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Title: Louis XIV.

Author: John S. C. Abbott

Release date: October 26, 2008 [eBook #27056]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOUIS XIV. ***

Makers of History

Louis XIV.
By JOHN S. C. ABBOTT

WITH ENGRAVINGS

NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1904

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
Harper & Brothers,

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Copyright, 1898, by Laura A. Buck.

LOUIS XIV.

PREFACE
We all live a double life: the external life which the world sees, and the
internal life of hopes and fears, joys and griefs, temptations and sins, which
the world sees not, and of which it knows but little. None lead this double
life more emphatically than those who are seated upon thrones.
Though this historic sketch contains allusions to all the most important
events in the reign of Louis XIV., it has been the main object of the writer to
develop the inner life of the palace; to lead the reader into the interior of the
Louvre, the Tuileries, Versailles, and Marly, and to exhibit the monarch as a
man, in the details of domestic privacy.
This can more easily be done in reference to Louis XIV. than any other
king. Very many of the prominent members of his household left their
autobiographies, filled with the minutest incidents of every-day life.
It is impossible to give any correct idea of the life of this proud monarch
without allusion to the corruption in the midst of which he spent his days.
Still, the writer, while faithful to fact, has endeavored so to describe these
scenes that any father can safely read the narrative aloud to his family.
There are few chapters in history more replete with horrors than that which
records the "Revocation of the Edict of Nantes." The facts given are beyond
all possibility of contradiction. In the contemplation of these scenes the
mind pauses, bewildered by the reflection forced upon it, that many of the
actors in these fiend-like outrages were inspired by motives akin to sincerity
and conscientiousness.
The thoughtful reader will perceive that in this long and wicked reign Louis
XIV. was sowing the wind from which his descendants reaped the
whirlwind. It was the despotism of Louis XIV. and of Louis XV. which
ushered in that most sublime of all earthly dramas, the French Revolution.
John S. C. Abbott.
New Haven, Conn., 1870.

CONTENTS.
Chapter Page
I. BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD 13
II. THE BOY-KING 49
III. MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 86
IV. THE MARRIAGE OF THE KING 121
V. FESTIVITIES OF THE COURT 159
VI. DEATH IN THE PALACE 194
VII. THE WAR IN HOLLAND 234
VIII. MADAME DE MAINTENON 268
THE REVOCATION OF THE EDICT
IX. 302
OF NANTES
X. THE SECRET MARRIAGE 330
XI. INTRIGUES AND WARS 359
XII. LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XIV. 384

ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
LOUIS XIV. Frontispiece.
THE CASTLE OF BLOIS 18
PALACE OF ST. GERMAIN-EN-
23
LAYE
THE PALAIS ROYAL 31
PALACE OF THE LUXEMBOURG 52
THE TUILERIES 74
THE CASTLE OF VINCENNES 79
PALACE OF CHANTILLY 98
VIEW OF FONTAINEBLEAU 103
ISLE OF PHEASANTS 129
THE LOUVRE AND THE
139
TUILERIES
PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 145
CHATEAU MAZARIN 157
CHATEAU DE VAUX 176
CONVENT OF VAL DE GRACE 198
THE PALACE OF ST. CLOUD 201
INTERIOR OF ST. DENIS 208
ST. DENIS 236
PORTE ST. DENIS 254
MADAME DE MAINTENON 273
PALACE OF VERSAILLES 297
PARTERRE OF VERSAILLES 324
RACINE AND BOILEAU 339
THE TRIANON 351
MARLY 354

LOUIS XIV. DIRECTING THE
362
SIEGE
FRONT VIEW OF ST. GERMAIN 376
ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE
409
DEATH OF LOUIS XIV.

LOUIS XIV.

Chapter I.

Birth and Childhood.
1615-1650

L ouis XIII. of France married Anne of Austria on the
25th of November, 1615. The marriage ceremony XIII.
Marriage of Louis

was performed with great splendor in the Cathedral of
Bordeaux. The bride was exceedingly beautiful, tall, and of exquisite
proportions. She possessed the whitest and most delicate hand that ever
made an imperious gesture. Her eyes were of matchless beauty, easily
dilated, and of extraordinary transparency. Her small and ruddy mouth
looked like an opening rose-bud. Long and silky hair, of a lovely shade of
auburn, gave to the face it surrounded the sparkling complexion of a
blonde, and the animation of a brunette.[A]
The marriage was not a happy one. Louis XIII. was not a
Character of Louis
man of any mental or physical attractions. He was cruel, XIII.
petulant, and jealous. The king had a younger brother,
Gaston, duke of Anjou. He was a young man of joyous spirits, social, frank,
a universal favorite. His moody, taciturn brother did not love him. Anne did.
She could not but enjoy his society. Wounded by the coldness and neglect
of her husband, it is said that she was not unwilling, by rather a free
exhibition of the fascinations of her person and her mind, to win the
admiration of Gaston. She hoped thus to inspire the king with a more just
appreciation of her merits.
Louis XIII., at the time of his marriage, was a mere boy fourteen years of
age. His father had died when he was nine years old. He was left under the
care of his mother, Mary de Medicis, as regent. Anne of Austria was a
maturely developed and precocious child of eleven years when she gave her
hand to the boy-king of France. Not much discretion could have been
expected of two such children, exposed to the idleness, the splendors, and
the corruption of a court.

Anne was vain of her beauty, naturally coquettish, and
Character of Anne
very romantic in her views of life. It is said that the of Austria.
queen dowager, wishing to prevent Anne from gaining
much influence over the mind of the king, did all she could to lure her into
flirtations and gallantries, which alienated her from her husband. For this
purpose she placed near her person Madame Chevreuse, an intriguing
woman, alike renowned for wit, beauty, and unscrupulousness.
Quite a desperate flirtation arose between Anne and little Gaston, who was
but nine years of age. Gaston, whom the folly of the times entitled Duke of
Anjou, hated Louis, and delighted to excite his jealousy and anger by his
open and secret manifestation of love for the beautiful Anne. The king's
health failed. He became increasingly languid, morose, emaciate. Anne,
young as she was, was physically a fully developed woman of voluptuous
beauty. The undisguised alienation which existed between her and the king
encouraged other courtiers of eminent rank to court her smiles.
Cardinal Richelieu, notwithstanding his ecclesiastical
Cardinal Richelieu.
vows, became not only the admirer, but the lover of the
queen, addressing her in the most impassioned words of endearment. Thus
years of intrigue and domestic wretchedness passed away until 1624. The
queen had then been married nine years, and was twenty years of age. She
had no children.
The reckless, hot-headed George Villiers, duke of
The Duke of
Buckingham, visited the French court to arrange terms Buckingham.
of marriage between Henrietta Maria, sister of Louis
XIII., and the Prince of Wales, son of James I. of England. He was what is
called a splendid man, of noble bearing, and of chivalric devotion to the
fair. The duke, boundlessly rich, displayed great magnificence in Paris. He
danced with the queen, fascinated her by his openly avowed admiration,
and won such smiles in return as to induce the king and Cardinal Richelieu
almost to gnash their teeth with rage.
This flirtation, if we may not express it by a more
His death.
emphatic phrase, created much heart-burning and
wretchedness, criminations and recriminations, in the regal palace. In
August, 1628, the Duke of Buckingham, then in England, terminated his

wretched and guilty life. He fell beneath the dagger of an assassin. Anne,
disdaining all dissimulation, wept openly, and, secluding herself from the
gayeties of the court, surrendered herself to grief.
A mutual spirit of defiance existed between the king and
Estrangement of the
queen. Both were wretched. Such are always the wages king and queen.
of sin. Ten more joyless years passed away. The rupture
between the royal pair was such that they could scarcely endure each other.
Louis himself was the first to inform the queen of the news so satisfactory
to him, so heart-rending to her, that a dagger had pierced the heart of
Buckingham. After this they met only at unfrequent intervals. All
confidence and sympathy were at an end. It was a bitter disappointment to
the queen that she had no children. Upon the death of the king, who was in
very feeble health, her own position and influence would depend almost
entirely upon her having a son to whom the crown would descend. Louis
resided generally at the Castle of Blois. Anne held her court at the Louvre.
A married life of twenty-two years had passed away, and still the queen had
no child. Both she and her husband had relinquished all hope of offspring.
On the evening of the 5th of December, 1637, the king, having made a visit
to the Convent of the Visitation, being overtaken by a storm, drove to the
Louvre instead of Blois. He immediately proceeded to the apartments of the
queen. Anne was astonished, and did not disguise her astonishment at
seeing him. He, however, remained until the morrow.

THE CASTLE OF BLOIS.
Soon after this, to the inexpressible joy of the queen, it Joy of the nation.
appeared that she was to become a mother. The public
announcement of the fact created surprise and joy throughout the nation.
The king was equally astonished and delighted. He immediately hastened to
the Louvre to offer the queen his congratulations.
The queen repaired to St. Germain-en-Laye, about six miles from
Versailles, to await the birth of her child. Here she occupied, in the royal
palace, the gorgeous apartments in which Henry IV. had formerly dwelt.
The king himself also took up his abode in the palace. The excitement was
so great that St. Germain was crowded with the nobility, who had flocked to
the place in anxious expectancy of the great event. Others, who could not be
accommodated at St. Germain, stationed couriers on the road to obtain the
earliest intelligence of the result.
On the 5th of September, 1638, the king was greeted
Birth of Louis XIV.
with the joyful tidings of the birth of a son. A vast crowd
had assembled in front of the palace. The king, in the exuberance of his
delight, took the child from the nurse, and, stepping out upon a balcony,
exhibited him to the crowd, exclaiming, "A son! gentlemen, a son!"

The announcement was received with a universal shout of joy. The happy
father then took the babe into an adjoining apartment, where the bishops
were assembled to perform the ordinance of baptism. These dignitaries of
the Church had been kneeling around a temporary altar praying for the
queen. The Bishop of Meaux performed the ceremony. A Te Deum was then
chanted in the chapel of the castle. Immediately after this, the king wrote an
autograph letter to the corporation of Paris, announcing the joyful tidings. A
courier was dispatched with the document at his highest possible speed.
The enthusiasm excited in the capital surpassed any
Gift of the Pope.
thing which had ever before been witnessed. The
common people, the nobles, the ecclesiastics, and the foreign embassadors,
vied with each other in their demonstrations of joy. A few months after, in
July, an extraordinary messenger arrived from the pope, to convey to the
august mother and her child the blessing of the holy father. He also
presented the queen, for her babe, swaddling-clothes which had been
blessed by his holiness. These garments were exceedingly rich with gold
and silver embroidery. They were inclosed in a couple of chests of red
velvet, and elicited the admiration of the royal pair.
The France of that day was very different from that
Condition of Paris.
magnificent empire which now stands in intellectual
culture, arts, and arms, prominent among the nations of the globe. The
country was split up into hostile factions, over which haughty nobles ruled.
The roads in the rural districts were almost impassable. Paris itself was a
small and dirty city, with scarcely any police regulations, and infested with
robbers. There were no lamps to light the city by night. The streets were
narrow, ill paved, and choked with mud and refuse. Immediately after
nightfall these dark and crooked thoroughfares were thronged with robbers
and assassins, whose depredations were of the most audacious kind.
Socially, morally, and intellectually, France was at the lowest ebb. The
masses of the people were in a degraded condition of squalid poverty and
debasement. Still the king, by enormous taxation, succeeded in wresting
from his wretched subjects an income to meet the expenses of his court,
amounting to about four millions of our money. But the outlays were so
enormous that even this income was quite unavailing, and innumerable
measures of extortion were adopted to meet the deficit.

The king was so much gratified by the birth of a dauphin
Reconciliation of
that for a time he became quite reconciled to his the king and queen.
beautiful and haughty queen. Two years after the birth of
the dauphin, on the 21st of September, 1640, Anne gave birth to a second
son, who took the title of Philip, duke of Anjou. The queen and her two
children resided in the beautiful palace of Saint Germain-en-Laye, where
the princes were born.
A company of French Guards, commanded by Captain
Orders of Louis
Montigni, protected the castle. Madame de Lausac was XIII. respecting the
the governess of the two children. The title by which the dauphin.
king's brother was usually designated was simply
Monsieur. But for these children of the king, the crown, upon the death of
the monarch, would descend immediately to Monsieur, the king's brother.
The morals of the times were such that the king was ever apprehensive that
some harm might come to the children through the intrigues of his brother.
Monsieur lived in Paris. The king left orders with Madame de Lausac that,
should his brother visit the queen, the officers of the household should
immediately surround the dauphin for his protection, and that Monsieur
should not be permitted to enter the palace should he be accompanied by
more than three persons.

PALACE OF SAINT GERMAIN-EN-LAYE.
To Montigni, the captain of the guard, the king gave half of a gold coin, of
which he retained the other half. Montigni was commanded to watch over
the persons of the princes with the utmost vigilance. Should he receive an
order to remove them, or to transfer them to other hands, he was enjoined
not to obey that order, even should it be in the handwriting of his majesty
himself, unless he at the same time received the other half of the broken
coin.
The king, as we have mentioned, had been for some time
Ill health of Louis
in feeble health. Early in the spring of 1643 he became XIII.
seriously ill. The symptoms were so alarming as to lead
the king, as well as his friends, to think that death could not be far distant.
There are few men so hardened as to be able to contemplate without some
degree of anxiety death and the final judgment. The king was alarmed. He
betook himself to prayer and to the scrupulous discharge of his religious
duties.

In preparation for the great change, he repaired to Saint
The dauphin
Germain to invest the queen with the regency when he declared King
should die. His brother, Monsieur, who had taken the Louis XIV.
title of the Duke of Orleans, and all the leading nobles of
the court, were present. The king, pale, emaciate, and with death staring
him in the face, was bolstered in his bed. Anne of Austria stood weeping by
his side. She did not love her husband—she did love power; but the scene
was so solemn and so affecting as to force tears into all eyes. The dauphin
was then four and a half years old. He was declared king, with the title of
Louis XIV., under the regency of his mother until he should attain his
majority.
The next day, April 21st, the christening of the dauphin with his new title
took place with great state in the chapel of the palace. After the celebration
of the rite, the dauphin was carried into the chamber of his dying father, and
seated upon the bed by his side. The poor king, dying in the prime of life,
was oppressed with the profoundest melancholy. There was nothing in the
memory of the past to give him pleasure; nothing in the future to inspire
him with well-grounded hope. Turning to the little prince, who had just
been christened with the royal title, he inquired,
"What is your name, my child?"
"Louis XIV.," the dauphin promptly replied.
"Not yet," said the king, sadly, shaking his head; "but pray God that it may
soon be so."
A few more days of sickness and suffering passed away, during which it
was almost hourly expected that the king would die. Death often comes to
the palace invested with terrors unknown in the cottage. Beneath his sceptre
all gradations and conditions of rank disappear. The sufferings of the king
were such that he longed for release.
On the 13th of May, as the shades of evening were
Last hours of Louis
gathering around his dying bed, he anxiously inquired of XIII.
his physicians if it were possible that he could live until
morning. They consulted together, and then informed him that they did not
think it possible.

"God be praised!" the king replied. "I think it is now time that I should take
leave of all whom I love."
The royal household was immediately assembled around the couch of the
dying monarch. He had sufficient strength to throw his arms around the
neck of the queen, and to press her tenderly to his heart. In such an hour
past differences are forgotten. In low and broken tones of voice, the king
addressed the queen in a few parting words of endearment.
The dauphin was then placed in his arms. Silently, but with tearful eyes, he
pressed his thin and parched lips to both cheeks and to the brow of the
child, who was too young to comprehend the solemn import of the scene.
His brother, Monsieur, the duke of Orleans, the king had never loved. In
these later years he had regarded him with implacable hostility. But,
subdued by the influences of death, he bade that brother an eternal adieu,
with even fond caresses. Indeed, he had become so far reconciled to
Monsieur that he had appointed him lieutenant general of the kingdom,
under the regency of Anne of Austria, during the minority of the dauphin.
Several of the higher ecclesiastics were present, who had
Death of Louis
assisted in preparing him to die. He affectionately XIII.
embraced them all, and then requested the Bishop of
Meaux to read the service for the dying. While it was being read he sank
into a lethargy, and never spoke again. He died in the forty-second year of
his age, after a reign of thirty-three years, having ascended the throne when
but nine years old.
Immediately after the death of the king, Anne of Austria held a private
interview with Monsieur, in which they agreed to co-operate in the
maintenance of each other's authority. The Parliament promptly recognized
the queen as regent, and the Duke of Orleans as lieutenant general, during
the minority of the dauphin.
The Duke de Grammont, one of the highest nobles of
Louis XIV.
France, and a distinguished member of the court of recognized king.
Louis XIII., had a son, the Count de Guiche, a few
months older than the dauphin. This child was educated as the play-fellow
and the companion in study of the young king. One of the first acts of Anne

of Austria was to assemble the leading bodies of the realm to take the oath
of allegiance to her son. The little fellow, four and a half years old, arrayed
in imperial robes, was seated upon the throne. The Count de Guiche, a very
sedate, thoughtful, precocious child, was placed upon the steps, that his
undoubted propriety of behavior might be a pattern to the infant king. Both
of the children behaved remarkably well.
Soon after this, at the close of the year 1643, the queen,
Palais Royal.
with her household, who had resided during the summer
in the palace of the Louvre, took up her residence in what was then called
the Cardinal Palace. This magnificent building, which had been reared at an
enormous expense, had been bequeathed by the Cardinal Richelieu to the
young king. But it was suggested that it was not decorous that the king
should inhabit a mansion which bore the name of the residence of a subject.
Therefore the inscription of Cardinal Palace was effaced from above the
doorway, and that of Palais Royal placed in its stead. The palace had cost
the cardinal a sum nearly equal to a million of dollars. This ungrateful
disregard of the memory of the cardinal greatly displeased his surviving
friends, and called forth earnest remonstrance. But all expostulations were
in vain. From that day to this the renowned mansion has been known only
as the "Palais Royal." The opposite engraving shows the palace as left by
the cardinal. Since his day the building has been greatly enlarged by
extending the wings for shops around the whole inclosure of the garden.
Louis XIV. was at this time five years old. The
Apartments of the
apartments which had been occupied by Richelieu were queen regent.
assigned to the dauphin. His mother, the queen regent,
selected for herself rooms far more spacious and elegant. Though they were
furnished and embellished with apparently every appliance of luxury, Anne,
fond of power and display, expended enormous sums in adapting them to
her taste. The cabinet of the regent, in the gorgeousness of its adornments,
was considered the wonder of Paris.

THE PALAIS ROYAL.
Cardinal Mazarin had also a suite of rooms assigned him Educational
in the palace which looked out upon the Rue des bons arrangements for
Enfans. These households were quite distinct, and they Louis XIV.
were all surrounded with much of the pageantry of
royalty. The superintendence of the education of the young prince was
intrusted to the cardinal. He had also his governor, his sub-governor, his
preceptor, and his valet de chambre, each of whom must have occupied
posts of honor rather than of responsibility. The Marchioness de Senecey,
and other ladies of high rank, were intrusted with the special care of the
dauphin until he should attain the age of seven years.
Thus the court of the baby-king was quite imposing. From his earliest years
he was accustomed to the profoundest homage, and was trained to the most
rigid rules of etiquette. The dauphin early developed a fondness for military
exercises. Very eagerly he shouldered the musket, brandished the sword,
and beat the drum. The temperament of his brother Philip, the duke of
Anjou, was very different: he was remarkably gentle, quiet, and
affectionate. Gradually the baby-court of the dauphin was increased by the
addition of other lads. The young king was the central luminary around
whom they all revolved. By them all the dauphin was regarded with a

certain kind of awe, as if he were a being of a superior, almost of a celestial
race. These lads were termed "children of honor." They always addressed
the king, and were addressed in return, with the formality of full-grown
men. One day a little fellow named Lomenie delighted the king with a gift.
The king was amusing himself with a cross-bow, which for the time being
happened to be in special favor. He loaned the bow for a few moments to
Lomenie. Soon, however, anxious to regain the valued plaything, he held
out his hand to take it back. His governess, the Marchioness de Senecey,
said to him, aside,
"Sire, kings give what they lend."
Louis, immediately approaching his companion, said,
Speech of Louis at
calmly, "Monsieur de Lomenie, keep the cross-bow. I five years old.
wish that it were something of more importance; but,
such as it is, I give it to you with all my heart."
This was a speech of a boy of five years old to a
Dislikes the change
companion of the same age. When the dauphin reached of teachers.
his seventh birthday, a great change took place in his Interest in history.
household. All his female attendants were withdrawn,
and he was placed exclusively under the charge of men. It is said that this
change was at first the occasion of much grief to him. He had become much
attached to many of the ladies, who had devoted themselves to the
promotion of his happiness. We are told that he was greatly chagrined to
find that none of the gentlemen of his court could tell him any of those
beautiful fairy tales with which the ladies had often lulled him to sleep. In
conference with the queen upon the subject, it was decided that M. Laporte,
his first valet de chambre, should read to him every night a chapter of a
very popular history of France. The dauphin soon became greatly interested
in the narrative. He declared that he, when he grew up, would be a
Charlemagne, a St. Louis, a Francis First, and expressed great abhorrence of
the tyrannical and slothful kings.
The pleasure which the little king took in these historical
Mazarin's wicked
readings daily increased. Cardinal Mazarin accidentally policy.
found out what was going on, and was greatly
displeased. He was anxious that the intellectual powers of the king should

not be developed, for the cardinal desired to grasp the reins of government
with his own hands. To do this, it was necessary that the king should be
kept ignorant, and should be incited only to enervating indulgence.
Scornfully the cardinal remarked, "I presume the governor of the king must
put on his shoes and stockings, as I perceive his valet de chambre is
teaching him history."
The young king entertained an instinctive aversion to the proud cardinal,
who assumed imperial airs, and who was living in splendor far surpassing
that of the regent or of the child-king. Those who surrounded the prince
were equally inimical to the cardinal-minister, who, in that age of
superstition and fanaticism, had attained such power that the regent herself
stood in awe of him.
Henrietta, queen of England, wife of the unfortunate
Henrietta, queen of
Charles I., was a daughter of Henry IV., and sister of Charles I.
Louis XIII. She was consequently aunt to the dauphin.
The troubles in England, which soon led to the beheading of the king her
husband, rendered it necessary for her to escape to France. Her brother,
Monsieur, duke of Orleans, went to the coast to receive his unhappy and
royal sister. As they approached Paris, the queen regent and her son the king
rode out to meet them. Henrietta took a seat in the same carriage with their
majesties, and returned with them to the Louvre. The pallid cheeks and
saddened features of the English queen proclaimed so loudly the woes with
which she was stricken as to exert universal sympathy.
The young king at seven years of age was tall, muscular,
Figure and bearing
and excelled in all physical exercises; but the villainous of the king.
cardinal had endeavored in every way to dwarf his
intellect, so that his mind remained almost a blank. Both the young king and
his brother at this early age had acquired a very remarkable degree of
courtly grace. A chronicler of the times, speaking of the bearing of Louis at
a court wedding, says,
"The king, with the gracefulness which shines in all his actions, took the
hand of the Queen of Poland, and conducted her to the platform, where his
majesty opened the dance, and was followed by nearly all the princes,
princesses, great nobles, and ladies of the court. At its termination, the king,

with the same grace and majestic deportment, conducted the young queen
to her place. The king then danced a second time, and led out the Duke of
Anjou with such skill that every one was charmed with the polite bearing of
these two young princes."
Early in the year 1646, the king, not yet quite eight years
His first campaign.
old, was conducted upon what was singularly called his
first campaign. The queen and her son repaired to Amiens, where they
sojourned for a short time with the army, and established a very brilliant
court. When the army left Amiens for Flanders, the regent and her son
returned from their campaign.
The infant court of the monarch was now established at
The cardinal's
Paris. The ambitious cardinal had brought from Italy nieces.
several little children, his relatives, the eldest of whom
had attained but her twelfth year. They were immediately introduced to the
court of Louis XIV. The wealth of the cardinal was such, and his influence
so great, that, young as these his nieces were, they were instantly
surrounded by admirers. The Duke of Orleans, who hated the cardinal and
all that belonged to him, bitterly remarked,
"There is such a throng about those little girls that I doubt if their lives are
safe, and if they will not be suffocated."
The boy-king, however, notwithstanding his dislike for the cardinal,
received the little girls with that gallantry for which throughout life he was
distinguished.
Very early he began to develop quite a positive
Anecdote.
character. On one occasion the courtiers were speaking
in his presence of the absolute power exercised by the sultans of Turkey.
Several very striking examples were given. The young prince, who had
listened attentively, remarked,
"That is as it should be; that is really reigning."
"Yes, sire," pertinently replied Marshal d'Estrées, "but two or three of those
sultans have, within my memory, been strangled."

The Prince de Condé inquired of Laporte, the first valet of the king,
respecting the character his young majesty was developing. Upon being told
that he was conscientious and intelligent, he replied, "So much the better.
There would be no pleasure in obeying a fool, and no honor in being
commanded by a bad man."
Cardinal Mazarin, the prime minister, who looked with
Feud between
jealousy upon any development of superior intelligence Mazarin and the
in the dauphin, said to Marshal de Grammont, "Ah! sir, Parliament.
you do not know his majesty. There is enough stuff in
him to make four kings and an honest man."
There had gradually sprung up a deadly feud between
Alarm of Mazarin.
the court, headed by the tyrannical minister Mazarin on
the one side, and by the Parliament on the other. The populace of Paris were
in sympathy with the Parliament. Many of the prominent nobles, some even
of royal blood, detesting the haughty prime minister, espoused the
Parliamentary cause. There were riots in Paris. Affairs looked very
threatening. Mazarin was alarmed, and decided to escape from Paris with
the court to the palace of St. Germain. There he could protect the court with
an ample military force. He thought, also, that he should be able to cut off
the supply of provisions from the capital, and thus starve the city into
subjection.
It was necessary to move with much caution, as the people were greatly
agitated, were filling the streets with surging crowds, and would certainly
prevent the removal of the king should they suspect the design. The night of
the 5th of January was selected as a time in which to attempt the escape.
The matter was kept profoundly secret from most of the members of the
royal household.
At three o'clock in the morning a carriage was drawn up
Escape of the royal
in the gate of the royal garden. The queen regent, who, family from Paris.
to avoid suspicion, had retired to bed at the usual hour,
had in the mean time risen and was prepared for her flight. The young king
and his brother were awoke from their sleep, hurriedly dressed, and
conveyed to the carriage in waiting. The queen regent, with several other
prominent members of the court, descended the back stairs which led from

the queen's apartment and joined the children. Immediately one or two other
carriages drove up, and the whole party entered them, and by different
routes, through the dark and narrow streets, left the city. It was a short ride
of about twelve miles.
Other prominent members of the court, residing in
Flight of the court.
different parts of the city, had been apprised of the
movement, so that at five o'clock in the morning twenty carriages,
containing one hundred and fifty persons, drove into the court-yard of the
palace. One of the ladies who accompanied the expedition, Mademoiselle
Montpensier, gives the following graphic description of the scene:
"When we arrived at St. Germain we went straight to the
Discomfort of the
chapel to hear mass. All the rest of the day was spent in court at St.
questioning those who arrived as to what they were Germain.
doing in Paris. The drums were beating all over the city,
and the citizens had taken up arms. The Countess de Fiesque sent me a
coach, and a mattress, and a little linen. As I was in so sorry a condition, I
went to seek help at the Chateau Neuf, where Monsieur and Madame were
lodged; but Madame had not her clothes any more than myself. Nothing
could be more laughable than this disorder. I lodged in a large room, well
painted and gilded, with but little fire, which is not agreeable in the month
of January. My mattress was laid upon the floor, and my sister, who had no
bed, slept with me. Judge if I were agreeably situated for a person who had
slept but little the previous night, with sore throat and violent cold.
"Fortunately for me, the beds of Monsieur and Madame arrived. Monsieur
had the kindness to give me the room which he vacated. As I was in the
apartment of Monsieur, where no one knew that I was lodged, I was awoke
by a noise. I drew back my curtain, and was much astonished to find my
chamber quite filled by men in large buff skin collars, who appeared
surprised to see me, and who knew me as little as I knew them.
"I had no change of linen, and my day chemise was washed during the
night. I had no women to arrange my hair and dress me, which is very
inconvenient. I ate with Monsieur, who keeps a very bad table. Still I did
not lose my gayety, and Monsieur was in admiration at my making no
complaint. It is true I am a creature who can make the best of every thing,

and am greatly above trifles. I remained in this state ten days, at the end of
which time my equipage arrived, and I was very glad to have all my
comforts. I then went to lodge in the chateau Vieux, where the queen was
residing."[B]
At a very early hour in the morning the news was
Excitement in Paris.
circulated through the streets of Paris that the court had
fled from the city, taking with it the young king. The excitement was
terrible, creating universal shouts and tumults. All who were in any way
connected with the court attempted to escape in various disguises to join the
royal party. The populace, on the other hand, closed the gates, and
barricaded the streets, to prevent their flight. In the midst of this confusion,
a letter was received by the municipal magistrates, over the signature of the
boy-king, stating that he had been compelled to leave the capital to prevent
the seizure of his person by the Parliament, and urging the magistrates to do
all in their power for the preservation of order and for the protection of
property. The king also ordered the Parliament immediately to retire from
the city to Montargis.
The Parliament refused to recognize the order, declaring
Issue of a
"that it did not emanate from the monarch himself, but parliamentary
from the evil counselors by whom he was held in decree.
captivity." Upon the reception of this reply, the queen
regent, who had surrounded her palace at St. Germain with a thousand royal
troops, acting under the guidance of Mazarin, issued a decree forbidding the
villages around Paris sending into the capital either bread, wine, or cattle.
Troops were also stationed to cut off such supplies. This attempt to subdue
the people by the terrors of famine excited intense exasperation. A decree
was promptly issued by the Parliament stating,
"Since Cardinal Mazarin is notoriously the author of the present troubles,
the Parliament declares him to be the disturber of the public peace, the
enemy of the king and the state, and orders him to retire from the court in
the course of this day, and in eight days more from the kingdom. Should he
neglect to do this, at the expiration of the appointed time all the subjects of
the king are called upon to hunt him down."

At the same time, men-at-arms were levied in sufficient numbers to escort
safely into the city all those who would bring in provisions. The Parliament,
from the populace of Paris, could bring sixty thousand bayonets upon any
field of battle. Thus very serious civil war was inaugurated.
As we have mentioned, many of the nobles, some of whom were allied to
the royal family, assuming that they were not contending against their
legitimate sovereign, the young king, but against the detested Mazarin, were
in cordial co-operation with the Parliament. The people in the rural districts
were also in sympathy with the party in Paris.
The court party was now called "The Mazarins," and
Origin of the names
those of the Parliament "The Fronde." The literal Fronde and
meaning of the word fronde is sling. It is a boy's Mazarins.
plaything, and when skillfully used, an important
weapon of war. It was with the sling that David slew Goliath. During the
Middle Ages this was the usual weapon of the foot soldiers. Mazarin had
contemptuously remarked that the Parliament were like school boys,
fronding in the ditches, and who ran away at the approach of a policeman.
The Parliament accepted the title, and adopted the fronde or sling as the
emblem of their party.
There were now two rival courts in France. The one at
Two rival courts.
St. Germain was in a state of great destitution. The Straw scarce.
palace was but partially furnished, and not at all capable
of affording comfortable accommodations for the crowd which thronged its
apartments. Nothing could be obtained from Paris. Their purses were
empty. The rural population was hostile, and, while eager to carry their
products to Paris, were unwilling to bring them to St. Germain. Madame de
Motteville states in her memoirs "that the king, queen, and cardinal were
sleeping upon straw, which soon became so scarce that it could not be
obtained for money."
The court of the Fronde was assembled at the Hotel de Ville in Paris. There
all was splendor, abundance, festive enjoyment. The high rank of the
leaders and the beauty of the ladies gave éclat to the gathering.
Cardinal Mazarin was not only extortionate, but miserly.
Character of
He had accumulated an enormous property. All this was

seized and appropriated by the Fronde. Though there Mazarin.
were occasional skirmishes between the forces of the
two factions, neither of them seemed disposed to plunge into the horrors of
civil war.
The king sent a herald, clad in complete armor and
Termination of the
accompanied by two trumpeters, to the Parliament. The war.
Fronde refused to receive the herald, but decided to send
a deputation to the king to ascertain what overtures he was willing to make.
After a lengthy conference a not very satisfactory compromise was agreed
upon, and the royal fugitives returned to Paris. It was the 5th of April, 1650.
A Te Deum was chanted with great pomp at the cathedral of Notre Dame.
"Thus terminated the first act of the most singular,
Society reversed.
bootless, and, we are almost tempted to add, burlesque
war which, in all probability, Europe ever witnessed. Throughout its whole
duration society appeared to have been smitten with some moral
hallucination. Kings and cardinals slept on mattresses, princesses and
duchesses on straw. Market-women embraced princes, prelates governed
armies, court ladies led the mob, and the mob, in its turn, ruled the city."[C]

Chapter II.

The Boy-King.
1650-1653

T he reconciliation between the court and the Fronde
was very superficial. The old antagonism soon
M. de Retz.

reappeared, and daily grew more rancorous. To add to the embarrassment of
the court, Monsieur, the duke of Orleans, became alienated from Mazarin,
and seemed inclined to join the Fronde. The most formidable antagonist of
the cardinal in the Parliament was M. de Retz. He was coadjutor of the
Archbishop of Paris, a man of consummate address and great powers of
eloquence.
The struggle between De Retz and Mazarin soon became
Fears of Mazarin.
one of life and death. The coadjutor was at length
imboldened to offer a decree in Parliament urging the king to banish from
his presence and his councils Cardinal Mazarin. This measure threw the
court into consternation. The cardinal was apprehensive of arrest. Some of
his friends urged him to retire immediately to a fortress. Others proposed to
garrison the Palais Royal and its neighborhood with an efficient guard.
From the saloons of the palace the shouts were heard of
Escape of the
the excited populace swarming through the streets. No cardinal.
one could tell to what extremes of violence they might
proceed. Warned by these hostile demonstrations, the cardinal decided to
escape from Paris. At ten o'clock at night he took leave of the queen regent,
hastened to his apartments, exchanged his ecclesiastical costume for a dress
in which he was entirely disguised, and on foot threaded the dark streets to
escape from the city. Two of his friends accompanied him. At the Richelieu
Gate they took horses, which were awaiting them there, and in two hours
alighted at the palace of St. Germain.
M. de Retz, through his spies, was immediately
Dangers of civil
informed of the flight of the cardinal. He at once war.
hastened to communicate the intelligence to Monsieur.

