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Madame de Pompadour
When Madame de Pompadour became the mistress of Louis XV, no one expected her to retain his affections for long. A member of the bourgeoisie rather than an aristocrat, she was physically too cold for the carnal Bourbon king, and had so many enemies that she could not travel publicly without risking a pelting of mud and stones. History has loved her little better.
Nancy Mitford's delightfully candid biography recreates the spirit of 18th-century Versailles with its love of pleasure and treachery. We learn and see France increasingly overcome with class conflict. With a fiction writer's felicity, Mitford restores the royal mistress and celebrates her as a survivor, unsurpassed in "the art of living," who reigned as the most powerful woman in France for nearly twenty years
Nancy Mitford's delightfully candid biography recreates the spirit of 18th-century Versailles with its love of pleasure and treachery. We learn and see France increasingly overcome with class conflict. With a fiction writer's felicity, Mitford restores the royal mistress and celebrates her as a survivor, unsurpassed in "the art of living," who reigned as the most powerful woman in France for nearly twenty years
312 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1954
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5647 people want to read
About the author
Nancy Mitford
110 books765 followersNancy Mitford, styled The Hon. Nancy Mitford before her marriage and The Hon. Mrs Peter Rodd thereafter, was an English novelist and biographer, one of the Bright Young People on the London social scene in the inter-war years. She was born at 1 Graham Street (now Graham Place) in Belgravia, London, the eldest daughter of Lord Redesdale, and was brought up at Asthall Manor in Oxfordshire. She was the eldest of the six controversial Mitford sisters.
She is best remembered for her series of novels about upper-class life in England and France, particularly the four published after 1945; but she also wrote four well-received, well-researched popular biographies (of Louis XIV, Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, and Frederick the Great). She was one of the noted Mitford sisters and the first to publicize the extraordinary family life of her very English and very eccentric family, giving rise to a "Mitford industry," which continues.
She is best remembered for her series of novels about upper-class life in England and France, particularly the four published after 1945; but she also wrote four well-received, well-researched popular biographies (of Louis XIV, Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire, and Frederick the Great). She was one of the noted Mitford sisters and the first to publicize the extraordinary family life of her very English and very eccentric family, giving rise to a "Mitford industry," which continues.
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August 25, 2021
"Nineteenth century historians, shocked by the contemplation of such a merry, pointless life, have been at great pains to emphasize the boredom from which, they say, the whole Court and the King suffered. No doubt a life devoted to pleasure must sometimes show the reverse side of the medal and it is quite true that boredom was the enemy, to be vanquished by fair means or foul. But the memoirs of the day and the accounts of the courtiers who lived through the Revolution .. do not suggest that it often got the upper hand; on the contrary they speak on and all, of a life without worries and without remorse.. of perpetual youth, of happy days out of doors and happy evenings chatting and gambling in the great wonderful palace... If ever a house radiated cheerfulness, that house is Versailles; no other building in the world is such a felicitious combination of palace and country house..."
"..The case of the Duc de Richelieu illustrates the fact that once a man has been convicted of treachery, he is better dead; the traitor will always betray... If, when the Regent had enough proof to cut off four of M. de Richelieu's heads, he had cut off just one, the history of France might have been different indeed."
If you guys read those paragraphs and aren't smiling or shaking your head or clapping your hands or some other expression of delight, then perhaps this book isn't for you, but I'm doing all of those things and LOVING IT. I absolutely adored this book from start to finish, and Nancy Mitford's narrative charm is the reason entire. It is of course helpful that her subject is fascinating in her own right, and her cast of supporting characters were leading men and ladies in many other stories and indeed can't help but steal the spotlight from time to time (if the Duc de Richelieu is playing sidekick #2, you've got a damn good thing going is all I'm saying). But this biography reveals two women, not one, and it is a picture of two times and two mindsets, and the primary one is not the one that takes place in the 18th century.
What is it about these early 20th century women? These British women writers in particular? There's something about their assurance, their ability to opine and pronounce and tell a tale with such utter confidence and pull it off without the slightest self-consciousness. There's a way some of these women have of staring you down with utter unconsciousness that anyone could sensibly feel anything different that makes you blink even when you know there's something wrong with that reasoning.
I think part of it really does have to do with the fact that so many of them descended from the aristocracy. It might have been an aristocracy whose material rights had in many ways long since gone, but please do let's remember that it is just possible for women of that generation to have had grandfathers who fought Napoleon. The values being imbibed, the educational program, and the history being taught was not so different, and the society was still to a great degree closed. It still mattered who you were born... but of course there is a consciousness that that is all fading away, so quickly. And you know that when things are falling away, oftentimes that is the first time you see them, clearly.
Nancy Mitford's book was all about this. It manifested itself in two ways: the first was the way that she approached the world of Versailles, the nobles, the King, and Madame de Pompadour herself. She approached her as an equal, and actually rather as her sympathetic superior. While other historians might have spent a great deal of painstaking time explaining the social codes of Versailles and entangled family trees and have lists of names and navigational charts, Nancy Mitford's book assumes a warm familiarity with her readers and her subjects. She is not intimidated by Versailles, and she expects that you will be equally comfortable walking about the ancient pile while she waves her hand at "oh that old Hall of Mirrors, it really is just too dusty I keep telling Mother the maids really do forget to dust in there, oh mind your dress darling the step is just a bit uneven there, this way loves, we'll have a picnic lunch by the lake today, shall we, it's lovely outside..."... as we pass on easily from room to room, watching the men and ladies come and go, confident that the people we meet will be in perfect accord with us. The dresses might be different, and the wigs, but Mitford makes that all seem a matter of fashion- as if we had been out of the country for a year and just needed to pay a morning call to our good friend the Duchess who would fill us in. We just need to make sure our friends don't see us in this shocking state before we've had time to get rigged up properly.
As the quotes above might show, her aristocratic ease and sense of belonging to this world means that she feels free to make many pronouncements on it. In telling the story of La Pompadour, she lets us know when she feels the lady has gone wrong, when she's been clever, and what she could have done better- the same judgement and really the same understanding is applied to the other characters in the story. For instance, she sets up a careful contrast between the marriage of the King and the Queen and how the Queen was a clearly inferior creature to Madame de Pompadour because she hadn't the least idea of how to manage a man- and nor should she poor lamb, taken out of poor obscurity with her poor Polish king father, with her dowdy religiousity and her frigid refusal to sleep with the King (who otherwise, apparently, might have been faithful)... much better to have stayed at home. When Madame de Pompadour ceased sleeping with the king, by contrast, Mitford applauds how well she manages to keep his love despite it all, though she is realistic about the nearby brothel that develops to replace her. She has a fairly down to earth view of things and when she is sentimental, it is well hidden behind a practical argument.
What I loved about this whole viewpoint was that she successfully individualizes history to the extent that she makes it all seem a matter of "person X was rather cranky that day and lady Y just didn't quite know how to manage him properly, and person Z was a nasty little beast who should have been strangled at birth and made things very much the worse..." It's a personal view of history that makes the work of deciding the fate of millions, declaring war and peace, dealing with complex financial matters as just another damn thing that must be done after inspecting what's on for dinner and sorting out a dispute between the cook and the housekeeper. There's really no reason to make it a bigger drama than that and those who do well... loves, perhaps that is a sign you don't really belong here, isn't it?
So this is the second thing that fascinated me about this one. Similar to the work of Isak Dinesen, to Vita Sackville-West and Evelyn Waugh (in Brideshead at any rate), this is a lament for the decline of the aristocracy. It might seem an odd approach to celebrate the life of one of the world's most successful bourgeoisie social climbers while also making a case for why the aristocracy has been unjustly maligned and why it should still exist, but it's actually a rather clever way of doing it. I don't think it was necessarily a conscious agenda of hers, but her opinions on the subject seemingly couldn't help but come through. Mitford presents Jeanne de Poisson (as yes, the poor lady was born before she became La Pompadour) as a good upper middle class girl who never forgot her roots or pretended to be anything other than she was (both a prime English virtue and something the class conscious aristocrat would have been on the lookout for), and yet as someone who was "naturally" born with an upper class feeling and point of view and taste- she is fiercely loyal to her friends, a lovely, warm person who doesn't gossip behind other people's backs, a lady who throws wonderful parties and makes even shy people feel welcome, a woman who can discuss important issues with men, but knows when to retire, a woman who knew how to keep her looks and her friends as she aged. An unusual case, but much like Cinderella hiding in her dirty clothes, a case where the way we are born nonetheless does tell. She constantly defends Madame as having gotten a bad rap, and completely unfairly too- she rather mindblowingly and continuously argues for why she may have gotten a lot of money from the King but a) it wasn't as much as has been thought (oh, you know fifty million, not a hundred million, so that's totally okay!), and b) that what money she did have was well spent. Nancy Mitford rather crushingly tells us that she was skilled "in the art of living," and people who were starving for their bread just can't properly appreciate that apparently. She goes on rapturously about the beautiful houses she built and decorated with her exquisite taste, and seems to save the greatest of her pity for these troubled times for how her houses didn't last long after her death- after all, beauty and art are what should be appreciated above all. (Once again, the starving and the bread and the oppressed peasants with no rights get no mention- or if they do, it is in mentions of Madame's charity or her helpfulness in certain sticky political situations to save an innocent.) With regards to the King, she takes him to task when she feels he is not fulfilling his proper role in the world, and honestly blames a lot of what comes after on the fact that he does not know how to lead properly.
There are some mentions of the Revolution to come, of course. How she approaches this though is to phrase the problems as a peculiarly French extreme of oppression and particular problems of the personalities at the top. She does once or twice acknowledge that Louis XVI was rather shut off from the world in Versailles, and speaks of the political abuses that went on in France. However, she phrases it as if there really would have been no need for the overthrow of the system, which is perfectly fine in theory, thank you, if France hadn't gone about it all the wrong way.
I don't mean to present this as a political program of a book- that's not the dominant feeling of it, just something that underpins the approach. More of a viewpoint, really- her biography dominating Madame's biography. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's incredibly well written- relatable and warm, sparkling and close. She knows how to tell a story in just the right way to make you laugh, how to deploy an anecdote to tell you all you need to know about a situation. Her knowledge about her subject is clearly deep, but she is able to use it in the way that only the most eminent of scholars do these days- without footnotes, without careful demonstration of knowledge and self-conscious admissions of "I could be wrong"- just one long, continously flowing story that is written not to prove she knows something, but because it's a story worth telling and perhaps it will pass the evening until you go to bed. One could picture her as a good hostess handing these out to her guests to busy them at a house party rather than gossiping to them herself all night long since she has a cold in her throat.
Her ultimate verdict on the story of Madame de Pompadour and its meaning really is that of a hostess, or someone who has been a guest for many years. As her funeral cortege leaves the palace, and the King turns to go inside with tears streaming down his face, she remarks only: "After this a great dullness settled over the Chateau of Versailles."
By that point in the book, you know what that means- and bells ringing out and a Requiem blasting at full strength couldn't have said it better.
