Baroque Explorations
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This blog—”Baroque Explorations”—is about my research into 17th century life, and the era of the Court of Louis XIV, the Sun King, in particular. For my blog on writing, see Notes on the Writing Life.
To see my latest newsletter, click here.
Quote of the moment:
The future is the past,
returning through another gate.
—from a poem by Victoria Chang
The Catholic church’s war against the theatre
In general, the 17th century was religiously intense in Europe. The Catholic church was particularly on the defensive, in part because of the threat from Luther’s followers, but also because of anti-Catholic England.
(Drawing by Jean-Jacques Olier, image from the Confrérie du Saint-Sacrement, 1643)
The struggle for power (and souls!) helps explain the existence of extremist religious factions — and actions — everywhere.
In France, one of the things the Catholic church waged war against was the theatre, which they saw as a threat.
Actors, by their very employment, were excommunicated, and at least one archbishop prohibited his clergy from marrying them. They were forbidden Communion and were not permitted to be buried on holy ground.
In order to be buried by the Church, actors had to renounce the stage forever and ever. A number of players resorted to this on their deathbed, but others were caught out by an unexpected demise. The 18th century actress Adriana Le Couvreur, for example, had to be buried in a field for cattle on the banks of the Seine, as one would bury a dog.
Molière was particularly despised by the Church. As he lay dying, the priests of his parish refused even to come to hear his renunciation. By the time one priest relented and finally did arrive, it was too late.
(“The Death of Molière,” artist unknown — at least to me.)
It was only with extreme difficulty (and likely money) that King Louis XIV was able to persuade the Church to bury Molière — and even so, the Church required that France’s most popular playwright and actor be buried at night without fanfare, in unconsecrated ground where criminals were buried. The people, clearly not in agreement with the Church’s condemnation, thronged the streets with candles and torches to watch his coffin pass.
The “war” against theatre had been taken up by several extremist groups, including the secret society, Compagnie du Saint-Sacrament (Company of the Blessed Sacrament). Although Louis XIV is generally perceived to be an all-powerful king, he was powerless against the Church, and especially against the Company, which had insisted, earlier, that Molière’s Tartuff be banned. Both the King and his brother were Molière supporters, yet they could do little when faced with this conservative faction. The ban lasted for five years (and nearly broke Molière’s spirit) — in spite of Royal opinion.
(Vincent de Paul)
The novel I’m writing now is largely about the world of the theatre in 17th century France, and the “Company” figures as an evil force in it — as they certainly could be at times, historically. However, they also did important good work. Vincent de Paul was of their number, and the Company no doubt contributed to his wonderful, compassionate work.
Click here to read more about the powerful secret society, the Company, described by some as “a state within a state, a church within a church.”
February 6, 2012 @ 9:00 am8 comments already! | Leave a Comment
When is Early Modern?
When I tell someone I write stories set in Early Modern French history, their eyes tend to glaze over. Early Modern? Middle Modern? Late Modern? What does it all mean? (Post-Modern is bad enough.)
Holly Tucker, professor and historian, posted the answer to this question to a discussion group some time ago. She basically confirms that Early Modern a stretchable concept:
To answer the question about the limits of “early modern”–I’ll probably step into a bees nest here…but here are some thoughts….
I tend to group early modernists loosely around the Renaissance to the Revolution. But, of course, Renaissance all just depends on what country you’re starting from. Earlier in Italy, later in England. Of course, this is a pretty darn Western/Euro-centric way of seeing things…
I’m part of an early-modern cultural studies group at my university. We end up lumping the medievalists in there too–mostly because they’re great folks. But medievalists themselves often seen their temporal affiliations differently. A rare few will count themselves among the early modernists, others align with the “Ancient and Medieval Studies” folks, and still others don’t bother themselves with categories like this (probably smart!).
Goes to show that these categories are just problematic to the core. How can we talk about the Renaissance without evoking Antiquity? And what about the Enlightenment? Which brings up the thorniest question of all: what is “modern” in the first place?
It’s just a messy mess!
Thank you Holly! Now: how to explain ….
Be sure to read Holly’s wonderful book, Blood Work.
{Images above by Jean Le Pautre, from the wonderful blog BibliOdyessy, “Ornamental Decoration in 17th Century France.”}
December 22, 2011 @ 9:35 amBe the first to comment! | Leave a Comment
Sour grapes?
Warning: this is a review of a review … of a book I’ve not yet read.
Nevertheless, it brings up something I’d like to address, which is the on-going war between the English and French.
The review — written by Jonathan Keates and published in the U.K. Telegraph — is of When the World Spoke French, by Marc Fumaroli, a member of the Academie Française.