The duke at first could not credit the statement, as he felt assured that
Mazarin would not have left without taking the young king with him.
Should the cardinal, in his retreat, gain possession of the king, in whose
name he would issue all his orders, it would be hardly possible to avoid the
horrors of a desolating civil war. All minds in Paris, from the highest to the
lowest, were thrown into a state of the most intense excitement.
On the night of the second day after the cardinal's flight,
Alarm and energy
M. de Retz was awakened by a messenger, who of De Retz.
informed him that the Duke of Orleans was anxious to
see him immediately at the palace of the Luxembourg. The coadjutor rose,
hastily dressed, and in great anxiety repaired to the palace. The duke,
though lieutenant general of the kingdom, was a very timid man, and
exceedingly inefficient in action. As they entered the chamber of the duke,
he listlessly said to M. de Retz,
"It is just as you said. The king is about to leave Paris; what shall we do? I
do not see what can be done to prevent it."
The resolute coadjutor replied, "We must immediately take possession of
the city gates."
But the inert and weak duke brought forward sundry
The populace
silly excuses. He had not sufficient force of character or aroused.
moral courage to commit himself to any decisive course
of action. The only measure he could be induced to adopt was to send a
message to the queen regent, imploring her to reflect upon the
consequences which would inevitably result from the removal of the king
from Paris. In the mean time, the resolute and fearless coadjutor sent his
emissaries in all directions. The populace were aroused with the cry that
Mazarin was about to carry off the king. The gates of the city were seized.
Mounted patrols traversed the streets urging the citizens to arms. An
enormous crowd of excited men and women rushed toward the Palais
Royal.

Palace of the
Luxembourg.

PALACE OF THE LUXEMBOURG.
The carriages were, in fact, at that hour, at the appointed Discovery of the
rendezvous for the midnight flight of the king and his attempted flight of
attendants. The young monarch was already in his the royal family.
traveling dress, just about to descend the stairs of the
palace, when the queen was apprised, by the tumult in the streets, that the
design was discovered, and that consequently its execution was
impracticable.
With the utmost precipitancy, the traveling dress of the king was removed,
and he was robed in his night garments, replaced in bed, and urged to feign
that he was asleep. Scarcely was this accomplished ere one of the officers of
the household entered and announced to the queen that the exasperated mob
was threatening the palace, insisting upon seeing the king, that they might
satisfy themselves that he had not been carried away. While he was
speaking, another messenger entered with the announcement that the mob
had already proceeded to violence, and were tearing down the palisades of
the palace. While he was yet speaking, a messenger from the Duke of
Orleans arrived, imploring the queen regent not to attempt the removal of
the king, and assuring her that it was impossible to do so, since the citizens
were resolved to prevent it.

The queen, with dignity, listened to all. To the messenger of the Duke of
Orleans she haughtily replied,
"Say to the duke that he, instigated by the coadjutor, has
Haughty reply of
caused this tumult, and that he has power to allay it. Anne of Austria.
That nothing can be more unfounded than the idea that
there has been any design to remove the king. That both his majesty and his
brother, the Duke of Anjou, are asleep in their beds, as I myself had been
until the uproar in the streets had caused me to rise." To satisfy the
messenger, M. de Souches, she led him into the chamber of the king, and
showed him his majesty apparently soundly asleep.
As they were softly retiring from the room, the outcry of
Courage of the
the populace filling the court-yard was heard shouting queen mother.
"The king! the king! we must see the king." The queen
regent hesitated for a moment, and then, with wonderful presence of mind,
and with moral and physical courage rarely equaled, turning to the envoy of
Monsieur, said,
"Say to the people that the doors of the palace shall be immediately thrown
open, and that every one who wishes may enter the chamber of the king.
But inform them that his majesty is asleep, and request them to be as quiet
as is possible."
M. Souches obeyed. The doors were opened. The mob
Respectful conduct
rushed in. Nevertheless, contrary to all expectation, they of the populace.
had no sooner reached the royal apartment than their
leaders, remembering that their king was sleeping, desired the untimely
visitors to proceed in perfect quiet. As the human tide moved onward, their
very breathing was suppressed. They trod the floor with softest footsteps.
The same tumultuous multitude that had howled, and yelled, and threatened
outside the gates, now, in the chamber of the sovereign, became calm,
respectful, and silent. They approached the royal bed with a feeling of
affectionate deference, which restrained every intruder from drawing back
the curtains.
The queen herself performed this office. She stood at the pillow of her son,
beautiful in features, of queenly grace in form and stature. Pale, calm, and
dignified as though she were performing some ordinary court ceremonial,

she gathered back the folds of the velvet drapery, and revealed to the gaze
of the people their young sovereign in all the beauty of youth, and
apparently in profound slumber.
This living stream of men and women from the streets of Paris continued to
flow through the chamber until three o'clock in the morning, entering at one
door and passing out at its opposite. Through this trying scene the queen
never faltered.
"Like a marble statue," writes Miss Pardoe, "she
Fortitude of the
retained her position, firm and motionless, her majestic regent.
figure drawn haughtily to its full height, and her
magnificent arm resting in broad relief upon the crimson draperies. And still
the boy-king, emulating the example of his royal parent, remained
immobile, with closed eyes and steady breathing, as though his rest had
remained unbroken by the incursion of his rebellious subjects. It was a
singular and marked passage in the life of both mother and son."[D]
In those days and at that court falsehood was deemed an
The queen regent
indispensable part of diplomacy. In the afternoon of the dissembles.
same day in which the scene we have described
occurred, the queen assembled in her saloon in the palace the prominent
magistrates of the city. With firm voice and undaunted eye, she assured
them that she had never entertained the slightest idea of removing his
majesty from the city. She enjoined it upon them vigilantly to continue to
guard the gates, that the populace might be convinced that no design of
escape was cherished. Her words were not believed; her directions were
obeyed. The gates were rigidly closed. Thus the king was a prisoner.
The apprehensions of the Fronde, that by some
Vigilance of
stratagem the king might be removed, were so great that Monsieur.
Monsieur dispatched a gentleman of his household every
night to ascertain if the king were quietly in his bed. The messenger, M.
Desbuches, carried a nightly greeting to the queen, with orders not to leave
the Palais Royal without seeing the young sovereign. The excuse for this
intrusion was, that Monsieur could not, without this evidence, satisfy the
excited citizens that the king was safe. This was a terrible humiliation to the
queen regent.

Cardinal Mazarin, having passed the night at St.
Cardinal Mazarin in
Germain, commenced traveling by slow stages toward exile.
Havre. He was expecting every hour to be joined by the
queen regent and other members of the royal household. He was, however,
overtaken by a courier, who announced to him what had transpired in Paris,
and that the escape of the royal family was impossible. The cardinal thus
found himself really in exile, and earnest endeavors were made by the
Fronde to induce the queen regent to secure a cardinal's hat for M. de Retz,
and make him her prime minister. The last act of the queen regent was the
issuing of a decree that Mazarin was banished forever from the kingdom.
Such was the posture of affairs when, on the 5th of
Majority of the
September, 1651, the minority of the dauphin ceased. He dauphin attained.
now entered upon his fourteenth year, and, immature
boy as he was, was declared to be the absolute monarch of France.
It was immediately announced to the Parliament by the grand master of
ceremonies that on the seventh day of the month the king would hold his
bed of justice. This name was given to the throne which the king took at
extraordinary meetings of Parliament. The bed, or couch, was furnished
with five cushions, and stood under a gorgeous canopy. Upon this couch the
king extended himself, leaning upon the cushions.
The ceremony was attended with all the pomp which the
Imposing
wealth and taste of the empire could create. As, in the ceremony.
morning, the court left the Palais Royal, a band of
trumpeters led the van, causing the air to resound with their bugle peals.
These were followed by a troop of light-horse, succeeded by two hundred
of the highest nobility of France, splendidly mounted and in dazzling array.
But it is vain to attempt to describe the gorgeous procession of dignitaries,
mounted on tall war-horses, caparisoned with housings embroidered with
silver and gold, and accompanied by numerous retainers. The attire of these
attendants, from the most haughty man of arms to the humblest page, was
as varied, picturesque, and glittering as human ingenuity could devise.
The young king himself rode upon a magnificent cream-
Appearance of
colored charger. He was a beautiful boy, well formed Louis XIV.
and tall for his age. Apparently deeply impressed with

the grandeur of the occasion, he appeared calm and dignified to a degree
which attracted the admiration of every beholder. As he sat gracefully upon
his horse, he appeared almost like a golden statue, for his dress was so
elaborately embroidered with gold that neither its material or its color could
be distinguished. His high-mettled charger became frightened by the shouts
of "Long live the king" which burst so enthusiastically from the lips of the
crowd. But Louis managed the animal with so much skill and self-
possession as to increase the admiration with which all seemed to regard
him. After attending mass, the young monarch took his seat in the
Parliament. Here the boy of thirteen, covering his head, while all the
notabilities of France stood before him with heads uncovered, repeated the
following words:
"Gentlemen,—I have attended my Parliament in order to
Address of Louis.
inform you that, according to the law of my kingdom, I
shall myself assume its government. I trust that, by the goodness of God, it
will be with piety and justice. My chancellor will inform you more
particularly of my intentions."
The chancellor then made a long address. At its conclusion the queen
mother rose and said to her son:
"Sire,—This is the ninth year in which, by the last will
Address of the
of the deceased king, my much honored lord, I have queen regent.
been intrusted with the care of your education and the
government of the state. God having by his will blessed my endeavors, and
preserved your person, which is so precious to your subjects, now that the
law of the kingdom calls you to the rule of this monarchy, I transfer to you,
with great satisfaction, the power which had been granted me to govern. I
trust that God will aid you with his strength and wisdom, that your reign
may be prosperous."
To this the king replied, "I thank you, madame, for the
Reply of Louis.
care which it has pleased you to take of my education
and the administration of my kingdom. I pray you to continue to me your
good advice, and desire that, after myself, you should be the head of my
council."

The mother and the son embraced each other, and then resumed their
conspicuous seats on the platform. The king's brother, Philip, duke of
Anjou, next rose, and, sinking upon his knee, took the oath of allegiance to
his royal brother. He was followed in this act by all the civil and
ecclesiastical notabilities. The royal procession returned to the gates of the
Palais Royal, greeted apparently by the unanimous acclamations of the
people.
Thus a stripling, who had just completed his thirteenth
Power of the King
year, was accepted by the nobles and by the populace as of France.
the absolute and untrammeled sovereign of France. He
held in his hands, virtually unrestrained by constitution or court, their
liberties, their fortunes, and their lives. It is often said that every nation has
as good a government as it deserves. In republican America, it seems
incredible that a nation of twenty millions of people could have been guilty
of the folly of surrendering themselves to the sway of a pert, weak,
immature boy of thirteen years.
The young king, in those early years, was celebrated for
Gallantry of Louis.
his gallantry. A bevy of young beauties, from the most
illustrious families in the realm, crowded his court. The matter of the
marriage of the king was deemed of very great moment. According to the
etiquette of the times, it was thought necessary that he should marry a lady
of royal blood. It would have been esteemed a degradation for him to select
the daughter of the highest noble, unless that noble were of the royal family.
But these pretty girls were not unconscious of the power of their charms.
The haughty Anne of Austria was constantly harassed by the flirtations in
which the young king was continually engaging with these lovely maidens
of the court.
Louis by nature, and still more by education, was egotistical, haughty, and
overbearing. His brother Philip, on the contrary, was gentle, retiring, and
effeminate. The young king wished to be the handsomest man of his court,
the most brilliant in wit, and the most fascinating in the graces of social life.
He was very jealous of any one of his companions who might be regarded
as his rival in personal beauty, or in any intellectual or courtly
accomplishment. His mother encouraged this feeling. She desired that her
son should stand in his court without a peer.

Still Anne of Austria, in conjunction with Cardinal
Influence of Anne
Mazarin, had done what she could to check the and Mazarin upon
intellectual growth of her son. Wishing to retain power Louis.
as long as possible, they had manifested no disposition
to withdraw young Louis from the frivolities of childhood. His education
had been grossly neglected. Though entirely familiar with the routine of his
devotional exercises, and all the punctilios of court etiquette, he was in
mental culture and general intelligence far below ordinary school-boys of
his age.
Though the king was nominally the absolute ruler of France, still there were
outside influences which exerted over him a great control. There is no such
thing as independent power. All are creatures of circumstances. There were
two antagonistic forces brought to bear upon the young king. Anne of
Austria for nine years had been regent. With the aid of her prime minister,
Cardinal Mazarin, she had governed the realm. This power could not at
once and entirely pass from their hands to the ignorant boy who was
dallying with the little beauties in the saloons of the Palais Royal. Though
Mazarin was in exile—an exile to which the queen regent had been
compelled to assent—still he retained her confidence, and an influence over
her mind.
On the other hand, there was the Parliament, composed
Conflict between
mainly of proud, haughty, powerful nobles, the highest the court and
dignitaries of Church and State. This body was under the Parliament.
leadership of the coadjutor, M. de Retz. The antagonism
between the Parliament and the court was by no means appeased. The great
conflict now rose, which continued through months and years, between
them, as to which should obtain the control of the king. Impelled by the
action of the Parliament, the king had applied to the pope for a cardinal's hat
to be conferred upon M. de Retz. This dignity attained would immeasurably
increase the power of the coadjutor.
In the mean time, Cardinal Mazarin, who had fled to
Mazarin arrives in
Spain, had re-entered France with an army of six France.
thousand men. Paris was thrown into a state of great
agitation. Parliament was immediately assembled. The king sent them a
message requesting the Parliament not to regard the movements of the

cardinal with any anxiety, "since the intentions of his eminence were well
known by the court." This, of course, increased rather than diminished the
fears of the nobles. Notwithstanding the message of the king, a decree was
immediately passed declaring the cardinal and his adherents disturbers of
the public peace. The cardinal was outlawed. A sum equal to thirty thousand
dollars, the proceeds of the sale of some property of the cardinal, was
offered to any one who should deliver him either dead or alive.
Unintimidated, Mazarin continued his march toward Paris, arriving at
Poictiers at the end of January, one month after having re-entered France.
The king, the queen regent, and the whole court advanced there to meet
him. They received him with the greatest demonstrations of joy.
When the news reached the capital that Mazarin had
Civil war
thus triumphantly returned, Parliament and the populace inaugurated.
were thrown into a state of great excitement. The Duke
of Orleans was roused as never before. The hostile demonstrations in Paris
became so alarming, that the royal family adopted the bold resolve to return
immediately to the capital. The king commenced his march at the head of
the troops of the cardinal. When he reached Blois, he tarried there for a
couple of days to concentrate his forces. Civil war was now inaugurated,
though on rather a petty scale, between the hostile forces in various parts of
the kingdom. The Prince of Condé was the prominent leader of the
Parliamentary troops.
The city of Blois is situated on the right bank of the
Mazarin's army
River Loire, about forty-five miles below the city of defeated.
Orleans, which is also on the northern side of the same Depression of the
stream. At Blois, the court learned to its consternation regent.
that the Mazarin army had been attacked at Orleans by
the Prince de Condé and utterly routed, with the loss of many prisoners,
nearly three thousand horses, and a large part of its ordnance stores. The
royal party, which was at this time in a state of great destitution, was quite
overwhelmed by the disaster. The queen ordered all the equipages and
baggage to be transported to the south side of the Loire, and the bridge to be
broken down. At midnight, in the midst of a scene of great terror and
confusion, this movement was accomplished. As the morning dawned, the
carriages, crowded with the ladies of the court, were seen on the left bank
of the stream, ready for flight. The queen was, for the only time in her life,

so dejected as to seem utterly in despair. She feared that the triumph of the
Fronde at Orleans would induce every city in the kingdom to close its gates
against the court.
The royal fugitives retreated to Montereau. In the disorder of the flight they
were exposed to great privation. Even the young king lost several of his
best horses. Thence they proceeded to Corbeil, on the right bank of the
Seine, about twelve leagues from Versailles. Here a scene occurred which is
graphically described by M. Laporte, an eye-witness, who was a prominent
attendant of his majesty.

"The king," writes Laporte, "insisted that Monsieur[E] Monsieur.
should sleep in his room, which was so small that but Ludicrous quarrel
one person could pass at a time. In the morning, as they of Louis and his
brother.
lay awake, the king inadvertently spat upon the bed of
Monsieur, who immediately spat upon the king's bed in return. Thereupon
Louis, getting angry, spat in his brother's face. When they could spit no
longer, they proceeded to drag each other's sheets upon the floor, after
which they prepared to fight. During this quarrel I did what I could to
restrain the king. As I could not succeed, I sent for M. de Villeroi, who re-
established peace. Monsieur lost his temper sooner than the king, but the
king was much more difficult to appease."
It is very evident that aristocratic titles, and all the formalities of court
etiquette, do not change the nature of boyhood. Though one of these little
belligerents bore the title of Louis XIV., king of France, and the other was
called Monsieur, the duke of Anjou, they were in character like all other
ungoverned and ungovernable boys.
The court, not venturing to enter Paris, pursued its way
Embarrassment of
by a circuitous route to St. Germain, leaving the city on the court.
the left. Here an additional gloom was cast over their
spirits by the intelligence of very decided acts of hostility manifested
against them by the inhabitants of the metropolis. The court was in a state
of great embarrassment, without any money, and without possibility of
obtaining stores from the capital. It was supposed that Cardinal Mazarin,
noted for his selfishness, had taken good care of himself. But he declared
that he was as poor as the meanest soldier in the ranks.

While at St. Germain, there was another petty conflict
Conflict at
between the Parliamentary forces and those of the court Etampes.
in the vicinity of Etampes, about forty miles from
Versailles. The Fronde was routed with loss. The glad tidings was brought
by a courier at night to St. Germain. The news was too good to be kept till
morning. M. Villeroi, to whom it was at first communicated, hastened to the
chamber of the king and the Duke of Anjou, to awake them from sleep and
inform them of the victory. They both, Laporte informs us, sprang from
their beds, and rushed, in their slippers, night caps, and dressing-gowns, to
the chamber of the cardinal, whom they awakened with the joyful tidings.
He hurried in his turn with them, and in the same unsophisticated costume,
to the chamber of the queen, to announce the intelligence to her.
The destitution of Louis XIV. while at St. Germain was
Destitution of Louis
such that he borrowed one hundred and ten francs from XIV.
Moreau, one of his valets, for some replenishment of his
wardrobe. Subsequently the valet, learning that the king had obtained
possession of one hundred louis d'or, applied for payment of the debt; but
the king had already expended the coin.
The routed troops of Condé took refuge within the walls of Etampes. The
court, in its elation, immediately proceeded from St. Germain to the scene
of conflict, to take part in the siege. This was the first serious campaign of
the young king. As, attended by his suite, he examined the works, he was at
one time under fire, and several bullets passed near him. Still young as he
was, he had sufficient regard for his reputation and control over himself not
to manifest the slightest fear.
The scenes of war which here presented themselves to
Scenes of the
the young monarch were painful in the extreme. He was conflict at Etampes.
every where surrounded by sick and dying soldiers. But
he had no money with which to relieve their misery, and when finally the
city of Etampes was taken, the spectacle of starvation, woe, and death was
more awful than words can express.
As the king was entering the city, he passed a group lying upon the ground,
consisting or a mother and three children, huddled closely together. The
mother had died of starvation. Two of the skeleton children were also dead

by her side, and the third, a babe, was straining at the exhausted breast,
which could no longer afford it any nourishment.
The Prince de Condé retreated to Paris with about three
Retreat of Condé.
thousand men. The royal troops, eight thousand in
number, pursued. Each party gathered re-enforcements, so that the Prince de
Condé, with about five thousand men, held at bay the royal troops, then
numbering about ten thousand. The citizens, as we have mentioned, were in
sympathy with the Parliament. They hated Cardinal Mazarin, and with good
reason regarded the king as a prisoner in his hands. The king also detested
Mazarin personally, while the force of circumstances compelled him to
regard the cardinal as the advocate of the royal cause.
A very severe battle was fought between the two parties
Battle at St.
in the Faubourg St. Antoine. The ranks of the Fronde, Antoine.
shattered by overpowering numbers, were, in a
disordered retreat, hotly pursued by their foes under Marshal Turenne. The
carnage was dreadful. Suddenly the cannon of the Bastile flamed out in
rapid succession, hurling their deadly shot through the compact masses of
the Royalists. They recoiled and fled in confusion. Paris was in the hands of
the Fronde. The populace surged through the streets, shouting "Long live
the king! Death to Mazarin!"
The cardinal, taking the king with him, retired to St.
Cardinal Mazarin
Denis. Turenne re-collected his scattered forces at forced to retire.
Pontoise, about twenty miles north from Versailles. The
cardinal, with the king, took refuge at that place in the centre of Turenne's
army. Here the king issued an ordinance, transferring the Parliament from
Paris to Pontoise; but the Parliament replied "that they could not obey the
royal command so long as Cardinal Mazarin, whom they had outlawed,
remained in France." They also issued an ordinance of their own, forbidding
any member of the Parliament to leave Paris. The king, we know not under
what influences, acquiesced in both of these decrees. This led the cardinal
immediately to tender his resignation and retire. This important step
changed the whole aspect of affairs. After the removal of the cardinal, all
opposition to the court became rebellion against the king, to whom the
Fronde professed entire allegiance.

THE TUILERIES.
Parliament immediately issued a decree, thanking the
The king invited to
king for banishing the cardinal, and imploring him to return.
return to his good city of Paris. After some negotiation
the king acceded to their wishes, and on the 17th of October arrived at St.
Germain. Here a numerous civic guard and deputation hastened to greet
him, and to conduct him to the metropolis. On the 20th he proceeded to
Ruel, where he passed the night.
The king decided to enter the city at the head of his
The Duke of
army. In order to render the scene more imposing, it was Orleans retires to
to take place at night, by the light of thousands of Blois.
torches. The spectacle was such as Paris had rarely
witnessed. The fickle people, ever ready to vibrate between the cry of
hosanna and crucify, pealed forth their most enthusiastic rejoicings. The
triumphant boy-king took possession of the Tuileries. Cardinal de Retz,
who had now gained his long-coveted ecclesiastical distinction, hastened to
congratulate the king and his mother upon their return to the city, from
which they had so long been banished. The Duke of Orleans, chagrined and
humiliated, retired to Blois.

The king soon held what was called a bed of justice, in
Doom of the leaders
which, instead of granting a general amnesty, he of the Fronde.
denounced the princes Condé and Conti, and other of the
prominent leaders of the Fronde, as traitors to their king, to be punished by
death. These doomed ones were nobles of high rank, vast wealth, with
thousands of retainers. Many throughout the kingdom were in sympathy
with them. They would not die without a struggle. Hence the war, which
had hitherto raged between Mazarin and the Fronde, was renewed between
the king and the Fronde. All over the provinces the hostile forces were
rallying themselves for the conflict.
It was necessary that the Parliament should register this
Respectful refusal
decree of the king. It did so, but Cardinal de Retz of De Retz.
refused to give his vote. He very respectfully declared to
the king that he, having been on friendly terms and in co-operation with the
Prince de Condé, it would be neither courteous nor just for him to vote his
condemnation.
This enraged both the king and his mother. They said it proved that he was
in sympathy with their enemies. The court did not venture at once to strike
down one so formidable. A mission was assigned the cardinal at Rome, to
remove him from the country. He refused to accept it. The boy-king was
growing reckless, passionate, self-willed. He began to feel the power that
was in his hand. The cardinal was warned of his danger. He smiled, and said
"that, sustained by his ecclesiastical rank, he had nothing to fear."
The court issued an order for the arrest of the cardinal. It
Orders for his
was placed in the hands of Pradelle for execution. But arrest.
the king was told that the cardinal would never suffer
himself to be arrested without resistance; that, to secure his seizure, it might
be necessary to take his life. The king seized a pen and wrote at the bottom
of the order,
"I have commanded Pradelle to execute the present order on the person of
De Retz, and even to arrest him, dead or alive, in the event of resistance on
his part.
"Louis."

It was deemed very important to arrest the cardinal, if possible, without
exciting a popular tumult. The palace of the cardinal was well guarded. He
never went out without a numerous retinue. Should the populace of Paris
see him endangered, they would spring to his rescue.
At length De Retz was earnestly invited to visit the
Treachery of Anne
queen at the Louvre, in token that he was not hostile to of Austria.
the court. It was one of the most dishonorable of Arrest of De Retz.
stratagems. The cardinal was caught in the trap. As he
was entering the antechamber of the queen upon this visit of friendship, all
unsuspicious of treachery, the captain of the guard, who had been stationed
there for the purpose with several gendarmes, seized him, hurried him
through the great gallery of the Louvre, and down the stairs to the door.
Here a royal carriage was awaiting him. He was thrust into the carriage, and
five or six officers took seats by his side. To guard against any possibility of
rescue, a numerous military escort was at hand. The horses were driven
rapidly through the streets, and out through the Porte St. Antoine.
At nine o'clock the cardinal found himself a prisoner at the castle of
Vincennes. The apartment assigned him was cold and dreary, without
furniture and without a bed. Here the prisoner remained a fortnight, in the
middle of December, with no fire.
The arrest of the cardinal created a great sensation throughout Paris. But the
chateau was too strong, and too vigilantly guarded by the royal troops, to
encourage any attempt at a rescue.

THE CASTLE OF VINCENNES.
In the mean time, Mazarin had placed himself at the
Return of Mazarin.
head of the royal troops in one of the provinces, where
he gained several unimportant victories over the bands of the Fronde. These
successes were trumpeted abroad as great achievements, so as to invest the
cardinal with the renown of a great conqueror. Mazarin was well aware of
the influence of military glory upon the populace in Paris. The king also
began to feel the need of his dominant mind. He was invited to return to
Paris. Louis himself rode out six miles beyond the walls to receive him. The
cardinal entered the city in triumph, in the same carriage with his sovereign,
and seated by his side. All the old idols were forgotten, and the once
detested Mazarin was received as though he were an angel from heaven.
Bonfires and illuminations blazed through the streets; the whole city
resounded with demonstrations of rejoicing. Thus terminated the year 1652.
The first care of Cardinal Mazarin, after his return to
First care of
Paris, was to restore the finances, which were in a Mazarin.
deplorable condition. Louis was fond of pleasure. It was Festivities at court.
one great object of the cardinal to gratify him in this
respect, in every possible way. Notwithstanding the penury of the court, the

cardinal contrived to supply the king with money. Thus, during the winter,
the royal palaces resounded with festivity and dissipation. The young king
became very fond of private theatricals, in which he, his brother Philip, and
the young ladies of the court took prominent parts. Louis often appeared
upon the stage in the character of a ballet-dancer. He was proud of the grace
with which he could perform the most difficult pirouettes. He had plays
written, with parts expressly composed for his aristocratic troop.
The scene of these masqueradings was the theatre of the Hotel du Petit
Bourbon, which was contiguous to the Louvre. When royalty plays and
courtiers fill pit and gallery, applause is without stint. The boy-king was
much elated with his theatric triumphs. The queen and Cardinal Mazarin
were well pleased to see the king expending his energies in that direction.
These entertainments cost money, which Mazarin was
Approaching
greatly embarrassed in obtaining. The hour was coronation.
approaching for the coronation of Louis. The pageant Paucity of
would require large sums of money to invest the notabilities at the
coronation.
occasion with the desirable splendor. But gold was not
all that was wanted. Rank, brilliance, beauty were requisite suitably to
impress the masses of the people. But the civil war had robbed the court of
many of its most attractive ornaments.
Monsieur, the duke of Orleans, was sullenly residing at Blois. Here he held
a somewhat rival court to the king. He refused to attend the coronation
unless certain concessions were granted, to which Mazarin could not give
his consent. Mademoiselle, the duchess of Montpensier, daughter of
Monsieur by his first wife, a young lady of wonderful heroism and
attractions, who possessed an enormous property in her own right, and who
was surrounded by a brilliant court of her own, could not consistently share
in festivities at which her father refused to appear.
The Prince of Condé, one of the highest nobles of the realm, and who had
many adherents of the most illustrious rank, was in arms against his king at
the head of the Spanish forces, and sentence of death had been pronounced
upon him.
Cardinal de Retz was a prisoner at Vincennes. His numerous followers in
Church and State refused to sanction by their presence any movements of a

court thus persecuting their beloved cardinal.
It was thus impossible to invest the coronation with the splendor which the
occasion seemed to demand.
The coronation took place, however, at Rheims. Cardinal Mazarin exerted
all his ingenuity to render the pageant imposing; but the absence of so many
of the most illustrious of the realm cast an atmosphere of gloom around the
ceremonies.
France was at the time at war with Spain. The Fronde
The king repairs to
co-operated with the Spanish troops in the civil war. Stenay.
Immediately after the coronation, the king, then sixteen
years of age, left Rheims to place himself at the head of the army. He
repaired to Stenay, on the Meuse, in the extreme northeastern frontier of
France. This ancient city, protected by strong fortifications, was held by
Condé. The royal troops were besieging it. The poverty of the treasury was
such that Mazarin could not furnish Louis even with the luxury of a
carriage. He traveled on horseback. He had no table of his own, but shared
in that of the Marquis de Fabert, the general in command.
It seems difficult to account for the fact that the young
Louis in the
king was permitted to enter the trenches, and to engage trenches.
in skirmishes, where he was so exposed to the fire of the
enemy that the wounded and the dead were continually falling around him.
He displayed much courage on these occasions.
The Prince of Condé left a garrison in one of the strong
Defeat of Condé.
fortresses, and marched with the main body of his troops
to Arras. The movements of the two petty armies, their skirmishes and
battles, are no longer of any interest. The battles were fought and the
victories gained by the direction of the generals Turenne and Fabert.
Though the boy-king displayed intrepidity which secured for him the
respect of the soldiers, he could exert but little influence either in council or
on the field. Both Stenay and Arras were soon taken. The army of the Prince
of Condé was driven from all its positions.
The king returned to Paris to enjoy the gratulation of the populace, and to
offer public thanksgiving in the cathedral of Notre Dame.

Chapter III.

Matrimonial Projects.
1653-1656
"
There is nothing so successful as success." The
young king returned to Paris from his coronation
Gayeties in Paris.

and his brief campaign a hero and a conqueror. The courage he had
displayed won universal admiration. The excitable populace were half
frenzied with enthusiasm. The city resounded with shouts of gladness, and
the streets were resplendent with the display of gorgeous pageants.
The few nobles who still rallied around the court
Poverty of the
endeavored to compensate by the magnificence of their court.
equipages, the elegance of their attire, and the splendor
of their festivities, for their diminished numbers. There were balls and
tournaments, where the dress and customs of the by-gone ages of chivalry
were revived. Ladies of illustrious birth, glittering in jewels, and proud in
conscious beauty, contributed to the gorgeousness of the spectacle. Still, in
the midst of all this splendor, the impoverished court was greatly
embarrassed by straitened circumstances.
Cardinal Mazarin, eager to retain his hold upon the king, did everything he
could to gratify the love of pleasure which his royal master developed, and
strove to multiply seductive amusements to engross his time and thoughts.
But a few days after Cardinal de Retz had been
Death of the
conducted a prisoner to Vincennes, his uncle, the Archbishop of
Archbishop of Paris, died. The cardinal could legally Paris.
claim the succession. The metropolitan clergy, who had Murmurings.
been almost roused to rebellion by his arrest, were now
still more deeply moved, since he had become their archbishop. They
regarded his captivity as political martyrdom, and their murmurs were deep
and prolonged. The pope also addressed several letters to the court,
soliciting the liberation of his cardinal. The excitement daily increased.
Nearly all the pulpits more or less openly denounced his captivity. At length

a pamphlet appeared urging the clergy to close all their churches till their
archbishop should be released.
Mazarin was frightened. He sent an envoy to the captive
Escape of Cardinal
cardinal presenting terms of compromise. We have not de Retz.
space to describe the diplomacy which ensued, but the
conference was unavailing. The cardinal was soon after removed, under an
escort of dragoons, to the fortress of Nantes. From this place he almost
miraculously escaped to his own territory of Retz, where he was regarded as
sovereign, and where he was surrounded by retainers who, in impregnable
castles, would fight to the death for their lord. These scenes took place early
in the summer of 1653.
In the mean time, the young king was amusing himself in his various
palaces with the many beautiful young ladies who embellished his court.
Like other lads of fifteen, he was in the habit of falling in love with one and
another, though the transient passion did not seem very deeply to affect his
heart. Some of these maidens were exceedingly beautiful. In others,
vivacity and intellectual brilliance quite eclipsed the charms of the highest
physical loveliness.
Anne of Austria, forgetting that the all-dominant passion
Manœuvres of
of love had led her to regret that she was the wife of the Anne of Austria.
king, that she might marry the Duke of Buckingham, did
not deem it possible that her son could stoop so low as to marry any one
who was not of royal blood. She therefore regarded without much
uneasiness his desperate flirtations, while she was scanning the courts of
Europe in search of an alliance which would add to the power and the
renown of her son.
One of the nieces of Cardinal Mazarin, an Italian girl by
Olympia de
the name of Olympia Mancini, was among the first to Mancini.
whom the boy-king of fifteen became specially attached.
Olympia was very beautiful, and her personal fascinations were rivaled by
her mental brilliance, wit, and tact. She was by nature and education a
thorough coquette, amiable and endearing to an unusual degree. She had a
sister a little older than herself, who was also extremely beautiful, who had
recently become the Duchess of Mercœur. Etiquette required that in the

balls which the king attended every evening he should recognize the rank of
the duchess by leading her out first in the dance. After this, he devoted
himself exclusively, for the remainder of the evening, to Olympia.
It will be remembered that Henrietta, the widowed
Henrietta of
queen of Charles II., who was daughter of Henry IV. and England.
sister of Louis XIII., was then residing in France. She
had no pecuniary means of her own, and, chagrined and humiliated, was a
pensioner upon the bounty of the impoverished French court. Henrietta had
with her a very pretty daughter, eleven years of age. Being the
granddaughter of Henry IV. and daughter of Charles II., she was entitled,
through the purity of her royal blood, to the highest consideration in the
etiquette of the court. But the mother and the daughter, from their poverty
and their misfortunes, were precluded from any general participation in the
festivities of the palace.
The queen, Anne of Austria, on one occasion, gave a
Embarrassment of
private ball in honor of these unfortunate guests in her Henrietta.
own apartments. None were invited but a few of her Rudeness of Louis
most intimate friends. Henrietta attended with her XIV.
daughter, who bore her mother's name. There are few
situations more painful than that of poor relatives visiting their more
prosperous friends, who in charity condescend to pay them some little
attention. The young Henrietta was a fragile and timid girl, who keenly felt
the embarrassment of her situation. As, with her face suffused with blushes,
and her eyes moistened with the conflicting emotions of joyousness and
fear, she entered the brilliant saloon of Anne of Austria, crowded with those
below her in rank, but above her in prosperity and all worldly
aggrandizement, she was received coldly, with no marks of sympathy or
attention. As the music summoned the dancers to the floor, the king,
neglecting his young and royal cousin, advanced, according to his custom,
to the Duchess of Mercœur, to lead her out. The queen, shocked at so gross
a breach of etiquette, and even of kindly feeling, rose from her seat, and,
advancing, withdrew the hand of the duchess from her son, and said to him,
in a low voice, "You should dance first with the English princess." The boy-
king sulkily replied, "I am not fond of little girls." Both Henrietta and her
daughter overheard this uncourteous and cruel remark.