"..The case of the Duc de Richelieu illustrates the fact that once a man has been convicted of treachery, he is better dead; the traitor will always betray... If, when the Regent had enough proof to cut off four of M. de Richelieu's heads, he had cut off just one, the history of France might have been different indeed."
If you guys read those paragraphs and aren't smiling or shaking your head or clapping your hands or some other expression of delight, then perhaps this book isn't for you, but I'm doing all of those things and LOVING IT. I absolutely adored this book from start to finish, and Nancy Mitford's narrative charm is the reason entire. It is of course helpful that her subject is fascinating in her own right, and her cast of supporting characters were leading men and ladies in many other stories and indeed can't help but steal the spotlight from time to time (if the Duc de Richelieu is playing sidekick #2, you've got a damn good thing going is all I'm saying). But this biography reveals two women, not one, and it is a picture of two times and two mindsets, and the primary one is not the one that takes place in the 18th century.
What is it about these early 20th century women? These British women writers in particular? There's something about their assurance, their ability to opine and pronounce and tell a tale with such utter confidence and pull it off without the slightest self-consciousness. There's a way some of these women have of staring you down with utter unconsciousness that anyone could sensibly feel anything different that makes you blink even when you know there's something wrong with that reasoning.
I think part of it really does have to do with the fact that so many of them descended from the aristocracy. It might have been an aristocracy whose material rights had in many ways long since gone, but please do let's remember that it is just possible for women of that generation to have had grandfathers who fought Napoleon. The values being imbibed, the educational program, and the history being taught was not so different, and the society was still to a great degree closed. It still mattered who you were born... but of course there is a consciousness that that is all fading away, so quickly. And you know that when things are falling away, oftentimes that is the first time you see them, clearly.
Nancy Mitford's book was all about this. It manifested itself in two ways: the first was the way that she approached the world of Versailles, the nobles, the King, and Madame de Pompadour herself. She approached her as an equal, and actually rather as her sympathetic superior. While other historians might have spent a great deal of painstaking time explaining the social codes of Versailles and entangled family trees and have lists of names and navigational charts, Nancy Mitford's book assumes a warm familiarity with her readers and her subjects. She is not intimidated by Versailles, and she expects that you will be equally comfortable walking about the ancient pile while she waves her hand at "oh that old Hall of Mirrors, it really is just too dusty I keep telling Mother the maids really do forget to dust in there, oh mind your dress darling the step is just a bit uneven there, this way loves, we'll have a picnic lunch by the lake today, shall we, it's lovely outside..."... as we pass on easily from room to room, watching the men and ladies come and go, confident that the people we meet will be in perfect accord with us. The dresses might be different, and the wigs, but Mitford makes that all seem a matter of fashion- as if we had been out of the country for a year and just needed to pay a morning call to our good friend the Duchess who would fill us in. We just need to make sure our friends don't see us in this shocking state before we've had time to get rigged up properly.
As the quotes above might show, her aristocratic ease and sense of belonging to this world means that she feels free to make many pronouncements on it. In telling the story of La Pompadour, she lets us know when she feels the lady has gone wrong, when she's been clever, and what she could have done better- the same judgement and really the same understanding is applied to the other characters in the story. For instance, she sets up a careful contrast between the marriage of the King and the Queen and how the Queen was a clearly inferior creature to Madame de Pompadour because she hadn't the least idea of how to manage a man- and nor should she poor lamb, taken out of poor obscurity with her poor Polish king father, with her dowdy religiousity and her frigid refusal to sleep with the King (who otherwise, apparently, might have been faithful)... much better to have stayed at home. When Madame de Pompadour ceased sleeping with the king, by contrast, Mitford applauds how well she manages to keep his love despite it all, though she is realistic about the nearby brothel that develops to replace her. She has a fairly down to earth view of things and when she is sentimental, it is well hidden behind a practical argument.
What I loved about this whole viewpoint was that she successfully individualizes history to the extent that she makes it all seem a matter of "person X was rather cranky that day and lady Y just didn't quite know how to manage him properly, and person Z was a nasty little beast who should have been strangled at birth and made things very much the worse..." It's a personal view of history that makes the work of deciding the fate of millions, declaring war and peace, dealing with complex financial matters as just another damn thing that must be done after inspecting what's on for dinner and sorting out a dispute between the cook and the housekeeper. There's really no reason to make it a bigger drama than that and those who do well... loves, perhaps that is a sign you don't really belong here, isn't it?
So this is the second thing that fascinated me about this one. Similar to the work of Isak Dinesen, to Vita Sackville-West and Evelyn Waugh (in Brideshead at any rate), this is a lament for the decline of the aristocracy. It might seem an odd approach to celebrate the life of one of the world's most successful bourgeoisie social climbers while also making a case for why the aristocracy has been unjustly maligned and why it should still exist, but it's actually a rather clever way of doing it. I don't think it was necessarily a conscious agenda of hers, but her opinions on the subject seemingly couldn't help but come through. Mitford presents Jeanne de Poisson (as yes, the poor lady was born before she became La Pompadour) as a good upper middle class girl who never forgot her roots or pretended to be anything other than she was (both a prime English virtue and something the class conscious aristocrat would have been on the lookout for), and yet as someone who was "naturally" born with an upper class feeling and point of view and taste- she is fiercely loyal to her friends, a lovely, warm person who doesn't gossip behind other people's backs, a lady who throws wonderful parties and makes even shy people feel welcome, a woman who can discuss important issues with men, but knows when to retire, a woman who knew how to keep her looks and her friends as she aged. An unusual case, but much like Cinderella hiding in her dirty clothes, a case where the way we are born nonetheless does tell. She constantly defends Madame as having gotten a bad rap, and completely unfairly too- she rather mindblowingly and continuously argues for why she may have gotten a lot of money from the King but a) it wasn't as much as has been thought (oh, you know fifty million, not a hundred million, so that's totally okay!), and b) that what money she did have was well spent. Nancy Mitford rather crushingly tells us that she was skilled "in the art of living," and people who were starving for their bread just can't properly appreciate that apparently. She goes on rapturously about the beautiful houses she built and decorated with her exquisite taste, and seems to save the greatest of her pity for these troubled times for how her houses didn't last long after her death- after all, beauty and art are what should be appreciated above all. (Once again, the starving and the bread and the oppressed peasants with no rights get no mention- or if they do, it is in mentions of Madame's charity or her helpfulness in certain sticky political situations to save an innocent.) With regards to the King, she takes him to task when she feels he is not fulfilling his proper role in the world, and honestly blames a lot of what comes after on the fact that he does not know how to lead properly.
There are some mentions of the Revolution to come, of course. How she approaches this though is to phrase the problems as a peculiarly French extreme of oppression and particular problems of the personalities at the top. She does once or twice acknowledge that Louis XVI was rather shut off from the world in Versailles, and speaks of the political abuses that went on in France. However, she phrases it as if there really would have been no need for the overthrow of the system, which is perfectly fine in theory, thank you, if France hadn't gone about it all the wrong way.
I don't mean to present this as a political program of a book- that's not the dominant feeling of it, just something that underpins the approach. More of a viewpoint, really- her biography dominating Madame's biography. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's incredibly well written- relatable and warm, sparkling and close. She knows how to tell a story in just the right way to make you laugh, how to deploy an anecdote to tell you all you need to know about a situation. Her knowledge about her subject is clearly deep, but she is able to use it in the way that only the most eminent of scholars do these days- without footnotes, without careful demonstration of knowledge and self-conscious admissions of "I could be wrong"- just one long, continously flowing story that is written not to prove she knows something, but because it's a story worth telling and perhaps it will pass the evening until you go to bed. One could picture her as a good hostess handing these out to her guests to busy them at a house party rather than gossiping to them herself all night long since she has a cold in her throat.
Her ultimate verdict on the story of Madame de Pompadour and its meaning really is that of a hostess, or someone who has been a guest for many years. As her funeral cortege leaves the palace, and the King turns to go inside with tears streaming down his face, she remarks only: "After this a great dullness settled over the Chateau of Versailles."
By that point in the book, you know what that means- and bells ringing out and a Requiem blasting at full strength couldn't have said it better.
April 24, 2025
I found this biography complete and wanted to read it for a long time. I was not disappointed at all.
March 20, 2020
I've long been a fan of Nancy Mitford, having read the incredible biography of her family The Sisters: The Saga of the Mitford Family and then two of her novels, ink: The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate.
This is Mitford's biography of Madame de Pompadour. I picked this one up fresh off of reading Erik Larson's The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz. Mitford may have written this some 75 years before Larson, but she is an equally excellent biographer, lively, fun and gossipy. I found many of her explanations of royal life during this time very interesting because she is able to breath movement to all these dead aristocrats, many of whom were probably quite stiff and formal. Her background and deep knowledge of this world comes through.
Her portrayal of Mme Pompadour is sympathetic. From Mitford you get a vision of a generous woman who desperately wanted the queen to "like" her despite the fact that she was the king's mistress. (Perhaps that shows some fundamental denseness.) There are also significant pages devoted to her bungling of diplomatic negotiations leading up to the 7 years war. In total, I think Mme de Pompadour must have a very charming companion (if she liked you), but while she smiled, her little legs were fluttering like a duck as she tried to get rid of her enemies and help her friends.
One other thing I noticed, which came more painfully to light considering the current circumstances, was that people died right and left in the 1700s due to smallpox and other diseases. And Mme. de Pompadour only lived to 40. She certainly kept busy!
This is Mitford's biography of Madame de Pompadour. I picked this one up fresh off of reading Erik Larson's The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz. Mitford may have written this some 75 years before Larson, but she is an equally excellent biographer, lively, fun and gossipy. I found many of her explanations of royal life during this time very interesting because she is able to breath movement to all these dead aristocrats, many of whom were probably quite stiff and formal. Her background and deep knowledge of this world comes through.
Her portrayal of Mme Pompadour is sympathetic. From Mitford you get a vision of a generous woman who desperately wanted the queen to "like" her despite the fact that she was the king's mistress. (Perhaps that shows some fundamental denseness.) There are also significant pages devoted to her bungling of diplomatic negotiations leading up to the 7 years war. In total, I think Mme de Pompadour must have a very charming companion (if she liked you), but while she smiled, her little legs were fluttering like a duck as she tried to get rid of her enemies and help her friends.
One other thing I noticed, which came more painfully to light considering the current circumstances, was that people died right and left in the 1700s due to smallpox and other diseases. And Mme. de Pompadour only lived to 40. She certainly kept busy!
November 17, 2014
As well as her wonderful novels, Nancy Mitford also wrote four, less known, historical biographies- Madame de Pompadour in 1954, Voltaire in Love in 1957, The Sun King in 1966 and Frederick the Great in 1970. This is the first of her biographies and it tells the life story of Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, who, despite her comparatively lowly beginnings, was told by a fortune teller when she was nine that she would rule over the heart of a King and believed this prophecy completely. Despite being married with a young daughter, she saw her future as the mistress of the King of France and set about making herself the most influential woman at Court for many years.
