Is historical fiction good or bad for women’s history?
(Disclaimer: This article will include several spoilers for Doctor Who series 2 episode 4, and for the series generally, the episode came out seventeen years ago so I take no blame for spoiling it but I’d suggest watching this episode before you read on so you know what I’m going on about.)
Historical episodes of Doctor Who tend to have a decent grounding in fact, screenwriters typically justify decisions of the Doctor to not kill Hitler for example, by stating that the history he was a part of, and therefore his death is a fixed point in time, changing it would create a paradox. So, typically when they tell us about history, they are overall correct, sometimes with a sci-fi take.
A resounding opinion among most Doctor Who fans is that the series two episode ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’ is one of the best. It has some of the best lines, who can forget Rose berating a drunk Doctor with “Oh look what the cat dragged in. The oncoming storm.” The plot is brilliantly ridiculous: David Tennant slightly falls in love with the future Madame de Pompadour whilst Rose and Mickey discover that the ship is being fixed with human parts and that unbeknown to them, the clockwork mechanics want the brain of Madame de Pompadour because the ship is named after her. I remember watching this episode when it first came out, I was six, and this was before the history bug had fully grasped my attention (The Four Georges at the end of the first episode of Horrible Histories is to thank for that), but the fact that this was a historical episode that mostly focussed on a woman stuck with me, what I knew about history at that point was male centric and largely concerned war. As I got older and understood more about my place in the world, my identity as a woman and a historian, I questioned the popular (and lazy) idea that only people with obvious authority had power, meaning men. Throughout my undergraduate studies I became fascinated by the idea of the Royal Mistress, her political and social importance. Even now, we effectively have a Royal Mistress as our Queen Consort, so this isn’t a position that should be forgotten. In recent years and months, I’ve conducted a lot of my own research into the concept of the Maitresse en Titre, the chief of official mistress of the king of France, and the evolution of this role in the English court under Charles II too. I always come back to this episode, and the explanation of Madame de Pompadour’s life that the Doctor helpfully gives for an audience who might not have a comprehensive understanding of eighteenth-century France.
On a side note, I was slightly disappointed that we didn’t get any real reference to her in the BBC series Marie Antoinette that recently came out, she was dead and replaced by du Barry by then but some acknowledgement that the Petit Trianon was built for her, or that she helped create the alliance with Austria that saw Marie Antoinette become queen would have been nice. Despite my fascination with Madame de Pompadour, and this episode, I hadn’t researched her in much depth until now.
Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, or ‘Reinette’, lived from the 29th December 1721 to the 15th April 1764, she encapsulated what it was to be a mistress of the king of France, and the success of her personal influence is arguably unlike any before, and certainly after her. Interestingly, she wasn’t nobility of her own right, and her parentage was debated, making her a slightly controversial choice for Louis XV. It is partially this non-aristocratic background which garnered her criticism from her contemporaries and celebration from historians.
Let’s start with her name, surely that can’t be too wrong, right? Well, the Doctor first meets Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, the future Madame de Pompadour through her fireplace in 1727, she’s meant to be six years old. She tells him that her name is Reinette, and it’s not until we meet her again as she leaves Paris, presumably to her marriage at nineteen that the Doctor works out exactly who she is. He helpfully exclaims “Reinette Poisson? Later Madame d’Etoiles! Later still Mistress of Louis XV! Uncrowned Queen of France! Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan, fantastic gardener!” This is all factually correct, except for when we meet Reinette in 1727, she did not yet have this nickname, nor would she have been in Paris. At 5, in 1726, her legal guardian, Charles Le Normant de Tournehem (her mother’s lover and possibly her real father) sent her to be educated at the Ursuline Convent in Poissy, she didn’t return home until 1730, aged 9 with poor health. It was whilst she was ill that her mother took her to a fortune teller who told them that Jeanne-Antoinette would one day rule over the heart of the king. ‘Reinette’ literally means ‘little queen’ in French, and it became her nickname from then on, a good three years after she introduces herself by this name. It really wouldn’t have been hard to make the year 1730. Still, for narrative sense, maintaining one name is easier, we’ll give them a pass on that. In her teenage years she received an extensive private education, instilling in her many of the qualities that the Doctor points out: she was an accomplished actress, musician, dancer, and crucially a courtesan (basically a high-class prostitute) and a politician.