Henrietta, the mother, hastened to the queen, and entreated her not to
attempt to constrain the wishes of his majesty. It was an exceedingly
awkward position for all the parties. The spirit of Anne of Austria was
aroused. Resuming her maternal authority, she declared that if her niece, the
Princess of England, were to remain a spectator at the ball, her son should
do the same. Thus constrained, Louis very ungraciously led out Henrietta
upon the floor. The young princess, tender in years, sensitive through
sorrow, wounded and heart-crushed, danced with tears streaming down her
cheeks.
Upon the departure of the guests, the mother and the son
Royal quarrel.
had their first serious quarrel. Anne rebuked Louis Independence of the
severely for his shameful conduct. The king rebelled. king.
Haughtily facing his mother, he said, "I have long
enough been guided by your leading-strings. I shall submit to it no longer."
It was a final declaration of independence. Though there were tears shed on
both sides, and the queen made strenuous efforts at conciliation, she felt,
and justly felt, that the control of her son had passed from her forever. It
was a crisis in the life of the king. From that hour he seemed disposed on all
occasions to assert his manhood.
A remarkable indication of this soon occurred. It was customary, when the
king, through his ministers, issued any decrees, that they should be
registered by the Parliament, to give them full authority. Some very
oppressive decrees had been issued to raise funds for the court. It was
deemed very important that they should be registered. The king in person
attended Parliament, that the influence of his presence might carry the
measure. No one dared to oppose in the presence of the king.
Louis had now established his summer residence at the castle of Vincennes.
Arrangements had been made for a magnificent hunt in the forest the next
day, to be attended by all the ladies and gentlemen of the court. The king,
after leaving the Parliament, returned to Vincennes, which is about three
miles from Paris. He had scarcely arrived at the castle when he received
information that, immediately upon his leaving the Parliament, a motion
had been made to reconsider the approval of the decrees.

Order of the king.

The king dispatched a courier ordering the Chamber to reassemble the next
morning. The pleasure-loving courtiers were dismayed by this order, as they
thought it would interfere with the hunt. But the king assured them that
business should not be allowed to interfere with his pleasures.
At half past nine o'clock the next morning the king
Audacity of Louis.
entered the chamber of deputies in his hunting-dress. It
consisted of a scarlet coat, a gray beaver hat, and high military boots. He
was followed by a large retinue of the nobles of his court in a similar
costume.
"In this unusual attire," writes the Marquis de Montglat, "the king heard
mass, took his place with the accustomed ceremonies, and, with a whip in
his hand, declared to the Parliament that in future it was his will that his
edicts should be registered, and not discussed. He threatened them that,
should the contrary occur, he would return and enforce obedience."
How potent must have been the circumstances which the
Submission of
feudalism of ages had created. These assembled nobles Parliament.
yielded without a murmur to this insolence from a boy
of eighteen. Parliament had ventured to try its strength against Cardinal
Mazarin, but did not dare to disobey its king.
Soon after this, Louis, having learned that Turenne had gained some
important victories over the Fronde, decided to join the army to witness the
siege of the city of Condé and of St. Quilain. Both of these places soon fell
into the hands of the Royalist troops. The king had looked on. Rapidly he
returned to Paris to enjoy almost a Roman triumph for his great
achievement.
As one of the festivities of the city, the king arranged a
A tournament.
tournament in honor of his avowed lady-love, Olympia
Mancini. She occupied a conspicuous seat among the ladies of the court,
her lovely person decorated with a dress of exquisite taste and beauty. The
king was prominent in his attire among all the knights assembled to contest
the palm of chivalry. He was dressed in robes of brilliant scarlet. A white
scarf encircled his waist, and snow-white plumes waved gracefully from his
hat.

The scene was as gorgeous as the wealth and decorative art of the court
could create. There were retainers surrounding the high lords, and heralds,
and pages, and trumpeters, all arrayed in the most picturesque costume. No
one could be so discourteous or impolitic as to vanquish the king. He
consequently bore away all the laurels. This magnificent tournament gave
the name of "The Carousal" to the space where it was held, between the
Louvre and the Tuileries.
Early in the summer the court removed to Compiègne, to
Christina of
spend the season in rural amusements there. Christina, Sweden.
the young queen of Sweden, who had just abdicated the
throne, and whose eccentricities had attracted the attention of Europe, came
to the frontiers of France with an imposing retinue, and, announcing her
arrival, awaited the invitation of the king to visit his court. She was one of
the most extraordinary personages of that or any age. Good looking, "strong
minded" to the highest degree, masculine in dress and address, always self-
possessed, absolutely fearing nothing, proud, haughty, speaking fluently
eight languages, familiar with art, and a consummate intriguante, she
excited astonishment and a certain degree of admiration wherever she
appeared.
The curiosity of Louis was so greatly excited and so freely expressed to see
this extraordinary personage as to arouse the jealousy of Olympia. The king
perceived this. It is one of the most detestable traits in our fallen nature that
one can take pleasure in making another unhappy. The unamiable king
amused himself in torturing the feelings of Olympia.

PALACE OF CHANTILLY.
Christina proceeded at first to Paris. Here she was Reception of
received with the greatest honor. For a distance of nearly Christina.
six miles from the Louvre the streets were lined with Her eccentric
armed citizens, who greeted her with almost character.
unintermitted applause. The crowd was so great that, though she reached
the suburbs of Paris at two o'clock in the afternoon, she did not alight at the
Louvre until nine o'clock in the evening. This eccentric princess was then
thirty years of age, and, though youthful in appearance, in dress and
manners she affected the Amazon. She had great powers of pleasing, and
her wit, her entire self-reliance, and extensive information, enabled her to
render herself very attractive whenever she wished to do so.
After spending a few days in Paris, she proceeded to Compiègne to visit the
king and queen. Louis and his brother, with Mazarin and a crowd of
courtiers, rode out as far as Chantilly, a distance of nearly twenty miles, to
meet her. Christina also traveled in state, accompanied by an imposing
retinue. Here there was, at that time, one of the largest and finest structures

in France. The castle belonged to the family of Condé. The opposite cut
presents it to the reader as it then appeared.
The king and his brother, from some freak, presented themselves to her at
first incognito. They were introduced by Mazarin as two of the most nobly
born gentlemen in France. Christina smiled, and promptly replied,
"Yes, I have no doubt of it, since their birthright is a crown."
She had seen their portraits in the Louvre the day before, and immediately
recognized them.
Christina was to be honored with quite a triumphal entrance to Compiègne.
The king accordingly returned to Compiègne, and the next day, with the
whole court in carriages, rode out a few leagues to a very splendid mansion
belonging to one of the nobles at Fayet. It was a lovely day, warm and
cloudless. Anne of Austria decided to receive her illustrious guest upon the
spacious terrace. There she assembled her numerous court, resplendent with
gorgeous dresses, and blazing with diamonds. Soon the carriage of the
Swedish queen drove up, with the loud clatter of outriders and the flourish
of trumpets. Cardinal Mazarin and the Duke de Guise assisted her to alight.
As she ascended the terrace the queen advanced to meet her.
Though Anne was at first struck with amazement at the
Astonishment of
ludicrous appearance of the attire of Christina, she was Anne of Austria.
immediately fascinated by her conversational tact and
brilliance. Some allusion having been made to the portrait of the king in the
Louvre, the queen held out her arm to show a still more faithful miniature in
the clasp of her bracelet. Anne of Austria had a very beautiful arm, and was
very proud of it. Christina, instead of looking at the bracelet, surveyed the
undraped arm and hand with admiration.
"How beautiful! how beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Never did I see an arm
and hand of such lovely hue and such exquisite symmetry. I would willingly
have made the journey from Rome to Paris to see this arm."
The queen's heart was won, Christina knew it. The next achievement was to
win the king.

Christina was apparently as familiar with the French
Varied information
court, and all the intrigues there, from the information of Christina.
which she had obtained, as if she had always been a
resident at that court. She immediately turned with very marked attention to
Olympia Mancini, and seemed dazzled by her beauty. The heart of the boy-
king was won in seeing his own good taste thus highly appreciated and
sanctioned. Having thus secured the queen and the king, Christina was well
aware that she had captivated the whole court.
An elegant collation was prepared. The plump little queen ate like a hungry
dragoon. The royal cortège, enveloping the Swedish princess, returned to
the palace of Compiègne. Several days were spent at Compiègne, during
which she astonished every one by the remarkable self-poise of her
character, her varied information, and the versatility of her talents. She
conversed upon theology with the ecclesiastics, upon politics with the
ministers, upon all branches of science and art with philosophers and the
virtuosi, and eclipsed the most brilliant of the courtiers in the small-talk of
gallantry.
She attended the theatre with the queen. During the
Rudeness of the ex-
tragedy she wept like a child, heartily and unaffectedly. queen.
During the farce, which was one of those coarse and
pungent compositions by the poet Scarron, which would now be scarcely
tolerated, her shouts of laughter echoed through the theatre. She astonished
the court by clapping her hands and throwing her feet upon the top of the
royal box, like a rowdy in a smoking-room.

VIEW OF FONTAINEBLEAU.
From Compiègne, Christina, by invitation, went to She visits
Fontainebleau to visit Mademoiselle de Montpensier. Mademoiselle.
The piquant pen of Mademoiselle has described this
interview. Some allowance must perhaps be made for the vein of satire
which pervaded nearly all the utterances of this haughty princess. The dress
of Christina consisted of a skirt of gray silk, trimmed with gold and silver
lace, with a bodice of gold-colored camlet trimmed like the skirt. She wore
a kerchief of Genoa point about her neck, fastened with a knot of white
ribbon. A light wig concealed her natural hair. Her hat was profusely
decorated with white plumes. She looked, upon the whole, Mademoiselle
thought, like a handsome boy.
Mademoiselle, accustomed to the rigid propriety of the French court, was
not a little surprised to hear Christina, during the comedy, interlard her
conversation with hearty oaths, with all the volubility of an old guardsman.
She flung about her legs in the most astonishing manner, throwing them
over the arms of her chair, and placing herself in attitudes quite
unprecedented in Parisian circles.

Soon after this, this Amazonian princess returned by a
Christina returns to
circuitous route to her Northern home. Before taking Sweden.
leave of her, it may be well to remark that subsequently Outbreak of
Christina made a second visit to France uninvited—not Christina.
only uninvited, but very unwelcome. She took
possession of the palace of Fontainebleau with her attendants, where with
cold courtesy she was tolerated. In a freak of passion, she accused her grand
equerry, M. Monaldeschi, of high treason, and actually put him to death. So
high-handed an outrage, even in those days of feudal barbarism, excited
throughout France a universal feeling of disgust and indignation. The
sentiment was so strong and general that the king deemed it necessary to
send her a letter through his minister, Mazarin, expressive of his extreme
displeasure.
Christina, much exasperated, sent a reply containing the following
expressions:
"Mr. Mazarin,—Those who acquainted you with the
Letter to Cardinal
details regarding Monaldeschi, my equerry, were very ill Mazarin.
informed. Your proceeding ought not, however, to
astonish me, silly as it is. But I should never have believed that either you
or your haughty young master would have dared to exhibit the least
resentment toward me. Learn all of you, valets and masters, little and great,
that it was my pleasure to act as I did; that I need not, and I will not account
for my actions to any one in the world, and particularly to bullies of your
description. I wish you to know, and to say to all who will hear it, that
Christina cares very little about your court, and still less about yourself; and
that, in order to revenge my wrongs, I do not require to have recourse to
your formidable power. Believe me, therefore, Jules,[F] you had better
conduct yourself in a manner to deserve my favor, which you can not study
too much to secure. God preserve you from ever risking the least indiscreet
remark upon my person. Although at the end of the earth, I shall be
informed of your plots. I have friends and courtiers in my service who are
as clever and far-sighted as yours, although they are not so well paid.
"Christina."

Soon after this her Swedish majesty disappeared from France, to the great
relief of the court, and was seen there no more.
Olympia Mancini had ever increasing evidence that the
Count de Soissons.
love of the king for her was but a frivolous and heartless
passion. The Count de Soissons, of Savoy, a young prince who had just
become the head of his house, visited the court of Louis XIV. The
marvelous beauty of Olympia, at first glance, won his heart. He was young,
handsome, chivalric, high-born, and was just entering upon a magnificent
inheritance. Olympia had recently lost by death a mother whom she greatly
revered, and a beloved sister. She was overwhelmed with grief. The entire
want of sympathy manifested by the king shocked her. He thought of
nothing but his own personal pleasure. Regardless of the grief of Olympia,
he exhibited himself, evening after evening, in court theatricals, emulating
the agility of an opera-dancer, and attired in spangled robes.
Wounded and irritated by such conduct, Olympia
Marriage of
accepted the proffered hand of the Count de Soissons, Olympia Mancini.
who was grandson of Charles V. The marriage was Mademoiselle
attended with great splendor at the palace of the Louvre. d'Argencourt.
All the court was present. The king himself seemed not
at all discomposed that another should marry the beautiful maiden whom he
had professed so ardently to love. Indeed, he was already beginning to
transfer his attentions to Mademoiselle d'Argencourt, a queenly beauty of
the high family of Conti. Her figure was perfect, her manners were courtly
in the highest degree, and all who approached her were charmed with her
conversational vivacity and tact.
But Mademoiselle's affections were already engaged, and, being fully aware
that the king flitted from beauty to beauty, like the butterfly from flower to
flower, she very frankly intimated to the king that she could not receive his
attentions. Louis was heart-broken; for such fragile hearts are easily broken
and as easily repaired. He hastened to his mother, and told her that he must
leave Paris to conquer his passion. The love-sick monarch retired to
Vincennes, spent ten days there, and returned quite cured.
The marriage of Olympia, as we have mentioned, was
The Pope's choir.
celebrated with very great brilliance. The ambitious

cardinal, in heart disappointed that he had not been able to confer the hand
of Olympia on the king, was increasingly desirous of investing the members
of his family with all possible éclat. He had imported for the occasion the
principal members of the Pope's choir. These wonderful vocalists from the
Sistine Chapel astonished the French court with melody and harmony such
as had never been heard in the Louvre before.
Olympia had a younger sister, Mary, fifteen years of age.
Mary Mancini.
She had come from her school in a convent to witness
the marriage festivities. The music and the impressive scene affected the
artless child deeply, and her tears flowed freely. The king, surrounded by
the brilliant beauties of his court, accidentally caught sight of this child.
Though not beautiful, there was something in her unaffected attitude, her
tears, her entire absorption in the scene, which arrested his attention.
Mary had early developed so bold, independent, and
Description of
self-reliant a spirit as to induce her father, on his death- Mary Mancini.
bed, to entreat Madame de Mancini to compel her to
take the veil. In compliance with this injunction, Mary had been placed in a
convent until she should attain the fitting age to assume the irrevocable
vows. Thus trained in seclusion, and with no ambitious aspirations, she had
acquired a character of perfect simplicity, and her countenance bore an
expression of intelligence and sensibility far more attractive than ordinary
beauty. A contemporaneous writer says,
"Her movements, her manners, and all the bearing of her person were the
result of a nature guided by grace. Her look was tender, the accents of her
voice were enchanting. Her genius was great, substantial, and extensive,
and capable of the grandest conceptions. She wrote both good prose and
pleasing poetry; and Mary Mancini, who shone in a courtly letter, was
equally capable of producing a political or state dispatch. She would not
have been unworthy of the throne if among us great merit had been entitled
to obtain it."
The king inquired her name. Upon learning that she was a niece of the
cardinal, and a sister of Olympia, he desired that she might be presented to
him.

Mary was an enthusiast. The young king was very
Mary Mancini
handsome, very courtly, and a perfect master of all the becomes a member
phrases of gallantry. Mary fell in love with him, without of the court.
knowing it, at first sight. It was not the monarch which
had won her, but the man, of exquisitely symmetrical proportions, so
princely in his bearing, so fascinating in his address. The young schoolgirl
returned to her convent with the image of the king indelibly engraven on
her heart. The few words which passed between them interested the king,
for every word she said bore the impress of her genius. Ere long she was
added to the ladies of the queen's household.
The king, having closed his flirtation with Mademoiselle d'Argencourt,
found himself almost insensibly drawn to Mary Mancini. Though there
were many in his court more beautiful in person, there were none who
could rival her in intellect and wit. Though naturally timid, her reserve
disappeared when in his presence. Though ever approaching him with the
utmost possible deference and respect, she conversed with him with a
frankness to which he was entirely unaccustomed, and which, at the same
time, surprised and charmed him.
His vanity was gratified with the almost religious
Her influence over
devotion with which she unaffectedly regarded her Louis.
sovereign, while at the same time she addressed him
with a bold simplicity of utterance which astounded the courtiers and
enthralled the king. He was amazed and bewildered by the grandeur of a
character such as he had never encountered before. She reproved him for
his faults, instructed him in his ignorance, conversed with him upon themes
beyond the ordinary range of his intellect, and endeavored to enkindle
within him noble impulses and a lofty ambition. The king found himself
quite unable to compete with her strength of intellect. His weaker nature
became more and more subject to one endowed with gifts far superior to his
own. In every hour of perplexity, in every serious moment, when the better
nature of the king gained a transient ascendency, he turned from the
frivolity of the gay and thoughtless beings fluttering around him to Mary
Mancini for guidance and strength.
The ambition of Cardinal Mazarin was again excited
Ambitious views of
with the hope that he might yet place a niece upon the Mazarin.

throne of France. But there was no end to the intrigues Projects for the
marriage of Louis
of ambitious aspirants, directly or indirectly, for the hand XIV.
of the young king. Mademoiselle de Montpensier had
enormous wealth, was of high birth, and was endowed with marvelous force
of character. She had long aspired to share the throne with her young
cousin. When it was evident that this plan had failed, the Duke of Orleans
brought forward a younger daughter by a second wife. But Mazarin
succeeded in thwarting this arrangement. The Princess Henrietta of
England, whom the young king had treated so cruelly at the ball, was urged
upon him. She was lovely in person, amiable in character, but in poverty
and exile. Cromwell was in the plenitude of his power. There was no
probability that her family would be restored to the throne. The king turned
coldly from her.
Portugal was then one of the most wealthy and powerful courts of Europe.
The Queen of Portugal was exceedingly anxious to unite her daughter with
the King of France. Through her embassadors she endeavored to effect an
alliance. A portrait of the princess was sent to Louis. It was very beautiful.
The king made private inquiries. She was very plain. This settled the
question. The Portuguese princess was thought of no more.
The King of Spain had a very beautiful daughter, Maria
Diplomatic efforts
Theresa. The Spanish monarchy then, perhaps, stood with Spain.
second to none other on the globe. Spain and France
were engaged in petty and vexatious hostilities. A matrimonial alliance
would secure friendship. The matter was much talked of. The proud queen-
mother, Anne of Austria, was very solicitous to secure that alliance, as it
would gratify her highest ambition. Mazarin professed warmly to favor it.
He probably saw insuperable obstacles in the way, but hoped, by co-
operating cordially with the wishes of the queen, to be able finally to secure
the marriage of the king with Mary Mancini.
Maria Theresa was heiress to the throne of Spain. Should she marry Louis
XIV., it would be necessary for her to leave Spain and reside in Paris. Thus
the Queen of France would be the Queen of Spain. In fact, Spain would be
annexed to France as a sort of tributary nation, the court being at Paris, and
all the offices being at the disposal of the Queen of France, residing there.

The pride of the Spaniards revolted from this, and still the diplomatists were
conferring upon the matter.
Henrietta, the unfortunate widow of Charles I. of
The Princess of
England, had an elder daughter, who had married the Orange.
Prince of Orange, the head of the illustrious house of
Nassau. This Princess of Orange was very beautiful, young, in the
enjoyment of vast possessions, and a widow. She aspired to the hand, and to
share the crown of the King of France. Surrounded by great magnificence
and blazing with jewels, she visited the court of Louis XIV. Her mission
was signally unsuccessful. The king took a strong dislike to her, and
repelled her advances with marked discourtesy.
While matters were in this state, Charles II. offered his
Power of Mary
hand to Mary Mancini. But the proud cardinal would not Mancini.
allow his niece to marry a crownless and impoverished
king. In the mean time, Mary Mancini, by her increasing beauty and her
mental superiority, was gaining daily more influence over the mind of the
king. With a voice of singular melody, a brilliant eye, a figure as graceful
and elastic as that of a fairy, and with words of wonderful wisdom flowing,
as it were, instinctively from her lips, she seemed effectually and almost
unconsciously to have enthralled the king. All his previous passions were
boyish and ephemeral. But Mary was very different from any other lady of
the court. Her depth of feeling, her pensive yet cheerful temperament, and
her full-souled sympathy in all that was truly noble in conduct and
character, astonished and engrossed the susceptible monarch.
The Duchess of Savoy had a daughter, Marguerite,
The Princess
whom she wished to have become the wife of the French Marguerite.
king. The princess was by birth of the highest rank,
being a descendant of Henry IV. The duchess sent as an envoy a young
Piedmontese count to treat secretly with the cardinal for the marriage of the
king with the Princess Marguerite. The count was unsuccessful. It was quite
evident that Mazarin was intending to secure the marriage of the king with
his niece.
The proud queen, Anne of Austria, became greatly
Anger of the queen
alarmed. She mortally offended the cardinal by declaring regent.

to him that nothing should induce her to consent to such a degradation of
her son as to permit his marriage with the niece of the cardinal. She
declared that in such an event she herself would head an insurrection
against the king, and that the whole of France would revolt both against him
and his minister. These bitter words ever after rankled in the bosom of the
cardinal.
The queen summoned a secret assembly of the cabinet,
Decision of the
and put to them the question whether the marriage of her cabinet.
son without her consent would be a valid one. The
unanimous decision was in the negative. She then had this decision
carefully drawn up, and made effectual arrangements to have it registered
by the Parliament, should the king secretly marry Mary Mancini.
The cardinal now found himself compelled to abandon
New negotiations.
his ambitious hopes for his niece, and opened again
negotiations with Spain for the hand of the Infanta Maria Theresa, and with
the court of Savoy for the Princess Marguerite. The Spanish marriage would
terminate the war. The union with Savoy would invest France with new
powers for its vigorous prosecution.
Every day the attachment of the king to Mary Mancini became more
undisguised. She guided his reading; she taught him the Italian language;
she introduced to him the names of great men in the works of literature and
art, and labored heroically to elevate his tastes, and to inspire him with the
ambition of performing glorious deeds.
The queen, in her anxiety, made arrangements for the
The two courts
king to meet the Princess Marguerite at Lyons, that they arrange to meet at
might be betrothed. She greatly preferred the alliance Lyons.
with Spain; but as there seemed to be insuperable
objections to that, she turned her attention to Savoy. The king continued his
marked and almost exclusive attentions to Mary, and she loved him with the
full flow of her ardent affections.
The whole court was to proceed in great magnificence to Lyons, to meet the
court of Savoy. Mary was compelled to accompany the court. She knew full
well the errand upon which Louis was bound. Though her heart was heavy,
and tears dimmed her eyes, she was obliged to appear cheerful. She had

made an earnest effort to avoid the journey, but Anne of Austria was
obdurate and cruel. She assured Mary that she could not spare her presence
when she wished to impress the Princess Marguerite with the magnificence
and beauty of the French court.
The court of Savoy left Turin at the same time that the
Fickleness of Louis.
French court left Paris. The pledge had been given that,
should the king be pleased with the appearance of Marguerite, the marriage
should take place without delay. During the journey, the heartless and fickle
king, ever charmed by novelty, was in buoyant spirits. Though he still clung
to the side of Mary, giving her a seat in his own carriage, and, when the
weather was fine, riding by her side on horseback, he tortured her heart by
the joyousness with which he spoke of the anticipated charms of Marguerite
and of his approaching marriage.
At Lyons the royal party was received with great
The royal parties
magnificence. The next day it was announced that the meet.
court of Savoy was approaching. The queen-mother and
her son, with two ladies in the royal coach, preceded, and, followed by a
considerable retinue, advanced to meet their guests. The king mounted his
horse and galloped forward to get a sight of Marguerite without being
known by her. She was riding in an open barouche. He soon returned in
great glee, and, springing from the saddle, re-entered the carriage, and
informed his mother that the Princess Marguerite was very beautiful.
Scarcely had he said this ere the two royal coaches met. Both parties
alighted. The princess was introduced to Louis. Then the queen-mother and
her son, the Duchess of Savoy and the Princess Marguerite, and an elder
daughter, who was a widow, entered the royal coach and returned to Lyons.
The king was in exuberant spirits. He at once entered into the most
animated and familiar conversation with the princess.
The Princess Marguerite fully appreciated the
The Princess
embarrassment of her own situation. She was going to Marguerite.
Lyons to present herself to Louis XIV. to see if he would
take her for his wife. The humiliation of being rejected would be dreadful.
In vain she implored her mother to spare her from such a possibility. But the
question seemed to be at once settled favorably. The king was manifestly

much pleased with Marguerite, and the princess could see nothing but
attractions in the young, handsome, and courtly sovereign of France.
Poor Mary, who was informed of every thing that
Sorrows of Mary.
transpired, was suffering martyrdom. She was
immediately forsaken and forgotten. In public, all her force of character was
called into requisition to dress her face in smiles. In her secret apartment
she wept bitterly.

Chapter IV.

The Marriage of the King.
1658-1661

T he Princess Marguerite of Savoy was very beautiful.
Marguerite of
She was a brunette, with large, lustrous eyes, fairy- Savoy.
like proportions, queenly bearing, and so graceful in
every movement that she scarcely seemed to touch the ground as she
walked. Her reception by the king, the queen, and the whole court was
every thing that could be desired. The duchess and her daughter that night
placed their heads upon their pillows with the undoubting conviction that
Marguerite was to be the Queen of France. The king ordered his suite to be
ready, in their gala dresses, to attend him on the morrow to the apartments
of the princess.
The morning came. To the surprise and bewilderment of
Sudden change of
the court, every thing was changed. The king was prospects.
thoughtful, distant, reserved. With great formality of
etiquette, he called upon the princess. His countenance and manner
indicated an entire change of feeling. With the coldest phrases of court
etiquette he addressed her. He was civil, and civil only. The warmth of the
lover had disappeared entirely. The Duchess of Savoy was astounded. Even
the French court seemed stupefied by so unexpected and decisive an
alteration in the aspect of affairs.
The explanation which gradually came to light was very
An heir to the
simple. During the night a courier had arrived, in Spanish throne.
breathless haste, with the announcement that the Queen Rejection of
of Spain had given birth to a son. Maria Theresa was no Marguerite.
longer heir to the throne. The way was consequently
open to the Spanish marriage. This alliance would secure peace with Spain,
and was altogether a more powerful and wealthy connection than that with
the court of Savoy. The cardinal immediately communicated the
intelligence to the queen-mother and the king. They alone knew it.
Marguerite was to be rejected, and the hand of Maria Theresa to be claimed.

Mary Mancini was utterly bewildered by the change, so inexplicable to her,
in the posture of affairs. The face of the queen was radiant with joy. The
king seemed a little embarrassed, but very triumphant. The Duchess of
Savoy betrayed alternately surprise, indignation, and despair. The eagle eye
and painful experience of Mary taught her that the Princess Marguerite was
struggling to retain her self-possession, and to maintain a cheerful spirit,
while some terrible blow had fallen upon her.
The news from Spain was such that Mazarin, upon
Mazarin
receiving it after midnight, hastened to the bedchamber communicates with
of the queen with the announcement. As he entered, the the Duchess of
queen rose upon her pillow, and the cardinal said: Savoy.

"I have come to tell you, madame, a piece of news which your majesty
never anticipated."
"Is peace proclaimed?" inquired the queen, earnestly.
"More than peace," the cardinal exultantly replied; "for the Infanta brings
peace in her hand as but a portion of her dower."
This extraordinary scene took place on the night of the 29th of November,
1658. It was the task of the wily cardinal to break the humiliating
intelligence to the Duchess of Savoy. He assured her that he felt bound to
seek, above all things else, the interests of France; that an opportunity had
unexpectedly occurred for an alliance with Spain; that this alliance was far
more desirable than any other; but that, should any thing occur to interrupt
these negotiations, he would do every thing in his power to promote the
marriage of the king with the Princess Marguerite.
Notwithstanding the intense irritation which this
Private interview of
communication excited, there was too much self-respect Mazarin and the
and too much good breeding in the court of Savoy to Duchess of Savoy.
allow of a sudden rupture, which would provoke the
sarcastic remarks of the world. Still the duchess, in a private interview with
Mazarin, could not restrain her feelings, but broke out into passionate
upbraidings. The thought that she had been lured to expose herself and her
daughter to the derision of all Europe stung her to the quick. The Princess
Marguerite, however, by her graceful composure, by her courtesy to all

around her, and by the skill with which she concealed her wounded
feelings, won the admiration of all in both courts.
For several days the two courts remained together,
Conduct of the
engaged in a round of festivities. This seemed necessary king.
to avoid the appearance of an open rupture. The fickle
king, in these assemblies, treated Marguerite with his customary courtesy;
but he immediately turned to Mary Mancini with his marked attentions and
devotion, dancing with her repeatedly on the same evening, and keeping her
constantly by his side. Indeed, his attentions were so very marked as to lead
the courtiers to think that the king rejoiced at his escape from his marriage
with Marguerite from the hope that it might yet lead to his securing Mary
for his bride. But it is more probable that the king, utterly selfish, reckless
of the feelings of others, and devoted to his own enjoyment, sought the
society of Mary because it so happened that she was the one, more than any
other then within his reach, who, by her personal beauty and her mental
attractions, could best beguile his weary hours. He was ready at any
moment, without a pang, to lay her aside for another who could better
minister to his pleasure or to the aspirings of his ambition.
The king, with his court, returned to Paris. The secret communicated by the
mysterious visitor from Spain was still undivulged. The mystery was so
great, and its apparent bearing upon the destiny of Mary so direct, that she
resolved to interrogate one of the most influential ministers of the court
upon the subject. He, thinking in some degree to evade the question, replied
that the courier had come simply to inform Anne of Austria that the Queen
of Spain had given birth to a son. This revealed the whole to Mary.
In the mean time, arrangements were made for Cardinal
Movements of
Mazarin to meet the Spanish minister on the frontiers of Mazarin.
the two kingdoms to negotiate for the Spanish marriage.
The cardinal, fully convinced that now it would be impossible to secure the
hand of the king for his niece Mary, and anxious to convince the queen that
he was heartily engaged in promoting the Spanish alliance, ordered Mary
immediately to withdraw from the court, and retire to Brouage. This was a
fortified town on the sea-coast many leagues from Paris. The king heard of
the arrangement, and, forbidding the departure of Mary from the court,
hastened to the cardinal demanding an explanation. Mazarin informed him

that the Infanta of Spain would be very indignant should she learn that,
while he was making application for her hand, he was retaining near him
one whom he had long treated with the most devoted and affectionate
attentions; that her father, Philip IV., would be disgusted; that there would
be a probable rupture of the negotiations; and that the desolating war
between France and Spain would continue.
Louis declared that he should not allow his pleasure to be disturbed by such
considerations. Roused by opposition, he went so far as to say that he was
quite ready to carry on the war with Spain if that power so wished; that the
war would afford him an opportunity to acquire glory in the eyes of his
countrymen, and in that case he would marry Mary Mancini.
But the cardinal was fully conscious that neither the
Power of the
queen nor France would now submit to such an cardinal.
arrangement. He had with great skill retained his attitude Mary exiled from
of command over the young monarch, holding his purse the court.
and governing the realm, while the boy-king amused
himself as a ballet-dancer and a play-actor. The cardinal remained
inexorable. It is said that the king wept in the excess of his chagrin as he felt
compelled to yield to the representations of his domineering minister. As he
unfolded to him the miseries which would be inflicted, not only upon the
kingdom, but upon the court, should the desolating and expensive war be
protracted, the king threw himself upon a sofa, and buried his face in his
hands in silent despair. It was decided that Mary should be exiled from the
court.
The king, thwarted, vexed, wretched, repaired to the
Mary's parting with
cabinet of his mother. They conversed for an hour the king.
together. As they retired from the cabinet, Madame de
Motteville says, "the eyes of both were red with weeping. The orders were
immediately issued for Mary's departure. She was to go with an elder sister
and her governess. The morrow came; the carriage was at the door. Mary,
having taken leave of the queen, repaired to the apartment of Louis to bid
him adieu. She found him deluged in tears. Summoning all her resolution to
maintain self-control, she held out her trembling hand, and said to him
reproachfully, 'Sire, you are a king; you weep; and yet I go.'"

The king uttered not a word, but, burying his face in his hands upon the
table, sobbed aloud. Mary saw that it was all over with her; that there was
no longer any hope. Without speaking a word, she descended the stairs to
her carriage. The king silently followed her, and stood by the coach door.
She took her seat with her companions, and, without the interchange of a
word or a sign, the carriage drove away. Louis remained upon the spot until
it disappeared from sight.

ISLE OF PHEASANTS.
The Isle of Pheasants, a small Spanish island in the The Isle of
Bidassoa, a boundary river between France and Spain, Pheasants.
was fixed upon as the rendezvous for the contracting
parties for the royal marriage. Four days after the exile of Mary, the king
and court, with a magnificent civil and ecclesiastical retinue, set out for the
island. The king insisted, notwithstanding the vehement remonstrances of
the queen, upon visiting Mary Mancini on the journey. As the splendid
cortège passed through the streets of Paris, the whole population was on the
pavement, shouting a thousand blessings on the head of their young king.