The new Marquis de Pompadour comes alive in this biography, as Nancy Mitford delights in recreating the splendour of Versailles. Madame de Pompadour comes across as a generally kindly woman; who treated the Queen with respect, had a great love of family, a good sense of humour and was deeply in love with the King. We read of her love of the theatre, power struggles in the Court, war, politics and an attempt on the King’s life which nearly ended her relationship with him.
This is not the most scholarly biography you will read, but it is immense fun. Mitford writes as though she knew Pompadour intimately. Her style is sniping, gossipy, opinionated and she does not even pretend to be unbiased about her subject. The book comes alive when she discusses the world of Versailles, with the power struggles, etiquette, jealousies and rivalries which obviously interest her far more than the world of politics or battles. This is a wonderfully enjoyable read; although even when it was first published it was seen more as entertainment than a serious work of history. Still, her warm and informal style certainly paved the way for many modern history books, aimed more at the casual reader than scholarly works which were the norm at that time. As such, her biographies work perfectly, as they are utterly enjoyable and Mitford’s sheer delight in the world of Versailles shines through.
The new Marquis de Pompadour comes alive in this biography, as Nancy Mitford delights in recreating the splendour of Versailles. Madame de Pompadour comes across as a generally kindly woman; who treated the Queen with respect, had a great love of family, a good sense of humour and was deeply in love with the King. We read of her love of the theatre, power struggles in the Court, war, politics and an attempt on the King’s life which nearly ended her relationship with him.
This is not the most scholarly biography you will read, but it is immense fun. Mitford writes as though she knew Pompadour intimately. Her style is sniping, gossipy, opinionated and she does not even pretend to be unbiased about her subject. The book comes alive when she discusses the world of Versailles, with the power struggles, etiquette, jealousies and rivalries which obviously interest her far more than the world of politics or battles. This is a wonderfully enjoyable read; although even when it was first published it was seen more as entertainment than a serious work of history. Still, her warm and informal style certainly paved the way for many modern history books, aimed more at the casual reader than scholarly works which were the norm at that time. As such, her biographies work perfectly, as they are utterly enjoyable and Mitford’s sheer delight in the world of Versailles shines through.
October 28, 2017
An enjoyable biography of that greatest of all courtisanes, Madame de Pompadour, told in the extremely posh voice of Nancy Mitford. Nancy Mitford is through her own aristocratic upbringing very apt in commenting on the ways of the French court and courtiers. I must confess that I was sometimes getting a bit bored by the abundance of noble names and affairs, but not bored enough to stop reading. The biography certainly provides many hilarious anecdotes and interesting stories. I had no idea that Madame de Pompadour had such an influence at the French court that, through her actions, she changed the course of the war with Prussia and England and, consequently, had a great influence in the course of French history. She had a direct correspondence with very influential people, such as the Empress of Austria and most of the French ambassadors in the European capitals. According to all accounts, she was highly intelligent, a good strategist, lovely to look at and never told a lie. Especially this last characteristic must have been pretty rare at the French court! Nancy Mitford was a witty woman and that made this biography pretty pleasant to read.
May 5, 2016
Louis XV & Mme explain the worldly French sexyouall sensibility : after 5-6 years the pash is over (we should all know that ), and love deepens while outsider sexercises play on. Yes, some of us know, but few have the French toleration & understanding. Nancy Mitford reports with her usual sparkle.
I will NOT expand as Amazon doubles prices on books with good GR reviews. I discovered this when I went to buy a gift etc. Amazon also doubles prices on books that get well-reviewed on its site. ~~ (These lines were writ in 2013).
I will NOT expand as Amazon doubles prices on books with good GR reviews. I discovered this when I went to buy a gift etc. Amazon also doubles prices on books that get well-reviewed on its site. ~~ (These lines were writ in 2013).
February 6, 2019
Sem saber que este livro existia fiquei curioso com ele por ser uma biografia da Madame de Pompadour.Valeu muitíssimo a pena a aposta neste livro! Realmente uma biografia que se lê como um conto!Muito bom!
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July 10, 2023(...)elle avait de la justesse dans l'esprit et de la justice dans le coeur..
Mais do que uma biografia, este livro sobre Madame de Pompadour é uma tremenda vingança que Mitford faz cair sobre os detratores da classe a que pertence - detratores esses, muito próximos dela, tão próximos que partilham laços de sangue, que, por vileza, perpetuam os lugares comuns de privilégio, insensibilidade, inconsequência e frivolidade aristocrática com os quais a autora não consegue concordar.
Fazendo assim da Marquise o veio central que percorre uma galeria de intrigas, jogos de poder, políticas, gáudios e esplendor, Mitford acaba por criar uma biografia pouco comum: sensível, embora não isenta, doce, trágica, romântica e, ainda assim, bastante realista de uma mulher que sabia representar, cantar e dançar, e o seu mestre foi Jéliotte, da Comédie Française; recitava peças inteiras de memória, e teve como professor de elocução Crébillon, o dramaturgo; tocava clavicórdio na perfeição, um dom precioso naquela época em que era preciso mais do que carregar num botão para ouvir música. Era uma jardineira e botânica entusiasta e sabia tudo sobre os arbustos maravilhosos que invadiam a França, oriundos de todos os cantos do mundo; adorava história natural e coleccionava pássaros raros e exóticos. A sua caligrafia, curiosamente moderna, era bonita e legível. Pintava, desenhava e gravava pedras preciosas. Por último, mas não menos importante, era uma dona de casa excepcional.
Para o conseguir, Mitford recorre a uma extensa bibliografia, entre a qual figuram sobretudo memórias, diários e cartas, fontes inesgotáveis de boatos, piadas e má língua que alimentam grande parte do livro. Mas aquilo que se destaca dele é sobretudo uma enorme admiração por uma época e uma personalidade ímpares na história e cultura europeias: absolutamente contraditórias, insondáveis, místicas e fascinantes:
A aparência e o comportamento geral tinham de ser alegres. A boa disposição era não só uma virtude como uma questão de delicadeza e quando não era natural tinha de ser cultivada. Quando as pessoas se sentiam tristes, doentes ou ansiosas guardavam esses sentimentos para si próprias e mostravam em público uma cara sorridente. E também não se demoravam nas tristezas dos outros, depois de uma primeira manifestação de solidariedade. Calculava-se que cada ser humano tinha cerca de duzentos amigos; destes, todos os dias devia haver pelo menos dois a sofrer de alguma preocupação; mas seria errado continuar a sofrer por eles porque também era necessário pensar nos outros.
Jeanne-Antoinette, futura Madame de Pompadour, nasceu em 1720, e nos anos que se seguiram, pese embora o facto de pouco sabermos da sua infância, estaria longe de imaginar o seu futuro. Ainda assim, em 1745, o seu destino ficou rapidamente selado (e por sua excelsa vontade):
(...)na altura só havia um tema de conversa na sociedade, tanto em Versalhes como em Paris: quem seria a próxima amante? (...)
Tal era o prestígio de monarca nesses tempos, tão perto estava de ser considerado deus, que a posição da sua amante não se revestia de grande vergonha, ao passo que as vantagens materiais para a família dela eram enormes.
A apoteose da Marquise, com tudo o que tem de claro e obscuro, positivo e negativo, grandioso e mundano, ocupa grandemente Mitford que se serve desta biografia para trazer à luz a faceta privada e pessoal, tantas vezes descoradas, da sua heroína (que o é):
Se era verdade que Madame de Pompadour não estava fisicamente apaixonada pelo Rei, sendo fisicamente incapaz de paixão, não seria demasiado dizer que ela o adorava; ele era o seu deus.
Nesta viagem pelos esplendores da corte francesa de século XVIII, a autora não esquece um sem nome de personalidades que cruzam caminho com Pompadour: de Voltaire a Diderot, de Richelieu a Frederico da Prússia, Mitford dá vida a um conjunto de personalidades extraordinárias e fascinantes que então, como agora, nos parecem tão vivas e igualmente misteriosas:
Na sua juventude [Luís XV], um dia voltara de Paris tão horrorizado com a pobreza e a fome que lá tinha visto que despediu de imediato oitenta jardineiros. Como alguém lhe disse depois que esses homens e as respectivas famílias iriam morrer à fome, o Rei voltou a chamá-los. Tinha a impressão irritante de que nunca conseguia fazer nada direito.
Relatar como Pompadour consegue subir a pulso num mundo altamente categorizado, estruturado e hermético é a missão de Mitford que para isso nos pinta, ao longo das páginas desta biografia, várias cenas da corte com os seus galanteios, maneirismos e rituais, como nenhuma historiografia oficial os apresenta:
A coutada favorita do Rei era a floresta de Sénart, onde tinha um pavilhão de caça chamado Choisy, uma casa pequenina que Gabriel alterara propositadamente para ele e que ele amava mais do que qualquer um dos seus palácios; dizia-se que mais até do que qualquer uma das suas amantes. Refugiava-se ali para poder ter privacidade e para se divertir, fazendo-se acompanhar por seis senhoras e vários amigos homens mas nunca por maridos desmancha-prazeres; ali a vida era tão livre e fácil que as mulheres estavam autorizadas a andar sem anquinhas, uma permissão sem precedentes na casa de um cavalheiro. Da cozinha. uma mesa mecânica subia já preparada com a comida, para que a presença de criados na sala de jantar não fosse necessária; depois do jantar, o próprio Rei fazia o café. No entanto, que ninguém julgue que ali havia orgias; Luís XV não era de todo apreciador do género.
E a Madame que Mitford nos traz também diverge daquela que a história gosta de mostrar (embora começando a arrepiar caminho), normalmente frívola e banal. Mitford fala de uma Marquise incómoda, literada e apaixonante que o bom senso tantas vezes cala por não lhe encontrar coerência num tempo de fausto e extravagância inconsequentes:
Ao todo havia [na biblioteca de Pompadour] 3525 volumes, grosseiramente divididos nas seguintes categorias:
87 traduções dos clássicos.
25 gramáticas e dicionários de francês e italiano.
844 livros de poesia francesa.
718 romances, entre eles: Manon Lescaut; La Princesse de Cleves; La Princesse de Montpensier; Histoire Amoureuse de la Cour d'Angleterre, do Comte de Hamilton; Robinson Crusoe; Perkin, Faux Duc d'York; Anecdotes Secrètes et Galantes sur la Cour d'Angle terr; L'Histoire de Cleveland, Fils Naturel de Cromwell; Milord Stan ley, ou le Criminel Vertueux; Tom Jones; Roderick Random; Moll Flanders, e Amelia (todos os ingleses em tradução).
52 contos de fadas, incluindo os de Perrault.
42 histórias religiosas.
738 livros de história e biografias.
235 de música.
Só cinco livros de sermões, incluindo os de Bourdaloue, Masillon e Fénelon.
215 livros de filosofia.
75 vidas de escritores.