There’s a significant part of her history missed; at nineteen, Reinette married the nephew of her guardian, (her cousin if Tournehem was her father), Charles Guillaume Le Normant d’Etoiles. On their marriage Tournehem disinherited the rest of his nieces and nephews, naming d’Etoiles (and consequently his guard/daughter) his entire estate. Within her marriage Reinette was seemingly content, they had two children, one who died in infancy and a second who died at 9-years-old. She is said to have stipulated that she would leave her husband only for the king, which she did in 1745.
Doctor Who effectively summarises the influence of the Royal Mistress at the French Court better than a lot of other examples, in a simple scene where Reinette discusses the illness of the current mistress of the king, and her aspirations. Her friend, Katherine, says “Madame de Chatearoux is ill and close to death… The king will therefore be requiring a new mistress.”
Reinette replies “He is the king and I love him with all of my heart, and I look forward to meeting with him.”
“Every Woman in Paris knows your ambitions.”
“Every woman in Paris shares them.”
Now it might be slightly hyperbolic that ‘every woman in Paris’ had ambitions on being the mistress of the king, certainly not every woman would have had the position, education or ability, nor likely the self-belief to pursue this, but the sentiment is true. Maitresse-en-titre ‘chief’ mistress was a particularly sought after position for French upper-class women. The queen of France was always foreign, the Royal marriage typically a diplomatic relations matter; Mary Tudor had smoothed over English relations, Marie Antoinette would secure allyship with Austria, Catherine and Marie de Medici brought money, Marie Leszczyńska had been chosen because the country needed a quick heir. The mistress on the other hand, was always French, and was typically better at having the ear of the king than his wife. In many ways, the position of mistress was a domestic matter, and therefore, who she was, was also important to the court. Louis XV’s initial adultery had been encouraged on the basis that the mistresses he took were apolitical, as his councillors wanted to avoid Marie Leszczyńska having any sort of political standing. However, by the time he got to Reinette in 1745, this apolitical proponent appears to have gone out the window.
Reinette met the king, officially, at the so-called Yew Tree Ball to celebrate the marriage of the Dauphin in February 1745 as the episode shows, but this was unlikely to have been their real first meeting. Since her marriage, Reinette would have had free reign to visit Parisian Salons, making a name for herself among the societal elite and likely being spoken about at Court, in 1744 she intentionally drove in front of the king’s path as he led a hunt near her estate in Senart, twice! Even if they didn’t speak, the moment made enough of an impression that the Madame de Chatareaux explicitly warned Reinette away from the king. Louis XV, for his own part, gifted her venison and invited her to the aforementioned ball several months later. At the ball, Reinette dressed as Diana the Huntress, to remind the king of their meeting, a bold choice which the episode doesn’t show particularly clearly.
The Doctor explains, to the typically clueless Rose, that she is Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, and she is “one of the most accomplished women who ever lived… she’s got plans on being his [the king’s] mistress” and that actually, she and the queen of France “got on very well.” So, is this accurate? Well, yes and no; she certainly was accomplished, if she was one of the most accomplished is probably a matter of opinion, but her patronage and participation in art, and crucially her activity in French politics was unlike the actions of even the queen at this time. She did become the king’s mistress, quickly being elevated to Maitresse-en-titre, by March 1745, Reinette had rooms directly above the king’s in Versailles, in May her and her husband officially separated, in June she was gifted the title and estates of the marquisate de Pompadour, and in September she was presented at court by the Princess of Conti. She cleverly pledged loyalty to the queen, allowing a friendly relationship to develop. I hasten to add that their relationship wasn’t rosy, the queen had simply resigned herself to her husband’s infidelity. Reinette benefitted because she wasn’t the most abrasive of his mistresses, and paid due reverence to the queen, it’s really understandable that Marie tried to protest her becoming a lady-in-waiting although unsuccessfully, would you want your partner’s partner among your closest companions?