The reviewer is, I think it fair to say, scathing, yet accusing Fumaroli of being “distinctly provocative.”
Gary McCollim, a historian I often quote on this blog, notes: “His review misses the point about Fumaroli’s book…that there was a time when French was the language of civilized society. Instead, he chooses to attack the French.”
For example, to quote from the review:
“Cultural orthodoxy in France … teaches her citizens that their country invented most of what the world values under the name of civilisation. The Enlightenment, they are encouraged to accept, began in Paris under the ancien régime, while the Revolution of 1789, its ideological offspring, introduced the rest of Europe to the concept of political liberty.”
Where did the Enlightenment begin?
Gary responds: “… whole volumes have been written about where and when the Enlightenment began. Newton and Locke had a role as did the scientific revolution and the growth of skepticism as revealed by writers like Pierre Bayle. Political economics came into existence as well with writers in England and France (Vauban, Boisguilbert, Saint-Pierre, Hay du Chastelet) playing important roles. The subject is too broad for anyone serious to think that their little island is where it all began.”
Another quote from the review:
“For those of us who, whatever our regard for French civilisation, acknowledge its imperfections – why, for instance, could it produce no decent poetry between 1650 and 1800? – this book often appears complacent, displaying a calculated blindness to the wider realities of the period it purports to explore. Some of Fumaroli’s claims are inaccurate – Louis XIV did not win the War of the Spanish Succession – while others, such as modern democracy “had its birth under the ancien régime in France”, are frankly ludicrous.”
Did the French not produce any decent poetry between 1650 and 1800?
Gary: “I guess Moliere, Racine, and a host of others don’t count for Mr. Keates.” (My thoughts exactly.)
Did Louis XIV win the War of Spanish Succession?
McCollim answers: ”The War of the Spanish Succession was fought to prevent a French claimant from becoming King of Spain. How did that work out? While it is true that France lost a lot of battles, Spain gave up territories in Italy and the Low Countries, Britain seized Gibraltar, and France surrendered some territory in North America, all of which proves that the opponents of France were not interested in who sat on the Spanish throne; they all wanted to grab land wherever they could find it.”
Was modern democracy born under the ancien régime in France?
“Britain is not the creator of modern democracy. The writer [Keates] confuses modern democracy with modern representative government, an entirely different thing. Universal manhood suffrage did not arrive in Britain until the 1880s when property/tax paying requirements were finally eliminated to give propertyless workers the right to vote. Women did not get the vote until 1918 or so. France had universal manhood suffrage in 1848 but women did not get the vote until 1945. Meanwhile, universal manhood suffrage arrived in the United States in 1866 and, although women could not vote in every state in the nation until 1920, some states granted women the right to vote before then starting with Wyoming where women could vote in 1869.”
Historians: line up at the mike!
Have you read this book? Does the reviewer have a point? Or is the reviewer just throwing more fuel on the Anglo-French fire?
December 17, 2011 @ 12:31 pm4 comments already! | Leave a Comment
A Diamond is a Man’s Best Friend: the history of the Regent Diamond
There is something about a diamond — especially a very, very large diamond — that lends itself to adventure.
In reading The Moneymaker by Janet Gleeson, a biography of the remarkable John Law (philanderer, gambler, murderer and the founder of modern finance), I came upon a short account of a diamond.
According to Saint-Simon, the gem came from India, where an employee of a diamond mine managed to smuggle out a 140-carat stone … in his rectum. How he managed this is unknown, for it was the custom for all people handling the stones to be searched and given a purgative the day before being allowed to leave. (I leave the details to you to imagine.)
But the diamond got out and changed hands a few times before being sold for twenty thousand pounds to Thomas Pitt, governor of the English East India Company at Fort Madras. (Thereafter, Thomas was known as Diamond Pitt.)
Nobody had ever seen such a large stone. Pitt sent it to London for cutting. The stone that resulted was, to quote Saint-Simone, “the size of a Reine Claude plum, almost round in shape, … perfectly white, free from all blemish.” It was said to “eclipse all others in Europe.”
It was a time of war and financial uncertaintly: such a diamond was not easy for Pitt to sell. Even the Sun King, who had a fondness for diamonds, refused it.
In 1717, Pitt returned to Paris, still trying to sell his stone. John Law had a number of schemes, all requiring the sponsorship — or, at least, approval — of the Regent, Orléans. With the help of Saint-Simon, Law was able, with difficulty (the times were impoverished and troubled), to persuade the Regent to buy the diamond, and in doing so, reinforce France’s status in the world and that of the Regent, as well.
Whether or not that was the right thing to do, the Regent bought the diamond for two million livres (on credit). It was set in the crown of Louis XV during his coronation, and adorned one of Marie Antoinette’s hats. It was stolen during the Revolution, but recovered, to be set into Napoleon’s ceremonial sword in 1801 (detail above).