Certo é que Madame de Pompadour se impôs pelas suas virtudes maiores sem perder o rumo, sem se tornar idealista, sem ceder à malícia e à maldade, guardando em si a compaixão e o amor próprio, e cultivando uma cultura artística ímpar nas cortes europeias da época, ganhando assim, mais do que um lugar na cama, um lugar no coração (e nas políticas) do rei. É esse o elogio maior que Mitford lhe faz.
Todos estes sinais de poder foram surgindo gradualmente; e, gradualmente, os cortesãos foram compreendendo que havia agora duas Rainhas de França em Versalhes, e que quem reinava não era a esposa do Rei.
A biografia em si, embora flua com facilidade, tem momentos de excesso em que se instala a confusão de nomes e títulos - acabando por levar o leitor no mesmo caos de orientação que, decerto, circundava os recém chegados à corte de Versailles. O formato também afasta esta biografia das fastidiosas e secas biografias habituais, mas, se a lermos com uma mente e um espírito abertos, as pequeninas originalidades da autora tornam-se agradáveis e não impedem a fruição plena da obra, que não serve só propósitos históricos, mas igualmente artísticos, já que está ao nível da sua ficção e não tem grande pretensão de dela se descolar. O grande estudo a que Mitford se deu, e que fica evidente, também acrescenta à experiência e oferece a quem não seja grande apreciador do estilo biográfico uma alternativa viável, agradável, apaixonada e apaixonante.
Madame de Pompadour era exímia numa arte que a maioria dos seres humanos despreza profundamente porque não é lucrativa e é efémera: a arte de viver.
Mais do que uma biografia, este livro sobre Madame de Pompadour é uma tremenda vingança que Mitford faz cair sobre os detratores da classe a que pertence - detratores esses, muito próximos dela, tão próximos que partilham laços de sangue, que, por vileza, perpetuam os lugares comuns de privilégio, insensibilidade, inconsequência e frivolidade aristocrática com os quais a autora não consegue concordar.
Fazendo assim da Marquise o veio central que percorre uma galeria de intrigas, jogos de poder, políticas, gáudios e esplendor, Mitford acaba por criar uma biografia pouco comum: sensível, embora não isenta, doce, trágica, romântica e, ainda assim, bastante realista de uma mulher que sabia representar, cantar e dançar, e o seu mestre foi Jéliotte, da Comédie Française; recitava peças inteiras de memória, e teve como professor de elocução Crébillon, o dramaturgo; tocava clavicórdio na perfeição, um dom precioso naquela época em que era preciso mais do que carregar num botão para ouvir música. Era uma jardineira e botânica entusiasta e sabia tudo sobre os arbustos maravilhosos que invadiam a França, oriundos de todos os cantos do mundo; adorava história natural e coleccionava pássaros raros e exóticos. A sua caligrafia, curiosamente moderna, era bonita e legível. Pintava, desenhava e gravava pedras preciosas. Por último, mas não menos importante, era uma dona de casa excepcional.
Para o conseguir, Mitford recorre a uma extensa bibliografia, entre a qual figuram sobretudo memórias, diários e cartas, fontes inesgotáveis de boatos, piadas e má língua que alimentam grande parte do livro. Mas aquilo que se destaca dele é sobretudo uma enorme admiração por uma época e uma personalidade ímpares na história e cultura europeias: absolutamente contraditórias, insondáveis, místicas e fascinantes:
A aparência e o comportamento geral tinham de ser alegres. A boa disposição era não só uma virtude como uma questão de delicadeza e quando não era natural tinha de ser cultivada. Quando as pessoas se sentiam tristes, doentes ou ansiosas guardavam esses sentimentos para si próprias e mostravam em público uma cara sorridente. E também não se demoravam nas tristezas dos outros, depois de uma primeira manifestação de solidariedade. Calculava-se que cada ser humano tinha cerca de duzentos amigos; destes, todos os dias devia haver pelo menos dois a sofrer de alguma preocupação; mas seria errado continuar a sofrer por eles porque também era necessário pensar nos outros.
Jeanne-Antoinette, futura Madame de Pompadour, nasceu em 1720, e nos anos que se seguiram, pese embora o facto de pouco sabermos da sua infância, estaria longe de imaginar o seu futuro. Ainda assim, em 1745, o seu destino ficou rapidamente selado (e por sua excelsa vontade):
(...)na altura só havia um tema de conversa na sociedade, tanto em Versalhes como em Paris: quem seria a próxima amante? (...)
Tal era o prestígio de monarca nesses tempos, tão perto estava de ser considerado deus, que a posição da sua amante não se revestia de grande vergonha, ao passo que as vantagens materiais para a família dela eram enormes.
A apoteose da Marquise, com tudo o que tem de claro e obscuro, positivo e negativo, grandioso e mundano, ocupa grandemente Mitford que se serve desta biografia para trazer à luz a faceta privada e pessoal, tantas vezes descoradas, da sua heroína (que o é):
Se era verdade que Madame de Pompadour não estava fisicamente apaixonada pelo Rei, sendo fisicamente incapaz de paixão, não seria demasiado dizer que ela o adorava; ele era o seu deus.
Nesta viagem pelos esplendores da corte francesa de século XVIII, a autora não esquece um sem nome de personalidades que cruzam caminho com Pompadour: de Voltaire a Diderot, de Richelieu a Frederico da Prússia, Mitford dá vida a um conjunto de personalidades extraordinárias e fascinantes que então, como agora, nos parecem tão vivas e igualmente misteriosas:
Na sua juventude [Luís XV], um dia voltara de Paris tão horrorizado com a pobreza e a fome que lá tinha visto que despediu de imediato oitenta jardineiros. Como alguém lhe disse depois que esses homens e as respectivas famílias iriam morrer à fome, o Rei voltou a chamá-los. Tinha a impressão irritante de que nunca conseguia fazer nada direito.
Relatar como Pompadour consegue subir a pulso num mundo altamente categorizado, estruturado e hermético é a missão de Mitford que para isso nos pinta, ao longo das páginas desta biografia, várias cenas da corte com os seus galanteios, maneirismos e rituais, como nenhuma historiografia oficial os apresenta:
A coutada favorita do Rei era a floresta de Sénart, onde tinha um pavilhão de caça chamado Choisy, uma casa pequenina que Gabriel alterara propositadamente para ele e que ele amava mais do que qualquer um dos seus palácios; dizia-se que mais até do que qualquer uma das suas amantes. Refugiava-se ali para poder ter privacidade e para se divertir, fazendo-se acompanhar por seis senhoras e vários amigos homens mas nunca por maridos desmancha-prazeres; ali a vida era tão livre e fácil que as mulheres estavam autorizadas a andar sem anquinhas, uma permissão sem precedentes na casa de um cavalheiro. Da cozinha. uma mesa mecânica subia já preparada com a comida, para que a presença de criados na sala de jantar não fosse necessária; depois do jantar, o próprio Rei fazia o café. No entanto, que ninguém julgue que ali havia orgias; Luís XV não era de todo apreciador do género.
E a Madame que Mitford nos traz também diverge daquela que a história gosta de mostrar (embora começando a arrepiar caminho), normalmente frívola e banal. Mitford fala de uma Marquise incómoda, literada e apaixonante que o bom senso tantas vezes cala por não lhe encontrar coerência num tempo de fausto e extravagância inconsequentes:
Ao todo havia [na biblioteca de Pompadour] 3525 volumes, grosseiramente divididos nas seguintes categorias:
87 traduções dos clássicos.
25 gramáticas e dicionários de francês e italiano.
844 livros de poesia francesa.
718 romances, entre eles: Manon Lescaut; La Princesse de Cleves; La Princesse de Montpensier; Histoire Amoureuse de la Cour d'Angleterre, do Comte de Hamilton; Robinson Crusoe; Perkin, Faux Duc d'York; Anecdotes Secrètes et Galantes sur la Cour d'Angle terr; L'Histoire de Cleveland, Fils Naturel de Cromwell; Milord Stan ley, ou le Criminel Vertueux; Tom Jones; Roderick Random; Moll Flanders, e Amelia (todos os ingleses em tradução).
52 contos de fadas, incluindo os de Perrault.
42 histórias religiosas.
738 livros de história e biografias.
235 de música.
Só cinco livros de sermões, incluindo os de Bourdaloue, Masillon e Fénelon.
215 livros de filosofia.
75 vidas de escritores.
Certo é que Madame de Pompadour se impôs pelas suas virtudes maiores sem perder o rumo, sem se tornar idealista, sem ceder à malícia e à maldade, guardando em si a compaixão e o amor próprio, e cultivando uma cultura artística ímpar nas cortes europeias da época, ganhando assim, mais do que um lugar na cama, um lugar no coração (e nas políticas) do rei. É esse o elogio maior que Mitford lhe faz.
Todos estes sinais de poder foram surgindo gradualmente; e, gradualmente, os cortesãos foram compreendendo que havia agora duas Rainhas de França em Versalhes, e que quem reinava não era a esposa do Rei.
A biografia em si, embora flua com facilidade, tem momentos de excesso em que se instala a confusão de nomes e títulos - acabando por levar o leitor no mesmo caos de orientação que, decerto, circundava os recém chegados à corte de Versailles. O formato também afasta esta biografia das fastidiosas e secas biografias habituais, mas, se a lermos com uma mente e um espírito abertos, as pequeninas originalidades da autora tornam-se agradáveis e não impedem a fruição plena da obra, que não serve só propósitos históricos, mas igualmente artísticos, já que está ao nível da sua ficção e não tem grande pretensão de dela se descolar. O grande estudo a que Mitford se deu, e que fica evidente, também acrescenta à experiência e oferece a quem não seja grande apreciador do estilo biográfico uma alternativa viável, agradável, apaixonada e apaixonante.
Madame de Pompadour era exímia numa arte que a maioria dos seres humanos despreza profundamente porque não é lucrativa e é efémera: a arte de viver.
March 10, 2018
I've never posted an image before (other than book covers) so this is likely to be painful. & I don't know why I'm starting with La Pompadour, as her brother apparently said that none of the many portraits of her resembled her. But I have always loved this Boucher painting.
Mitford's style is conversational - I felt like I was was back in the 18th century having a good old gossip over a cup of tea . No doubt Nancy & I would have been whispering behind our hand painted fans. Mitford's writing style involves a lot of jumping around & probably a lot more familiarity with famous names of the time than I have. & even if my schoolgirl French hadn't changed from poor to non-existent I don't think I would have been able to translate all the French verse Mitford included. I tried a couple of times with Babelfish, then gave up. Mitford's own explanation is that some of the more insulting doggerels are untranslatable being a play on Pompadour's maiden name (poisson is fish in French)
& there is a mention of the Princess of Hesse-Rhinevelt's mother giving birth alternately to daughters & hares! There is no explanation of this & no cite either.
So you just have to go with the flow!
Pompadour's rise to the top was remarkable A bourgeiosie with a beautiful but rather common mother (who had made a very fortunate alliance after the banishment of her husband)she was educated at home, but as Mitford writes, " a more accomplished woman has seldom lived."