Reinette is a fascinating mistress because she only appears to have fulfilled the sexual role of her position for a few years, all sexual relationships with the king ended in 1750 due to poor health partially caused by 3 miscarriages in five years. Despite this, she remained court favourite until her death, she is regarded to have made herself invaluable for her patronage and political guidance. She was also open about her love for the king, disregarding any concern about the king’s sexual relationships with women at the Parc-aux-Cerfs that "It is his heart I want! All these little girls with no education will not take it from me. I would not be so calm if I saw some pretty woman of the court or the capital trying to conquer it." Pompadour’s comment seems a fitting sequel to the queen’s alleged comment about her that “if there must be a mistress, better her than any other.”
Her artistic patronage is typically the easiest element to consider, she is the figure typically credited with popularising Paris as the arbiter of taste and culture in Europe, encouraged the development of the Rococo and as shown in the plans for Le Petit Trianon, its development into neo-classicism. (She unfortunately died 4 years before it was finished). Throughout her life she patronised Jean-Marc Nattier, Francois Boucher, Francois-Hubert Drouais, Jacques Guay; she also learnt engraving, becoming an amateur print-maker, and championed porcelain and the decorative arts. Her personal portfolio, including several of her engraving prints was rediscovered in 2016 and shows a woman who was not only an admirer of art but was personally accomplished in the field.
“Uncrowned Queen of France” is again perhaps an overstatement, and it doesn’t appear to have been used much at the time, in stark contrast to descriptions of Barbara Palmer, Duchess of Cleveland and mistress of Charles II a century earlier. But the Doctor doesn’t use it here to disparage as Samuel Pepys did regarding Cleveland, so what accuracy does it have? Elise Goodman, a historian of Pompadour, has stated that by the mid-1750s, Reinette was effectively fulfilling a role of Prime Minister to the king, she was responsible for a host of political activities, including appointing advancements, favours and dismissals and was an active contributor to domestic and foreign policies. For example, it was her influence in 1755 which saw the development of the Diplomatic Revolution, which would ally France with Austria and eventually lead to the marriage of the future Louis XVI to archduchess Marie Antoinette. She was also the subject of criticism for actions and political steps which arguably led to Britain overtaking France as the leading colonial power. Many libels came in the form of ‘poissonades’, pamphlets which criticised and shared rumours. But they appear to have had little effect on her predominance at court, she was not replaced as Maitresse-en-titre until four years after her death, there were mistresses, but not someone to begin to fill Pompadour’s place until Madame du Barry made her entrance, but she’s a discussion for another day. The episode does well to reflect her seniority at court and the importance she held on Louis XV, the last time the Doctor tries to visit her she is taken away from Versailles in her coffin, it is pouring with rain as it was in real life (knowing this was filmed in Wales I wonder if they planned this scene or if it was a happy coincidence). The downpour was something that her critics described as befitting her ending, as if a sort of pathetic fallacy. In this final scene in eighteenth-century France, the king hands over a letter, and when the Doctor refuses to share its contents, he says “Of course. Quite right” demonstrating simply and quietly his accurately displayed reverence Louis XV had for his penultimate Maitresse-en-titre.
The episode doesn’t exactly intend to go into depth about Madame de Pompadour’s successes, but it does gloss over the intricacies of a lot of her achievements, the main characteristic of Doctor Who’s Madame de Pompadour is that she is brave, empowered, and single-minded. This appears fair, if one-dimensional.