Mary Mancini had received orders from the queen to
Interview of Louis
proceed with her sister to Saint Jean d'Angély, where, with Mary.
upon the passage of the court, she was to have an
interview with the king. "Her interview," writes Miss Pardoe, "was,
however, a bitter one. Divided between vanity and affection, Louis was at
once less firm and less self-possessed than Mary. He wept bitterly, and
bewailed the fetters by which he was shackled. But as he remarked the
change which nights of watching and of tears had made in her appearance,
he felt half consoled. The only result of this meeting was to harrow the
heart of the poor victim of political expediency, and to prove to her upon
how unstable a foundation she had built her superstructure of hope."[G]
From Saint Jean d'Angély the court proceeded, by way
Negotiations with
of Bordeaux, to Toulouse. Here they awaited the Spain.
conclusion of the treaty. The negotiation was tedious, as
each party was anxious to gain all that was possible from the other. Many
questions of national moment and pride were involved. At length the
conference was amicably concluded. The king agreed to pardon the Prince
of Condé, and restore to him all his honors; and the Infanta Maria Theresa
renounced for herself and her descendants all claim to the inheritance of her
parents. She was to receive as a dowry five hundred thousand golden
crowns. There were several other articles included in the treaty which have
now ceased to be of any interest.
Much surprise was soon excited in the court of Louis XIV. by the intimation
that the marriage ceremony must be postponed until the spring. Philip IV.
stated that his infirm health would not allow him to take so long a journey
in the inclement weather of winter. Louis XIV. had never yet seen his
affianced bride. We do not learn that he was at all annoyed by the delay.
The intervening weeks were passed in journeyings and a round of
amusements. Early in May, 1660, the king returned to the vicinity of the
Isle of Pheasants, where he was to meet the King of Spain and Maria
Theresa.
The most magnificent preparations had been made at the Isle of Pheasants
for the interview between the two courts and the royal nuptials. Bridges
were constructed to the island from both the French and Spanish sides of
the river. These bridges were covered, and so decorated as to present the

aspect of beautiful galleries. Upon the island a palace was erected,
consisting of one immense and gorgeous apartment, with lateral chambers
and dressing-rooms. This apartment was carpeted, and furnished with all the
splendor which the combined monarchies of France and Spain could
command.
Two doors, directly opposite each other, enabled the two courts to enter
simultaneously. A straight line across the centre of the room divided it into
two portions, one half of which was regarded as French, and the other as
Spanish territory. The Spanish court took up its residence at Fontarabia, on
the eastern or Spanish bank of the river. Louis and his court occupied Saint
Jean de Luz, on the French or western side of the stream.
There are many exactions of court etiquette which to
Marriage
republican eyes seem extremely irrational and foolish. preparations
Louis could not cross the river to take his Spanish bride, according to
neither could Maria Theresa cross the stream to be Spanish etiquette.
married on French soil; therefore Don Luis de Haro, as
the proxy of Louis XIV., having the French Bishop of Frejus as his witness,
was married to Maria Theresa in the church at Fontarabia. The ceremony
was conducted with the most punctilious observance of the stately forms of
Spanish etiquette.
Madame de Motteville gives the following account of the appearance of the
bride:
"The Infanta is short, but well made. We admired the
Appearance of the
extreme fairness of her complexion. The blue eyes Infanta.
appeared to us to be fine, and charmed us by their
softness and brilliancy. We celebrated the beauty of her mouth, and of her
somewhat full and roseate lips. The outline of her face is long, but, being
rounded at the chin, pleased us. Her cheeks, rather large, but handsome, had
their share of our praise. Her hair, of a very light auburn, accorded
admirably with her fine complexion."
The Infanta was dressed in white satin, ornamented with small bows of
silver serge. She wore a large number of brilliant gems, and her head was
decorated with a mass of false hair. The first lady of her household bore her
train.

During the ceremony Philip IV. stood between his daughter and the proxy
of Louis. The princess did not present her hand to Don Luis, nor did he
present to her the nuptial ring. At the close of the ceremony the father
embraced his child, and silently the gorgeous train swept from the church.
The next day Anne of Austria, accompanied by her second son, then Duke
of Orleans, repaired to the Isle of Pheasants to meet her brother, Philip IV.,
and the royal bride. Court etiquette did not yet allow Louis XIV. to have an
interview with the lady to whom he was already married by proxy. He,
however, sent to his young queen, by one of his nobles, a present of some
very fine jewels.
Though Philip IV. was the brother of Anne of Austria,
Interview of Anne
and though they had not met for many years, Spanish of Austria and her
etiquette would not allow any demonstrations of brother.
tenderness. The interview was chillingly stately and
dignified. Anne, for a moment forgetting the icy restraints of the court, in
sisterly love endeavored to salute her brother on the cheek. The Spanish
king held back his head, rejecting the proffered fondness. The young bride
threw herself upon her knees, requesting permission to kiss the hand of
Anne of Austria. The queen-mother lifted her from the floor, and tenderly
embraced her.
After some time had elapsed, Cardinal Mazarin entered, of course from the
French side, and, advancing to their majesties, informed them that there was
a distinguished stranger at the door who begged permission to enter. Anne
and Philip affected to hold a brief conference upon the subject, when they
gave their consent for his admission.
Louis XIV. entered in regal attire to see for the first time,
Meeting of Louis
and to be seen for the first time by, his bride. As he XIV. and his bride.
approached, Maria Theresa fixed her eyes upon him, and
blushed deeply. Philip IV. smiled graciously, and said audibly to Anne of
Austria, "I have a very handsome son-in-law."
As we have mentioned, there was a line separating the
Tedious
Spanish half of the room from the French half. Louis ceremonies.
advanced to the centre of the apartment, and kneeled
upon a cushion which had been provided for him there. The King of Spain

kneeled also upon a similar cushion. Cardinal Mazarin then brought in a
Bible, with a cross upon the volume. One of the high Spanish church
officials did the same on his side. The treaty of peace was then read
simultaneously to Philip IV. in Spanish, to Louis XIV. in French. At its
conclusion, they each placed their hands upon the Bible, and took a solemn
oath to observe its stipulations. During this scene one sovereign was
ceremonially in France, and the other in Spain. Having taken the oath, they
rose, and in stately strides advanced to the frontier line. Here they cordially
embraced each other.
At the conclusion of sundry other ceremonies, some tedious, some
imposing, the two courts returned each to its own side of the river. Maria
Theresa accompanied her father. The next morning the queen-mother, with
a suitable retinue, returned to the island palace, where she met again the
bride of her son, and conducted her to her own apartments at Saint Jean de
Luz. Two days elapsed, while preparations were made again to solemnize
the marriage beneath the skies of France.
A platform was constructed, richly carpeted, from the residence of Anne of
Austria to the church. The young maiden-queen was robed in French attire
for this repetition of the nuptial ceremony. She wore a royal mantle of
violet-colored velvet, sprinkled with fleur de lis, over a white dress. A
queenly crown was upon her brow. Her gorgeous train was borne by three
of the most distinguished ladies of France. At the conclusion of this
ceremony Louis XIV. received his bride. The king was then in the twenty-
second year of his age.
Until within a week of the royal marriage, the king wrote frequently to
Mary Mancini. Then the correspondence was suddenly dropped. The king
never after seemed to manifest any interest in her fate.
After a few days of festivity, the court commenced, on
Gorgeous entrance
the 15th of June, its leisurely return toward Paris. into the capital.
Having reached Vincennes, the illustrious cortège tarried
for several days in the royal chateau there, until preparations could be
completed for a magnificent entrance into the capital. The gorgeous
spectacle took place on the 26th of August, 1660. For many weeks the

saloons of the Louvre and the Tuileries resounded with unintermitted
revelry.

THE LOUVRE AND THE TUILERIES.
Very cruelly the queen-mother sent a message to Mary Cruelty of the
Mancini, expressing her regret that she could not be queen-mother.
present at the royal nuptials, and requiring her to come
immediately to be present at the entrée of the king and queen into the
metropolis, and to share in the festivities of the palace. The order came to
the crushed and bleeding heart of Mary like a death-summons.
Accompanied by her two sisters, and with suitable attendants, she set forth
on her sad journey. All France was rejoicing over the royal marriage, and as
her carriage rapidly approached Paris, every hour pierced her heart with a
new pang. With all the fortitude she could summon, she could not retain the
roseate glow of health and happiness. Her cheeks were pale and emaciate,
and her forced smile only proclaimed more loudly the grief which was
consuming her heart. She alighted at the new palace of her uncle, Cardinal
Mazarin, and hastily retired to her apartment.
She had scarcely entered her room ere a letter from the
The Prince
cardinal was presented to her, soliciting her hand for

Prince Colonna, one of the most illustrious nobles in Colonna.
wealth and rank in Europe. This marriage would give
her position scarcely second to that of any lady not seated on a throne. The
ambitious cardinal, not fully understanding the delicate mechanism of a
young lady's heart, had negotiated this matter, hoping thus to rescue his
niece from the humiliating sympathy of the courtiers. But the noble nature
of Mary recoiled from such a rescue. She had instinctively resolved that in
her own person, and by her own individual force of character, however
great might be her sufferings, she would maintain her womanly dignity.
Consequently, to the surprise of the cardinal, she returned a cold and
positive refusal to the proposition.
Soon after this she received a communication to repair to the palace of
Fontainebleau, there to be presented to the young queen, with her two
sisters, and many others of the notabilities of the realm. The presentation
was to take place on the ensuing Sunday, immediately after high mass. Her
elder sister, the Countess de Soissons, assisted by the Princess de Conti,
was to preside at the ceremony.
Mary had just entered the audience-hall, and was
Mary is presented
approaching the queen to be presented, when Louis XIV. to the young Queen
entered the apartment to invite Maria Theresa to of France.
accompany him in a walk in the park. Just at that
moment Madame de Soissons was presenting Mademoiselle Mancini. The
king heard the name which had once been apparently so dear to him.
Without the slightest emotion or the least sign of recognition, he bowed, as
if in the presence of a perfect stranger, and inquired of Mary respecting her
uncle the cardinal. He then exchanged a few courteous words with the other
ladies in the room with the same assumed or real indifference, and invited
all the ladies of the circle to attend the queen in a hunt in which she was
about to engage.
It seemed as if the fates had combined to expose poor
Misery of Mary
Mary to every species of mental torture. Her brain Mancini.
reeled, and, scarcely able to retain her footing, she
withdrew a little apart to rally her disordered senses. Unable any longer to
endure these sufferings, she begged to be excused from attending the hunt,
alleging that the feeble health of her uncle the cardinal rendered it necessary

for her to return to Paris. Her carriage was ordered for her departure, but, at
a short distance from the chateau, she encountered the whole hunting-party,
filling the road with its splendor. Her carriage was compelled to stop, that
the king and queen and royal train might pass.
"And thus again she saw Louis, who preceded the cavalcade on horseback,
surrounded by the nobles of his court. The heart of Mary throbbed almost to
bursting. It was impossible that the king should not recognize the livery of
her uncle—the carriage in which he had so often been seated by her side; he
would not, he could not pass her by without one word. She deceived
herself. His majesty was laughing at some merry tale, by which he was so
much engrossed that he rode on without even bestowing a look upon the
gilded coach and its heart-broken occupant."[H]
Mary returned to Paris pondering deeply her awful
Mary concludes to
destiny. She saw that she was fated to meet continually accept the hand of
the king and queen in their festivities; that with a broken Prince Colonna.
heart she must feign gayety and smiles; that by lingering
torture she must sink into the grave. There was no refuge for her but to
escape from Paris and from the court. Apparently the only way to
accomplish this was to accept the proffered hand of the Prince Colonna,
who would remove her from Paris to Rome.

PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU.
The next morning, pale and tearless, Mary drove to Vincennes, where
Cardinal Mazarin then was, and informed him that she was ready to marry
Prince Colonna, provided the marriage could take place immediately, and
that the cardinal would, without an hour's delay, write to the king to obtain
his consent. The cardinal was rejoiced, and proceeded with energy. The
king, without one kind word, gave his cold and indifferent consent. In
accordance with the claims of etiquette, he sent her some valuable gifts,
which she did not dare to decline.
"Mary walked to the altar," says Miss Pardoe, to whom
Marriage of Mary
we are indebted for many of these details, "as she would Mancini.
have walked to the scaffold, carrying with her an annual
dower of one hundred thousand livres, and perjuring herself by vows which
she could not fulfill. Her after career we dare not trace. Suffice it that the
ardent and enthusiastic spirit which would, had she been fated to happiness,
have made her memory a triumph for her sex, embittered by falsehood,
wrong, and treachery, involved her in errors over which both charity and
propriety oblige us to draw a veil; and if all Europe rang with the enormity

of her excesses, much of their origin may safely be traced to those who,
after wringing her heart, trampled it in the dust beneath their feet."
A few days after the scenes of presentation at
Character of Louis
Fontainebleau, the royal pair made their triumphal entry XIV. and Maria
into Paris. In those days of feudal oppression and Theresa.
ignorance, the masses looked up to kings and queens
with a degree of superstitious reverence which, in our enlightened land,
seems almost inconceivable. Louis XIV. was a heartless, selfish, pleasure-
loving young man of twenty-one, who had never in his life done any thing
to merit the especial esteem of any one. Maria Theresa was an amiable and
pretty girl, who never dreamed that she had any other function than to
indulge in luxuries at the expense of others. Millions were to be
impoverished that she and her husband might pass through life reveling in
luxury and charioted in splendor. One can not contemplate such a state of
things without being agitated by the conflicting emotions of pity for such
folly and indignation for such outrages. Louis and Maria Theresa were
received by the populace of Paris with as much reverence and enthusiasm
as if they had been angels descending from heaven, fraught with every
blessing.
Scarcely had the morning dawned ere the whole city was
Magnificent
in commotion. The streets were thronged with countless ceremonies.
thousands in the most brilliant gala dresses. Triumphal
arches spanned the thoroughfares through which the royal procession was
to pass. Garlands of flowers and hangings of brilliantly colored tapestry
concealed the fronts of the houses from view. The pavements were strewn
with flowers and sweet-scented herbs, over which the wheels of the
carriages and the hoofs of the horses would pass without noise. At the
barrier a gorgeous throne was erected. Here the young queen was seated in
royal state, to receive the homage of the several distinguished officers of the
city and of the realm. At the close of these ceremonies, which were
rendered as imposing as civil and ecclesiastical pomp could create, the
apparently interminable procession of carriages, and horsemen, and
footmen, with the most dazzling adornments of caparisons, and uniforms,
and banners, with resounding music, and shouts of acclaim which seemed
to rend the skies, commenced its entrance into the city.

An antique car had been constructed, of massive and
Festivities
picturesque proportions, emblazoned with gold. Upon continued.
this car the young queen was seated. She was, in reality,
very beautiful, but in this hour of triumph, with flushed cheek and sparkling
eye, robed in the richest attire, brilliant with gems, and so conspicuously
enthroned as to be visible to every eye, she presented an aspect of almost
celestial loveliness.
The young king rode by her side, magnificently mounted. His garments of
velvet, richly embroidered with gold and jewels, had been prepared for the
occasion at an expense of considerably more than a million of dollars. The
splendors of this gala-day were never forgotten by those who witnessed
them.
For succeeding weeks and months the court luxuriated in one continued
round of gayety and extravagance. Night after night the magnificent saloons
of the Louvre and the Tuileries resounded with music, while proud lords
and high-born dames trod the floors in the mazy dance, and inflamed their
passions with the most costly wines. It can not be denied that a man who is
trained from infancy amidst such scenes could acquire elegance of manner
which those engrossed in the useful and ennobling employments of life
rarely attain. Neither can it be denied that this is as poor a school as can
possibly be imagined to prepare one wisely to administer the affairs of a
nation of twenty millions of people. In fact, Louis XIV. never dreamed of
consulting the interests of the people. It was his sole object to aggrandize
himself by promoting the splendor, the power, and the glory of the
monarchy.
One does well to be angry when he reflects that, to
Revolting state of
maintain this reckless and utterly useless extravagance society.
of the king and the court, the millions of the peasantry of
France were compelled to live in mud hovels, to wear the coarsest garb, to
eat the plainest food, while their wives and their daughters toiled barefooted
in the fields. One would think that guilty consciences would often be
appalled by the announcement, "Know thou that for all these things God
will bring thee into judgment?"

Though this revolting state of society was the slow growth of time, and
though no one there could have regarded this aristocratic oppression as it is
now estimated in the clearer light of the present day, still these outrages,
inflicted by the strong upon the weak, by the rich upon the poor, merit the
unmitigated condemnation of men, as they have ever incurred the
denunciations of God.
Cardinal Mazarin, more than any other man in France,
Mazarin guilty of
was accountable for the enormous luxury of the court, great extortion.
and the squalid misery of the people. He knew better. He
was professedly a disciple of Jesus Christ, and yet a more thorough
worldling could hardly have been in Christian or in pagan lands. He was
one of the most gigantic robbers of the poor of which history gives any
mention.
In the midst of these festivities, Mazarin decided to
Fatal accident.
invite the court to a grand ballet, which should transcend
in splendor every thing which Paris had witnessed before. To decorate the
saloons, a large amount of costly draperies were manufactured at Milan. In
arranging these tapestries, by some accident they took fire. The flames
spread rapidly, utterly destroying the room, with its paintings and its
magnificently frescoed roof. The fire was eventually extinguished, but the
shock was a death-blow to the cardinal. He was then in feeble health. His
attendants conveyed him from the blazing room to the Chateau Mazarin.
The terror of the scene so aggravated the maladies from
Sufferings of the
which the cardinal had for a long time suffered, that he cardinal.
was prostrated upon his bed, and it soon became evident
that his dying hour was near at hand. There are many indications that the
haughty cardinal was tortured by the pangs of remorse. He was generally
silent, though extremely dejected. His body was subjected to the most
extraordinary convulsions, while inaudible murmurs escaped his lips.
Count de Brienne, in his memoirs, states that, on one occasion, he entered
the chamber of the cardinal on tiptoe, his valet informing him that his
eminence was asleep. He found Mazarin bolstered in an arm-chair before
the fire, apparently in a profound slumber, "and yet," writes the count, "his
body rocked to and fro with the greatest rapidity, from the back of his chair

to his knees, now swinging to the right, and again to the left. These
movements of the sufferer were as regular and rapid as the vibrations of the
pendulum of a clock. At the same time inarticulate murmurs escaped his
lips."
The count, much moved by the wretched spectacle, summoned the
attendant, and awoke the cardinal. Mazarin, in awaking, betrayed that
troubled state of soul which had thus agitated his body. In most melancholy
tones, he said,
"My physician, M. Guénaud, has informed me that I can live but a few
days."
Count de Brienne, wishing to console him, said, "But M. Guénaud is not
omniscient. He may be deceived."
The cardinal, uttering a heavy sigh, exclaimed, "Ah! M. Guénaud well
understands his trade."
Mazarin, as we have mentioned, had acquired enormous
Oppressive
wealth. The resources of the kingdom had been in his measures of the
hands. The poor had been oppressed by as terrible a cardinal.
system of taxation as human nature could endure and
live. With the sums thus extorted, he had not only maintained the army, and
supported the voluptuousness of the court, but he had also appropriated vast
sums, without the slightest right to do so, to his own private enrichment. He
was now dying. The thought of going to the bar of God with his hands full
of this stolen gold tortured him. Constrained by the anguish of a death-bed,
he sent for a Theatine monk to act as his confessor, and to administer, in his
last hours, the services of the Church.
The virtuous monk was quite startled when the cardinal,
Confession of
with pale and trembling lips, informed him that he had Mazarin.
accumulated a fortune of over forty millions of francs—
$8,000,000. Mazarin allowed that he considered it a sin that he had by such
means accumulated such vast wealth. His pious confessor boldly declared
that the cardinal would peril his eternal salvation if he did not, before his
death, make restitution of all his ill-gotten gains, reserving only that for
which he was indebted to the bounty of the king.

The dying sinner, trembling in view of the judgment, replied in faltering
accents, "In that case I must relinquish all. I have received nothing from the
king. My family must be left in utter beggary."
The confessor was deeply moved by the aspect of despair presented by the
cardinal. Embarrassed by the difficulties of the position, he sent for a
distinguished member of the court, M. Colbert, to confer with upon the
situation.
The shrewd courtier, after a little deliberation, suggested
Advice of M.
that, as it would be manifestly impossible to restore the Colbert.
money to the different individuals, scattered all over the
realm, from whom it had been gathered in the ordinary collection of the
taxes, the cardinal should make a transfer of it, as a donation, to the
sovereign. "The king," added M. Colbert, "will, without any question, annul
so generous an act, and restore the property to you. It will then be yours by
royal grant."
The cardinal, who had lived, and moved, and had his
Suspense of the
being in the midst of trickery and intrigue, highly cardinal.
approved of the suggestion. The papers were
immediately made out, transferring the property to the king. It was the 3d of
March, 1661. Three days passed, and there was no response of rejection—
no recognition of the gift. The cardinal was terror-stricken. As he sat
bolstered in his chair, he wrung his hands in agony, often exclaiming, "My
poor family! my poor family! they will be left without bread."
At the close of the third day M. Colbert entered the
His property
dying chamber with a document in his hand, announcing restored.
that the king had restored to the cardinal all his property,
authorizing him to dispose of it as he judged to be best.
It is scarcely possible that this trickery could have
Death of Mazarin.
satisfied the conscience of the cardinal. His confessor
professed to be satisfied, and granted the dying man that absolution which
he had previously withheld. Still Mazarin was extremely reluctant to die.
He dressed with the utmost care; painted his wrinkled brow and emaciate
cheeks, and resorted to all the appliances of art to maintain the aspect of
youth and vigor. But death could not thus be deceived. The destroying angel

on the 9th of March bore his spirit away to the judgment seat of Christ. He
died in the Chateau Mazarin, at the age of fifty-two, having been virtually
monarch of France for eighteen years.

CHATEAU MAZARIN.
It appeared by the will of Mazarin that his property was His immense
vastly greater even than the enormous sum which he had wealth.
reluctantly admitted. That portion of it which might be Legacies of
included under the term real estate, consisting of houses, Mazarin.
lands, etc., amounted to over fifty millions of francs, while his personal
effects, embracing the most costly furniture, diamonds, and other jewels, of
which he strictly forbade any inventory to be taken, amounted to many
millions more. The legacies to his nieces and to other aristocratic friends
were truly princely. To the poor he left a miserable pittance amounting to
about twelve hundred dollars.
The cardinal was a heartless, avaricious man, of but little
Views of Louis
ability, and yet endowed with a very considerable degree XIV.
of that cunning which sometimes proves to be
temporarily so successful in diplomatic intrigues. The king was probably
glad to be rid of him, for he could not easily throw off a yoke to which he
had been habituated from childhood. During most of the cardinal's illness

Louis continued his usual round of feasting and dancing. Upon his death he
manifested no grief. It seems that he had previously made up his mind no
longer to be troubled by a prime minister, but to rule absolutely by his own
will.
Two days before the death of Mazarin, when he was no longer capable of
transacting any business, the president of the ecclesiastical assembly
inquired of the king "to whom he must hereafter address himself on
questions of public business." The emphatic and laconic response was, "To
myself."

Chapter V.

Festivities of the Court.
1661-1664

Cardinal Mazarin was exceedingly unpopular both with
Influence and
the court and the masses of the people. Haughty, reputation of
domineering, avaricious, there was nothing in his Mazarin.
character to win the kindly regards of any one. His death
gave occasion to almost universal rejoicing. Indeed, it was with some
difficulty that the king repressed the unseemly exhibition of this joy on the
part of the court. The cardinal, as we have mentioned, had been for many
years virtually monarch of France. He, in the name of the king, imposed the
taxes, appointed the ministry, issued all orders, and received all reports. The
accountability was so entire to him that the monarch, immersed in pleasure,
had but little to do with reference to the affairs of the realm.
Immediately upon the death of Mazarin, the king summoned to his presence
Tellier, minister of War, Lionne, minister of State, and Fouquet, minister of
the Treasury. He informed them that he should continue them in office, but
that henceforth he should dispense with the services of a prime minister,
and that they would be responsible to him alone. The young king was then
twenty-two years of age. He was very poorly educated, had hitherto
developed no force of character, and appeared to all to be simply a
frivolous, pompous, self-conceited young man of pleasure.
Fouquet had held the keys of the treasury. When the king needed money he
applied to him for a supply. The almost invariable reply he received was,
"Sire, the treasury is empty, but his eminence will undoubtedly advance to
your majesty a loan."
The money came, the king little cared where from while reveling in luxury,
and dancing and flirting with the beauties who crowded his court.
Fouquet was an able but thoroughly unprincipled man.
Character of M.
He had grown enormously rich by robbing the treasury.

The king disliked him. But Fouquet knew that the king Fouquet.
could not dispense with his services. He was a
marvelously efficient financier, and well knew how to wrench gold from the
hands of the starving millions. The property he had acquired by fraud was
so great that he often outvied the king in the splendor of his establishments.
Conscious of his power, he doubted not that he should still be able to hold
the king, in a measure, subject to his control.
Scarcely had Louis returned from his brief conference
Information given
with his ministers to his cabinet at the Louvre, ere the by M. Colbert.
secretary of the deceased cardinal, M. Colbert, entered,
and requested a private audience. He informed the king, to his astonishment
and inexpressible delight, that the cardinal had concealed fifteen millions of
money (three millions of dollars) in addition to the sums mentioned in his
will; that it was doubtless his intention that this money should immediately
replenish the utterly exhausted treasury of his majesty.
The king was overjoyed. He could scarcely believe the intelligence.
Concealing the tidings from Fouquet, he speedily and secretly recovered the
money from the several places in which it had been deposited. Fifteen
millions of francs would be a large sum at any time, but two hundred years
ago it was worth three or four times as much as now. Fouquet was utterly
bewildered in attempting to imagine where the king had obtained the sums
he was so lavishly expending.
Louis XIV. by nature and by education was excessively
Appearance of
fond of the pomp and the punctilios of court etiquette. Louis XIV.
As this new era of independence dawned upon him, it
was his first and most anxious object to regulate even to the minutest details
the ceremonies of the court. He was of middling stature. High-heeled shoes
added between two and three inches to his height. His hair was very fine
and abundant, and he wore it long, in masses of ringlets upon his shoulders.
Deep blue eyes, a fair complexion, and well moulded features formed an
unusually handsome countenance. He was stately in his movements,
pompous in his utterance, and every word of every sentence was
pronounced slowly and with distinct enunciation, as if an oracle were
giving out its responses.

There was no resemblance morally, intellectually, or physically between the
king and his only brother Philip. They did not love each other. During their
whole lives there had been one perpetual struggle on the part of the king to
domineer over his brother, and on the part of Philip to resist that
domination. Philip was gentle in disposition, effeminate in manners, and,
though a voluptuary in his tastes, a man of chivalric courage. As Duke of
Orleans he had large wealth, many retainers, and feudal privileges, which
invested him with power which even the king was compelled to respect.
Charles II. was now King of England. The whole nation
Charles II., King of
had apparently received him with exultation. Suddenly, England, and
from being a penniless and crownless wanderer, he had family.
become a sovereign, second in rank and power to no
other sovereign in Europe. His mother Henrietta, his widowed sister the
Princess of Orange, and his younger sister Henrietta, of course, shared in
the prosperity and elevation of Charles. They were no longer pensioners
upon the charity of their French relatives, but composed the royal family of
the British court.
It will be remembered how cruelly Louis treated his young cousin in the
ball-room in the days of her adversity. Charles in those days had solicited of
Mazarin the hand of his niece, Mary Mancini. But the proud cardinal
promptly rejected the offer of a wandering prince, without purse or crown.
Very soon after Charles II. ascended the throne of England, Mazarin
hastened to inform him that he was ready to confer upon him his niece.
Charles, a profligate fellow, declined the proffered alliance, to the great
chagrin of the haughty cardinal.
Prosperity is sometimes a great beautifier. The young
The Princess
Princess Henrietta, upon whom the sun of prosperity Henrietta.
was now shining in all its effulgence, seemed like a new Marriage of Philip.
being, radiantly lovely and self reliant. Philip fell
desperately in love with her. With a form of exquisite symmetry, with the
fairest complexion and lovely features, she suddenly found herself the sister
of a monarch, transformed into the principal ornament, almost the central
attraction, of the court. She went to England to attend the coronation of her
brother. She then returned to Paris. On the 31st of March, 1661, she was

married to Philip in the Palais Royal, in the presence of the royal family and
the prominent members of the court.
A few weeks after this the whole court removed to
Fascinations of
Fontainebleau. Here a month was spent in an incessant Henrietta.
round of festivities. The fickle king, as soon as his
brother had married Henrietta, saw in her new personal beauty and mental
charms. It is not improbable that she almost unconsciously, in order to
avenge the past neglect of the king, had studied all courtly graces, all
endearments of manner, all conversational charms, that she might compel
the king to do justice to the fascinations of person and character with which
she was conscious of being richly endowed. Unhappily, she was
triumphantly successful; perhaps far more so than she had intended. The
changeful and susceptible king became completely entranced. He was
continually by her side, exasperating Philip by his gallantry, and keenly
wounding the feelings of his young queen.
The marriage of the king with Maria Theresa had been
Grief of Maria
merely a matter of state policy. The connection had not Theresa.
been inspired by any ardent affection on either side. The queen-mother
Though the king treated her with great politeness as the appealed to.
Queen of France, her enthusiastic nature claimed a
warmer sentiment from her young husband. When she saw the attentions to
which she was entitled lavished upon Henrietta, the wife of his brother, her
affectionate heart was chilled. She became reserved, wept, sought
retirement, withdrawing from all those gayeties in which her husband
attracted the attention of the whole court by his undisguised admiration for
Henrietta. At last her secret anguish so far overcame her that she threw
herself, trembling and in tears, at the feet of Anne of Austria, and confided
to her the grief of her heart.
The queen-mother could not have been surprised at this avowal. Her eyes
were open to that which all the court beheld; and, besides, Philip had
already complained to his mother that Louis was endeavoring to rob him of
the love of his bride. The remonstrances of the queen-mother were of no
avail. The selfish king, ever seeking only his own pleasure, cared little for
the wreck of the happiness of others. He devoted himself with increasing

assiduity to the society of Henrietta, frequently held his court in her
apartments, and instituted a series of magnificent fêtes in her honor.
Philip, then Duke of Orleans, and in the enjoyment of
Mademoiselle de la
magnificent revenues and of much independent feudal Vallière.
power as brother of the king, was designated in the court
as Monsieur. There was at that time in the court a young lady, one of
Henrietta's maids of honor, Mademoiselle de la Vallière. Her romantic
career, which subsequently rendered her famous throughout Europe, merits
a brief digression.
Louise Françoise, daughter of the Marquis de la Vallière, was born at Tours
in the year 1644. She was, consequently, seventeen years of age at the time
of which we write. Her father died in her infancy. Her mother, left with an
illustrious name and a small income, took for a second husband a member
of the court, Gaston, duke of Orleans, to whom we have previously alluded,
who was brother of Louis XIII. and uncle of the king. He resided at Blois.
As the king and court were on their way to the frontiers
Visit to the palace
of Spain for the marriage of Louis with Maria Theresa, it of Blois.
will be remembered that he stopped for a short visit to
his uncle at his magnificent palace of Blois. This grand castle, with its
gorgeous architectural magnificence, its shaded parks and blooming
gardens, was to Louise and her many companions an earthly paradise. Here,
in an incessant round of pleasures, she had passed her girlhood.
The sight of the young monarch, so graceful in figure, so
Fascination of
handsome in features, so marvelously courteous in Louis.
bearing, aroused all the enthusiasm of the susceptible Louise captivated.
young maiden of sixteen. He was her sovereign, as well
as to her eyes the most fascinating specimen of a man. She felt as though
she were gazing upon a superior, almost a celestial being. She dreamed not
of having fallen in love with him. The feeling of admiration, and almost of
adoration, was altogether too elevated for earthly passion. In the presence of
the king she was but an obscure child. In the crowded assemblage of
wealth, and rank, and beauty which greeted the king at Blois, Louise was
unnoticed. The king went on his way, leaving an impression on the heart of
the young girl which could never be effaced. She thought it would be

heaven to live in his presence, to watch his movements, to listen to his
words, even though no word were addressed to her.
Soon after this the Duke of Orleans died. His court was broken up. Louise
was appointed to a place as one of the maids of honor of the Princess
Henrietta. She joined the court of Madame in Paris just before their
departure for Fontainebleau, to which place, of course, she accompanied
them.
Here, in the midst of scenes of most brilliant festivities,
Festivities at
Louise feasted her eyes with the sight of the king. Louis Fontainebleau.
was exceedingly fond of exhibiting his grace as a dancer.
Among these entertainments, the king took part in a ballet with Henrietta,
he, in very picturesque dress, representing the goddess Ceres. At the close
of the ballet, Louise, bewildered by the scene, and oppressed by
inexplicable emotions, proposed to three of her lady companions that they
should take a short walk into the dim recesses of the forest. It was a brilliant
night, and the cool breeze fanned their fevered cheeks. As the four young
ladies retired, one of the companions of the king laughingly suggested to
him that they should follow them, and learn the secret of their hearts.
The ladies seated themselves at the foot of a large tree,
Discussion of the
where they began to discuss the scenes and actors of the court ladies.
evening. The king and his companion, concealed at a
short distance, heard every word they uttered. Louise was for a time silent,
but, being appealed to upon some subject, with very emphatic utterance
remarked that she wondered that they could see any body, or think of any
body but the king, when he was present. Upon her companions rallying her
for being so much carried away by the splendors of royalty, she declared
"that it was not the king, as a king, who excited her admiration, but it was
Louis, as the most perfect of men; that his crown added nothing to his
splendor of person or mind."
The king could not see the speaker; he could only hear
Vexation of Louise.
her enthusiastic and impassioned voice. The parties
returned to the chateau. Louise was very much chagrined that she should
have allowed herself so imprudently to express her feelings. She knew that
the conversation would be repeated, and feared that she should become a