After she attracted the attention of Louis XV her taste was given full rein! Theatres were built for to act houses for her to decorate, gardens to create. Although apparently not that fond of jewellery she had plenty of it. She was a patron of the arts (notably Voltaire who wasn't always touchingly grateful) & the creation of Sevres porcelain. & unlike the aristocrats she (or rather Louis!) paid her bills.
Mitford theorises that history & her French contemporaries don't always judge her kindly because of her extravagance & because her fondness was more for beautiful small things rather than large monuments that would stand the test of time. Also she is condemned for her part in the Seven Years War.
Even more amazingly the physical side of their relationship ceased around 1750, but although Louis XV started sleeping with other women, none of them could replace her in his heart & he was heartbroken at her relatively young death. Mitford believed the jolly Mme du Barry would have only had the status of these other women if Pompadour had been still alive.
Mitford's final line
I can imagine.
Edit; the image worked! Go me!
March 30, 2022
Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour hold the center but are not always as interesting as the supporting players. Voltaire appears in his fascinating duality, flattering and satirical, unctuous and petulant, apt to bite the hands that feed him. Mitford describes the “laudatory poem” he penned after the victory over the English at Fontenoy in 1745:
That friend of Voltaire’s, the Duc de Richelieu, is another of the book’s scene-stealers. Apparently the perfection of Ancien Régime libertinage, he supplied Laclos with a model for Valmont in Les Liaisons dangereuses. “The financier La Popeliniére discovered a revolving fireplace in his wife’s bedroom, by which the Duc de Richelieu used to come from the next-door house and visit her.” “[H]e was observed sneaking into the bedroom of one of his mistresses, by means of a plank thrown over the street from an opposite house.” After forbidding his daughter to marry a man of bourgeois antecedents, he quipped coldly that if the young people really were in love, they could, after more suitable matches, find each other in society, and begin an affair. He said he feared only two things, impotence and Frederick the Great’s French verse—verse Frederick hired Voltaire to correct and encourage. During the Seven Years War, Richelieu, while in command of the French army over the Rhine, accepted bribes from Frederick in return for pulling his punches and generally easing up on the winded Anglo-Prussian forces. With the bribes he built a lavish Parisian pleasure palace that a visiting Horace Walpole described to a friend as having “a chamber surrounded with looking glasses and hung with white lutestrings, painted with roses. I wish you could see the antiquated Rinaldo who has built himself this romantic bower. Looking glass never reflected so many wrinkles.”
Richelieu, Mitford writes, got away with everything. He lived to a ripe old age (or a withered one—Tourneur’s line about “a parched and juiceless luxor” could not be better applied), to die in 1788, just a year before it all came crashing down:
Richelieu, a great friend of Voltaire’s, got even more praise than he deserved; and the cunning old poet mentioned a lot of other people who might be useful to him. Soon he was besieged by women begging a line or two for sons and lovers. This poem sold ten thousand copies in ten days, mostly to the army; subsequent editions brought in so many sons and lovers that the thing became a farce.
That friend of Voltaire’s, the Duc de Richelieu, is another of the book’s scene-stealers. Apparently the perfection of Ancien Régime libertinage, he supplied Laclos with a model for Valmont in Les Liaisons dangereuses. “The financier La Popeliniére discovered a revolving fireplace in his wife’s bedroom, by which the Duc de Richelieu used to come from the next-door house and visit her.” “[H]e was observed sneaking into the bedroom of one of his mistresses, by means of a plank thrown over the street from an opposite house.” After forbidding his daughter to marry a man of bourgeois antecedents, he quipped coldly that if the young people really were in love, they could, after more suitable matches, find each other in society, and begin an affair. He said he feared only two things, impotence and Frederick the Great’s French verse—verse Frederick hired Voltaire to correct and encourage. During the Seven Years War, Richelieu, while in command of the French army over the Rhine, accepted bribes from Frederick in return for pulling his punches and generally easing up on the winded Anglo-Prussian forces. With the bribes he built a lavish Parisian pleasure palace that a visiting Horace Walpole described to a friend as having “a chamber surrounded with looking glasses and hung with white lutestrings, painted with roses. I wish you could see the antiquated Rinaldo who has built himself this romantic bower. Looking glass never reflected so many wrinkles.”
Richelieu, Mitford writes, got away with everything. He lived to a ripe old age (or a withered one—Tourneur’s line about “a parched and juiceless luxor” could not be better applied), to die in 1788, just a year before it all came crashing down:
The old mummy, as they called him at Versailles, was now sixty-two. His military career came to an end…his amorous career went on until he died, at the age of ninety-six. When he was eighty-four he pensioned off an old lady whose chief occupation in life had been finding girls for him and making all arrangements, and settled down with his fourth wife, a pretty young widow. She, worshipping him as much as all his other wives and mistresses, presented him with a son, who died at once, however—greatly to the relief of M. de Fronsac. Richelieu made up his quarrel with Maurepas when that minister was recalled, after twenty-seven years of exile, by Louis XVI; they used to sit together for hours on end at Versailles, which they alone, now, could remember under Louis XIV, regretting the glories of the past…
September 25, 2019
UNPOPULAR OPINION - THIS DID NOT DO IT FOR ME 🤷♀️
✨ Popsugar Reading Challenge 2019✨
✨✨Two books that share the same title✨✨
When it comes to biographies of Madame the Pompadour, this one is most often revered as the best-of-the-best. However, I was not impressed. Now, it must of course be remembered that this book is more than 60 years old and the field of history has come a long way since then. So it has to be cut some slack, which is the reason for my 2 stars and not just 1.
👎 WHAT I DISLIKED 👎
Assumptions: Through a lot of this book Mitford makes a lot of seemingly unsupported assumptions that she doesn't back up with any evidence.
Who is she?: This was a biography of Madame de Pompadour, so I would say that the fact that I, once I finished this book, felt like I didn't really understand the subject - her motivations, her personality, her impact on her country and time - is pretty bad. Really, I couldn't get a sense of the woman!
Esoteric: I am an historian, and I have read about Madame the Pompadour earlier. Still, I felt like there were so many things and people in this book that weren't explained. It meant that it felt like I had to have read a lot about the time and the people before reading this book because it was actually a bit hard to get into when I had to look up everything all the time...
Follow me for more book goodness: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
✨ Popsugar Reading Challenge 2019✨
✨✨Two books that share the same title✨✨
When it comes to biographies of Madame the Pompadour, this one is most often revered as the best-of-the-best. However, I was not impressed. Now, it must of course be remembered that this book is more than 60 years old and the field of history has come a long way since then. So it has to be cut some slack, which is the reason for my 2 stars and not just 1.
"Madame de Pompadour knew her own worth, she suffered neither from an inferiority nor a superiority complex, she saw herself as she was and on the whole approved of what she saw."
👎 WHAT I DISLIKED 👎
Assumptions: Through a lot of this book Mitford makes a lot of seemingly unsupported assumptions that she doesn't back up with any evidence.
Who is she?: This was a biography of Madame de Pompadour, so I would say that the fact that I, once I finished this book, felt like I didn't really understand the subject - her motivations, her personality, her impact on her country and time - is pretty bad. Really, I couldn't get a sense of the woman!
Esoteric: I am an historian, and I have read about Madame the Pompadour earlier. Still, I felt like there were so many things and people in this book that weren't explained. It meant that it felt like I had to have read a lot about the time and the people before reading this book because it was actually a bit hard to get into when I had to look up everything all the time...
Follow me for more book goodness: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
January 11, 2015
Biographies are my kind of book. I've probably said it before, but if they're well written they're an instant 4 star read for me. This one I rated 3 stars. Looking back, that's probably harsh, but while I liked it, I didn't really like it. Sometimes Nancy's writing got a little confused, jumping around in chronological order and made a lot of assumptions about our knowledge of French life and courts, as well as being able to read passages in French. There was a lot to like though. Nancy has an intimate way of writing, that really draws you into the story. I bet she'd have made a great palace gossip of this period. I also liked how well Madame de Pompadour came across. It was obvious that Nancy found her fabulous and this was infectious, I loved her too. In fact, I wonder now why I didn't rate it 4 stars.
September 25, 2017
"Madame de Pompadour excelled at an art which the majority of human beings thoroughly despise because it is unprofitable and ephemeral: the art of living."
Decadent 18th century French life told in the crisp tones of the 1950's. An unusual and cute biography that I don't think you could get away with publishing today. Nancy Mitford writes as if she knows her subjects personally. Her opinions on the characters of these long dead historical figures are regularly amusing.
"The Queen, who, like many meek and holy people, had a catty side to her nature"
The second half of the book regarding the seven years war and the politics of France was a little dry. I came into this knowing nearly nothing about Madame de Pompadour and I left knowing at least an outline of the events of her life. I think Mitford tends to idealise her. It reminds me of a piece of Jane Austen's juvenilia about Mary, Queen of Scots. However, at only 230 pages long it's a charming curiosity and a nice way to waste an afternoon.
"Nineteenth century historians, so easily shocked it is impossible not to suspect them of hypocrisy..."
Decadent 18th century French life told in the crisp tones of the 1950's. An unusual and cute biography that I don't think you could get away with publishing today. Nancy Mitford writes as if she knows her subjects personally. Her opinions on the characters of these long dead historical figures are regularly amusing.
"The Queen, who, like many meek and holy people, had a catty side to her nature"
The second half of the book regarding the seven years war and the politics of France was a little dry. I came into this knowing nearly nothing about Madame de Pompadour and I left knowing at least an outline of the events of her life. I think Mitford tends to idealise her. It reminds me of a piece of Jane Austen's juvenilia about Mary, Queen of Scots. However, at only 230 pages long it's a charming curiosity and a nice way to waste an afternoon.
"Nineteenth century historians, so easily shocked it is impossible not to suspect them of hypocrisy..."
April 22, 2022
The oldest of the six Mitford sisters, each fascinating in themselves, Nancy was a ‘bright young thing’ who went on to write eight novels, numerous articles, reviews, and essays, as well as four biographies of historical figures, among them Louis the XIV and Voltaire. During the war, Nancy met and fell in love with Gaston Palewski, chief of staff to de Gaulle, and in 1946 moved to Paris to be closer to him. She adored everything French, and from 1950 began to write about French history, describing characters as one would friends and acquaintances. These writings went on to be published as biographies, the very first being Madame de Pompadour, with a life as fascinating, in fact, perhaps more so, than Mitford’s herself.
In this book, written in a light, friendly tone, with plenty of humour, and some stinging (but candid) observations, Nancy Mitford not only tells the absorbing story of the life of Madame de Pompadour but also takes us right into Versailles (with which of course her life was intertwined), with its opulence and beauty, many interesting inhabitants, its intrigues and politics.
