumbled ‘that he was being tormented excessively and he was sick of it’.89

  That autumn arrangements were made for Athénaïs to set up gaming tables in her court apartments. The courtiers commented that she would be well advised to immerse herself in gambling and leave the King in peace. Mme de Scudéry remarked, ‘Provided that she can do without love she will be treated with consideration by the King. That’s all an upright gentleman can do when he is no longer in love.’ To add to Athénaïs’s pain the King was becoming less reticent about showing his passion for Mlle de Fontanges. Work started on a magnificent house for the young woman, and a detachment of guards now escorted her when she travelled from palace to palace. All this led observers to conclude that the King’s love for her was growing stronger every day.90

  On New Year’s Day 1680 Mlle de Fontanges appeared at a celebratory mass attended by the King wearing magnificent jewels and looking ‘like a goddess’. It seemed that she and the King were now set on flaunting their love, for her dress was made of the same material as his coat and both outfits were trimmed with blue ribbons. Later that day she confidently presented Mme de Montespan with a New Year’s gift in the shape of an engagement diary studded with precious stones. The Comte de Bussy commented, ‘I doubt whether that brings her her friendship.’91 In view of the fact that Mlle de Fontanges was no longer kept hidden away, there was general surprise a fortnight later when she did not appear at the wedding of Mlle de Blois (the King’s daughter by Louise de La Vallière) to the Prince de Conti. It soon transpired that she had had a miscarriage and, though it was assumed that she would swiftly recover, this turned out to have very serious consequences.

  On 22 February 1680 the King left Saint-Germain to travel in slow stages to meet the Princess of Bavaria who had been chosen as a bride for the Dauphin. Mlle de Fontanges was deemed strong enough to go too and set off in a magnificent carriage, pulled by eight horses. It was rumoured that the King had sent her a generous cash endowment prior to departure. This can only have been welcome for, as her magnificently attired servants in grey liveries testified, she was spending at a lavish rate.92

  On 27 February Monsieur gave a ball in the King’s honour at Villars Cotteret and Mlle de Fontanges attended, looking marvellous. Astonishingly Mme de Montespan deserved some of the credit for this: she had helped Marie-Angélique to get dressed, a curious echo of the days when Louise de La Vallière had waited on her like a chambermaid. It was clear that Mlle de Fontanges’s health remained delicate, for though she looked lovely she was too weak to do much dancing. However, her love for Louis was undimmed. At another ball a
few days later she entered and then approached the King directly, ‘looking neither to left nor right’ as she traversed the ballroom. She had to be prodded into acknowledging the Queen, whose presence she had ignored. Though the King seemed a little embarrassed by his mistress’s blatant display of adoration, onlookers could tell that it also gave him pleasure.93

  On 6 April Mlle de Fontanges was created Duchesse de Fontanges and endowed with a pension of 80,000 livres. Athénaïs was furious that her young rival should enjoy an honour which, during the lifetime of her husband, could never be conferred on her. ‘Yesterday she wept a lot,’ reported Mme de Sévigné. ‘You can imagine what a martyrdom her pride is suffering.’ However, some wise observers considered that the ennoblement of Marie-Angélique ‘smells of dismissal’.94 Before long, events proved them right.

  There were various reasons why the King’s passion proved so transient. At the start of the affair the Comte de Bussy had presciently observed, ‘Wit is necessary to make love last; and Fontanges is very young to have it.’ She was far too insipid to amuse a man who was so easily bored as the King and one source claimed that her stupidity was such that Louis was actually ashamed when other people heard her speak. As for her physical allure, that had been diminished by her failure to recover from her miscarriage. Louis should have been sympathetic on the grounds that this was ‘a wound received in his service’, but he was always intolerant of ill health in others. The fact that she was suffering from ‘a very stubborn and disobliging loss of blood’ seriously incommoded him, for sleeping with her became problematical. Worse still, after a time her body began to swell and her beautiful face became slightly puffy.95