subject of ridicule for the whole court. In the interesting account which she
gives of these events in her autobiography, she says that she retired to her
room and wept bitterly.
The next morning Louise repaired to the apartments of Henrietta. She was
surrounded by her suite of ladies. The king was already there. As, with his
accustomed gallantry, he passed down the room addressing a few words to
each, he approached Louise. Her heart throbbed violently. He had never
spoken to her before.
In response to his question, "And what did you think of
Discovery by Louis.
the ballet last night?" she, greatly agitated, attempted an
answer. The king observed her confusion, and instantly recognized her
voice. It was the same which he had heard the evening before in the forest
expressing such enthusiastic admiration for his person. The king started,
and fixed his eyes so intently upon her as to increase her embarrassment
and attract the observation of all around. With a profound bow the king
passed on, but again and again was seen to turn his eyes to the blushing girl.
From that time Mademoiselle de la Vallière became the object of the
marked and flattering attention of the king.
The unaffected timidity and modesty of her demeanor,
Louis and
her brilliant complexion, large and languishing blue Mademoiselle de
eyes, and profusion of flaxen hair, were enough of Vallière.
themselves to excite the admiration of one so enamored
of beauty as was Louis XIV. But, in addition to this, the self-love of Louis
was gratified by the assurance that Louise admired him for his personal
qualities, and not merely for his kingly crown. As the king was well aware
of the gossip with which the court was filled in view of his devotion to
Madame Henrietta, he perhaps deemed it expedient, by special attention to
Louise, to divert the current of thought and conversation.
A few days after this a great hunt took place in the park.
Sudden interruption
It was a hot summer's day. At the close of the hunt a of festivities.
table was spread loaded with delicacies. As the king and
the courtiers, in the keenest enjoyment of the merry scene, were partaking
of the sumptuous repast, almost unobserved a thunder-cloud arose, and
there descended upon them a flood of rain so deluging that the company

scattered in all directions for shelter. Louise running, she knew not where,
soon found the king by her side. Politely taking her by the hand, he hurried
her to a large tree, whose dense canopy of leaves promised some protection
from the shower. There they stood, the young and handsome king, the
beautiful maiden, the rain falling upon them in floods. It is interesting to
record that the homage which rank paid to beauty was such that the king
stood bareheaded, with his plumed hat in his hand, engaged during the hour
the rain descended in animated conversation. After this it was observed that
in the evening drives in the park he would ride on horseback for a short
time by the carriage of the queen, or of the Princess Henrietta, and would
then gallop to the coach of Louise.
He soon commenced a daily correspondence with her.
Attentions of Louis.
Louis was by no means a well-educated man. In fact, he
might be almost regarded as illiterate; but his letters were written with so
much delicacy of sentiment and elegance of expression, that Louise was
embarrassed in knowing how to return suitable replies. She was mortified at
the thought of having her awkward letters compared with the elegant
epistles which she received. In her embarrassment, she applied to the
Marquis of Dangeau, a man of superior talents and culture, to write her
responses for her.
Louise was a very noble girl, frank, sincere, confiding.
Anecdote.
On one occasion, when the king was complimenting her
upon the rare beauty of her letters, the artless child confessed that she was
not the author of them, but that they were written by the Marquis of
Dangeau. The king smiled, and had the grace to admit that his letters to her
were written by the same individual!
It had become a common entertainment of the court to
The lottery and the
put up in a lottery some beautiful article of jewelry. On bracelets.
one occasion the king drew a very costly pair of
bracelets. All were looking with some curiosity to see to whom he would
present them. Pausing for a moment, the king admiringly contemplated the
sparkling gems, and then, threading his way through the throng of ladies,
advanced to Mademoiselle de la Vallière, who stood a little apart, and
placed them in her hands. Henrietta turned pale, and bit her lip with
vexation. The queen, Maria Theresa, looked on with a marble smile, which

revealed nothing of her feelings. Louise was embarrassed, but with
admirable tact she assumed that the king had merely presented them to her
for inspection. After carefully examining them, she handed them back to
him, saying, with a courtesy, "They are indeed very beautiful." Louis,
instead of receiving them, said, with a stately bow, "In that case,
mademoiselle, they are in hands too fair to resign them," and returned to his
seat.
As we have mentioned, the minister of the treasury was
The palace of Vaux.
rolling in ill-gotten wealth. His palace of Vaux,[I] upon Splendor of the
which he had expended fifteen millions of francs, palace.
eclipsed in splendor the royal palaces of Fontainebleau
and Saint Germain. The king disliked him as a man. He knew very well that
he was robbing the treasury, and it was annoying to have a subject live in
state surpassing that of the sovereign. M. Fouquet very imprudently invited
Louis and all his court to a magnificent fête at his chateau. All the
notabilities of France were bidden to this princely festival, which the
minister resolved should surpass, in splendor, any thing that France had
hitherto witnessed.
The king, with an imposing escort, reached the gates of
Rebuke of Louis.
the chateau. Fouquet met him there, and conducted him
and all the court, first, to the park. Here a spectacle of splendor presented
itself which astonished the king. Notwithstanding all he had heard of the
gorgeousness of his minister's palace, he was still not prepared for such a
scene of luxury and enchantment. Instead of being gratified, he turned to
Fouquet, and said to him bitterly,
"I shall never again, sir, venture to invite you to visit me. You would find
yourself inconvenienced."
Fouquet felt the keen rebuke. For a moment he turned
Magnificent scenes.
pale. He soon, however, rallied, and did all in his power
to gratify his guests by the gorgeous spectacles and sumptuous
entertainments of his more than regal home. The king, led by his host,
passed through all the apartments of the chateau, and acknowledged that in
its interior adornings there was not probably another edifice in Europe
which could equal it in magnificence.

CHATEAU DE VAUX.
In the evening there was a ball in the grand saloon of the Continued
castle. The king having danced several times with festivities.
Louise, she became fatigued, and expressed the desire to Significant motto.
leave, for a short time, the heated room. Louis drew her
arm through his own, and, conducting her through the magnificent suite of
apartments, which had already excited his displeasure, pointed out to her
the armorial bearings of the proud minister, which were conspicuous in
every room. The shield represented a squirrel ascending the topmost
branches of a tree, with the motto "quo non ascendam."
Neither the king nor his fair companion understood
Fouquet in danger.
Latin. Just then the king's secretary, M. Colbert, entered.
He hated Fouquet. He had already detected the minister in many
falsifications of the treasury accounts, and had explained the robbery to the
king. Louis had been for some time contemplating the arrest of Fouquet, but
hardly dared, as yet, to strike one so powerful.
As M. Colbert entered, Louise inquired of him the significance of the
motto.

"It signifies," he replied, "to what height may I not attain, and this
significance is well understood by those who know the boldness of the
squirrel or that of his master."
Just at that moment another courtier came up, who remarked, "Your majesty
has probably not observed that in every instance the squirrel is pursued by a
serpent."
The king turned pale with anger, and ordered the captain
Intervention of
of his musketeers to attend him. Louise understood full Louise.
well what this meant. She threw herself at his feet, and
entreated him not to sully his reputation by arresting a man whose guest he
was, and who was entertaining him and his court with the highest honors.
With the greatest difficulty, the king was dissuaded from immediate action.
For a time he smothered his vengeance, and the court returned to
Fontainebleau.
The king's displeasure not only remained unabated, but
M. Fouquet
increased with added evidence of the pride, display, and imprisoned.
fraudulent transactions of his minister. At length he
ordered him to be secretly arrested, conveyed in close confinement to
Angers, while a seal was placed on all his property. But for the interposition
of the kind-hearted Louise, the degraded minister would have lost his life. It
was easy for the king, immersed in pleasure, to forget the miserable. M.
Fouquet was left in his imprisonment, almost as entirely lost to the world as
if he had been consigned to the oubliettes of the Bastile.
Soon after this, the 1st of November, 1661, Maria Theresa gave birth to a
dauphin. Louis was greatly elated. Still, the pride which he took in the child
as the heir to the throne did not secure for his neglected wife any more
tenderness of regard. He treated her with great courtesy, while his affections
were vibrating between Henrietta and Louise. Every thing seemed to
combine to magnify the power of the king. Still, the pleasure-loving
monarch, while apparently wholly resigning himself to the career of a
voluptuary, was with instinctive sagacity striving to undermine the
resources of the haughty nobility, and to render his own court the most
magnificent in Europe.

For several months the court continued immersed in
Continued gayety at
gayety. Dancing, in all variety of costumes, was the court.
great amusement of the king. There were balls every
evening. Mademoiselle de la Vallière became more and more the object of
the marked attentions of Louis. All his energies seemed absorbed in the
small-talk of gallantry; still there were occasional indications that there
were latent forces in the mind of the king which events might yet develop.
One evening the king was attending a brilliant ball in the
Important
apartments of Henrietta. As he was earnestly engaged in dispatches.
conversation with the beautiful Louise, some important
dispatches were placed in his hands. He seated himself at a table to examine
them. Many eyes watched his countenance as he silently perused the
documents. It was observed at one moment that he turned deadly pale, and
bit his lip with vexation. Having read the dispatches to the end, he angrily
crushed them in his hand, and said to several of the officers of the court
who were around him,
"Our embassador in London has been publicly insulted
The king's orders.
by the Spanish embassador." Then turning to M. Tellier,
the Minister of War, he said, "Let my embassador at Madrid leave that city
immediately. Order the Spanish envoy to quit Paris within twenty-four
hours. The conferences at Flanders are at an end. Unless Spain publicly
recognizes the superiority of our crown, she may prepare for a renewal of
the war."
These orders of the king created general consternation. It was virtually
inaugurating another war, with all its untold horrors. M. Tellier seemed
thunderstruck. The king, perceiving his hesitation, said to him imperiously,
"Do you not understand my orders? I wish you immediately to assemble the
council. I will meet them in an hour."
The king then returned to the ladies, and entered into trifling small-talk with
them, as if nothing of moment had occurred.
It seems that a dispute had arisen in London between the French and
Spanish embassadors upon the point of precedence. This had led to a

bloody encounter in the streets between the retinues of the two ministers.
The French were worsted. The Spaniards gained the contested point.
The King of Spain was the brother of Anne of Austria.
Relationship of the
His first wife, the mother of Maria Theresa, was sister of French and Spanish
Louis XIII., and consequently aunt of Louis XIV. Thus courts.
there was a peculiar bond of relationship between the The apology of
Philip IV.
French and Spanish courts. Still Louis was unrelenting
in the vigorous action upon which he had entered. In addition to the hostile
measures already adopted, a special messenger was sent to Philip IV. to
inform him that, unless he immediately recognized the supremacy of the
French court, and made a formal apology for the insult offered the French
minister, war would ensue. The Spanish king, unwilling, for so trivial a
cause, to involve the two nations in a bloody conflict, very magnanimously
yielded to the requirements demanded by the hot blood and wounded pride
of his son-in-law. In the presence of all the foreign ministers and the
assembled court at Fontainebleau, the Spanish embassador made a humble
apology, and declared that never again should the precedence of the
embassador of France be denied.
A very similar difficulty occurred a short time after at
Conduct of M.
Rome. The French embassador there, the Duke of Créqui.
Créqui, an old feudal noble, accompanied by troops of
retainers armed to the teeth, had, by his haughty bearing, become extremely
unpopular both with the court and the people of Rome. The myrmidons of
the duke were continually engaged in night-brawls with the police. On one
occasion they even attacked, sword in hand, the Pope's guard, and put them
to flight. The brother of Pope Alexander VII., who hated Créqui, instigated
the guard to take revenge. In an infuriated mob, they surrounded the palace
of the embassador, and fired upon his carriage as it entered his court-yard. A
page was killed, and several other attendants wounded. Créqui immediately
left the city, accusing the Pope of instigating the outrage.
Louis XIV. demanded reparation, and the most humble
The Pope humbled.
apology. The proud Pope was not disposed to yield to
his insolent demands. Affairs assumed so threatening an aspect, that the
Pope ordered two of the guard, one an officer, to be hung, and the Mayor of
Rome, who was accused of having instigated the outrage, to be banished.

This concession, however, by no means satisfied the irascible Louis. He
commenced landing troops in Italy, threatening to besiege Rome. The Pope
appealed to the Roman Catholic princes of Germany for aid. They could not
come to his rescue, for they were threatened with war by the Turks. The
unhappy Pope was thus brought upon his knees. He was compelled to
banish from Rome his own brother, Don Mario Chigi, and to send an
embassador to Paris with the most humble apology.
These events were but slight episodes in the gay life of the pleasure-loving
king. He was still reveling in an incessant round of feasting and dancing,
flitting with his gay court from one to another of his metropolitan and rural
palaces.
There are few so stern as not to feel emotions of
Remorse of de la
sympathy rather than of condemnation for Louise de la Vallière.
Vallière. She was a child of seventeen, exposed to all the
fascinations and temptations of the most luxurious court then upon the
globe. But God has implanted in every bosom a sense of right and wrong.
She wept bitterly over her fall. Her remorse was so great that she withdrew
as far as possible from society, and the anguish of her repentance greatly
embarrassed her royal lover.
Henrietta was greatly annoyed at the preference which
Illness of Anne of
the king had shown for Louise over herself. She Austria.
determined to drive the unfortunate favorite from the
court. Anne of Austria, with increasing years, was growing oblivious of her
own youthful indiscretions, and was daily becoming more stern in her
judgments. A cancer had commenced its secret ravages upon her person. Its
progress no medical skill could arrest. She tried to conceal the terrible
secret which was threatening her with the most loathsome and distressing of
deaths. In this mood of mind the haughty queen sent for the weeping Louise
to her room. Trembling in every nerve, the affrighted child attended the
summons. She found Anne of Austria with Henrietta by her side. The
queen, without assigning any cause, sternly informed her that she was
banished from the court of France, and that suitable attendants would
immediately convey her to a distant castle. Upon Louise attempting to make
some inquiry why she was thus punished, the haughty queen sternly
interrupted her with the reply "that France could not have two queens."

Louise staggered back to her room overwhelmed with
Trials of
despair. Both God and man will declare that, whatever Mademoiselle de la
fault there might have been in the relations then existing Vallière.
between the king and this unprotected girl, the censure
should have rested a thousand fold more heavily upon the king than upon
his victim. And yet Louise was to be driven in ignominy from the court, to
enter into a desolated world utterly ruined. Through the remainder of the
day no one entered her apartment. She spent the hours in tears and in the
fever of despair. In the evening Louis himself came to her room and found
her exhausted with weeping. He endeavored to ascertain the cause of her
overwhelming distress. She, unwilling to be the occasion of an
irreconcilable feud between the mother and the son, evaded all his inquiries.
He resorted to entreaties, reproaches, threats, but in vain. Irritated by her
pertinacious refusal, he suddenly left her without speaking a word of adieu.
Louise seemed now truly to be alone in the world, without a single friend
left her. But she then recalled to mind that she had formerly entered into an
agreement with the king that, in case of any misunderstanding arising
between them, a night should not pass without an attempt at reconciliation.
A new hope arose in her mind that the king would either return, or send her
a note to inform her that his anger no longer continued.
"And so she waited and watched, and counted every
Disappointment.
hour as it was proclaimed from the belfry of the palace. Flight of
But she waited and watched in vain. When at length, Mademoiselle de la
after this long and weary night, the daylight streamed Vallière.
through the silken curtains of her chamber, she threw
herself upon her knees, and praying that God would not cast away the
victim who was thus rejected by the world, she hastened, with a burning
cheek and a tearless eye, to collect a few necessary articles of clothing, and
throwing on her veil and mantle, rushed down a private staircase and
escaped into the street. In this distracted state of mind she pursued her way
to Chaillot,[J] and reached the convent of the Sisters of St. Mary, where she
was detained some time in the parlor. At length the grating was opened and
a portress appeared. On her request to be admitted to the abbess, she
informed her that the community were all at their devotions, and could not
see any one.

"It was in vain that the poor fugitive entreated and
Seeks admission to
asserted her intention of taking the vows. She could the convent, and is
extort no other answer, and the portress withdrew, denied.
leaving her sitting on a wooden bench desolate, heart-
sick. For two hours she remained motionless, with her eyes fixed upon the
grating, but it continued closed. Even the dreary refuge of this poor and
obscure convent was denied her. Even the house of religion had barred its
doors against her. She could bear up no longer. From the previous evening
she had not tasted food, and the fatigue of body and anguish of mind which
she had undergone, combined with this unaccustomed fast, had exhausted
her slight remains of strength. A sullen torpor gradually overcame her
faculties, and eventually she fell upon the paved floor cold and insensible."
[K]

The king had probably passed a very uncomfortable
Reproaches of the
night. Early in the morning he learned that Louise had queen-mother.
disappeared. Much alarmed, he hastened to the
apartments of Madame Henrietta in the Tuileries. She unfeelingly expressed
entire ignorance of the movements of Mademoiselle de la Vallière. He
immediately repaired to the rooms of his mother. She was unable to give
him any information respecting the lost favorite. Bitterly, however, she
reproached her son with his want of self-control in allowing himself to
cherish so strong an attachment to Mademoiselle de la Vallière. She accused
him of having no mastery over himself.
The king's eyes flashed with indignation. He was fully
Fury of Louis.
convinced that his mother was in some way the cause of
the departure of Louise. Angrily he replied,
"It may be so that I do not know how to control myself, but I will at least
prove that I know how to control those who offend me."
Turning upon his heel, he left the apartment. By some means he obtained a
clew to the retreat of Louise. Mounting his horse, accompanied by a single
page, he galloped to the convent of Chaillot. As there had been no warning
of his approach, the grating still remained closed. He arrived just after the
poor girl had fallen from the wooden bench upon the tesselated floor of the
cold and cheerless anteroom. Her beautiful form lay apparently lifeless

before him. Tears fell profusely from his eyes. He chafed her hands and
temples. In endearing terms he entreated her to awake. Gradually she
revived. Frankly she related the cause of her departure, and entreated him to
permit her to spend the remainder of her saddened life buried in the
cloisters of the convent.
The king insisted, with all his authority as a monarch,
Power of Louis
and with all his persuasive influence as a man, that over Mademoiselle
Louise should return with him to the Louvre. He was de la Vallière.
inspired with the double passion of love for her, and Return of
Mademoiselle de la
anger against those who had driven her from his court. Vallière to the
Louise, saddened in heart and crushed in spirit, with court.
great reluctance at last yielded to his pleadings. The Reinstated.
page was dispatched for a carriage. Seated by the side of the king,
Mademoiselle de la Vallière returned to the palace, from which she
supposed a few hours before she had departed forever. Louis immediately
repaired to the apartment of Madame Henrietta, and so imperiously insisted
that Louise should be restored to her place as one of her maids of honor,
that his sister-in-law dared not refuse. The influence of Anne of Austria was
now nearly at an end. She was dying of slow disease, and, notwithstanding
all her efforts to conceal the loathsome malady which was devouring her,
she was compelled to spend most of her time in the seclusion of her own
chamber.
Louis XIV., in the exercise of absolute power, with all
Resolve of Louis.
the court bowing before him in the most abject homage,
had gradually begun to regard himself almost as a God. He had never
recovered from the mortification which he had experienced at the palace of
Vaux, in finding a subject living in splendor which outvied that of the
crown. He determined to rear a palace of such extraordinary magnificence
that no subject, whatever might be his resources, could equal it. For some
time he had been looking around for the site of the building, which he had
resolved should, like the Pyramids, be a monument of his reign, and excite
the wonder and admiration of future ages.
About twelve miles from Paris there was a little village
Versailles.
of Versailles, surrounded by an immense forest, whose

solemn depths frequently resounded with the baying of the hounds of
hunting-parties, as the gayly dressed court swept through the glades.
On one occasion, Louis XIV., in the eagerness of the chase, became
separated from most of the rest of the party. Night coming on, he was
compelled, and the few companions with him, to take refuge in a windmill,
where they remained till morning. The mill was erected upon the highest
point of ground. The king caused a small pavilion to be erected there for his
accommodation, should he again chance to be overtaken by night or a
storm. Pleased with the position, the king ere long removed the pavilion,
and ordered his architect, Lemercier, to erect upon the spot an elegant
chateau according to his own taste. A landscape gardener was also
employed to ornament the grounds. The region soon was embellished with
such loveliness as to charm every beholder. It became the favorite rural
resort of the king.
The chateau and its grounds soon witnessed a series of
Extravagance of the
festivities, the fame of which resounded through all king.
Europe. Republican America will ponder the fact, which
the aristocratic courts of Europe ignored, that these entertainments of
boundless extravagance were at the expense of the overtaxed and starving
people. That king and courtiers might riot in luxury, the wives and
daughters of peasants were harnessed by the side of donkeys to drag the
plow.
Early in the spring of 1664, the king, accompanied by his court of six
hundred individuals, gentlemen and ladies, with a throng of servants,
repaired to Versailles. The personal expenses of all the guests were defrayed
by the king with the money which he wrested from the people. With almost
magical rapidity, the artificers reared cottages, stages, porticoes, for the
exhibition of games, and the display of splendor scarcely equaled in the
visions of Oriental romances.
The first entertainment was a tournament. The cavaliers
Magnificent fêtes.
were gorgeously dressed in the most glittering garb of
the palmiest days of feudalism, magnificently mounted with wondrous
trappings, with their shields and devices, with their attendant pages,
equerries, heralds at arms. Among them all the king shone pre-eminent. His

dress, and the housings of his charger, embellished with the crown jewels,
glittered with a profusion of costly gems which no one else could equal.
The queen, with three hundred ladies of the court, brilliant in beauty, and in
the most attractive dress, sat upon a platform, beneath triumphal arches, to
view the procession as it passed. The gleaming armor of the cavaliers, their
prancing steeds, the waving of silken banners, and the flourish of trumpets,
presented a spectacle such as no one present had ever conceived of before.
The tilting did not cease till evening. Suddenly the blaze of four thousand
torches illumined the scene with new brilliance. Tables were spread for a
banquet, loaded with every delicacy.
"The tables were served by two hundred attendants, habited as dryads,
wood deities, and fawns. Behind the tables, which were in the form of a
vast crescent, an orchestra arose as if by magic. The tables were illuminated
by five hundred girandoles. A gilt balustrade inclosed the whole of the
immense area."

Chapter VI.

Death in the Palace.
1664-1670

T he festivities to which we have alluded in the last
Continued
chapter, the expenses of which were sufficient festivities.
almost to exhaust the revenues of a kingdom, lasted Molière.
seven days. The prizes awarded to the victors in the lists
were very costly and magnificent. The renowned dramatist Molière
accompanied the court on this occasion, to contribute to its amusement by
the exhibition of his mirth-moving farces on the stage.
It was during these scenes that Louis XIV. selected
Cost of Versailles.
Versailles as the site of the stupendous pile of buildings
which was to eclipse all other palaces that had ever been reared on this
globe. This magnificent structure, alike the monument of munificence in its
appointments, and of infamy in the distress it imposed upon the overtaxed
people, eventually swallowed up the sum of one hundred and sixty-six
million of francs—thirty-three million dollars. It is to be remembered that at
that day money was far more valuable, and far more difficult of acquisition
than at the present time.
For seven years an army of workmen was employed on
Lenôtre.
the palace, parks, and gardens. No expense was spared Mansard.
to carry into effect the king's designs. The park and Large sum
gardens were laid out by the celebrated landscape squandered.
gardener Lenôtre. The plans for the palace were
furnished by the distinguished architect Mansard. Over thirty thousand
soldiers were called from their garrisons to assist the swarms of ordinary
workmen in digging the vast excavations and constructing the immense
terraces. "It is estimated that not less than forty millions sterling—two
hundred million dollars—were exhausted upon the laying out of these vast
domains and the erection of this superb chateau. Such was the extraordinary
vigor with which the works were pushed, that in 1685, hardly twenty-five
years after its commencement, the whole was in readiness to receive its

royal occupants. Here the royal family and the court resided until the
Revolution of 1789. Every part of the interior as well as the exterior was
ornamented with the works of the most eminent masters of the times."[L]
The most magnificent room in the palace, called the
Magnificent room
grand gallery of Louis XIV., was two hundred and forty- at Versailles.
two feet long, thirty-five feet broad, and forty-three feet
high. The splendors of the court of Louis XIV. may be inferred from the fact
that this vast apartment was daily crowded with courtiers. The characteristic
vanity of the king is conspicuously developed in that he instituted an order
of nobility as a reward for personal services. The one great and only
privilege of its members was that they were permitted to wear a blue coat
embroidered with gold and silver precisely like that worn by the king, and
to follow the king in his hunting-parties and drives.
The position of Mademoiselle de la Vallière was a very
Ill feeling toward
painful one. Though the austere queen-mother was so ill La Vallière.
in her chamber that she could do but little to harass
Louise, Madame Henrietta, who had been constrained to receive her as one
of her maids of honor, did every thing in her power to keep her in a state of
perpetual anxiety. The courtiers generally were hostile to her, from the
partiality with which she was openly regarded by the king. The poor child
was alone and desolate in the court, and scarcely knew an hour of joy.

CONVENT OF VAL DE GRACE.
The queen-mother was rapidly sinking, devoured by a
Anne of Austria
malady which not only caused her extreme bodily becomes more ill.
suffering, but, from its loathsome character, affected her
sensitive nature with the most acute mental pangs. She retired to the
convent of Val de Grace, where, with ever-increasing devotion as death
drew near, she consecrated herself to works of piety and prayer.
This vast structure is situated upon the left bank of the Seine, and is now in
the limits of the city of Paris.
"Anne of Austria had enjoyed the rare privilege, so seldom accorded to her
sex, of growing old without in any very eminent degree losing her personal
advantages. Her hands and arms, which had always been singularly
beautiful, remained smooth and round, and delicately white. Not a wrinkle
marred the dignity of her noble forehead. Her eyes, which were remarkably
fine, lost neither their brightness nor their expression; and yet for years she
had been suffering physical pangs only the more poignant from the
resolution with which she concealed them."[M]

The queen-mother had made the most heroic exertions to assume in public
the appearance of health and gayety. None but her physicians were made
acquainted with the nature of her malady.
The young queen, Maria Theresa, who appears to have
Illness of Maria
been an amiable, pensive woman, endowed with many Theresa.
quiet virtues, was devotedly attached to the queen- The king sick.
mother. She clung to her and followed her, while
virtually abandoned by her royal spouse. She had no heart for those courtly
festivities where she saw others with higher fascinations command the
admiration and devotion of her husband. The queen was taken very ill with
the measles. It speaks well for Louis XIV., and should be recorded to his
honor, that he devoted himself to his sick wife, by day and by night, with
the most unremitting attention. The disease was malignant in its form, and
the king himself was soon stricken down by it. For several days it was
feared that he would not live. As he began to recover, he was removed to
the palace of St. Cloud. The annexed view represents the rear of the palace.
The magnificent saloons in front open upon the city, and from the elevated
site of the palace command a splendid view of the region for many leagues
around.

THE PALACE OF ST. CLOUD.

This truly splendid chateau, but a few miles from the
Abode of Madame
Tuileries, had been assigned to Madame Henrietta. Here Henrietta.
she resided with her court, and here the king again found
himself under the same roof with Mademoiselle de la Vallière.
In the mean time the health of the queen-mother rapidly declined. She was
fast sinking into the arms of death. The young queen, Maria Theresa,
having recovered, was unwilling to leave her suffering mother-in-law even
for an hour.
"The sufferings of Anne of Austria," writes Miss Pardoe,
Sufferings of the
"must indeed have been extreme, when, superadded to queen-mother.
the physical agony of which she was so long the victim,
her peculiar fastidiousness of scent and touch are remembered. Throughout
the whole of her illness she had adopted every measure to conceal, even
from herself, the effects of her infirmity. She constantly held in her hand a
large fan of Spanish leather, and saturated her linen with the most powerful
perfumes. Her sense of contact was so acute and irritable that it was with
the utmost difficulty that cambric could be found sufficiently fine for her
use. Upon one occasion, when Cardinal Mazarin was jesting with her upon
this defect, he told her 'that if she were damned, her eternal punishment
would be sleeping in linen sheets.'"
Louis XIV. was too much engrossed with his private
Death of Philip IV.
pleasures, his buildings, and rapidly multiplying of Spain.
diplomatic intrigues to pay much attention to his dying
mother. It was not pleasant to him to contemplate the scenes of suffering in
a sick-chamber. The gloom which was gathering around Anne of Austria
was somewhat deepened by the intelligence she received of the death of her
brother, Philip IV. of Spain. It was another admonition to her that she too
must die. Though Philip IV. was a reserved and stately man, allowing
himself in but few expressions of tenderness toward his family, Maria
Theresa, in her isolation, wept bitterly over her father's death.

The ties of relationship are feeble in courts. Louis XIV.
Increasing ambition
was growing increasingly ambitious of enlarging his of Louis XIV.
domains and aggrandizing his power. The news of the
death of the King of Spain was but a source of exultation to him. Though
scrupulous in the discharge of the ceremonies of the Church, he was a
stranger to any high sense of integrity or honor. In the treaty upon his
marriage with Maria Theresa he had agreed to resign every claim to any
portion of the Spanish kingdom. The death of Philip IV. left Spain in the
hands of a feeble woman. Louis XIV., upon the plea that the five hundred
thousand crowns promised as the dower of his wife had not yet been paid,
resolved immediately to seize upon the provinces of Flanders and Franche-
Comté, which then belonged to the Spanish crown.
Notwithstanding the queen-mother had become so
Festivities at St.
exhausted, from long-continued and agonizing bodily Cloud.
sufferings, that she could not be moved from one bed to
another without fainting, still the festivities of the palace continued
unintermitted. The moans of the dying queen in the darkened chamber
could not be heard amidst the music and the revelry of the Louvre and the
Tuileries. On the 5th of January, 1666, Philip, the Duke of Orleans, gave a
magnificent ball in the palace of St. Cloud. Louis XIV. was then in deep
mourning for his father-in-law. Decorously he wore the mourning dress of
violet-colored velvet adopted by the court; he, however, took care so
effectually to cover his mourning garments with glittering and costly gems
that the color of the material could not be discerned.
While her children were engaged in these revels, the
Dying scene.
queen-mother passed a sleepless night of terrible
suffering. It was apparent to her that her dying hour was near at hand. She
was informed by her physician that her life could be continued but a few
hours longer. She called for her confessor, and requested every one else to
leave the room. What sins she confessed of heart or life are known only to
him and to God. Having obtained such absolution as the priest could give,
she prepared to partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Her son
Philip, with Madame his wife, were admitted to her chamber, where the
king soon joined them. The Archbishop of Auch, accompanied by quite a
retinue of ecclesiastics, approached with the holy viaticum. The most

scrupulous regard was paid to all the punctilious ceremonials of courtly
etiquette.
When the bishop was about to administer the oil of extreme unction, the
dying queen requested an attendant very carefully to raise the borders of her
cap, lest the oil should touch them, and give them an unpleasant odor. It was
one of the most melancholy and impressive of earthly scenes. The king,
young, sensitive, and easily overcome by momentary emotion, could not
refrain from seeing in that sad spectacle, as in a mirror, his own inevitable
lot. He fainted entirely away, and was borne senseless from the apartment.
On the morning of the 7th or 8th of January, 1666, Anne
Death of the queen-
of Austria died. Her will was immediately brought from mother.
the cabinet and read. She bequeathed her heart to the
convent of Val de Grace. It was taken from her body, cased in a costly urn,
and conveyed to the convent in a carriage. The Archbishop of Auch seated
himself beside the senseless relic, while the Duchess of Montpensier
occupied another seat in the coach.
At 7 o'clock of the next evening the remains of the
Funeral ceremonies.
queen left the Louvre for the royal sepulchre at St.
Denis. It was a gloomy winter's night. Many torches illumined the path of
the procession, exhibiting to the thousands of spectators the solemn pageant
of the burial. The ecclesiastics and the monks, in their gorgeous or
picturesque robes, the royal sarcophagus, the sombre light of the torches,
the royal coaches in funereal drapery, and the wailing requiems, now
swelling upon the breeze, and now dying away, blending with the voices of
tolling bells, presented one of the most mournful and instructive of earthly
spectacles. The queen had passed to that tribunal where no aristocratic
privileges are recognized, and where all earthly wealth and rank are
disregarded.
The funeral services were prolonged and imposing. It
The Abbey of St.
was not until two hours after midnight that the remains Denis.
were deposited in the vaults of the venerable abbey, the
oldest Christian church in France.

INTERIOR OF ST. DENIS.
The death of the queen-mother does not seem to have Duchess of
produced much effect upon the conduct of her ambitious Vaujours.
and pleasure-loving son. He had cruelly betrayed the
young and guileless Mademoiselle de la Vallière, and she never ceased to
weep over her sad fate. The king, however, conferred upon her the duchy of
Vaujours, and the title of Madame. Her beauty began to fade. Younger and
happier faces attracted the king. He became more and more arrogant and
domineering.
There was at that time rising into notice in this
Madame de
voluptuous court a young lady who was not only Montespan.
magnificently beautiful, but extremely brilliant in her
intellectual endowments. She was of illustrious birth, and was lady of the
palace to the young queen. She deliberately fixed her affections upon Louis,
and resolved to employ all the arts of personal loveliness and the
fascinations of wit to win his exclusive favor. She had given her hand,
constrained by her family, to the young Marquis de Montespan. She had,
however, stated at the time that with her hand she did not give her heart.
The young marquis seems to have been a very worthy man. Disgusted with
the folly and the dissipation of the court, he was anxious to withdraw with

his beautiful bride to his ample estates in Provence. She, however, entirely
devoted to pleasure, and absorbed in her ambitious designs, refused to
accompany him, pleading the duty she owed her royal mistress. He went
alone. Madame de Montespan was thus relieved of the embarrassment of
his presence.
Louis XIV., while apparently immersed in frivolous and
Daily
guilty pleasures, was developing very considerable developments.
ability as a sovereign. It daily became more clearly
manifest that he was not a man of pleasure merely; that he had an imperial
will, and that he was endowed with unusual administrative energies.
The Duke de Mazarin, a relative and rich heir of the
Duke de Mazarin—
deceased cardinal, and who assumed an austere and his cynicism.
cynical character, ventured on one occasion, when
displeased with some act of the king, to approach him in the presence of
several persons and say,
"Sire, Saint Genéviève appeared to me last night. She is much offended by
the conduct of your majesty, and has foretold to me that if you do not
reform your morals the greatest misfortunes will fall upon your kingdom."
The whole circle stood aghast at his effrontery. But the king, without
exhibiting the slightest emotion, in slow and measured accents, replied,
"And I, Monsieur de Mazarin, have recently had several
He is silenced by
visions, by which I have been warned that the late the king.
cardinal, your uncle, plundered my people, and that it is
time to make his heirs disgorge the booty. Remember this, and be persuaded
that the very next time you permit yourself to offer me unsolicited advice, I
shall act upon the mysterious information I have received."
The duke attempted no reply. Such developments of character effectually
warded off all approaches of familiarity.
The fugitive and needy Charles II. had sold to Louis
Sale of Dunkirk.
XIV., for about one million of dollars, the important
commercial town of Dunkirk, in French Flanders. The king, well aware of
the importance of the position, had employed thirty thousand men to fortify
the place.