Madame de Pompadour, opens though, not with Jeanne Antoinette Poisson but with the death of the Roi Soleil, Louis the XIV, and the coronation of his great grandson, Louis the XV, who came on the throne at age five, with a regent (for a change, not the stereotypical evil one of history), ruling in his stead. We learn a little of his early years, his marriage, and first few mistresses (some of whom were downright ‘nasty’, as Mitford describes them). Then we move on to Reinette, who got her nick-name after a prophecy when she was aged 9 that she was destined for a king, getting some glimpses of her childhood and marriage, her beginnings in society, meeting and becoming mistress to Louis XV, but then going on to become much more—friend, advisor and helpmate in matters of state and much else.
Madame de Pompadour was not only beautiful, elegant and charming, she also was highly accomplished—she could act, dance, and sing (in fact, had an amateur theatre which performed before the King and select invitees at Versailles); draw, paint and engrave precious stones; was a keen gardener with a knowledge of all the new plants and shrubs coming into the country from foreign shores; and played the clavichord perfectly—and was extremely well read. In fact, Voltaire at one point claimed, At her she has read more than any old lady of that country where she is going to reign, and where it is desirable she should reign. Her library was enviable, and at the time of her death consisted of over 3,000 volumes with novels, poetry, biographies, history and philosophy. She cultivated the society of philosophers and writers, encouraged artists and architects, and went on to become absorbed in acquiring and decorating new homes. She loved real flowers, but also porcelain ones, as also animals—real and porcelain.
But despite her accomplishments, being established at Versailles was no easy task; especially since being bourgeoise, opposition was far stronger than would otherwise have been. Before she was even named official mistress, she underwent months of training on the aristocracy, observances, their relationships and squabbles, so that not one wrong foot would be placed. She placated the Queen to some extent by her genuine friendliness, but court politics and intrigue were constant, and daily life even if interesting was never easy. (Alongside, she always suffered bouts of ill health.) It was interesting to watch these intrigues, where there may have been friends and enemies, but enemies could band together against a common foe (for instance, Madame de Pompadour worked with the Duc de Richielieu, one of her strongest opponents in one instance, while the Queen took Madame de Pompadour’s side on one occasion against her own daughters). But court politics was not the only politics that Madame de Pompadour was involved in, for she soon became the King’s adviser and confidant in broader politics as well, and continued to do so until almost the end of her life.
I very much enjoyed Nancy Mitford’s account of Madame Pompadour’s life; she tells it in a light, humorous manner, almost like a friend telling one the story. Consider this bit from the opening passages,
[Louis the XIV] had outlived his son, his grandson, and his eldest great-grandson, and reigned seventy-two years, too long for the good of his country. Even then he was so strong that he could not die until half eaten away by gangrene, for which Dr Fagon, the killer of princes prescribed asses’ milk. … [Louis XV] had neither father, mother, brothers nor sisters, all killed by the wretched Fagon.
But the lighter tone doesn’t imply a lightweight biography by any means. Mitford gives us a fairly detailed account dealing not only with Madame Pompadour’s life but also the broader scenario and historical developments in France in many of which she played a role, relying on a fairly solid bibliography.
Madame de Pompadour come across as a genuinely nice and kind hearted person, who tried to do well by most people, and who in her way truly loved the King and wished always to be with him. (As indeed was her family; they benefitted from her position which isn’t unexpected, but none were greedy or took advantage of it to enrich themselves]. One can feel that Mitford quite likes her subject, but while she defends her against unfair accusations that she had to face, particularly for her role in politics but also elsewhere, she also acknowledges her mistakes where she made them. The same is true of the other historical figures who come into the account as well, be they royals, or the nobility or others. Mitford doesn’t hold back her opinions
It is a pity that Madame de Pompadour did not live long enough to direct this new trend [in architecture], and that it should have fallen into the incompetent hands of the uneducated Madame du Barry and the feather-brained Queen Marie Antoinette.
But she is never unfair, for she brings out both the merits and faults of most of whom she writes of, presenting them as real human beings as they were. It is interesting that all the other three subjects of her biographies—Louis XIV, Frederick the Great, Voltaire make an appearance in the book (Voltaire seems perpetually to bring about his own perils—But Voltaire, as usual, gave the ladder under his feet a good, sharp kick—This made me want to pick up his bio next 😊]
I loved her descriptions of court life—the lavish balls, like The Ball of the Clipped Yew Trees, among them—but also the picture one is able to get of how things worked in France; all the aristocrats living permanently (more or less) at Versailles, away from their estates (where they were sent only if banished), but which also impacted the economy and relationships between the aristocracy and common people leading eventually to the revolution. One also gets an idea of the broad politics of the day—alliances and enmities—and major developments.
This was a rich, entertaining and informative account of a fascinating person, who had so much more to her than I knew about (the only parts where my interested waned a little were the bits about the Seven Year War where I felt I was losing track of some of the persons being talked of). It has left me wanting to explore more about her as well as to read more of Mitford’s bios.
Read for the #1954Club hosted by Karen at Kaggsy's Bookish Ramblings: https://kaggsysbookishramblings.wordp...
and Simon at Stuck in a Book: http://www.stuckinabook.com/1954club-...
In this book, written in a light, friendly tone, with plenty of humour, and some stinging (but candid) observations, Nancy Mitford not only tells the absorbing story of the life of Madame de Pompadour but also takes us right into Versailles (with which of course her life was intertwined), with its opulence and beauty, many interesting inhabitants, its intrigues and politics.
Madame de Pompadour, opens though, not with Jeanne Antoinette Poisson but with the death of the Roi Soleil, Louis the XIV, and the coronation of his great grandson, Louis the XV, who came on the throne at age five, with a regent (for a change, not the stereotypical evil one of history), ruling in his stead. We learn a little of his early years, his marriage, and first few mistresses (some of whom were downright ‘nasty’, as Mitford describes them). Then we move on to Reinette, who got her nick-name after a prophecy when she was aged 9 that she was destined for a king, getting some glimpses of her childhood and marriage, her beginnings in society, meeting and becoming mistress to Louis XV, but then going on to become much more—friend, advisor and helpmate in matters of state and much else.
Madame de Pompadour was not only beautiful, elegant and charming, she also was highly accomplished—she could act, dance, and sing (in fact, had an amateur theatre which performed before the King and select invitees at Versailles); draw, paint and engrave precious stones; was a keen gardener with a knowledge of all the new plants and shrubs coming into the country from foreign shores; and played the clavichord perfectly—and was extremely well read. In fact, Voltaire at one point claimed, At her she has read more than any old lady of that country where she is going to reign, and where it is desirable she should reign. Her library was enviable, and at the time of her death consisted of over 3,000 volumes with novels, poetry, biographies, history and philosophy. She cultivated the society of philosophers and writers, encouraged artists and architects, and went on to become absorbed in acquiring and decorating new homes. She loved real flowers, but also porcelain ones, as also animals—real and porcelain.
But despite her accomplishments, being established at Versailles was no easy task; especially since being bourgeoise, opposition was far stronger than would otherwise have been. Before she was even named official mistress, she underwent months of training on the aristocracy, observances, their relationships and squabbles, so that not one wrong foot would be placed. She placated the Queen to some extent by her genuine friendliness, but court politics and intrigue were constant, and daily life even if interesting was never easy. (Alongside, she always suffered bouts of ill health.) It was interesting to watch these intrigues, where there may have been friends and enemies, but enemies could band together against a common foe (for instance, Madame de Pompadour worked with the Duc de Richielieu, one of her strongest opponents in one instance, while the Queen took Madame de Pompadour’s side on one occasion against her own daughters). But court politics was not the only politics that Madame de Pompadour was involved in, for she soon became the King’s adviser and confidant in broader politics as well, and continued to do so until almost the end of her life.
I very much enjoyed Nancy Mitford’s account of Madame Pompadour’s life; she tells it in a light, humorous manner, almost like a friend telling one the story. Consider this bit from the opening passages,
[Louis the XIV] had outlived his son, his grandson, and his eldest great-grandson, and reigned seventy-two years, too long for the good of his country. Even then he was so strong that he could not die until half eaten away by gangrene, for which Dr Fagon, the killer of princes prescribed asses’ milk. … [Louis XV] had neither father, mother, brothers nor sisters, all killed by the wretched Fagon.
But the lighter tone doesn’t imply a lightweight biography by any means. Mitford gives us a fairly detailed account dealing not only with Madame Pompadour’s life but also the broader scenario and historical developments in France in many of which she played a role, relying on a fairly solid bibliography.
Madame de Pompadour come across as a genuinely nice and kind hearted person, who tried to do well by most people, and who in her way truly loved the King and wished always to be with him. (As indeed was her family; they benefitted from her position which isn’t unexpected, but none were greedy or took advantage of it to enrich themselves]. One can feel that Mitford quite likes her subject, but while she defends her against unfair accusations that she had to face, particularly for her role in politics but also elsewhere, she also acknowledges her mistakes where she made them. The same is true of the other historical figures who come into the account as well, be they royals, or the nobility or others. Mitford doesn’t hold back her opinions
It is a pity that Madame de Pompadour did not live long enough to direct this new trend [in architecture], and that it should have fallen into the incompetent hands of the uneducated Madame du Barry and the feather-brained Queen Marie Antoinette.
But she is never unfair, for she brings out both the merits and faults of most of whom she writes of, presenting them as real human beings as they were. It is interesting that all the other three subjects of her biographies—Louis XIV, Frederick the Great, Voltaire make an appearance in the book (Voltaire seems perpetually to bring about his own perils—But Voltaire, as usual, gave the ladder under his feet a good, sharp kick—This made me want to pick up his bio next 😊]
I loved her descriptions of court life—the lavish balls, like The Ball of the Clipped Yew Trees, among them—but also the picture one is able to get of how things worked in France; all the aristocrats living permanently (more or less) at Versailles, away from their estates (where they were sent only if banished), but which also impacted the economy and relationships between the aristocracy and common people leading eventually to the revolution. One also gets an idea of the broad politics of the day—alliances and enmities—and major developments.
This was a rich, entertaining and informative account of a fascinating person, who had so much more to her than I knew about (the only parts where my interested waned a little were the bits about the Seven Year War where I felt I was losing track of some of the persons being talked of). It has left me wanting to explore more about her as well as to read more of Mitford’s bios.
Read for the #1954Club hosted by Karen at Kaggsy's Bookish Ramblings: https://kaggsysbookishramblings.wordp...
and Simon at Stuck in a Book: http://www.stuckinabook.com/1954club-...
February 1, 2011
Reading Nancy Mitford's biography of "Reinette" Poisson, whom history knows as Madame de Pompadour, is like sidling up to a knowledgeable guest at a vast party full of strangers and asking her what's what. She's happy to tell you, but being Mitford, a Jazz Age aristocrat, a Bright Young Thing, she'll assume you know who all the people are already, and that you have a passing command of French, and focus on how they relate to the one she came to admire, La Pompadour.