Today the Regent Diamond can be seen in the Galerie d’Apollon in the Louvre.
The Moneymaker, by the way, is a fascinating book, and quite relevant to our times. I recommend it.
October 4, 2011 @ 4:01 pm4 comments already! | Leave a Comment
Baroque opera in Brooklyn
There are times when I ache to be able to fly off just to see a performance or exhibit. This production of the Lully opera Atys —”a courtly spectacle from a bygone age, combining music, dance and lavish costumes”— is one of them.
Read this review to see why —and be sure to let me know if you go.
(Thank you, Stephanie Cowell, for allowing me to enjoy it, albeit vicariously.)
September 26, 2011 @ 5:58 pmBe the first to comment! | Leave a Comment
A slice of 17th century life: a letter in translation (part I)
I’ve begun translating (rather freely) a letter written by Marquis D’ Hernouville on December 30, 1669, from Paris. I love how it gives a slice of 17th century life, especially with respect to the court and theatre.
My dear comte,
I am taking advantage of a cold which is keeping me near my fire for a few days to give you news of this country.
The most important news—and that which will interest you the most—is that M. de Guise got permission to use a carreau when he attends the King’s mass. He did not fail to take advantage of this on Sunday, and—just between us—did so with a little too much display.
The carreau was a small velvet cushion used for kneeling on in church. The privilege was accorded to a duke and duchess. Important ladies of the court were called dames à carreau.
The Duke De Vermandois has just been made an admiral. Madame de la Vallière received this mark of distinguished favour with perfect indifference. I agree with you that this woman is not meant for her position.
This is a beautiful snippet, illuminating the indifference of Louise de la Valière, the King’s mistress, to royal favours—and the contempt courtiers had for her as a result.
Did your brother tell you that we went to the opening of “Britannicus” together? Supporters of Racine praised it. Not being able to get a box, I sent my servant at ten in the morning to reserve a place. [Because of the crowd] I feared I would never get into the theatre. I left my carriage at the entry on Mauconseil. Without Vault and Mauvilain, who know all the actors of Paris, I would never have managed [to get in].
Do not misinterpret this public eagerness: people came with more ill will than curiosity.
I paid my respects to Madame De Sévigné in her box, where there was also Mesdames De Villars, De Coulanges and De Fayette, escorted by Abbot De Villars and the frondeur De Grignan.
I’ll let you decide if “Britannicus” had good reception in this crowd.
He is speaking in jest: this is the pro-Corneille cabal.
Madame De Sévigné said the another day, chez Madame de Villarceau, that the enthusiasm for Racine would pass like the enthusiasm for coffee. This made everyone laugh; everyone agrees that what she said is right as well as amusing.
What amazes me more than anything is the presumption of this schoolboy, who dares to make Romans speak in the manner of our sublime Corneille.
To be continued …
For the original French of this letter to lieutenant général Gaston de Mornay from comte de Montchevreuil, click here or here (page 5). For another translation into English, see page 99 of The Paris Spectator on Books Google.
{Image: Britannicus, Act 5, Scene 5, from the edition of the play published in 1699, as cited on www.Cesar.org.uk}
June 26, 2011 @ 12:04 pm2 comments already! | Leave a Comment
Video about Madame de Montespan: the woman we all love to hate
I’m on my way to New York, and far from my research texts, but I’ve been meaning for some time to post this link to an excellent short French video about Madame de Montespan: “Louis XIV et Madame de Montespan.”
There are a number prepared by Château de Versailles on YouTube, well worth exploring.
Appréciez!
June 3, 2011 @ 12:52 pm2 comments already! | Leave a Comment
Amazon.com: a research tool?
I use Books Google and Gallica often for research, but I’ve only recently begun using Amazon.com in this way.
It’s excellent. Because of the “Search inside” feature, I am able to read references to practically any subject, searching for things often too elusive to be indexed. This pairs well when I own the book, as well.
I love Graham Robb’s work. His book The Discovery of France changed the way I perceived the country historically.
A reference to “Winter Swallows”—the name given the country boys that flocked into Paris every winter to beg—set off creative sparks. I knew that a character in my next novel would have to be a Winter Swallow. (How and why, I had no idea.)
Several years after reading Robb’s book, however, I began to question whether or not this was a fact. Had I imagined it? I searched the book’s index for “Winter Swallows” without success (of course), but through the “search inside” feature on Amazon.com, I was able to find it.
Voilá.
This is a wonderful book: I highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in France or history.
May 14, 2011 @ 9:30 pmBe the first to comment! | Leave a Comment
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