Louis now sent an army of thirty-five thousand men, in the highest state of
military discipline, to seize the coveted Spanish provinces of Flanders and
Franche-Comté. At the same time, he sent a reserve of eight thousand
troops to Dunkirk. The widowed Queen of Spain, acting as regent for her
infant son, could make no effectual resistance. She had but eight thousand
troops, in small garrisons, scattered over those provinces. The march of the
French army was but as a holiday excursion. Fortress after fortress fell into
their hands. Soon the banners of Louis floated proudly over the whole
territory. The king displayed his sagacity by granting promotion for services
rendered rather than to birth. This inspired the army with great ardor. He
also boldly entered the trenches under fire, and exposed himself to the most
imminent peril.
The opposite side of the king's character is displayed in
Inconsistencies in
the fact that he accompanied the camp with all the ladies the character of
of his court, eighteen in number. In each captured city, Louis.
the king and court, in magnificent banqueting-halls and
gorgeous saloons, indulged in the gayest revelry. Amidst the turmoil of the
camp, these haughty men and high-born dames surrounded themselves with
the magnificence of the Louvre and the Tuileries, and were served with
every delicacy from gold and silver plate.
The king, by the advice of his renowned minister of war, Marshal Louvois,
placed strong garrisons in the cities he had captured, while the celebrated
engineer, M. Vauban, was intrusted with enlarging and strengthening the
fortifications. From this victorious campaign Louis XIV. returned to Paris,
receiving adulation from the courtiers as if he were more than mortal.
Madame de Montespan accompanied the court on this
Treachery of
military pleasure tour. She availed herself of every Montespan.
opportunity to attract the attention of the king and Sorrows of Louise.
ingratiate herself in his favor. She so far succeeded in
exciting the jealousy of the queen against Madame de la Vallière, upon
whom she was at the same time lavishing her most tender caresses, that her
majesty treated the sensitive and desponding favorite with such rudeness
that, with a crushed spirit, she decided to leave the court and retire to
Versailles, there to await the conclusion of the campaign. The king,
however, interposed to prevent her departure, while at the same time he was

daily treating her with more marked neglect, as he turned his attention to
the rival, now rapidly gaining the ascendency. The unfortunate Louise was
doomed to daily martyrdom. She could not be blind to the fact that the
king's love was fast waning. Conscience tortured her, and she wept bitterly.
Before her there was opened only the vista of weary years of neglect and
remorse.
But the Marchioness of Montespan was mingling for
Letters of the
herself a cup of bitterness which she, in her turn, was to Marquis de
drain to its dregs. Her noble husband wrote most Montespan.
imploring letters, beseeching her to return to him with
their infant child.
"Come," he wrote in one of his letters, "and take a near view, my dear
Athenaïs, of these stupendous Pyrenees, whose every ravine is a landscape,
and every valley an Eden. To all these beauties yours alone is wanting. You
will be here like Diana, the divinity of these noble forests."
The excuses which the marchioness offered did by no means satisfy her
husband. His heart was wounded and his suspicions aroused. At last he was
apprised of her manifest endeavors to attract the attention of the king. He
wrote severely; informed her of the extent of his knowledge. He threatened
to expose her conduct to her own family, and to shut her up in a convent. At
the same time, he commanded her to send to him, by the messenger who
bore his letter, their little son, that he might not be contaminated by
association with so unworthy a mother.
It was too late. The marchioness was involved in such
Alarm of the
guilty relations with the king that she could not easily be marchioness.
extricated. Still she was much alarmed by the angry
letter of her husband. The king perceived her anxiety, and inquired the
cause. She placed the letter in his hands. He read it, changing color as he
read. He then coolly remarked,
"Our position is a difficult one. It requires much precaution. I will, however,
take care that no violence shall be offered you. You had better, however,
send him your son. The child is useless here, and perhaps inconvenient. The
marquis, deprived of the child, may be driven to acts of severity."

A mother's love was strong in the bosom of the
Cowardice of the
marchioness. She wept aloud, and declared that she Pope.
would sooner die than part with her son. Her husband
soon after came to Paris. He addressed the king in a very firm and
reproachful letter, and for three months made earnest applications to the
pope for a divorce. But the pope, afraid of offending Louis XIV., turned a
deaf ear to his supplications. It was in vain for a noble, however exalted his
rank, to contend against the king.
The injured marquis, finding all his efforts vain, returned
Sorrow of the
wifeless and childless to his chateau. Announcing that to marquis.
him his wife was dead, he assumed the deepest
mourning, draped his house and the liveries of his servants in crape, and
ordered a funeral service to take place in the parish church. A numerous
concourse attended, and all the sad ceremonies of burial were solemnized.
The king was greatly annoyed. The scandal, which
Vexation of Louis.
spread throughout the kingdom, placed him in a very
unenviable position. The marquis would probably have passed the rest of
his life in one of the oubliettes of the Bastile had he not escaped from
France. Madame de Montespan, in her wonderfully frank Memoirs, records
all these facts without any apparent consciousness of the infamy to which
they consign her memory. She even claims the merit of protecting her
injured husband from the dungeon, saying,
"Not being naturally of a bad disposition, I never would allow of his being
sent to the Bastile."
There were continual antagonisms arising between
Petty jealousies.
Madame de la Vallière and Madame de Montespan.
They were both ladies of honor in the household of the queen, who, silent
and sad, and ever seeking retirement, endeavored to close her eyes to the
guilty scenes transpiring around her. Sin invariably brings sorrow. The king,
supremely selfish as he was, must have been a stranger to any peace of
mind. He professed full faith in Christianity. Even lost spirits may believe
and tremble. The precepts of Jesus were often faithfully proclaimed from
the pulpit in his hearing. Remorse must have frequently tortured his soul.

From these domestic tribulations he sought relief in the
Employments of the
vigorous prosecution of his plans for national king.
aggrandizement. He plunged into diplomatic intrigues,
marshaled armies, built ships, multiplied and enlarged his sea-ports,
established colonies, reared magnificent edifices, encouraged letters, and
with great sagacity pushed all enterprises which could add to the glory and
power of France.
The king had never been on good terms with his brother Philip. Louis was
arrogant and domineering. Philip was jealous, and not disposed
obsequiously to bow the knee to his imperious brother. The king was
unrelenting in the exactions of etiquette. There were three seats used in the
presence of royalty: the arm-chair, for members of the royal family; the
folded chair, something like a camp-stool, for the highest of the nobility;
and the bench, for other dignitaries who were honored with a residence at
court. Philip demanded of his brother that his wife, Henrietta, the daughter
of Charles I. of England, and the sister of Louis XIII., being of royal blood,
should be allowed the privilege of taking an arm-chair in the saloons of the
queen. The king made the following remarkable reply:
"That can not be permitted. I beg of you not to persist in
Remarks of Louis
such a request. It was not I who established these upon court
distinctions. They existed long before you and I were etiquette.
born. It is for your interest that the dignity of the crown
should neither be weakened or encroached upon. If from Duke of Orleans
you should one day become King of France, I know you well enough to
believe that this is a point on which you would be inexorable.
"In the presence of God, you and I are two beings precisely similar to our
fellow-men; but in the eyes of men we appear as something extraordinary,
superior, greater, and more perfect than others. The day on which the people
cast off this respect and this voluntary veneration, by which alone monarchy
is upheld, they will see us only their equals, suffering from the same evils,
and subject to the same weaknesses as themselves. This once accomplished,
all illusion will be over. The laws, no longer sustained by a controlling
power, will become black lines upon white paper. Your chair without arms
and my arm-chair will be simply two pieces of furniture of equal
importance."

To these forcible remarks, indicating deep reflection, the
They are
Duke of Orleans, a nobleman rioting in boundless unanswerable.
wealth, and enjoying amazing feudal privileges, could
make no reply. The coronet of the noble and the crown of the absolute king
would both fall to the ground so soon as the masses of the people should
escape from the thrall of ignorance and deception. Philip left his brother
silenced, yet exasperated. A petty warfare was carried on between them, by
which they daily became more alienated from each other.
The king, elated by his easy conquest of Flanders,
Conquest of
resolved to seize upon Holland, and then proceed to Holland determined
annex to France the whole of the Low Countries. The on.
Dutch, a maritime people, though powerful at sea, had
but a feeble land force. Holland was in alliance with England. The first
object of Louis was to dissolve this alliance.
There were two influences, money and beauty, which
Henrietta
were omnipotent with the contemptible Charles II. embassadress to
Henrietta, the wife of Philip, was sent as embassadress England.
to the court of her brother. The whole French court
escorted her to the coast. The pomp displayed on this occasion surpassed
any thing which had heretofore been witnessed in France. The escort
consisted of thirty thousand men in the van and the rear of the royal cortège.
The most beautiful women of the court accompanied the queen. Maria
Theresa, the queen, and Henrietta, occupied the same coach. The ladies of
their households followed in their carriages.
The king's two favorites—Madame de la Vallière, whose
Louise Rénée.
beauty and power were on the wane, and Madame de The bribe.
Montespan, who was then in the zenith of her triumph—
were often invited by the king to take a seat in the royal carriage by the side
of the queen and Madame. The most beautiful woman then in the French
court was Louise Rénée, subsequently known in English annals as the
Duchess of Portsmouth. She was to accompany her royal mistress to the
court of Charles II., and had received secret instructions from the king in
reference to the influence she was to exert. Louise Rénée was to be the
bribe and the motive power to control the king.

Brilliant as was this royal cortège, the journey, to its
Constant
prominent actors, was a very sad one. The queen, pliant bickerings.
and submissive as she usually was, could not refrain
from some expressions of bitterness in being forced to such intimate
companionship with her rivals in the king's favor. There were also constant
heart-burnings and bickerings, which etiquette could not restrain, between
Philip and his spouse Henrietta. Madame was going to London as the
confidential messenger of the king, and she refused to divulge to her
husband the purpose of her visit. Louis XIV. was embarrassed by three
ladies, each of whom claimed his exclusive attention, and each of whom
was angry if he smiled upon either of the others. In such a party there could
be no happiness.
As this gorgeous procession, crowding leagues of the
Alliance between
road, swept along, few of the amazed peasants who France and
gazed upon the glittering spectacle could have suspected England.
the misery which was gnawing at the heart of these high-
born men and proud dames. Upon arriving at the coast, Henrietta, with her
magnificent suite, embarked for England. The negotiation was perfectly
successful. The fascinating Louise Rénée immediately made the entire
conquest of the king. Her consent to remain a member of his court, and the
offer of several millions of money to Charles II., secured his assent to
whatever the French king desired. It is said that he the more readily
abandoned his alliance with Holland, since he hated the Protestants there,
whose religion so severely condemned his worthless character and wretched
life. A treaty of alliance was speedily drawn up between Charles II. and
Louis XIV.
His Britannic majesty then, with a splendid retinue,
Festivities thereon.
accompanied his sister Henrietta to the coast, where she
embarked for Calais. The French court met her there with all honors. The
return to Paris was slow. At every important town the court tarried for a
season of festivities. Henrietta, or Madame, as the French invariably
entitled her, established her court at St. Cloud. Her husband, Monsieur, was
very much irritated against her. Neither of them took any pains to conceal
from others their alienation.

Madame was in the ripeness of her rare beauty, and
Maria Theresa.
enjoyed great influence in the court. The poor queen,
Maria Theresa, was but a cipher. She was heart-crushed, and devoted
herself to the education of her children, and to the society of a few Spanish
ladies whom she had assembled around her. The king, grateful for the
services which Henrietta had rendered him in England, and alike fascinated
by her loveliness and her vivacity, was lavishing upon her his constant and
most marked attentions, not a little to the chagrin of her irritated and jealous
husband.
On the 27th of June, 1669, Henrietta rose at an early
Vivacity of
hour, and, after some conversation with Madame de Henrietta.
Lafayette, to whom she declared she was in admirable Henrietta poisoned.
health, she attended mass, and then went to the room of
her daughter, Mademoiselle d'Orleans. She was in glowing spirits, and
enlivened the whole company by her vivacious conversation. After calling
for a glass of succory water, which she drank, she dined. The party then
repaired to the saloon of Monsieur. He was sitting for his portrait. Henrietta,
reclining upon a lounge, apparently fell into a doze. Her friends were struck
with the haggard and deathly expression which her countenance suddenly
assumed, when she sprang up with cries of agony. All were greatly alarmed.
Her husband appeared as much so as the rest. She called for another draught
of succory water. It was brought to her in an enameled cup from which she
was accustomed to drink.
She took the cup in one hand, and then, pressing her hand to her side in a
spasm of pain, exclaimed, "I can scarcely breathe. Take me away—take me
away! I can support myself no longer." With much difficulty she was led to
her chamber by her terrified attendants. There she threw herself upon her
bed in convulsions of agony, crying out that she was dying, and praying that
her confessor might immediately be sent for. Three physicians were
speedily in attendance. Her husband entered her chamber and kneeled at her
bedside. She threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming,
"Alas! you have long ceased to love me; but you are unjust, for I have never
wronged you." Suddenly she raised herself upon her elbow, and said to
those weeping around her, "I have been poisoned by the succory water
which I have drank. Probably there has been some mistake. I am sure,

however, that I have been poisoned. Unless you wish to see me die, you
must immediately administer some antidote."
Her husband did not seem at all agitated by this statement, but directed that
some of the succory water should be given to a dog to ascertain its effects.
Madame Desbordes, the first femme de chambre, who had prepared the
beverage, declared that the experiment should be made upon herself. She
immediately poured out a glass, and drank it.
Various antidotes for poisons were administered. They
Intense suffering.
created the most deadly sickness, without changing the
symptoms or alleviating the pain. It soon became evident that the princess
was dying. The livid complexion, glassy eyes, and shrunken nose and lips,
showed that some agent of terrific power was consuming her life. A chill
perspiration oozed from her forehead, her pulse was imperceptible, and her
extremities icy cold.
The king soon arrived, accompanied by the queen. Louis
Arrival of the king.
XIV. was greatly affected by the changed appearance Death scene of
and manifestly dying condition of Henrietta. He sat upon Henrietta.
one side of the bed and Monsieur upon the other, both
weeping bitterly. The agony of the princess was dreadful. In most imploring
tones she begged that something might be done to mitigate her sufferings.
The attendant physicians announced that she was dying. Extreme unction
was administered, the crucifix fell from her hand, a convulsive shuddering
shook her frame, and Henrietta was dead.
"Only nine hours previously, Henrietta of England had been full of life, and
loveliness, and hope, the idol of a court, and the centre of the most brilliant
circle in Europe. And now, as the tearful priest arose from his knees, the
costly curtains of embroidered velvet were drawn around a cold, pale,
motionless, and livid corpse."
A post-mortem examination revealed the presence of
Suspicion of Louis.
poison so virulent in its action that a portion of the
stomach was destroyed. Dreadful suspicion rested upon her husband. The
king, in a state of intense agitation, summoned his brother to his presence,
and demanded that he should confess his share in the murder. Monsieur
clasped in his hand the insignia of the Holy Ghost, which he wore about his

neck, and took the most solemn oath that he was both directly and indirectly
innocent of the death of his wife. Still the circumstantial evidence was so
strong against him that he could not escape the terrible suspicion.
Notwithstanding the absolute proof that the death of the princess was
caused by poison, still an official statement was soon made out, addressed
to the British court, and widely promulgated, in which it was declared that
the princess died of a malignant attack of bilious fever. Several physicians
were bribed to sign this declaration.
Notwithstanding this statement, the king made vigorous
Development of
exertions to discover the perpetrators of the crime. The facts.
following facts were soon brought to light. The king,
some time before, much displeased with the Chevalier de Lorraine, a
favorite and adviser of Monsieur, angrily arrested him, and imprisoned him
in the Chateau d'If, a strong and renowned fortress on Marguerite Island,
opposite Cannes. Here he was treated with great rigor. He was not allowed
to correspond, or even to speak with any persons but those on duty within
the fortress. Monsieur was exceedingly irritated by this despotic act. He
ventured loudly to upbraid his brother, and bitterly accused Madame of
having caused the arrest of his bosom friend, the chevalier.
Circumstances directed the very strong suspicions of the
Statements of M.
king to M. Pernon, controller of the household of the Pernon.
princess, as being implicated in the murder. The king
ordered him to be secretly arrested, and brought by a back staircase to the
royal cabinet. Every attendant was dismissed, and his majesty remained
alone with the prisoner. Fixing his eyes sternly upon the countenance of M.
Pernon, Louis said, "If you reveal every circumstance relative to the death
of Madame, I promise you full pardon. If you are guilty of the slightest
concealment or prevarication, your life shall be the forfeit."
The controller then confessed that the Chevalier de
Testimony of M.
Lorraine had, through the hands of a country gentleman, Pernon.
M. Morel, who was not at all conscious of the nature of
the commission he was fulfilling, sent the poison to two confederates at St.
Cloud. This package was delivered to the Marquis d'Effiat and Count de
Beuvron, intimate friends of the chevalier, and who had no hope that he

would be permitted to return to Paris so long as Madame lived. The
Marquis d'Effiat contrived to enter the closet of the princess, and rubbed the
poison on the inside of the enameled cup from which Henrietta was
invariably accustomed to drink her favorite beverage.
The king listened intently to this statement, pressed his forehead with his
hand, and then inquired, in tones which indicated that he was almost afraid
to put the question, "And Monsieur—was he aware of this foul plot?"
"No, sire," was the prompt reply. "Monsieur can not keep a secret; we did
not venture to confide in him."
Louis appeared much relieved. After a moment's pause, he asked, with
evident anxiety, "Will you swear to this?"
"On my soul, sire," was the reply.
The king asked no more. Summoning an officer of the household, he said,
"Conduct M. Pernon to the gate of the palace, and set him at liberty."
Such events were so common in the courts of feudal
Return of Chevalier
despotism in those days of crime, that this atrocious de Lorraine.
murder seems to have produced but a momentary
impression. Poor Henrietta was soon forgotten. The tides of gayety and
fashion ebbed and flowed as ever through the saloons of the royal palaces.
No one was punished. It would hardly have been decorous for the king to
hang men for the murder of the princess, when he had solemnly announced
that she had died of a bilious fever. The Chevalier de Lorraine was ere long
recalled to court. There he lived in unbridled profligacy, enjoying an annual
income of one hundred thousand crowns, till death summoned him to a
tribunal where neither wealth nor rank can purchase exemption from crime.
Henrietta, who was but twenty-six years of age at the
Marriage of
time of her death, left two daughters, but no son. Monsieur.
Monsieur soon dried his tears. He sought a new marriage
with his rich, renowned cousin, the Duchess of Montpensier. But she
declined his offered hand. With inconceivable caprice, she was fixing her
affections upon a worthless adventurer, a miserable coxcomb, the Duke de
Lauzun, who was then disgracing by his presence the court of the Louvre.
This singular freak, an additional evidence that there is no accounting for

the vagaries of love, astonished all the courts of Europe. Monsieur then
turned to the Princess Charlotte Elizabeth of Bavaria. The alliance was one
dictated by state policy. Monsieur reluctantly assented to it under the moral
compulsion of the king. The advent of this most eccentric of women at the
French court created general astonishment and almost consternation. She
despised etiquette, and dressed in the most outré fashion, while she
displayed energies of mind and sharpness of tongue which brought all in
awe of her. The following is the portrait which this princess, eighteen years
of age, has drawn of herself:
"I was born in Heidelberg in 1652. I must necessarily be
Portrait of Charlotte
ugly, for I have no features, small eyes, a short, thick Elizabeth.
nose, and long, flat lips. Such a combination as this can
not produce a physiognomy. I have heavy hanging cheeks and a large face,
and nevertheless am short and thick. To sum up all, I am an ugly little
object. If I had not a good heart, I should not be bearable any where. To
ascertain if my eyes have any expression, it would be necessary to examine
them with a microscope. There could not probably be found on earth hands
more hideous than mine. The king has often remarked it to me, and made
me laugh heartily. Not being able with any conscience to flatter myself that
I possessed any thing good looking, I have made up my mind to laugh at
my own ugliness. I have found the plan very successful, and frequently
discover plenty to laugh at."
Notwithstanding the princess was ready to speak of
Her power of
herself in these terms of ridicule, she was by no means sarcasm.
disposed to grant the same privilege to others. She was a
woman of keen observation, and was ever ready to resent any offense with
the most sarcastic retaliation. She perceived very clearly the sensation
which her presence, and the manners which she had very deliberately
chosen to adopt, had excited. Madame de Fienne was one of the most
brilliant wits of the court. She ventured to make herself and others merry
over the oddities of the newly-arrived Duchess of Orleans, in whose court
both herself and her husband were pensioners. The duchess took her by the
hand, led her aside, and, riveting upon her her unquailing eye, said, in slow
and emphatic tones,

"Madame, you are very amiable and very witty. You
Sharp reproof of
possess a style of conversation which is endured by the Madame de Fienne.
king and by Monsieur because they are accustomed to it;
but I, who am only a recent arrival at the court, am less familiar with its
spirit. I forewarn you that I become incensed when I am made a subject of
ridicule. For this reason, I was anxious to give you a slight warning. If you
spare me, we shall get on very well together; but if, on the contrary, you
treat me as you do others, I shall say nothing to yourself, but I shall
complain to your husband, and if he does not correct you, I shall dismiss
him."
The hint was sufficient. Neither Madame de Fienne nor any other lady of
the court ventured after this to utter a word of witticism on the subject of
the Duchess of Orleans.

Chapter VII

The War in Holland.
1670-1679

M adame de Montespan was now the reigning favorite. The conscience-
stricken king could not endure to think of death. He studiedly
excluded from observation every thing which could remind him of that
doom of mortals. All the badges of mourning were speedily laid aside, and
efforts were made to banish from the court the memory of the young and
beautiful Princess Henrietta, whose poisoned body was mouldering to dust
in the tomb.
The king had a childish fondness for brilliant gems. In
Louis's fondness for
his cabinet he had a massive and costly secretary of jewels.
elaborately carved rosewood. Upon its shelves he had
arrayed the crown jewels, which he often handled and examined with the
same delight with which a miser counts his gold.
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, in her interesting
Anecdote.
Memoirs, relates the following anecdote, which throws Superstitions of
interesting light upon the character of the king at this Louis.
time. It will be remembered that Louis XIV. was born in
one of the palaces at St. Germain, about fifteen miles from Paris. The
magnificent terrace on the left bank of the winding Seine commands
perhaps as enchanting a view as can be found any where in this world. The
domes and towers of Paris appear far away in the north. The wide, luxuriant
valley of the Seine, studded with villages and imposing castles, lies spread
out in beautiful panorama before the eye. The king had expended between
one and two millions of dollars in embellishing the royal residences here.
But as the conscience of the king became more sensitive, and repeated
deaths forced upon him the conviction that he too must eventually die, St.
Germain not only lost all its charms, but became a place obnoxious to him.
From the terrace there could be distinctly seen, a few leagues to the east, the
tower and spire of St. Denis, the burial-place of the kings of France. To

Louis it suddenly became as torturing a sight as to have had his coffin
ostentatiously displayed in his banqueting-hall.
When Anne of Austria was lying on her bed of suffering,
His dread of the
the king was one day pacing alone the terrace of St. towers of St. Denis.
Germain. Dark clouds were drifting through the sky. Ambition of Louis.
One of these clouds seemed to gather over the towers of
St. Denis. To the excited imagination of the king, the vapor wreathed itself
into the form of a hearse, surmounted by the arms of Austria. In a few days
the king followed the remains of his mother to the dark vaults of this their
last resting-place. Just before the death of the hapless Henrietta, the same
gloomy towers appeared to the king in a dream enveloped in flames, and in
the midst of the fire there was a skeleton holding in his hand a lady's rich
jewelry. But a few days after this the king was constrained to follow the
remains of the beautiful Henrietta to this sepulchre. God seems to have sent
warning upon warning upon this wicked king. Absorbed in ambitious plans
and guilty passions, Louis had but little time or thought to give to his
neglected wife or her children. In the same year his two daughters died, and
with all the pageantry of royal woe they were also entombed at St. Denis.

ST. DENIS.

It is not strange that, under these circumstances, the
king, to whom the Gospel of Christ was often faithfully He abandons St.
preached, and who was living in the most gross violation Germain.
of the principles of the religion of Jesus, should have
recoiled from a view of those towers, which were ever a reminder to him of
death and the grave. He could no longer endure the palace at St. Germain.
The magnificent panorama of the city, the winding Seine, the flowery
meadows, the forest, the villages, and the battlemented chateaux lost all
their charms, since the towers of St. Denis would resistlessly arrest his eye,
forcing upon his soul reflections from which he instinctively recoiled. He
therefore abandoned St. Germain entirely, and determined that the palace he
was constructing at Versailles should be so magnificent as to throw every
other abode of royalty into the shade.
Madame de la Vallière was daily becoming more
Severity of Louis to
wretched. Fully conscious of her sin and shame, deserted Madame de la
by the king, supplanted by a new favorite, and still Vallière.
passionately attached to her royal betrayer, she could not
restrain that grief which rapidly marred her beauty. The waning of her
charms, and the reproaches of her silent woe, increasingly repelled the king
from seeking her society. One day Louis entered the apartment of Louise,
and found her weeping bitterly. In cold, reproachful tones, he demanded the
cause of her uncontrollable grief. The poor victim, upon the impulse of the
moment, gave vent to all the gushing anguish of her soul—her sense of
guilt in the sight of God—her misery in view of her ignominious position,
and her brokenness of heart in the consciousness that she had lost the love
of one for whom she had periled her very soul.
The king listened impatiently, and then haughtily replied, "Let there be an
end to this. I love you, and you know it. But I am not to be constrained." He
reproached her for her obstinacy in refusing the friendship of her rival,
Madame de Montespan, and added the cutting words, "You have needed, as
well as Madame de Montespan, the forbearance and countenance of your
sex."
Poor Louise was utterly crushed. She had long been
A second flitting to
thinking of retiring to a convent. Her decision was now Chaillot.
formed. She devoted a few sad days to the necessary

arrangements, took an agonizing leave, as she supposed forever, of her
children, to whom she was tenderly attached, and for whom the king had
made ample provision, and, addressing a parting letter to him, entered her
carriage, to seek, for a second time, a final retreat in the convent of Chaillot.
It was late in the evening when she entered those gloomy cells where
broken hearts find a living burial. To the abbess she said, "I have no longer
a home in the palace; may I hope to find one in the cloister?" The abbess
received her with true Christian sympathy. After listening with a tearful eye
to the recital of her sorrows, she conducted her to the cell in which she was
to pass the night.
"She could not pray, although she cast herself upon her
Night in the
knees beside the narrow pallet, and strove to rejoice that convent.
she had at length escaped from the trials of a world
which had wearied her, and of which she herself was weary. There was no
peace, no joy in her rebel heart. She thought of the first days of her
happiness; of her children, who on the morrow would ask for her in vain;
and then, as memory swept over her throbbing brain, she remembered her
former flight to Chaillot, and that it was the king himself who had led her
back again into the world. Her brow burned as the question forced itself
upon her, Would he do so a second time? would he once more hasten, as he
had then done, to rescue her from the living death to which she had
consigned herself as an atonement for her past errors?
"But hour after hour went by, and all was silent. Hope
Disappointment.
died within her. Daylight streamed dimly into the narrow
casement of her cell. Soon the measured step of the abbess fell upon her ear
as she advanced up the long gallery, striking upon the door of each cell as
she approached, and uttering in a solemn voice, 'Let us bless the Lord.' To
which appeal each of the sisters replied in turn, 'I give him thanks.'"
The deceptive heart of Louise led her to hope, notwithstanding she had
voluntarily sought the cloister, that the king, yearning for her presence,
would come himself, as soon as he heard of her departure, and
affectionately force her back to the Louvre. Early in the morning she heard
the sound of carriage-wheels entering the court-yard of the convent. Her
heart throbbed with excitement. Soon she was summoned from her cell to

the parlor. Much to her disappointment, the king was not there, but his
minister, M. Colbert, presented to her a very affectionate letter from his
majesty urging her return. As she hesitated, M. Colbert pleaded earnestly in
behalf of his sovereign.
The feeble will of Louise yielded, while yet she blushed
Return of Louise to
at her own weakness. Tears filled her eyes as she took the palace.
leave of the abbess, grasping her hand, and saying, "This
is not a farewell; I shall assuredly return, and perhaps very soon." The king
was much moved in receiving her, and, with great apparent cordiality,
thanked her for having complied with his entreaties. Even the heart of
Madame de Montespan was touched. She received with words of love and
sympathy the returned fugitive, whose rivalry she no longer feared, and in
whose sad career she perhaps saw mirrored her own future doom.
Madame de Montespan was then in the zenith of her
Madame de
power. The king had assigned her the beautiful chateau Montespan.
of Clagny, but a short distance from Versailles. Here she
lived in great splendor, entertaining foreign embassadors, receiving from
them costly gifts, and introducing them to her children as if they were really
princes of the blood.
Notwithstanding the corruptions of the papal Church,
Louis reproved by
there were in that Church many faithful ministers of the clergy.
Jesus Christ. Some of them, in their preaching,
inveighed very severely against the sinful practices in the court. Not only
Madame de Montespan, but the king, often knew that they were directly
referred to. But the guilty yet sagacious monarch carefully avoided any
appropriation of the denunciations to himself. Still, he was so much
annoyed that he seriously contemplated urging Madame de Montespan to
retire to a convent. He even authorized the venerable Bossuet, then Bishop
of Condom, to call upon Madame de Montespan, and suggest in his name
that she should withdraw from the court and retire to the seclusion of the
cloister. But the haughty favorite, conscious of the power of her charms,
and knowing full well that the king had only submitted to the suggestion,
peremptorily refused. She judged correctly. The king was well pleased to
have her remain.