In other words, it's a shame that NYRB Classics neglected to include a family tree or, better still, a dramatis personae, for the casual reader unfamiliar with the late Ancien Regime of Pompadour's lover, King Louis XV's France will likely be lost in a sea of unfamiliar names, political issues, and bewildering Versailles ettiquitte. I was fortunate to have numerous secondary sources at hand to answer my questions and help me remember what I did already know; those without such will want to have a browser window handy, as even just Wikipedia will be a help for which they'll be grateful.
That is not to say this is at all a bad book. Mitford is great fun to read, breezy, well-informed and opinionated. She feels her subject has been unfairly maligned by history and wants to redress that, in the process giving us all a wonderful look at a most fascinating woman.
In other words, it's a shame that NYRB Classics neglected to include a family tree or, better still, a dramatis personae, for the casual reader unfamiliar with the late Ancien Regime of Pompadour's lover, King Louis XV's France will likely be lost in a sea of unfamiliar names, political issues, and bewildering Versailles ettiquitte. I was fortunate to have numerous secondary sources at hand to answer my questions and help me remember what I did already know; those without such will want to have a browser window handy, as even just Wikipedia will be a help for which they'll be grateful.
That is not to say this is at all a bad book. Mitford is great fun to read, breezy, well-informed and opinionated. She feels her subject has been unfairly maligned by history and wants to redress that, in the process giving us all a wonderful look at a most fascinating woman.
October 18, 2023
A rather frivolous, if lively, historical biography. Madame de Pompadour was an 18th century mistress of the French king, Louis XV, notable for being a fixture of the court for two decades, for spending a lot on home renovations and objets d’art while also supporting artists and philosophers, and for being a commoner. This last is less interesting than it sounds, as she came from the elite financial bourgeoisie and hobnobbed with the nobility, and the king quickly promoted her to marquise so she could be presented at court, but it was still a bit of a scandal at the time.
This book is notable for being written in the 1950s by Nancy Mitford, herself an English aristocrat, and her snootiness practically drips from the pages, with a sort of breezy judgment and absolute certainty about everything. At first I found her voice humorous; soon it got old, so I read most of the book in small doses although it is quite readable. It’s certainly interesting to ponder whether her viewpoint perhaps approached that of 1740s-1760s Versailles in a way a modern author’s might not: her assumption that a woman’s responsibility is to “manage” her man, for instance, while he’s not really responsible his actions, certainly seems to accord with the behavior of the people involved. On the other hand, I am wary of projecting opinions from the recent past back several centuries.
The book is still interesting though, largely as a lively account of the social life of Versailles and as a portrait of Louis XV. Though plenty of documentation about the actual subject of the biography exists, she interested me much less—the most striking fact being that despite her role as reigning royal mistress, she apparently wasn’t that into sex. By Mitford’s account this isn’t strange, and she did love the king as well as her position. (Also per Mitford, after both wife and mistress grew exhausted with his sexual demands, it’s only natural that Louis XV needed a private brothel full of young lower class women to fulfill his sexual needs: the Bourbon temperament, you see. I definitely wanted to know more about the claim that some of these women didn’t even know who he was, which seems difficult to accomplish at Versailles—unless they were so quickly trafficked in and out that they met no one.) Sadly, her bibliography is in the form of a list rather than references for specific facts, so it’s hard to know where much of this came from.
At any rate, this has some potential interest as a portrait of an era, but it’s not the first I’d recommend.
This book is notable for being written in the 1950s by Nancy Mitford, herself an English aristocrat, and her snootiness practically drips from the pages, with a sort of breezy judgment and absolute certainty about everything. At first I found her voice humorous; soon it got old, so I read most of the book in small doses although it is quite readable. It’s certainly interesting to ponder whether her viewpoint perhaps approached that of 1740s-1760s Versailles in a way a modern author’s might not: her assumption that a woman’s responsibility is to “manage” her man, for instance, while he’s not really responsible his actions, certainly seems to accord with the behavior of the people involved. On the other hand, I am wary of projecting opinions from the recent past back several centuries.
The book is still interesting though, largely as a lively account of the social life of Versailles and as a portrait of Louis XV. Though plenty of documentation about the actual subject of the biography exists, she interested me much less—the most striking fact being that despite her role as reigning royal mistress, she apparently wasn’t that into sex. By Mitford’s account this isn’t strange, and she did love the king as well as her position. (Also per Mitford, after both wife and mistress grew exhausted with his sexual demands, it’s only natural that Louis XV needed a private brothel full of young lower class women to fulfill his sexual needs: the Bourbon temperament, you see. I definitely wanted to know more about the claim that some of these women didn’t even know who he was, which seems difficult to accomplish at Versailles—unless they were so quickly trafficked in and out that they met no one.) Sadly, her bibliography is in the form of a list rather than references for specific facts, so it’s hard to know where much of this came from.
At any rate, this has some potential interest as a portrait of an era, but it’s not the first I’d recommend.
June 2, 2023
Nisam ni morala da je čitam.
March 14, 2015
Let's get this out here first: if I wanted to bring back one 20th century British person to go to tea and just hang out, it would be Nancy Mitford (sorry, Jessica, you are my go to girl for rallies and being snide about people, I promise). Nancy Mitford's account of the life of Madame de Pompadour is immensely readable and well presented. From her beginnings as Jeanne Antoinette Poisson to the cultural curator of the French court, Nancy Mitford chronicles the rise and death of the most famous French king's mistress. Along the way she turns the characteristic Mitford sarcasm towards many of the people at court, especially the court physicians that readers of The Sun King will remember.
Mitford refrains from judging Mme du Pompadour too harshly. Mitford's narrative consists of Mme du Pompadour going up against an engrained nobility (which in retrospect was not far from failing miserably) as a more bourgeois but also more authentically French personality. Mme du Pompadour couldn't help her upbringing, let alone rumors about her parentage, but she could renovate homes, collect art, and act as advisor to the King as well as be captivating enough to be the principle and steady mistress for twenty years. Mitford pulls no punches when discussing Pompadour's successor, Mme du Barry, as a classless woman of ill repute. Imagine the wrath of an English aristocrat for the French. And now make it witty, classy, and dismissive. Mitford retains some of her academic tone while also putting those she does not care for in their place, striking a balance between substance and commentary.
Once again, Mitford has captured the spirit of a time as well as accomplishing an incredibly readable biography of a famous figure from pre-Revolutionary France.
Also recommended are Voltaire in Love and The Sun King, and I am very much looking forward to her biography of Frederick the Great that was just re-issued last month. Before Mitford Enlightenment France was not particularly a favorite subject, though now it is through Mitford's incomparable English style.
Mitford refrains from judging Mme du Pompadour too harshly. Mitford's narrative consists of Mme du Pompadour going up against an engrained nobility (which in retrospect was not far from failing miserably) as a more bourgeois but also more authentically French personality. Mme du Pompadour couldn't help her upbringing, let alone rumors about her parentage, but she could renovate homes, collect art, and act as advisor to the King as well as be captivating enough to be the principle and steady mistress for twenty years. Mitford pulls no punches when discussing Pompadour's successor, Mme du Barry, as a classless woman of ill repute. Imagine the wrath of an English aristocrat for the French. And now make it witty, classy, and dismissive. Mitford retains some of her academic tone while also putting those she does not care for in their place, striking a balance between substance and commentary.
Once again, Mitford has captured the spirit of a time as well as accomplishing an incredibly readable biography of a famous figure from pre-Revolutionary France.
Also recommended are Voltaire in Love and The Sun King, and I am very much looking forward to her biography of Frederick the Great that was just re-issued last month. Before Mitford Enlightenment France was not particularly a favorite subject, though now it is through Mitford's incomparable English style.
May 5, 2016
Mitford's biography pales in comparison to a book like Claude Manceron's Twilight of the Old Order, 1774-1778. Now, granted, Manceron's book (the first in a tetralogy) is much vaster and covers a wider range of personages and geography. But if you extracted only what he wrote about Mme. de Pompadour and Louis XV, it would still be more sparkling and informative than what Mitford had to say. Both books have been called novelistic. And interestingly, neither writer had much formal schooling; Mitford was tutored only in French and riding, and Manceron's education ended at age 11 when he became crippled by polio. I know which author I'd like to read more of.
It was interesting to learn the origin of mayonnaise. I mean, mahonnaise...invented in the Minorcan city of Mahón, which was under military siege in 1756 and had no supplies of butter or cream, necessitating a sauce made only of eggs and oil.
March 26, 2010
I've wanted to read a biography about Madame du Pompadour ever since I saw her on a Doctor Who episode. Yes, I am a dork. When I found out that one of the Mitford sisters had written about the King's mistress, I couldn't wait to read the book. Even though it was published in the '40s, the book was still highly enjoyable. The book was centered around Madame du Pompadour but also included the major players like King Louis and his wife. I don't know the history well enough to know how well researched the book was but I tore through this book in two days even though I normally plod through biographies and loved almost every word.
March 12, 2021
I don't mind reading biographies from time to time.
And this is all about the mistress of Luis XV. She was married and left her husband in order to stay in Versailles with the King. She was loyal to him until her death. She was given a title of Marquise and lots of properties too. Probably the King loved her and appreciated her devotion.
It is an excellent and highly readable biography by Nancy Mitford.
I recommend it.
And this is all about the mistress of Luis XV. She was married and left her husband in order to stay in Versailles with the King. She was loyal to him until her death. She was given a title of Marquise and lots of properties too. Probably the King loved her and appreciated her devotion.
It is an excellent and highly readable biography by Nancy Mitford.
I recommend it.
February 9, 2014
Her real name was Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour: she was the official mistress of the French King Louis XV.
It was quite interesting to learn that she a major patron of architecture - École Militaire and such decorative arts as porcelain - Manufacture national de Sèvres. She was the direct responsible by the purchase of the well-known Élysée Palace.
She was a patron of the philosophies of the Enlightenment , including Voltaire and Montesquieu.
The author wrote a magnificent portrait of this important historical character who played a positive influence under the Louis XV realty.
Page 232:
Voltaire wrote: "I am very sad at the death of Madame de Pompadour. I was indebted to her and I mourn her out of gratitude. …'Born sincere, she loved the King for himself; elle avait de la justesse dans l'esprit de la justice dans le coeur, all this is not to be met with every day.' "We shall miss her as long as we live.' 'In the end of a dream.'
Diderot: 'Madame de Pompadour is dead. So what remains of this woman who cost us so much in men and money, left us without honor and without energy, and who overthrew the whole political system of Europe? The Treaty of Versailles which will last as long as it lasts; Bouchardon's Amour, which will be admired for ever; a few stones engraved by Guay which will amaze the antiquaries of the future; a nice little picture by van Loo which people will look at sometimes, and a handful of dust.'
3* Love in a Cold Climate
2* The Pursuit of Love
3* The Pursuit of Love & Love in a Cold Climate
4* Madame de Pompadour
TR Voltaire in Love
TR Wigs on the Green
TR Frederick the Great
TR Christmas Pudding and Pigeon Pie
TR The Sun King : Louis Fourteenth at Versailles
It was quite interesting to learn that she a major patron of architecture - École Militaire and such decorative arts as porcelain - Manufacture national de Sèvres. She was the direct responsible by the purchase of the well-known Élysée Palace.
