The Duke of Saint-Simon (1675-1755) was a self-obsessed courtier and chronicler of court life under Louis XIV. Drawing heavily on his memoirs, historian Ladurie offers a wonderful portrait of life with Louis, focusing on issues of hierarchy and rank in this tightly controlled universe. Illustrations.
"Memoirs of Louis XIV and His Court and of the Regency — Complete" by Louis de Rouvroy duc de Saint-Simon Duc de Louis de Rouvroy Saint-Simon was a French courtier during the 18th century, but today he's best known for his comprehensive multi-volume memoirs, which depict life in France and French society during the time period. This book is an amazing recounting of the life of a Duke during Louis XIV and up to the death of the regent who followed.
On 16 November 1671, Liselotte von der Pfalz, the nineteen-year-old daughter of the Elector of Palatine, was married to Philippe d'Orleans, "Monsieur, " the only brother of Louis XIV. The marriage was not to be a happy one. Liselotte (known in France as Elisabeth Charlotte, Duchesse d'Orleans, or "Madame") was full of intellectual energy and moral rigor. Homesick for her native Germany, she felt temperamentally ill-suited to life at the French court. The homosexual Monsieur, deeply immersed in the pleasures and intrigues of the court, shared few of his wife's interests. Yet, for the next fifty years, Liselotte remained in France, never far from the center of one of the most glorious courts of Europe. And throughout this period, she wrote letters - sometimes as many as forty a week - to her friends and relatives in Germany. It is from this extraordinary body of correspondence that A Woman's Life in the Court of the Sun King has been fashioned. As introduced and translated by Elborg Forster, the letters have become the remarkable personal narrative of Liselotte's transformation from an innocent, yet outspoken, girl into a formidable observer of great events and human folly.
Louis XIV, whose great prestige earned him the title of "the Sun King," is the most famous of all the French kings. He ruled France in one of its most glorious periods, and remains to this day the supreme symbol of absolute monarchy. Now, in a brilliant new biography, Prince Michael of Greece has revealed a darker side to the Sun King. Drawing on detailed evidence from contemporary records, letters and memoirs, he explored the possibility that, underneath it all, this epitome of kingship was a shy, weak, unstable man of unexpected and intriguing complexity. Prince Michael assesses the continued and enduring influence of Cardinal Mazarin and Louis' mother, Anne of Austria, on the little boy who came to the throne at the age of five but who learned early on to hide his profound insecurity behind the ever more elaborate trappings of monarchy. Here, then, is a vivid portrait of a not particularly intelligent king, secretly poring over textbooks, preferring to command sieges rather than battles because they were more convenient, whose voracious sexual appetite right into his seventies flouted the very conventions he himself tried to impose on a reluctant court at Versailles. Without simply debunking Louis, Prince Michael of Greece succeeds in presenting an iconoclastic biography which shatters many of the accepted myths about the man and his century. The result is a glimpse of the human frailties and inadequacies that lay behind the arrogance, protocol and pageantry of France's greatest king. - Jacket flap.
Long before the guillotines of the 1789 Revolution brought a grisly political end to the ancien régime, Jay Caplan argues, the culture of absolutism had already perished. In the King's Wake traces the emergence of a post-absolutist culture across a wide range of works and genres: Saint-Simon's memoirs of Louis XIV and the Regency; Voltaire's first tragedy, Oedipe; Watteau's last great painting, L'Enseigne de Gersaint; the plays of Marivaux; and Casanova's History of My Life. While absolutist culture had focused on value directly represented in people (e.g., those of noble blood) and things (e.g., coins made of precious metals), post-absolutist culture instead explored the capacity of signs to stand for something real (e.g., John Law's banknotes or Marivaux's plays in which actions rather than birth signify nobility). Between the image of the Sun King and visions of the godlike Romantic self, Caplan discovers a post-absolutist France wracked by surprisingly modern conflicts over the true sources of value and legitimacy.
The superb historian and biographer Antonia Fraser, author of Marie Antoinette, casts new light on the splendor and the scandals of the reign of Louis XIV in this dramatic, illuminating look at the women in his life. The self-proclaimed Sun King, Louis XIV ruled over the most glorious and extravagant court in seventeenth-century Europe. Now, Antonia Fraser goes behind the well-known tales of Louis’s accomplishments and follies, exploring in riveting detail his intimate relationships with women. The king’s mother, Anne of Austria, had been in a childless marriage for twenty-two years before she gave birth to Louis XIV. A devout Catholic, she instilled in her son a strong sense of piety and fought successfully for his right to absolute power. In 1660, Louis married his first cousin, Marie-Thérèse, in a political arrangement. While unfailingly kind to the official Queen of Versailles, Louis sought others to satisfy his romantic and sexual desires. After a flirtation with his sister-in-law, his first important mistress was Louise de La Vallière, who bore him several children before being replaced by the tempestuous and brilliant Athénaïs, marquise de Montespan. Later, when Athénaïs’s reputation was tarnished, the King continued to support her publicly as Athénaïs left court for a life of repentance. Meanwhile her children’s governess, the intelligent and seemingly puritanical Françoise de Maintenon, had already won the King’s affections; in a relationship in complete contrast to his physical obsession with Athénaïs, Louis XIV lived happily with Madame de Maintenon for the rest of his life, very probably marrying her in secret. When his grandson’s child bride, the enchanting Adelaide of Savoy, came to Versaille she lightened the King’s last years – until tragedy struck. With consummate skill, Antonia Fraser weaves insights into the nature of women’s religious lives – as well as such practical matters as contraception – into her magnificent, sweeping portrait of the king, his court, and his ladies.