The preparations which the king was making for the
Power of France.
invasion of Holland greatly alarmed the Dutch Alarm in Holland.
government. France had become powerful far beyond
any other Continental kingdom. The king had the finest army in Europe.
Turenne, Condé, Vauban, ranked among the ablest generals and engineers
of any age. While Louis XIV. was apparently absorbed in his pleasures,
Europe was surprised to see vast trains of artillery and ammunition wagons
crowding the roads of his northern provinces. In his previous campaign,
Louis had taken Flanders in three months, and Franche-Comté in three
weeks. These rapid conquests had alarmed neighboring nations, and
Holland, Switzerland, and England had entered into an alliance to resist
farther encroachments, should they be attempted.
Louis affected to be very angry that such a feeble state
Humble inquiry of
as Holland should have the impudence to think of the Dutch.
limiting his conquests. Having, as we have mentioned,
detached England from the alliance by bribing with gold and female charms
the miserable Charles II., Louis was ready, without any declaration of war,
even without any openly avowed cause of grievance, to invade Holland, and
annex the territory to his realms. The States-General, alarmed in view of the
magnitude of the military operations which were being made upon their
borders, sent embassadors to the French court humbly to inquire if these
preparations were designed against Holland, the ancient and faithful ally of
France, and, if so, in what respect Holland had offended.
Louis XIV. haughtily and insolently replied, "I shall
Haughty reply of
make use of my troops as my own dignity renders Louis.
advisable. I am not responsible for my conduct to any
power whatever."
The real ability of the king was shown in the effectual
Body-guard of the
measures he adopted to secure, without the chance of king.
failure, the triumphant execution of his plans. Twenty
millions of people had been robbed of their hard earnings to fill his army
chests with gold. An army of a hundred and thirty thousand men, in the
highest state of discipline, and abundantly supplied with all the munitions
of war, were on the march for the northern frontiers of France. These troops
were supported by a combined English and French fleet of one hundred and

thirty vessels of war. It was the most resistless force, all things considered,
Europe had then ever witnessed. We shall not enter into the details of this
campaign, which are interesting only to military men. Twelve hundred of
the sons of the nobles were organized into a body-guard, ever to surround
the king. They were decorated with the most brilliant uniforms, glittering
with embroideries of gold and silver, and were magnificently mounted. The
terrible bayonet was then, for the first time, attached to the musket. Light
pontoons of brass for crossing the rivers were carried on wagons. A
celebrated writer, M. Pelisson, accompanied the king, to give a glowing
narrative of his achievements.
As there had been no declaration of war and no commencement of
hostilities, the king purchased a large amount of military stores even in the
states of Holland, which, no one could doubt, he was preparing to invade. A
Dutch merchant, being censured by Prince Maurice for entering into a
traffic so unpatriotic, replied,
"My lord, if there could be opened to me by sea any
Reply of the Dutch
advantageous commerce with the infernal regions, I merchant.
should certainly go there, even at the risk of burning my
sails."
Louis made arrangements that money should be liberally
Forces of William,
expended to bribe the commandants of the Dutch prince of Orange.
fortresses. To oppose all these moral and physical forces,
Holland had but twenty-five thousand soldiers, poorly armed and
disciplined. They were under the command of the Prince of Orange, who
was in feeble health, and but twenty-two years of age. But this young prince
proved to be one of the most extraordinary men of whom history gives any
account; yet it was manifestly impossible for him now to arrest the torrent
about to invade his courts.
Louis rapidly pushed his troops forward into the
Louis's march
unprotected states of Holland which bordered the left unresisted.
banks of the Rhine. His march was unresisted. Liberally
he paid for whatever he took, distributed presents to the nobles, and,
preparing to cross the river, placed his troops in strong detachments in
villages scattered along the banks of the stream. The king himself was at the

head of a choice body of thirty thousand troops. Marshal Turenne
commanded under him.
The whole country on the left bank of the Rhine was
The French cross
soon in possession of the French, as village after village the Rhine.
fell into their hands. The main object of the Prince of
Orange was to prevent the French from crossing the river. Louis intended to
have crossed by his pontoons, suddenly moving upon some unexpected
point. But there came just then a very severe drouth. The water fell so low
that there was a portion of the stream which could be nearly forded. It
would be necessary to swim the horses but about twenty feet. The current
was slow, and the passage could be easily effected. By moving rapidly, the
Prince of Orange would not be able to collect at that point sufficient troops
seriously to embarrass the operation.
Fifteen thousand horsemen were here sent across,
Death of the Duke
defended by artillery on the banks, and aided by boats of of Longueville.
brass. But one man in the French army, the young Duke
de Longueville, was killed. He lost his life through inebriation, and its
consequent folly and crime. Half crazed with wine, he refused quarter to a
Dutch officer who had thrown down his arms and surrendered. Reeling in
his saddle, he shot down the officer, exclaiming, "No quarter for these
rascals." Some of the Dutch infantry, who were just surrendering, in despair
opened fire, and the drunken duke received the death-blow he merited.
This passage of the Rhine was considered a very
Passage of the
brilliant achievement, and added much to the military Rhine.
reputation of Louis XIV., though it appears to have been
exclusively the feat of the Prince of Condé. The cities of Holland fell in
such rapid succession into the power of the French, that scarcely an hour of
the day passed in which the king did not receive the news of some conquest.
An officer named Mazel sent an aid to Marshal Turenne to say,
"If you will be kind enough to send me fifty horsemen, I shall with them be
able to take two or three places."
It was on the 12th of June, 1672, that the passage of the
Louis a bigoted
Rhine was effected. On the 20th the French king made Catholic.
his triumphal entrance into the city of Utrecht. The king

was a Catholic—a bigoted Catholic. Corrupt as he was in life, regardless as
he was in his private conduct of the precepts of Jesus, he was extremely
zealous to invest the Catholic Church with power and splendor. It was with
him a prominent object to give the Catholic religion the supremacy.
Amsterdam was the capital of the republic. The capture
Consternation.
of that city would complete the conquest. Not only the
republic would perish, but Holland would, as it were, disappear from the
earth, her territory being absorbed in that of France. The consternation in
the metropolis was great. The most noble and wealthy families were
preparing for a rapid flight to the north. Amsterdam was then the most
opulent and influential commercial town in Europe. It contained a
population of two hundred thousand sagacious, energetic, thrifty people. As
is invariably the case in days of disaster, there were discordant counsels and
angry divisions among the bewildered defenders of the imperiled realm.
Some were for fiercely pressing the war, others for humbly imploring
peace.
At length four deputies were sent to the French camp to
Reception of the
intercede for the clemency of the conqueror. They were Dutch deputies.
received with raillery and insult. After contemptuously
compelling the deputation several times to come and go without any result,
the king at last condescended to present the following as his terms:
He demanded that the States of Holland should
Terms of Louis
surrender to him the whole of the territory on the left XIV.
bank of the Rhine; that they should place in his hands, to
be garrisoned by French troops, the most important forts and fortified towns
of the republic; that they should pay him twenty millions of francs, a sum
equal to several times that amount at the present day; that the French should
be placed in command of all the important entrances to Holland, both by
sea and land, and should be exempted from paying any duty upon the goods
they should enter; that the Catholic religion should be established every
where through the realm; and that every year the republic should send to
Louis XIV. an embassador, with a golden medal, upon which there should
be impressed the declaration that the republic held all its privileges through
the favor of Louis XIV. To these conditions were to be added such as the

States-General should be compelled to make with the other allies engaged
in the war.
The nations of Europe have been guilty of many outrages, but perhaps it
would be difficult to find one more atrocious than this. In reference to the
cause of the war, Voltaire very truly remarks, "It is a singular fact, and
worthy of record, that of all the enemies, there was not one that could allege
any pretext whatever for the war." It was an enterprise very similar to that
of the coalition of Louis XII., the Emperor Maximilian, and Spain, who
conspired for the overthrow of the Venetian republic simply because that
republic was rich and prosperous.
These terms, dictated by the insolence of the conqueror,
Heroic conduct of
were quite intolerable. They inspired the courage of the Dutch.
despair. The resolution was at once formed to perish, if The dikes pierced.
perish they must, with their arms in their hands. The
Prince of Orange had always urged the vigorous prosecution of the war.
Guided by his energetic counsel, they pierced the dikes, which alone
protected their country from the waters of the sea. The flood rushed in
through the opened barriers, converting hundreds of leagues of fertile fields
into an ocean. The inundation flooded the houses, swept away the roads,
destroyed the harvest, drowned the flocks; and yet no one uttered a murmur.
Louis XIV., by his infamous demands, had united all hearts in the most
determined resistance. Amsterdam appeared like a large fortress rising in
the midst of the ocean, surrounded by ships of war, which found depth of
water to float where ships had never floated before. The distress was
dreadful. It was the briny ocean whose waves were now sweeping over the
land. It was so difficult to obtain any fresh water that it was sold for six
cents a pint.
Maritime Holland, though weak upon the land, was still
Naval battle.
powerful on the sea. The united fleet of the allies did not
exceed that of the republic. The Dutch Admiral Ruyter, with a hundred
vessels of war and fifty fire-ships, repaired to the coasts of England in
search of his foes. He met the allied fleet on the 7th of June, 1672, and in
the heroic naval battle of Solbaie disabled and dispersed it. This gave
Holland the entire supremacy on the sea. Thus suddenly Louis XIV. found
himself checked, and no farther progress was possible.

The Prince of Orange gave all his private revenues to the
Efforts of the Prince
state, and entered into negotiations with other powers, of Orange.
who were already alarmed by the encroachments of the
French king. The Emperor of Germany, the Spanish court, and Flanders,
entered into an alliance with the heroic prince. He even compelled Charles
II. to withdraw from that union with Louis XIV. which was opposed to the
interests of England, and into which his court had been reluctantly dragged.
Troops from all quarters were hurrying forward for the protection of
Holland.
The villainy of Louis XIV. was thwarted. Chagrined at
Louis returns to
seeing his conquest at an end, but probably with no Paris.
compunctions of conscience for the vast amount of
misery his crime had caused, he left his discomfited army under the
command of Turenne and the other generals, and returned to his palaces in
France.
The troops which remained in Holland committed
His extraordinary
outrages which rendered the very name of the French energy.
detested. Louis, from the midst of the pomp and pleasure
of his palaces, still displayed extraordinary energies. Agents were
dispatched to all the courts of Europe with large sums of money for
purposes of bribery. By his diplomatic cunning, Hungary was roused
against Austria. Gold was lavished upon the King of England to induce him,
notwithstanding the opposition of the British Parliament, to continue in
alliance with France. Several of the petty states of Germany were bought
over. Louis greatly increased his naval force. He soon had forty ships of war
afloat, besides a large number of fire-ships.
But Europe had been so alarmed by his encroachments and his menaces
that, notwithstanding his efforts at diplomacy and intrigue, he was
compelled to abandon his enterprise, and withdraw his troops from the
provinces he had overrun.

PORTE ST. DENIS.
In the early part of his campaign, Louis, flushed with Arch of triumph.
victory and assured of entire success, had commenced
building, as a monument of his great achievement, the arch of triumph at
the gate of St. Denis. The structure was scarcely completed ere he was
compelled to withdraw his troops from Holland, to meet the foes who were
crowding upon him from all directions.
Louis XIV. now found nearly all Europe against him. He sent twenty
thousand men, under Marshal Turenne, to encounter the forces of the
Emperor of Germany. The Prince de Condé was sent with forty thousand
troops to assail the redoubtable Prince of Orange. Another strong
detachment was dispatched to the frontiers of Spain, to arrest the advance of
the Spanish troops. A fleet was also sent, conveying a large land force, to
make a diversion by attacking the Spanish sea-ports.
Turenne, in defending the frontiers of the Rhine,
Skill and strategy of
acquired reputation which has made his name one of the Turenne.
most renowned in military annals. The emperor sent
seventy thousand men against him. Turenne had but twenty thousand to
meet them. By wonderful combinations, he defeated and dispersed the
whole imperial army. It added not a little to the celebrity of Turenne that he

had achieved his victory by following his own judgment, in direct
opposition to reiterated orders from the minister of war, given in the name
of the king.
Turenne, a merciless warrior, allowed no considerations
Barbarities of
of humanity to interfere with his military operations. Turenne.
The Palatinate, a country on both sides the Rhine,
embracing a territory of about sixteen hundred square miles, and a
population of over three hundred thousand, was laid in ashes by his
command. It was a beautiful region, very fertile, and covered with villages
and opulent cities. The Elector Palatine saw from the towers of his castle at
Manheim two cities and twenty-five villages at the same time in flames.
This awful destruction was perpetrated upon the defenseless inhabitants,
that the armies of the emperor, encountering entire desolation, might be
deprived of subsistence. It was nothing to Turenne that thousands of women
and children should be cast houseless into the fields to starve.
Alsace, with nearly a million of inhabitants, encountered the same doom.
Another province, Lorraine, which covered an area of about ten thousand
square miles, and contained a population of one and a half millions, was
swept of all its provisions by the cavalry of the French commander. In
reference to these military operations, Voltaire writes,
"All the injuries he inflicted seemed to be necessary.
Opinion of Voltaire.
Besides, the army of seventy thousand Germans, whom
he thus prevented from entering France, would have inflicted much more
injury than Turenne inflicted upon Lorraine, Alsace, and the Palatinate."
On the 27th of June, 1675, a cannon ball struck Turenne,
Death of Turenne.
and closed in an instant his earthly career. His renown
filled Europe. He was a successful warrior, a dissolute man; and few who
have ever lived have caused more wide-spread misery than could be
charged to his account. Such is not the character which best prepares one to
stand before the judgment seat of Christ.
The war continued for two years with somewhat varying
Peace of Nimeguen.
fortune, but with unvarying blood and misery. At last
peace was made on the 14th of August, 1678—the peace of Nimeguen, as it
is styled. Louis XIV. dictated the terms. He was now at the height of his

grandeur. He had enlarged his domains by the addition of Franche-Comté,
Dunkirk, and half of Flanders. His courtiers worshiped him as a demigod.
The French court conferred upon him, with imposing solemnities, the title
of Louis le Grand. The ambition of Louis was by no means satiated. He
availed himself of the short peace which ensued to form plans and gather
resources for new conquests.
Let us now return from fields of blood to life in the
Penitence and
palace. Madame de la Vallière, upon her return from the anguish of Louise
convent, soon found herself utterly miserable. She had de Vallière.
hoped that reviving affection had been the inducement
which led Louis to recall her. Instead of this, his attentions daily
diminished. Madame de Montespan had accompanied the king in his brief
trip to Holland, and returned with him to Paris. She was all-powerful at
court, and seemed to delight, by word and deed, to add to the anguish of her
vanquished rival. After a dreary year of wretchedness, Louise could endure
no longer a residence in the palace. Her mother, who had been exceedingly
distressed in view of the ignominious position occupied by her daughter,
entreated her to retire to the Duchy of Vaujours with her children. Her
mother promised to accompany her to that quiet yet beautiful retreat. But
the spirit of Louise was broken. She longed only to sever herself entirely
from the world, and to seek a living burial in the glooms of the cloister. In
those days of sorrow, penitence and the spirit of devotion sprang up in her
weary heart.
Louise was still young and beautiful. Her passionate
Takes leave of her
love for the king still held strong dominion over her. children and the
Grief brought on a long and dangerous illness. For many queen.
days her life was in danger. In view of the approaching
judgment, where she felt that she soon must stand, the greatness of her
transgression harrowed her soul, and increased her desire to spend the rest
of her life in works of piety and in prayer. When convalescent, the king
consented to her retirement to the Carmelite convent. Like one in a dream,
she took leave of her children without a tear. Then, entering the apartment
of the queen, she threw herself upon her knees, and with the sobbings of a
remorseful and despairing heart implored her pardon for all the sorrow she
had caused her. The generous Maria Theresa raised her up, embraced her,
and declared her entirely forgiven.

The morning of her departure arrived. The king, who was that day to leave
Paris to visit the army in Flanders, attended high mass. Louise also
attended. Absorbed in prayer, she did not raise her eyes during the service.
She then, pale as death, and leaning upon the arm of her mother, but for
whose support she must have fallen, advanced to take leave of the king. The
selfish monarch, with a dry eye and a firm voice, bade her adieu, coldly
expressing the hope that she would be happy in her retreat. Without the
slightest apparent emotion, he saw Louise, with her earthly happiness
utterly wrecked, enter her carriage and drive away, to pass the remainder of
her joyless years in the gloomy cell of the convent. He then turned and
conversed with his companions with as much composure as if nothing
unusual had happened.
Louise, upon her arrival at the convent, cast herself upon
Again at the
her knees before the abbess, saying that hitherto she had convent.
made so ill a use of her free will that she came to resign Faithfulness to duty.
it to the abbess forever. For thirty-six years the heart-
broken penitent endured the hardships of her convent life—its narrow
pallet, its hard fare, its prolonged devotions, its silence, and its rigid
fastings. Under the name of Louisa of Mercy she with the most exemplary
fidelity performed all her dreary duties, until, in her sixty-sixth year, she fell
asleep, and passed away, we trust, to the bosom of that Savior who is ever
ready to receive the returning penitent.
The hapless Henrietta, duchess of Orleans, left a very
Marriage of the
beautiful daughter, Maria Louisa. Her charms of Duchess of Orleans
countenance, person, and manners attracted the with the King of
admiration of the whole court, where she was a universal Spain.
favorite. She was compelled by the king, as a matter of
state policy, to marry Charles II., the young King of Spain, for whom she
felt no affection. Bitterly she wept in view of the terrible sacrifice she was
compelled to make. But the will of the king was inexorable. Her
melancholy marriage was solemnized with much splendor in the great
chapel at St. Germain. She then left, with undisguised reluctance, for
Madrid. The King of Spain, feeble in body, more feeble in mind, moody
and melancholy, was charmed by her youth and beauty. Her mental
endowments were such that she soon acquired entire ascendency over him.
He became pliant as wax in her hands.

The cabinet at Vienna were alarmed lest Maria Louisa
The Countess de
should influence her husband to unite with France Soissons.
against Germany. The Countess de Soissons was sent as
a secret agent to the Spanish court. Beautiful and fascinating, she soon
became exceedingly intimate with the queen. One day Maria Louisa,
oppressed by the heat, expressed regret at the scarcity of milk in Madrid,
saying how much she should enjoy a good draught. The countess assured
her that she knew where to obtain some of excellent quality, and that, with
her majesty's permission, she would have it iced and present it with her own
hands. The queen received the cup with a smile, and drank it at once. In half
an hour she was taken ill. After a few hours of horrible agony, such as her
unhappy mother had previously endured from the same cause, she died. In
the confusion, the countess escaped from the capital. She was pursued, but
her arrangements for escape had been so skillfully made that she could not
be overtaken.
Maria Theresa, the neglected queen of France, had borne six children; but
of these, at this period, there was but one surviving son, the dauphin. In his
character there appeared a combination of most singular anomalies and
contradictions. Though exceedingly impulsive and obstinate in obeying
every freak of his fancy, he seemed incapable of any affection, and alike
incapable of any hostility, except that which flashed up for the moment.
"The example of his guardians had inspired him with a
Character of the
few amiable qualities, but his natural vices defied dauphin.
eradication. His constitutional tendencies were all evil.
His greatest pleasure consisted in annoying those about him. Those who
were most conversant with his humor could never guess the temper of his
mind. He laughed the loudest and affected the greatest amiability when he
was most exasperated, and scowled defiance when he was perfectly
unruffled. His only talent was a keen sense of the ridiculous. Nothing
escaped him that could be tortured into sarcasm, although no one could
have guessed, from his abstracted and careless demeanor, that he was
conscious of any thing that was taking place in his presence. His indolence
was extreme, and his favorite amusement was lying stretched upon a sofa
tapping the points of his shoes with a cane. Never, to the day of his death,
had even his most intimate associates heard him express an opinion upon
any subject relating to art, literature, or politics."[N]

Such was the imbecile young man who, by the absurd law of hereditary
descent, was the destined heir to the throne of more than twenty millions of
people. The king was anxious to obtain for his son a bride whose alliance
would strengthen him against his enemies. With that policy alone
influencing him, he applied for the hand of the Princess Mary Ann of
Bavaria. It so chanced that she was in personal appearance exceedingly
unattractive. The king said that, "though she was not handsome, he still
hoped that Monseigneur would be able to live happily with her."
The dauphin, or Monseigneur as he was called, seemed
Monseigneur's
to be perfectly indifferent to the whole matter. He at one indifference.
time inquired if the princess were free from any
deformity. Upon being told that she was, he seemed quite contented, and
asked no farther questions. In anticipation of the marriage, a lady, Madame
de Maintenon, whose name henceforth became inseparably connected with
that of Louis XIV., was appointed to the distinguished post of "mistress of
the robes" to the dauphiness. We must now introduce this distinguished lady
to our readers.
The Marchioness Françoise d'Aubigné was born of a
Françoise
noble Protestant family, in the year 1635, in the prison of d'Aubigné.
Niort. Her mother, with her little boy, had been Her apparent death
permitted to join her imprisoned husband in his and recovery.
captivity. Here Françoise was born, amidst scenes of the
most extreme poverty and misery. The emaciate mother was unable to
afford sustenance to her infant. A sister of Baron d'Aubigné, Madame de
Vilette, took Françoise to her home at the Chateau de Marcey, where she
passed her infancy. After an imprisonment of four years, the baron was
released; but, as he refused to abjure Calvinism, Cardinal Richelieu would
not permit him to remain in France. He consequently, with his family,
embarked for Martinique. During the passage, Françoise was taken ill and
apparently died. As one of the crew was about to consign the body to its
ocean burial, the grief-stricken mother implored the privilege of one parting
embrace. As she pressed the child to her heart, she perceived indications of
life. The babe recovered, to occupy a position which filled the world with
her renown.

Upon the island of Martinique prosperity smiled upon
Françoise a
them. Madame d'Aubigné was a Catholic, though her Protestant.
husband was a Protestant. She at length took ship for Persecutions in
France, hoping to save some portion of her husband's consequence.
Sufferings of
sequestered estates, but was unsuccessful. Upon her Françoise.
return to Martinique, she found that Baron d'Aubigné,
during her absence, deprived of her restraining influence, had utterly ruined
himself by gambling. Overwhelmed by regret and misery, he almost
immediately sank into the grave. Madame d'Aubigné and her two children,
in the extreme of poverty, returned to France. Madame de Vilette again took
the little Françoise to the chateau of Marcey. As her mother was a Catholic,
Françoise had been baptized by a Romish priest, and reared in the faith of
her mother. The Countess de Neuillant, who was attached to the household
of Anne of Austria, was her godmother, and a very intense Catholic; but
Madame de Vilette, the sister of the child's father, was a Protestant. The
susceptible child was soon led to adopt the faith of her protectress. Catholic
zeal was such in those days that Madame de Neuillant obtained an order
from the court to remove the little girl from the Protestant family, and to
place her under her own guardianship. Here every effort was made to
induce Françoise to return to the Catholic faith, but neither threats nor
entreaties were of any avail. She remained firm in her Protestant principles.
The persecution she endured amounted almost to martyrdom. Madame de
Neuillant, in her rage, imposed upon her the most humiliating and onerous
domestic services. She was the servant of the servants. She fed the horses.
She suffered from cold and hunger. Thus she, who subsequently caused the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and thus exposed the Protestants to the
most dreadful sufferings, was a martyr of the religion of which she later
became so terrible a scourge.
The mother, witnessing the distress of her child,
Death of her
succeeded in withdrawing her from Madame de mother.
Neuillant, and placing her in a convent. Here the
Ursuline nuns won her over to the Catholic faith. Proud of their convert,
who was remarkably intelligent and attractive, they kept her for a year. But
as neither Madame de Neuillant, from whom she had been removed, nor
Madame de Vilette, who dreaded her return to Romanism, would pay her
board, they refused to give her any longer a shelter. Françoise left the

convent, and joined her mother only in time to see her sink in sorrow to the
grave. She was thus left, at fourteen years of age, in utter destitution,
dependent upon charity for support.

Chapter VIII.

Madame de Maintenon.
1649-1685

T he extreme distress and destitution of Françoise
Beauty and
touched the heart of Madame de Neuillant. She again intelligence of
took the orphan child under her charge and returned her Françoise.
to school in the convent. Françoise gradually developed
remarkable beauty and intelligence. Her quiet, unobtrusive, instinctive tact
gave her fascinating power over most who approached her. She often
visited the countess, where she attracted much admiration from the
fashionable guests who were ever assembled in her saloons. The dissolute
courtiers were lavish in their attentions to the highly-endowed child.
Established principles of virtue alone saved her from ruin. Misfortune and
sorrow had rendered her precocious beyond her years. It was her only and
her earnest desire to take the veil, and join the sisters in the convent. But
money was needed for that purpose, and she had none.
There was residing very near Madame de Neuillant, a
Françoise
very remarkable man, Paul Scarron. He was born of a d'Aubigné and the
good family, and had traveled extensively. Having run poet Scarron.
through the disgraceful round of fashionable dissipation,
he had become crippled by the paralysis of his lower limbs, and was living
a literary life in the enjoyment of a competence. He was still young.
Imperturbable gayety, wonderful conversational powers, and celebrity as a
poet, caused his saloons to be crowded with distinguished and admiring
friends. Some one mentioned to him the situation of Françoise d'Aubigné,
and her desire to enter the convent. His kindly heart was touched, and,
heading a subscription-list, he soon obtained sufficient funds from among
his friends to enable her to secure the retreat she desired.
Quite overjoyed, the maiden hastened to the apartments of the poet to
express her gratitude. Scarron was astonished when the apparition of a
beautiful girl of fifteen, full of life, and with a figure whose symmetric
grace the sculptor could with difficulty rival, appeared before him. Her

heart was glowing with gratitude which her lips could hardly express, that
he was furnishing her with means for a life-long burial in the glooms of the
cloister. The poet gazed upon her for a moment quite bewildered, and then
said, with one of those beaming smiles which irradiated his pale,
intellectual face with rare beauty,
"I must recall my promise; I can not procure you
Scarron's proposal
admission into a religious community. You are not fitted of marriage.
for a nun. You can not understand the nature of the
sacrifice which you are so eager to make. Will you become my wife? My
servants anger and neglect me. I am unable to enforce obedience. Were they
under the control of a mistress, they would do their duty. My friends neglect
me; I can not pursue them to reproach them for their abandonment. If they
saw a pretty woman at the head of my household, they would make my
home cheerful. I give you a week to decide."
Françoise returned to the convent bewildered, almost
Marriage of
stunned. She was alone in the world, living upon Françoise
reluctant charity. There was no one to whom she could d'Aubigné.
confidingly look for advice. The future was all dark
before her. Scarron, though crippled, was still young, witty, and
distinguished as one of the most popular poets of the day. His saloon was
the intellectual centre of the capital, where the most distinguished men were
wont to meet. At the close of the week Françoise returned an affirmative
answer. They were soon married. She found apparently a happy home with
her crippled but amiable husband. The brilliant circle in the midst of which
she moved strengthened her intellect, enlarged her intelligence, and added
to that wonderful ease and gracefulness of manner with which she was by
nature endowed.
In the year 1660 Monsieur Scarron died. He had lived
Becomes a
expensively, and, as his income was derived from a life governess.
annuity which ceased at his death, his wife found herself
again in utter destitution. She was then forty-five years of age. Madame de
Montespan, who had frequently met her in those brilliant circles, which had
been rendered additionally attractive by her personal loveliness and mental
charms, persuaded the king to appoint Madame Scarron governess for her
children. A residence was accordingly assigned her near the palace of the

Luxembourg, where she was installed in her responsible office. She enjoyed
a princely residence, horses, a carriage, and a suite of servants. The many
attractions of Madame Scarron were not lost upon the king. He often visited
her, loved to converse with her, and soon the jealousy of Madame de
Montespan was intensely excited by the manifest fondness with which he
was regarding the new favorite.
Greatly to the disgust of Madame de Montespan, whose
Elevation of
influence was rapidly waning, the king appointed Madame Scarron.
Madame Scarron to the responsible office of Mistress of
the Robes to the dauphiness, Mary Ann of Bavaria, who was soon to arrive.
He also conferred upon her the fine estate of Maintenon, with the title of
Marchioness of Maintenon. It was now the turn of Madame de Montespan
to experience the same neglect and humiliation through which she had seen,
almost exultingly, the unhappy Madame de la Valliére pass.

MADAME DE MAINTENON.
The haughty favorite had reached her thirty-ninth year. The charms of youth
were fast leaving her. Louis had attained his forty-second year. Bitter
reproaches often rose between them. The king was weary of her exactions.
He made several efforts, but in vain, to induce her to retire to one of the
estates which he had conferred upon her. The daily increasing alienation led
the king more frequently to seek the soothing society of the calm, gentle,
serious Madame de Maintenon. Her fascinations of person and mind won
his admiration, while her virtues commanded his respect.
Such was the posture of affairs when preparations were made for the
reception of the dauphiness with the utmost magnificence. The costumes of

Madame de Maintenon were particularly remarked for their splendor, being
covered with jewels and embroidered with gold.
"Madame de Maintenon, although in her forty-fifth year,
Personal
had lost no charm save that of youth, which had been appearance of
replaced by a stately grace, and a dignified self- Madame de
possession that rendered it almost impossible to regret Maintenon.
the lighter and less finished attractions of buoyancy and
display. Her hands and arms were singularly beautiful; her eyes had lost
nothing of their fire; her voice was harmoniously modulated, and there was
in the whole of her demeanor unstudied ease, which was as far removed
from presumption as from servility."[O]
Madame de Montespan was so annoyed by the honors conferred upon
Madame de Maintenon that she was betrayed into saying, "I pity the young
foreigner, who can not fail to be eclipsed in every way by her Mistress of
the Robes."
Early in the year 1680 Madame de Maintenon and M.
Portrait of Ann of
Bossuet, bishop of Meaux, who had educated the Austria.
dauphin, accompanied by a suitable retinue, proceeded
to Schelestadt to receive the dauphiness. Here the ceremony of marriage by
proxy was to be solemnized. The king and the dauphin proceeded as far as
Vitry le Français to receive the bride. She was not beautiful, "but she was,"
writes Madame de Sévigné, "very graceful; her hands and arms were
exquisitely moulded. She had so fine a figure, so admirable a carriage, such
handsome teeth, such magnificent hair, and so much amiability of manner,
that she was courteous without being insipid, familiar without losing her
dignity, and had so charming a deportment that she might be pardoned for
not pleasing at first sight."
Louis seemed quite delighted with his new daughter-in-
The Princess of
law, and devoted himself much to her entertainment. She Tuscany.
was accompanied by her sister, the Princess of Tuscany,
who was extremely beautiful. The king, in conversation with Mary Ann,
remarked, "You never mentioned to me the fact that the Princess of Tuscany
was so singularly lovely." With tact which gave evidence of her self-
possession and ready wit, the dauphiness replied, "How can I remember,

sire, that my sister monopolized all the beauty of the family, when I, on my
part, have monopolized all its happiness."
The young dauphiness had sufficient penetration soon to
Unhappiness of the
perceive that the attentions which the king was dauphiness.
apparently devoting to her were due mainly to his desire
to enjoy the society of the beautiful and agreeable Mistress of the Robes.
The dauphiness was annoyed. Naturally of a retiring disposition, very fond
of books and of music, she soon wearied of the perpetual whirl of fashion
and frivolity, and gradually withdrew as much as possible from the society
of the court. She imbibed a strong dislike to Madame de Maintenon, which
dislike Madame de Montespan did every thing in her power to increase. The
dauphiness became very unhappy. She soon found that her husband was a
mere cipher, whom she could neither regard with respect nor affection.
Louis XIV. allowed the dauphiness to pursue her own course. While ever
treating her with the most punctilious politeness, he continued, much to her
chagrin, and especially to that of Madame de Montespan, to manifest his
admiration for Madame de Maintenon, and constantly to seek her society.
Thus the clouds of discontent, jealousy, and bitter hostility shed their gloom
throughout the court. There was splendor there, but no happiness.
It was a good trait in the character of the king that he
Louis's providence
was affectionately attached to all of his children. He for his children.
provided for them sumptuously, and did every thing in
his power to provide abundantly for those of dishonorable birth. Royal
decrees pronounced them legitimate, and they were honored and courted as
princes of the blood.
Mademoiselle de Blois, a daughter of Madame de la
Mademoiselle de
Vallière, was one of the most beautiful and highly Blois.
accomplished women ever seen at the French court. Her
mother had transmitted to her all her many virtues and none of her frailties.
Tall and slender, her figure was the perfection of grace. A slightly pensive
air enhanced the charms of a countenance remarkably lovely, and of a
bearing in which were combined the highest attractions of self-respect and
courtly breeding. Her voice was music. Her hands and feet were finely
modeled. Several foreign princes had solicited her hand. But the king, her
father, had invariably declined these offers. He declared that the presence of

his daughter was essential to his happiness—that he could not be separated
from her.
In 1680 Mademoiselle de Blois was married to the
Marriage of
Prince de Conti, nephew of the great Condé. It was as Mademoiselle de
brilliant a marriage as exalted rank, gorgeous dresses, Blois.
superb diamonds, and courtly etiquette could create. The
king could not have honored the nuptials more had he been giving a
daughter of the queen to the proudest monarch in Europe. Her princely
dowry was the same as would have been conferred on such an occasion. It
amounted to five hundred thousand golden crowns. This was the same sum
which the Spanish monarchy assigned Maria Theresa upon her marriage
with the King of France.
It is difficult to imagine what must have been the emotions of Madame de la
Vallière when she heard, in her narrow cell, the details of the brilliant
nuptials of her child. Her loving heart must have experienced conflicting
sensations of joy and of anguish. Madame de la Vallière had also a son,
Count Vermandois. He became exceedingly dissipated, so much so as to
excite the severe displeasure of the king. Rumor says that on one occasion
he had the audacity to strike the dauphin. The council condemned him to
death. Louis XIV., through paternal affection, commuted the punishment to
imprisonment for life. The report was spread that he had died of a
contagious disease, while he was privately conveyed to the prison of St.
Marguerite, and subsequently to the Bastile, his face being ever concealed
under an iron mask. Here he died, it is said, on the 19th of November, 1703,
after an imprisonment of between thirty and forty years. The true
explanation of this great historical mystery will probably now never be
ascertained.
The story of the "Man with the Iron Mask" is one of the
The man with the
most remarkable in the annals of the past. Probably no iron mask.
information will ever be obtained upon this subject more Measures adopted
full than that which Voltaire has given. He says that a to prevent
discovery.
prisoner was sent in great secrecy to the chateau in the
island of St. Marguerite; that he was young, tall, and of remarkably graceful
figure. His face was concealed by an iron mask, with coils of steel so
arranged that he could eat without its removal. Orders were given to kill

him instantly if he should announce who he was. He remained at the
chateau many years in close imprisonment.
In 1690, M. St. Mars, governor of the prison at St. Marguerite, was
transferred to the charge of the Bastile in Paris. The prisoner, ever masked,
was taken with him, and was treated on the journey with the highest respect.
A well-furnished chamber was provided for him in that immense chateau.
The governor himself brought him his food, and stood respectfully like a
servile attendant while he ate. The captive was extremely fond of fine linen
and lace, and was very attentive to his personal appearance. Upon his death
the walls of his chamber were rubbed down and whitewashed. Even the
tiles of the floor were removed, lest he might have concealed a note beneath
them.
It is very remarkable that, while it can not be doubted that the prisoner was
a person of some great importance, no such personage disappeared from
Europe at that time. It is a plausible supposition that the king, unwilling to
consign his own son to death, sent him to life-long imprisonment; and that
the report of his death by a contagious disease was circulated that the
mother might be saved the anguish of knowing the dreadful fate of her
child. Still there are many difficulties connected with this explanation, and
there is none other which has ever satisfied public curiosity.
Madame de Montespan had eight children, who were
Madame de
placed under the care of Madame de Maintenon. Her Montespan and her
eldest son, Count de Vixen, died in his eleventh year. son.
Her second son, the Duke de Maine, was a lad of
remarkable character and attainments. He loved Madame de Maintenon. He
did not love his mother. Unfeelingly he reproached her with his ignoble
birth. Madame de Montespan, though still a fine-looking woman, brilliant,
witty, and always conspicuous for the splendor of her equipage and her
attire, felt every hour embittered by the consciousness that her power over
the king had passed away. She regarded the serious, thoughtful Madame de
Maintenon as her successful rival, though her social relations with the king
were entirely above reproach.
The character of the discarded favorite is developed by
Mary Angelica
the measure she adopted to lure the susceptible and Roussille.

unprincipled monarch from the very agreeable society of Intrigue of Madame
de Montespan.
Madame de Maintenon. In the department of Provence
there was a young lady but eighteen years of age, Mary Angelica Roussille.
She was of such wonderful beauty that its fame had reached Paris. Her
parents had educated her with the one sole object of rendering her as
fascinating as possible. They wished to secure for her the position of a maid
of honor to the queen, hoping that by so doing she would attract the favor of
the king. Madame de Montespan heard of her. She plotted to bring this
young and extraordinary beauty to the court, that, by her personal charms,
she might outrival the mental and social attractions of Madame de
Maintenon. She described her intended protegé to the king in such
enthusiastic strains that his curiosity was roused. She was brought to court.
The monarch, satiated by indulgence, oppressed by ennui, ever seeking
some new excitement, was at once won by the charms of the beautiful Mary
Angelica. She became an acknowledged favorite. He lavished upon her
gifts of jewels and of gold, and dignified her with the title of the Duchesse
de Fontanges. The court blazed again with splendor to greet the new
favorite; and, let it not be forgotten, to meet this royal splendor, millions of
peasants were consigned to hovels, and life-long penury and want.
There was a constant succession of theatric shows,
Display of the
ballets, and concerts. Mary Angelica was a gay, Duchess de
frivolous, conceited, heartless girl, who recklessly Fontanges.
squandered the gold so profusely poured into her lap.
The insolent favorite even ventured to treat the queen with disdain,
assuming the priority. In the streets she made a truly regal display in a
gorgeous carriage drawn by eight cream-colored horses, while the
clustering ringlets, the floating plumes, and the truly radiant beauty of the
parvenue duchess attracted all eyes. If she had ever heard, she refused to
heed the warning voice of the prophet, saying, "Know thou that for all these
things God will bring thee into judgment."
The scheme of Madame de Montespan had succeeded
A quarrel.
far more fully than she had expected or desired. The Virtuous endeavors
absorption of the king in the new-comer was so entire of Madame de
that the discarded favorite was tortured with new pangs Maintenon.
of jealousy and remorse. Implacably she hated the
Duchess of Fontanges. With her sharp tongue she mercilessly cut the

luxurious beauty, who had intelligence enough to feel the sarcasms keenly,
but had no ability to retort. A disgraceful quarrel ensued, in which the most
vulgar epithets and the grossest witticisms were bandied between them. The
king himself at length found it necessary to interpose. He applied to
Madame de Maintenon for counsel and aid. She had quietly attended to her
duties, observing all that was passing, but taking no part in these shameful
intrigues. Conscious that any attempt to influence Madame de Montespan,
hardened as she was in her career, would be futile, she ventured to address
herself to the young and inexperienced Duchess de Fontanges. Gently she
endeavored to lead her to some conception of the enormity of the life she
was leading, and of the indecency of compromising the king and the court
by undignified brawls.
The vain and heartless beauty received her counsels with bitter derision and
passionate insult, and attributed every annoyance to which, as she averred,
she was continually subjected, to the jealous envy of those with whose
ambitious views she had interfered; more than hinting that Madame de
Maintenon herself was among the number. She was, however, only
answered by a placid smile, and instructed to remember that those who
sought to share her triumphs and her splendor must be content at the same
time to partake her sin. It was a price too heavy to pay even for the smiles
of a monarch. In vain did the flushed and furious beauty plead the example
of others, higher born and more noble than herself. The calm and unmoved
monitress instantly availed herself of this hollow argument to bid her, in her
turn, to set an example which the noblest and the best-born might be proud
to follow.
"And how can I do this?" was the sullen inquiry.
"By renouncing the society of the king," firmly replied Madame de
Maintenon. "Either you love him, or you love him not. If you love him, you
should make an effort to save both his honor and your own. If you do not
love him, it will cost you no effort to withdraw from the court. In either
case you will act wisely and nobly."
"Would not any one believe who heard you," passionately exclaimed the
duchess, "that it was as easy to leave a king as to throw off a glove?"[P]

This was the only reply. The mission of Madame de
Madame de
Maintenon had entirely failed. The proud, unblushing Maintenon's efforts
beauty, whose effrontery passed all bounds, was greatly unsuccessful.
enraged against Madame de Maintenon; and when she
perceived that the king was again beginning to take refuge in her virtuous
society and conversation, she vowed the most signal vengeance.
But the day of retribution soon came—far sooner than
Sickness and
could have been expected. The guilty and pampered distress of the
duchess was taken ill—hopelessly so, with a sickness Duchess de
that destroyed all her beauty. She became sallow, pallid, Fontanges.
gaunt, emaciate, haggard. The selfish, heartless king
wished to see her no more. He did not conceal his repugnance, and quite
forsook her. The humiliation, distress, and abandonment of the guilty
duchess was more than she could bear. She begged permission, either
sincerely or insincerely, to retire to the convent of Port Royal. Louis, whose
crime was far greater than that of his wrecked and ruined victim, was glad
to be rid of her. But she was too far gone, in her rapid illness, to be
removed. It was soon manifest that her life was drawing near to its close.
She begged to see the king once more before she died.
Louis XIV. dreaded every thing which could remind him
Death of the
of that tomb toward which all are hastening, and Duchess de
especially did he recoil from every death-bed scene. The Fontanges.
wretched man would not have listened to the plea of the
dying girl had not the remonstrances of his confessor constrained him.
Thus, reluctantly, he entered the dying chamber. He found Mary Angelica
faded, withered, and ghastly—all unlike the radiant beauty whom for a few
brief months he had almost worshiped. Egotist as he was, he could not
restrain his tears. Her glassy eyes were riveted upon his countenance. Her
clammy hand almost convulsively clasped his own. Her livid lips quivered
in their last effort as she besought him to pay her debts, and sometimes to
remember her. Louis promised all she asked. As she sank back upon her
pillow, she gasped out the declaration that she should die happy, as she saw
that the king could weep for her. Immediately after she fell into a swoon
and died.