With any depiction of women’s history, I always question how well it has been written, excusing accuracy or inaccuracy, does it deal with the themes well? Perhaps because the concept of this episode is to provide sneak peeks at her life, there are a lot of details ultimately left out of the narrative, her children, and her miscarriages, for example, fail to be mentioned. These deaths, and health problems would have had a profound effect on her life, and likely her mental well-being, that there is no mention of them, even when she is visited by Rose in what would have been a year after her daughter’s death at the age of nine, she is instead entirely practical, and it does come across as uncaring, which feels like an oversight.
Moffat’s inspiration, among other facets like ‘The Turk’ (an eighteenth-century invention which was apparently a machine able to play a real-life human opponent at chess), appears to have been The Moberly-Jourdain incident. I won’t go into detail about this here but it’s worth having a read about when you can.
The episode obviously caters towards entertainment before it does education, and in terms of time-travel and science fiction, it does a decent job of creating a not believable but surprisingly empathetic heroine. Even more remarkably, somehow making Louis XV out to be a somewhat decent person and not a serial philanderer who created a political climate so tempestuous it ended up with his grandson getting his head chopped off. If we consider the entertainment on the side of the Hist-Fic, it is generally good, the use of Welsh country-houses to recreate Versailles does an alright job of setting the scene, although unconvincing at demonstrating the extent of her artistic prevalence in this period. In my opinion, the clockwork monsters are an impressive way of calling to both the historical period and the entertainment intended, specifically their slightly terrifying masks are even if not intentional, a nice reference to the fact that Reinette first officially met Louis XV at a masked ball.
I’m always wary in historical fiction of exactly how ‘feminist’ writers have made their historical women, as a feminist and a woman’s historian, that might be a slightly strange thing to read. But I’m of the opinion that women in history do not necessarily need post-humous empowerment, often, the most feminist thing to do with a woman’s history is to tell it exactly how it happened, with full transparency for her actions and flaws and struggles. Often that is not particularly empowering. Reinette is, as most Moffat-written women are, slightly intimidating to the men around her, in a way that if we were discussing another woman in eighteenth-century France, I might say is incorrect, but for Reinette, intimidating is right, she was a self-constrained woman, she knew her place in her world and she clearly knew how to engage with the constrictions of the society she lived in. Moffat’s Reinette is undoubtably a bit anachronistic, you’d be hard-pressed to find any woman in hist-fic who isn’t, but she is a fair representation of this woman for the twenty-first century.
This series asks “Is historical fiction good for women’s history?”, for this case, I’m going to say yes. She isn’t entirely accurate, and the sensitivity of her story falters in oversight of her life not pertaining to a fictional relationship with the titular Time Lord, but in a 45-minute Doctor Who episode it’s understandable that a mother grieving would be cut for clockwork monsters. It’s fantastical and ridiculous, but crucially, it doesn’t pretend not to be. The Girl in the Fireplace has stuck with viewers, and so I am inclined to argue that yes, she deserves a lot more attention and care, but how many people know Madame de Pompadour’s name because David Tennant shouted that he snogged her in 2006? Me, for certain.
To watch the episode or read more about Madame de Pompadour, see here:
Doctor Who, Series 2, Episode 4: ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’, BBC, https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0074fmn/doctor-who-series-2-4-the-girl-in-the-fireplace?seriesId=b007vvcq
‘The real Madame de Pompadour’, The National Gallery, < https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/learn-about-art/paintings-in-depth/the-real-madame-de-pompadour >
Stamberg, Susan, ‘More than a Mistress: Madame De Pompadour was a minister of the arts’, National Portrait Gallery, (10/05/2016), < https://www.npr.org/2016/05/10/477369874/more-than-a-mistress-madame-de-pompadour-was-a-minister-of-the-arts>
A recent episode of the History Hit Podcast Not just the Tudors with Suzannah Lipscomb discussed Louis XIV and his mistresses, it gives a really good insight into the phenomenon of the French Royal mistress, go and have a listen!