She was a patron of the philosophies of the Enlightenment , including Voltaire and Montesquieu.
The author wrote a magnificent portrait of this important historical character who played a positive influence under the Louis XV realty.
Page 232:
Voltaire wrote: "I am very sad at the death of Madame de Pompadour. I was indebted to her and I mourn her out of gratitude. …'Born sincere, she loved the King for himself; elle avait de la justesse dans l'esprit de la justice dans le coeur, all this is not to be met with every day.' "We shall miss her as long as we live.' 'In the end of a dream.'
Diderot: 'Madame de Pompadour is dead. So what remains of this woman who cost us so much in men and money, left us without honor and without energy, and who overthrew the whole political system of Europe? The Treaty of Versailles which will last as long as it lasts; Bouchardon's Amour, which will be admired for ever; a few stones engraved by Guay which will amaze the antiquaries of the future; a nice little picture by van Loo which people will look at sometimes, and a handful of dust.'
3* Love in a Cold Climate
2* The Pursuit of Love
3* The Pursuit of Love & Love in a Cold Climate
4* Madame de Pompadour
TR Voltaire in Love
TR Wigs on the Green
TR Frederick the Great
TR Christmas Pudding and Pigeon Pie
TR The Sun King : Louis Fourteenth at Versailles
September 24, 2021
As expected from Mitford by now, light, entertaining, and gossipy, if somewhat dated - and exactly what I came in for, though by the end, the general bullshit of the nobility started to get on my nerves ("this is why you had a revolution" was a recurring thought). Recommended if you're interested in the life of royal mistresses and what went on in Versailles.
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
More reviews on my blog, To Other Worlds.
April 3, 2014
Enjoyable, though a bit questionable. It's interesting reading a history that contains such a very different bias and assumptions from the ones we are likely to encounter in something written today. Mitford is completely in favor of aristocratic rule and will frequently chastise the French public for resenting the public expenditures made by the King on Mme de Pompadour, suggesting that they really that weren't that high or unreasonable, when she herself has just described some insane series of expenses: the remodeling and complete refurnishing and decoration of various chateaux where vary little of anyone's time is spent; the building of an entire wing of a palace not to live in, but purely to hold the overflow of the Pompadour's enormous and ever-expanding collections of objets d'art, etc.
Mitford is very much a presence here - snapping out judgments right and left, frequently with more wit than empathy. She dismisses the Queen as a dull frump - accusing her of not doing her duty to continuously entertain and fascinate the king with social functions and sex, when she had just told us that the poor woman had borne, if I recall correctly, ten children in nine years. How could she possibly not have felt like being witty and delightful at all times when she was continuously pregnant for almost a full decade? What a bore.
Yet her very partial account is engaging and fun to read, and she advocates very nicely for the often-maligned Pompadour herself, whose bizarre world is fascinating to encounter.
Mitford is very much a presence here - snapping out judgments right and left, frequently with more wit than empathy. She dismisses the Queen as a dull frump - accusing her of not doing her duty to continuously entertain and fascinate the king with social functions and sex, when she had just told us that the poor woman had borne, if I recall correctly, ten children in nine years. How could she possibly not have felt like being witty and delightful at all times when she was continuously pregnant for almost a full decade? What a bore.
Yet her very partial account is engaging and fun to read, and she advocates very nicely for the often-maligned Pompadour herself, whose bizarre world is fascinating to encounter.
January 29, 2021
Deze biografie is niet in chronologische volgorde geschreven wat het verwarrend maakt om te lezen en enige voorkennis van de context vereist om datgene wat je leest een beetje te kunnen plaatsen. Daarnaast bestaat driekwart van het werk uit anekdotes over Gravin X en Hertog Y wat an sich wel vermakelijk is (al heb ik in de verste verte geen idee wie dit allemaal mogen zijn) maar niet perse het idee geeft dat je na het lezen van de biografie over Madame de Pompadour heel veel meer weet van Madame de Pompadour (wat dan wel weer een prestatie op zichzelf is voor een biografisch werk). Het leuke aan dit boek is dat het een roddelachtige toon heeft; een beetje what’s the tea in Versailles in 1750. Je moet er van houden maar ik vond het wel leuk.
June 3, 2016
I am not very interested in Madame de Pompadour or Versailles court intrigues, so the fact that this biography of her is opinionated, unreferenced and probably neither complete or accurate does not matter one bit. The important thing is that Nancy is interested and I enjoy reading her books.
The court was snobbish, with courtiers vying for position and influence. When they were not busy having affairs with other people's spouses, they were gossiping about who else was (apart from one married couple, who used to request a bedroom in the middle of dinner to cement their relationship). Nancy must have enjoyed finding out about all this carry-on and she writes about it wittily and lightly. She has courtiers running, rushing and scampering about the palace corridors. Dull members of the household are quickly dismissed so she can get back to the more lively adulterous ones. It is all about having great fun and ignoring the consequences.
Even Nancy, not the most enthusiastic proponent of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, admits that shutting the King, court and government away in the Palace of Versailles cut them off from the majority of the population and that this was not a good thing. Estate management and consequently food production suffered. She mentions this briefly and includes some historical context, although the War of the Austrian Succession gets less space than the intricacies of court etiquette.
I read very quickly through the constant house moving and decorating, hunting, card playing and all the fixation about who sat next to whom at dinner. It shows what the court was concerned with, when they would have been better employed concerning themselves with the world outside the palace.
The court was snobbish, with courtiers vying for position and influence. When they were not busy having affairs with other people's spouses, they were gossiping about who else was (apart from one married couple, who used to request a bedroom in the middle of dinner to cement their relationship). Nancy must have enjoyed finding out about all this carry-on and she writes about it wittily and lightly. She has courtiers running, rushing and scampering about the palace corridors. Dull members of the household are quickly dismissed so she can get back to the more lively adulterous ones. It is all about having great fun and ignoring the consequences.
Even Nancy, not the most enthusiastic proponent of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, admits that shutting the King, court and government away in the Palace of Versailles cut them off from the majority of the population and that this was not a good thing. Estate management and consequently food production suffered. She mentions this briefly and includes some historical context, although the War of the Austrian Succession gets less space than the intricacies of court etiquette.
I read very quickly through the constant house moving and decorating, hunting, card playing and all the fixation about who sat next to whom at dinner. It shows what the court was concerned with, when they would have been better employed concerning themselves with the world outside the palace.
February 11, 2013
Prior to reading this book, all I knew about Madame de Pompadour came from an episode of "Doctor Who" (Which is to say, given the episode involved a space ship that opened into her fireplace, I knew next to nothing.) So I can't really comment on the historical accuracy of Nancy Mitford's "Madame de Pompadour."
I can say that I was delighted by the coffee-table style of the book and Mitford's ability to pick out little, insightful details (a hallmark of her fiction as well.) The book has an almost gossipy style that is well-suited for a mistress of a king.
I've been absolutely spoiled by Alison Weir's wonderful books on the Tudors, where she backs up each and every detail and supposition with evidence from source material. Mitford makes a lot of snooty pronouncements but never produces any evidence, which drove me nuts. She also drops a lot of names but in a way that is still readable.
Overall, a pretty book that is better when it focuses on the more frivolous aspects of the lives of Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour. Still, it made for an interesting read.
I can say that I was delighted by the coffee-table style of the book and Mitford's ability to pick out little, insightful details (a hallmark of her fiction as well.) The book has an almost gossipy style that is well-suited for a mistress of a king.
I've been absolutely spoiled by Alison Weir's wonderful books on the Tudors, where she backs up each and every detail and supposition with evidence from source material. Mitford makes a lot of snooty pronouncements but never produces any evidence, which drove me nuts. She also drops a lot of names but in a way that is still readable.
Overall, a pretty book that is better when it focuses on the more frivolous aspects of the lives of Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour. Still, it made for an interesting read.
August 5, 2013
I'm torn because in parts I was really enjoying this book, but in the end, about 70% of the way through, I had to abandon it. Probably due to my ignorance and also my habit of skim reading, I found the lack of background confusing. Mitford assumes the reader knows more about 18th century French politics than I do.
August 18, 2022
What a delightful romp. I can't imagine a more charming book about Madame de Pompadour.
Nancy (the Novelist) Mitford (of the famous Mitford Sisters) is the perfect person (also a smart lady-aristocrat) to have written this book.
When you read this book, you get to live in Regency France as a brilliant lady-aristocrat (escapism very well suited to my tastes).
I read this at the same time as I was reading The Autobiography of Angela Davis, which was an interesting counterpoint-experience.
Also, the details included by the author about what life was like in this time period were often surprising... how surprisingly democratic certain aspects of civic life were -- I hadn't realized that basically anyone could just ...walk up to the castle, and the extent to which Versailles, and even many of the kings' (and everyone elses' too) chambers were public spaces. For example, when the revolution came (later), they couldn't even close the gates, because they were rusted shut (left open for so long).
I mostly skimmed the (rare) sections of military history, but even those of which are sprinkled liberally with charming anecdotes and clever quips.
Nancy (the Novelist) Mitford (of the famous Mitford Sisters) is the perfect person (also a smart lady-aristocrat) to have written this book.
When you read this book, you get to live in Regency France as a brilliant lady-aristocrat (escapism very well suited to my tastes).
I read this at the same time as I was reading The Autobiography of Angela Davis, which was an interesting counterpoint-experience.
Also, the details included by the author about what life was like in this time period were often surprising... how surprisingly democratic certain aspects of civic life were -- I hadn't realized that basically anyone could just ...walk up to the castle, and the extent to which Versailles, and even many of the kings' (and everyone elses' too) chambers were public spaces. For example, when the revolution came (later), they couldn't even close the gates, because they were rusted shut (left open for so long).
I mostly skimmed the (rare) sections of military history, but even those of which are sprinkled liberally with charming anecdotes and clever quips.
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September 18, 2021---A novel well written, structured and historically well documented, too. Enjoyable and entertaining, and very much in the style of the authoress, witty and full of anecdotes.
--- BUT I have found disgusting the description of the court of Versailles in the 18th century and its useless life devoted to pleasure with an immoderate spending of money in order to escape boredom... And, above all, I find it terrible that Nancy Mitford did not seriously criticize this shallow and pointless way of life of monarchy and nobility at that time, perhaps because the authoress, who belonged to the British upper class of the 20th century, considered that aristocracy is entitled, by tradition and nature, to the privileges it has always enjoyed (¿?).
--- BUT I have found disgusting the description of the court of Versailles in the 18th century and its useless life devoted to pleasure with an immoderate spending of money in order to escape boredom... And, above all, I find it terrible that Nancy Mitford did not seriously criticize this shallow and pointless way of life of monarchy and nobility at that time, perhaps because the authoress, who belonged to the British upper class of the 20th century, considered that aristocracy is entitled, by tradition and nature, to the privileges it has always enjoyed (¿?).
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