The exultation of Madame de Montespan at her death
Madame de
was so indecent and undisguised as to excite the disgust Montespan rejoices.
of the king. Her very name became hateful to him.
Wicked man as he was, Louis XIV. believed in Christianity, and in its
revelations of responsibility at the bar of God. He was shocked, and
experienced much remorse in view of this death-bed without repentance. He
could not conceal from himself that he was in no inconsiderable degree
responsible for the guilt which burdened the soul of the departed. His
aversion to Madame de Montespan was increased by the report, then
generally circulated, that the duchess had died from poison, administered
through her agency. The poor victim of sin and shame was soon forgotten in
the grave. The court whirled on in its usual round of frivolous and guilty
pleasures, such as Babylon could scarcely have rivaled.
The supremacy of Madame de Maintenon over Louis
Supremacy of
XIV. was that of a strong mind over a feeble one. The Madame de
king had many very weak points in his character. He was Maintenon.
utterly selfish, and the slave of his vices. Madame de Père la Chaise.
Remorse of Louis.
Maintenon, with much address, strove to recall him to a
better life. In these efforts she was much aided by the king's confessor, Père
la Chaise. This truly good man reminded the king that he had already
passed the fortieth year of his age, that his youth had gone forever, that he
would soon enter upon the evening of his days, and that, as yet, he had done
nothing to secure his eternal salvation. He had already received many
warnings as he had followed one after another to the grave. The king was
naturally thoughtful, and perhaps even religiously inclined. Not a few
events had already occurred calculated to harrow his soul with remorse. He
had seen his mother die, one of the saddest of deaths. He had seen his sister
Henrietta, his brother's bride, whom he had loved with more than a brother's
love, writhing in death's agonies, the victim of poison. He had followed
several of his children to the grave. Madame de la Vallière, whom he had
loved as ardently as he was capable of loving any one, now a ruined, heart-
broken victim of his selfishness and sin, was consigned to living burial in
the glooms of the cloister. He could not banish from his mind the dreadful
scenes of the death of the Duchess of Fontanges.
Just at this time the dauphiness gave birth to a son. This
Degradation of the
advent of an heir to the throne caused universal rejoicing

throughout the court and the nation. It is melancholy to people.
reflect that the people, crushed and impoverished as they
were by the most atrocious despotism, were so unintelligent that they
regarded their oppressors with something of the idolatrous homage with
which the heathen bow before their hideous gods.
The king himself, at times, manifested a kind of tender
Birth of the Duke of
interest in the people, who were so mercilessly robbed to Burgoyne.
maintain the splendor of his court and the grandeur of
his armies. Upon the birth of the young prince, who received the title of the
Duke of Burgoyne, the populace of Paris crowded to Versailles with their
rude congratulations. Every avenue was thronged with the immense
multitude. They even flooded the palace and poured into the saloons. The
king, whose heart was softened by the birth of a grandson to whom the
crown might be transmitted, received all very graciously.
The birth of an heir to the crown added much to the
Louis taken ill.
personal importance of the dauphiness. But, neglected
by her husband and annoyed by the scenes transpiring around her, she was a
very unhappy woman. No efforts on the part of the court could draw her
from the silence and gloom of her retirement. Madame de Maintenon and
the king's confessor, Père la Chaise, were co-operating in the endeavor to
lure the king from his life of guilty indulgence into the paths of virtue.
Fortunately, at this time the monarch was attacked by severe and painful
illness. Death was to him truly the king of terrors. He was easily influenced
to withdraw from his criminal relations with one whom he had for some
time been regarding with repugnance. Madame de Maintenon was deputed
to inform Madame de Montespan of the king's determination never again to
regard her in any other light than that of a friend.
It was a very painful and embarrassing commission for
Dismissal of
Madame de Maintenon to fulfill. But the will of the king Madame de
was law. She discharged the duty with great delicacy and Montespan.
kindness. Deeply mortified as was the discarded
favorite, she was not entirely unprepared for the announcement. She had for
some time been painfully aware of her waning influence, and had been
preparing for herself a retreat where she could still enjoy opulence, rank,
and power.

In pursuit of this object, she had determined to erect and
Resolves to build a
endow a convent. The sisterhood, appointed by her and convent.
entirely dependent upon her liberality, would treat her Her great wealth.
with the deference due to a queen. The king had lavished
such enormous sums upon her that she had large wealth at her disposal. She
had already selected a spot for the convent in the Faubourg St. Germain,
and had commenced rearing the edifice. It so happened that the corner-stone
was laid at the very moment in which the unhappy Duchess de Fontanges
was breathing her last. Madame de Montespan had no idea of taking the
veil herself. The glooms of the cloister had for her no attractions. Her only
object was to rear a miniature kingdom, where she, having lost the potent
charms of youth and beauty, could still enjoy an undisputed reign.
The marchioness already owned a dwelling, luxuriously furnished, which
the king had presented her, in the Rue St. Andre des Arcs. Her wealth was
so great that, in addition to the convent, she also planned erecting for
herself a magnificent hotel, in imitation of the palace of the Tuileries. The
estimated expense was equal to the sum of one million five hundred
thousand dollars at the present day.
The workmen upon the convent were urged to the most
The convent of St.
energetic labor, and the building was soon completed. Joseph completed.
The marchioness gave it the name of St. Joseph. One
room was sumptuously furnished for her private accommodation. She
appointed the abbess. The great bell of the convent was to ring twenty
minutes whenever she visited the sisterhood. As the founder of the
community, she was to receive the honors of the incense at high mass and
vespers. The marchioness richly enjoyed this adulation, and was a frequent
visitor at the convent.
The king, having recovered from his illness, decided
The king recovers,
upon a journey to Flanders. Oppressed with ennui, he and goes to
sought amusement for himself and his court. He wished Flanders.
also to impress his neighbors by an exhibition of his
splendor and power. The queen, with the dauphin and dauphiness, attended
by their several suites, accompanied him on this expedition. Madame de
Montespan was excessively chagrined in finding her name omitted in the

list of those who were to make up the party. But the name of Madame de
Maintenon headed the list of the attendants of the princess.
The gorgeous procession, charioted in the highest
Return to Versailles.
appliances of regal splendor, swept along through cities
and villages, every where received with triumphal arches, the ringing of
bells, the explosions of artillery, and the blaze of illuminations till the sea-
port of Dunkirk was reached. Here there was a sham-fight between two
frigates. It was a serene and lovely day. The members of the royal suite,
from the deck of a bark sumptuously prepared for their accommodation,
witnessed with much delight the novel spectacle. At the close, the king
repaired to one of the men-of-war, upon whose deck a lofty throne was
erected, draped with a costly awning. Here the splendor-loving monarch,
surrounded by that ceremonial and pageantry which were so dear to him,
received the congratulations of the dignitaries of his own and other lands
upon his recent recovery from illness. At the end of a month the party
returned to Versailles.
Devoted as Louis XIV. was to his own selfish
Political ambition
gratification, he was fully aware of the dependence of of Louis XIV.
that gratification upon the aggrandizement of the realm,
which he regarded as his private property. Upon this tour of pleasure he
invested the city of Luxembourg with an army of thirty thousand men, and
took it after a siege of eight days. He then overrun the Electorate of Treves,
demolished all its fine fortifications, and by the energies of pillage, fire, and
ruin, rendered it impossible for the territory hereafter to render any
opposition to his arms. The destructive genius of Louvois had suggested
that these unnecessary spoliations would tend to increase the authority of
his royal master by inspiring a greater terror of his power.
Soon after this, the queen, Maria Theresa, was suddenly
Sickness and death
taken sick. Her indisposition, at first slight, rapidly of the queen, Maria
increased in severity, and an abscess developed itself Theresa.
under her arm. The pain became excruciating. Her
physician opened a vein and administered an emetic at 11 o'clock in the
morning. It was a fatal prescription. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon she died.
As this unhappy queen, so gentle, so loving, so forgiving, was sinking away
in death, she still, with woman's deathless love, cherished tenderly in her

heart the memory of the king. Just as she was breathing her last, she drew
from her finger a superb ring, which she presented to Madame de
Maintenon saying,
"Adieu, my very dear marchioness. To you I confide the happiness of the
king."
Maria Theresa was one of the most lovely of women. Her conduct was ever
irreproachable. Amiable, unselfish, warm-hearted, from the time of her
marriage she devoted herself to the promotion of the happiness of her
husband. His neglect and unfaithfulness caused her, in secret, to shed many
tears. Naturally diffident, and rendered timid by his undisguised
indifference, she trembled whenever the king approached her. A casual
smile from him filled her with delight. The king could not be insensible to
her many virtues. Perhaps remorse was mingled with the emotions which
compelled him to weep bitterly over her death. As he gazed upon her
lifeless remains, he exclaimed,
"Kind and forbearing friend, this is the first sorrow that
Tribute to her
you have caused me throughout twenty years." worth.

PALACE OF VERSAILLES.

The royal corpse lay in state at Versailles for ten days.
During this time perpetual masses were performed for Masses.
the soul of the departed from 7 o'clock in the morning Versailles.
until dark. The king had reared the gorgeous palace of
Versailles that he might not be annoyed, in his Babylonian revelry, by the
sight of the towers of St. Denis. But God did not allow the guilty monarch
to forget that kings as well as peasants were doomed to die. The king was
compelled to accompany the remains of Maria Theresa from the sumptuous
palace, where she had found so splendid and so unhappy a home, to the
gloomy vaults of the abbey, where, in darkness and silence, those remains
were to moulder to dust.
The queen was forgotten even before she was buried.
Heartlessness of the
The gay courtiers, anxious to banish as speedily as king and of the
possible from their minds all thoughts of death and courtiers.
judgment, sought, in songs, and mirth, and wine, to bury
even the grave in oblivion. The funeral car was decorated with the most
imposing emblems of mourning. A numerous train of carriages followed,
filled with the great officers of the crown and with the ladies of the royal
household. The procession was escorted by a brilliant and numerous body
of mounted troops.
"But nothing could exceed the indecency with which the journey was
performed. From all the carriages issued the sounds of heartless jest and
still more heartless laughter. The troops had no sooner reached the plain of
St. Denis than they dispersed in every direction, some galloping right and
left, and others firing at the birds that were flying over their heads."[Q]
The king, on the day of the funeral, in the insane
Accident.
endeavor to obliterate from his mind thoughts of death
and burial, ordered out the hounds and plunged into the excitement of the
chase. His horse pitched the monarch over his head into a ditch of stagnant
water, dislocating one of his shoulders.
About this time, Jean Baptiste Colbert, the king's
Death of the
minister of finance, and probably the most extraordinary minister of finance.
man of the age, died, worn out with toil, anxiety, and
grief. Few men have ever passed through this world leaving behind them

such solid results of their labors. As minister of finance, he furnished the
king with all the money he needed for his expensive wars and luxurious
indulgence. As superintendent of buildings, arts, and manufactures, he
enlarged the Tuileries, completed the gorgeous palace of Versailles, reared
the magnificent edifices of the Invalides, Vincennes, and Marly, and
founded the Gobelins. These and many other works of a similar nature he
performed, though constantly struggling against the jealousy and intrigues
of powerful opponents.
The king seldom, if ever, manifested any gratitude to
Ingratitude.
those who served him. Colbert, in the 64th year of his Remarkable
age, exhausted by incessant labor, and harassed by condescension on
innumerable annoyances, was on a dying bed. Sad the part of Louis.
reflections seemed to overwhelm him. Not a gleam of
joy lighted up his fading eye. The heavy taxes he had imposed upon the
people rendered him unpopular. He could not be insensible to imprecations
which threatened to break up his funeral and to drag his remains
ignominiously through the streets. The king condescended, as his only act
of courtesy, to send a messenger to ask tidings of the condition of his
minister. As the messenger approached the bed, the dying sufferer turned
away his face, saying,
"I will not hear that man spoken of again. If I had done for God what I have
done for him, I should have been saved ten times over. Now I know not
what may be my fate."
The day after his death, without any marks of honor, his remains were
conveyed, in an ordinary hearse, to the church of St. Eustache. A few of the
police alone followed the coffin.

Genoa had offended the king by selling powder to the
Genoa assailed.
Algerines, and some ships to Spain. Louis seized, by Capture.
secret warrant, lettre de cachet, the Genoese The Doge humbled.
embassador, and plunged him into one of the dungeons
of the Bastile. He then sent a fleet of over fifty vessels of war to chastise,
with terrible severity, those who had offended him. The ships sailed from
Toulon on the 6th of May, 1684, and entered the harbor of Genoa on the
19th. Immediately there was opened upon the city a terrific fire. In a few
hours fourteen thousand bombs were hurled into its dwellings and its
streets. A large portion of those marble edifices, which had given the city
the name of Genoa the Superb, were crumbled to powder. Fourteen
thousand soldiers were then disembarked. They advanced through the
suburbs, burning the buildings before them. The whole city was threatened
with total destruction. The authorities, in terror, sent to the conqueror
imploring his clemency. The haughty King of France demanded that the
Doge of Genoa, with four of his principal ministers, should repair to the
palace of Versailles and humbly implore his pardon. The doge, utterly
powerless, was compelled to submit to the humiliating terms.

Chapter IX.

The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
1680-1686

I t is the undisputed testimony of all the contemporaries
of Madame de Maintenon that she possessed a Madame de
Character of

character of rare excellence. Her personal attractions, Maintenon.
sound judgment, instinctive delicacy of perception, and
conversational brilliance, gave her a certain supremacy wherever she
appeared. The fidelity with which she fulfilled her duties, her high religious
principles, and the bold, yet tender remonstrances with which she
endeavored to reclaim the king from his unworthy life, excited first his
astonishment, and then his profound admiration.
Every day the king, at three o'clock, proceeded to the apartments of
Madame de Maintenon, and, taking a seat in an arm-chair, sat in a reclining
posture, sometimes silently watching the progress of her tapestry-work, and
again engaged in quiet conversation. Occasionally some of Racine's
tragedies were read. The king took a listless pleasure in drawing out
Madame de Maintenon to remark upon the merits or defects of the
production.
"In truth, a weariness of existence was rapidly growing upon Louis XIV. He
had outlived his loves, his griefs, and almost his ambition. All he wanted
was repose. And this he found in the society of an accomplished, judicious,
and unassuming woman, who, although he occasionally transacted business
in her presence with Louvois, never presumed to proffer an opinion save
when he appealed to her judgment, and even then tendered it with
reluctance and reserve."[R]
Upon the death of the queen the dauphiness was raised
Depression of the
to the first rank at court. Still she was gloomy and dauphiness.
reserved. No allurements could draw her from her Père la Chaise.
retirement. Madame de Maintenon was a very decided The Edict of
Nantes.
Roman Catholic, and was very much influenced by the

king's confessor, Père la Chaise, who seems to have been a man of integrity
and of conscientiousness, though fanatically devoted to what he deemed to
be the interests of the Church. In former reigns the Protestants had endured
from the Catholics the most dreadful persecutions. After scenes of woe, the
recital of which causes the blood to curdle in one's veins, Henry IV., the
grandfather of Louis XIV., feeling the need of the support of the Protestants
to protect the kingdom from the perils by which it was surrounded, and
having himself been educated a Protestant, granted the Protestants the
world-renowned Edict of Nantes.
By this edict, which took its name from the place in which it was published,
and which was issued in April, 1598, certain privileges were granted to the
Protestants, which, in that dark age, were regarded as extraordinarily
liberal.
Protestants were allowed liberty of conscience; that is, they were not to be
punished for their religious faith. In certain designated places they were
permitted to hold public worship. The highest lords of the Protestant faith
could celebrate divine service in their castles. Nobles of the second rank
could have private worship, provided but thirty persons attended.
Protestants were declared to be eligible to offices of state, their children
were to be admitted to the public schools, their sick to the hospitals, and
their poor to the public charities. In certain places they could publish books;
they were allowed four academies for scientific and theological instruction,
and were permitted to convoke synods for Church discipline.
The Catholic clergy were very indignant in view of these
The Catholic clergy
concessions. Pope Clement VIII. declared that the indignant.
ordinance which permitted liberty of conscience to every
one was the most execrable which was ever made.[S]
There were then seven hundred and sixty churches in
Ravaillac.
France of the Protestant communion. No such church
was allowed in Paris. Protestants from the city, rich and poor, were
compelled to repair, for public worship, to the little village of Ablon, fifteen
miles from the city. The Edict of Nantes probably cost Henry IV. his life.
The assassin Ravaillac, who plunged his dagger twice into the bosom of the
king, said, in his examination,

"I killed the king because, in making war upon the pope, he made war upon
God, since the pope is God."
The Protestants were thrown into the utmost
Confirmation of the
consternation by the death of Henry IV. They Edict of Nantes.
apprehended the immediate repeal of the edict, and a
renewal of the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day. But the regent, Mary de
Medici, and the court immediately issued a decree confirming the
ordinance. Louis XIII. was then a child but eight and a half years of age. As
he came into power, he was urged by the Jesuits to exterminate the
Protestants. But they were too powerful to be wantonly assailed. They held
two hundred fortified places. Many of the highest lords were among their
leaders. Their soldiers were renowned for valor, and their churches
numbered four hundred thousand men capable of bearing arms. It was not
deemed safe to rouse such a people to the energies of despair. Still, during
the reign of Louis XIII., there were many bloody conflicts between the
royal troops and the Protestants.
In this religious war, the Protestants, or Huguenots, as
La Rochelle.
they were then called, defended themselves so valiantly, Sufferings of the
that the king felt constrained, in October, 1622, to Huguenots.
relinquish his attempt to subjugate the Protestants by
force of arms, and to confirm the Edict of Nantes. The sword was scarcely
sheathed ere it was drawn again. All over France the Catholics and
Protestants faced each other upon fields of blood. The battle raged for seven
years with every conceivable concomitant of cruelty and horror. The eyes of
all Europe were directed to the siege of La Rochelle, in 1627, where the
Huguenots made their most decisive stand. All that human nature could
suffer was endured. When two thirds of the population of the city had
perished, and the streets and dwellings were encumbered with the unburied
dead, and the remaining soldiers, reduced to skeletons, could no longer lift
their weapons, the city surrendered on the 28th of October, 1628.
By this war and the fall of La Rochelle, the Protestants were hopelessly
weakened. Though they were deprived of many of their privileges, and
were greatly diminished in numbers and influence, still the general
provisions of the Edict of Nantes were not repealed.

In the year 1662, Louis XIV., then upon the throne, in recognition of some
support which he had received from the Protestants, issued a decree in
which he said,
"Inasmuch as our subjects of the pretended Reformed
Policy of Louis.
religion have given us proofs of their affection and
fidelity, be it known that, for these reasons, they shall be supported and
guarded, as in fact we do support and guard them, in the full enjoyment of
the Edict of Nantes."
The king had even appointed, the year before, two commissaries, the one a
Catholic, the other a Protestant, to visit every province, and see that the
requisitions of the Edict of Nantes were faithfully observed. This seemed
very fair. But, in appointing these commissioners, a Catholic was always
appointed who was a high dignitary of the state, a man of wealth and rank,
distinguished for his devotion to the interests of the Catholic Church. On
the other hand, the Protestant was always some poor country gentleman,
timid and irresolute, and often one who had been secretly sold to the court
to betray his duties.
The Protestants had hoped much from the influence of
Influence of
Madame de Maintenon over the king, as she was the Madame de
granddaughter of Agrippa d'Aubigné, one of the most Maintenon.
illustrious defenders of the Calvinistic faith, and as she
herself had been a Protestant until she had attained the age of sixteen years.
But the king was fanatically Catholic, hoping, in some
Religious zeal of
measure, to atone for his sins by his supreme devotion to the king.
the interests of the Church. Madame de Maintenon
found it necessary, in promotion of her ambitious plans, to do all in her
power to conceal her Protestant origin. She was fully aware of the king's
great dislike to the Protestants, and of the necessity of cordially co-
operating with him in these views. Still she could not refrain from
manifesting some compassion at times for the sufferings of the friends of
her earlier years.
Louis XIV., while assuring the Protestant powers of
False-hearted.
Europe that he would continue to respect the Edict of
Nantes, commenced issuing a series of ordinances in direct opposition to

that contract. First he excluded Protestants from all public offices whatever.
A Protestant could not be employed as a physician, lawyer, apothecary,
bookseller, printer, or even as a nurse. This decree was issued in 1680. In
some portions of the kingdom the Protestants composed nearly the entire
population. Here it was impossible to enforce the atrocious decree. In other
places it led to riots and bloodshed.
This ordinance was followed by one forbidding
Persecution of the
marriages between Catholics and Protestants. Catholic Protestants.
servants were forbidden to serve in Protestant families,
and Protestant servants could not be employed by Catholics.
Rapidly blow followed blow. On the 17th of June, 1680, the king issued the
following ordinance: "We wish that our subjects of the pretended Reformed
religion, both male and female, having attained the age of seven years, may,
and it is hereby made lawful for them to embrace the Catholic Apostolic
and Roman religion, and that to this effect they be allowed to abjure the
pretended Reformed religion, without their fathers and mothers and other
kinsmen being allowed to offer them the least hinderance, under any pretext
whatever."
The effect of this law was terrible. Any malignant
Severe measures to
person, even a servant, could go into a court of justice force proselytism.
and testify that a certain child had made the sign of the
cross, or kissed an image of the Virgin, or had expressed a desire to enter
the Catholic Church, and that child was immediately taken from its parents,
shut up in a convent, and the parents were compelled to pay the expenses of
its education. Even Madame de Maintenon availed herself of this law in
wresting from her relative, the Marquis de Vilette, his children.
A decree was then issued that all Protestants who should become Catholics
might defer the payment of their debts for three years, and for two years be
exempt from taxation, and from the burden of having soldiers quartered
upon them. To save the treasury from loss, a double burden of taxation and
a double quartering of soldiers was imposed upon those Protestants who
refused to abjure their faith.
If any Protestant was sick, officers were appointed whose duty it was to
visit the sick-bed, and strive to convert the sufferer to the Catholic faith.

Any physician who should neglect to give notice of such sickness was
punished by a severe fine. The pastors were forbidden to make any
allusions whatever in their sermons to these decrees of the court. Following
this decree came the announcement that if any convert from Catholicism
should be received into a Protestant Church, his property should be
confiscated, he should be banished, and the privilege of public worship
should no longer be enjoyed by that Church. Under this law several church
edifices were utterly demolished.
One of the severest measures adopted against the Protestants was quartering
brutal and ferocious soldiers in their families. In March, 1681, Louvois
wrote to the governor of Poitou that he intended to send a regiment of
cavalry into that province.
"His majesty," he said, "has learned with much satisfaction the great
number of persons who are becoming converts in your province. He desires
that you continue to give great care to this matter. He thinks it best that the
chief part of the cavalry and officers should be lodged in the houses of the
Protestants. If, after a just distribution, the Calvinists would have to provide
for ten soldiers, you can make them take twenty."
The governor, Marillac, lodged from four to ten
The dragonnades.
dragoons in the house of every Protestant. The soldiers Moral suasion of
were directed not to kill the people with whom they the dragoons.
lodged, but to do every thing in their power to constrain
them to abjure Protestantism. Thus originated that system of dragonnades
which has left an indelible stain upon the character of Louis XIV., and the
recital of which has inspired every reader with horror.
"The cavalry attached crosses to the muzzles of their
Brutality of the
muskets to force the Protestants to kiss them. When any soldiery.
one resisted, they thrust these crosses against the face
and breasts of the unfortunate people. They spared children no more than
persons advanced in years. Without compassion for their age, they fell upon
them with blows, and beat them with the flat side of their swords and the
butt of their muskets. They did this so cruelly that some were crippled for
life."[T]

It does not reflect credit upon Madame de Maintenon that she was eager to
enrich her friends from the spoils of these persecuted Christians. Her
brother was to receive a present of one hundred and eight thousand francs
($21,600). This sum was then three or four times as much as the same
amount of money now.
A law was now passed prohibiting the Protestants from
Enactments of
leaving the kingdom, and condemning to perpetual intolerance.
imprisonment in the galleys all who should attempt to
escape. France was ransacked to find every book written in support of
Protestantism, that it might be burned. A representation having been made
to the king of the sufferings of more than two millions of Protestant
Frenchmen, he sternly replied,
"To bring back all my subjects to Catholic unity, I would
Zeal of the king.
readily, with one hand, cut off the other."
In some places the Protestants were goaded to an appeal to arms. With the
most merciless butchery they were cut down, their houses razed, while
some were put to death by lingering torture. In September, 1685, Louvois
wrote,
"Sixty thousand conversions have taken place in the district of Bordeaux,
and twenty thousand in that of Montauban. The rapidity with which they go
on is such that, before the end of the month, there will not remain ten
thousand Protestants in all the district of Bordeaux, where there were one
hundred and fifty thousand the 15th of last month."
The Duke of Noailles wrote to Louvois, "The number of Protestants in the
district of Nismes is about one hundred and forty thousand. I believe that at
the end of the month there will be none left."
On the 18th of October, 1685, the king, acceding to the
The revocation of
wishes of his confessor and other high dignitaries of the the Edict of Nantes.
Church, signed the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
In the preamble to this fatal act, it was stated,
"We see now, with the just acknowledgment we owe to God, that our
measures have secured the end which we ourselves proposed, since the

better and greater part of our subjects of the pretended Reformed religion
have embraced the Catholic faith, and the maintenance of the Edict of
Nantes remains therefore superfluous."
In this act of revocation it was declared that the exercise
Severe enactments
of the Protestant worship should nowhere be tolerated in against the
the realm of France. All Protestant pastors were ordered Protestants.
to leave the kingdom within fifteen days, under pain of
being sent to the galleys. Those Protestant ministers who would abjure their
faith and return to Catholicism were promised a salary one third more than
they had previously enjoyed. Parents were forbidden to instruct their
children in the Protestant religion. Every child in the kingdom was to be
baptized and educated by a Catholic priest. All Protestants who had left
France were ordered to return within four months, under penalty of the
confiscation of their possessions. Any Protestant layman, man or woman,
who should attempt to emigrate, incurred the penalty of imprisonment for
life.
This infamous ordinance caused an amount of misery
Flight of the
which can never be gauged, and inflicted upon the Protestants.
prosperity of France the most terrible blow it had ever
received. Hundreds of thousands persevered in their faith, notwithstanding
all the menaces of poverty, of the dungeon, and of utter temporal ruin. Only
one year after the revocation, Marshal Vauban wrote,
"France has lost one hundred thousand inhabitants, sixty
Numbers of the
millions of coined money, nine thousand sailors, twelve emigrants.
thousand disciplined soldiers, six hundred officers, and
her most nourishing manufactures."
From this hour the fortunes of Louis XIV. began manifestly to decline. The
Protestant population of France at that time was between two and three
millions. The edict of revocation was enforced with the utmost severity.
Many noble-hearted Catholics sympathized with the Protestants in their
dreadful sufferings, and aided them to escape. The tide of emigration
flowed steadily from all the provinces. The arrival of the pastors and their
flocks upon foreign soil created an indescribable sensation. From all the
courts in Protestant Christendom a cry of indignation rose against such

cruelty. Though royal guards were posted at the gates of the towns, on the
bridges, at the fords of the rivers, and upon all the by-ways which led to the
frontiers, and though many thousands were arrested, still many thousands
escaped. Some heroic bands fought their way to the frontiers with drawn
swords. Some obtained passports from kind-hearted Catholic governors.
Some bribed their guards. Some traveled by night, from cavern to cavern, in
the garb of merchants, pilgrims, venders of rosaries and chaplets, servants,
mendicants.
Thousands perished of cold, hunger, and exhaustion.
Scenes of suffering.
Thousands were shot by the soldiers. Thousands were
seized and condemned to the dungeon or the galleys. The galleys of
Marseilles were crowded with these victims of fanatical despotism. Among
them were many of the most illustrious men in France, magistrates, nobles,
scholars of the highest name and note.
The agitation and emigration were so immense that
Louis alarmed.
Louis XIV. became alarmed. Protestant England,
Switzerland, Holland, Prussia, Denmark, Sweden, hospitably received the
sufferers and contributed generously to the supply of their wants. "Charity,"
it is said, "draws from an exhaustless fountain. The more it gives the more it
has to give."
It is now not possible to estimate the precise number
Historical accounts
who emigrated. Voltaire says that nearly fifty thousand of the emigration.
families left the kingdom, and that they were followed
by a great many others. One of the Protestant pastors, Antoine Court, placed
the number as high as eight hundred thousand. A Catholic writer, inimical to
the Protestants, after carefully consulting the records, states the emigration
at two hundred and thirty thousand souls. Of these, 1580 were pastors, 2300
elders, and 15,000 nobles. It is also equally difficult to estimate the numbers
who perished in the attempt to escape. M. de Sismondi thinks that as many
died as emigrated. He places the number at between three and four hundred
thousand.
As we have mentioned, the Protestants were compelled
Multiplied outrages.
to place their children in Catholic schools, to be taught
the Catechism by the priests. A new ordinance was soon issued, which

required that the children, between five and sixteen, of all suspected of
Protestantism, should be taken from their parents and placed in Catholic
families. A general search was made throughout the kingdom for all books
which could be deemed favorable to the Protestant faith. These were
destroyed to the last copy. Thus perished many very valuable works. "The
Bible itself, the Bible above all, was confiscated and burned with
persevering animosity."[U]
But there is no power of persecution which can utterly
Reactions.
crush out two or three millions of people. There were Secret assemblies.
occasional reactions. Louis XIV. himself became, at
times, appalled by the atrocities his dragoons were perpetrating, and he
commanded more moderation. In some of the provinces where the
Protestants had been greatly in the majority, the king found it very difficult
to enforce his despotic and sanguinary code. The persecuted people who
could not fly from the kingdom, some having given a compulsory and
nominal assent to Catholicism, held secret assemblies in forests, on
mountain summits, and in wild ravines. Some of the pastors ventured to
return to France, and to assist in these scenes of perilous worship.
"On hearing this, the king, his ministers, and the Jesuits
Rage of the Jesuits.
were transported with uncontrollable rage. Sentence of New measures of
death was pronounced in the month of July, 1686, the court.
against the pastors who had returned to France. Those
who lent them an asylum, or any assistance whatever, were condemned to
the galleys for life. A reward of five thousand five hundred livres was
promised to any one who seized or secured the seizure of a minister. The
sentence of death was pronounced against all who should be taken in any of
these religious assemblies."[V]
Soldiers were sent in all directions to hunt the Protestants. "It was," writes
Voltaire, "a chase in a grand cover." If the voice of prayer or of a psalm
were heard in any wild retreat, the soldiers opened fire upon the assembly
of men, women, and children, and hewed them down without mercy with
their blood-stained swords. In several of these encounters, three or four
hundred men, women, and young children were left dead and unburied
upon the spot.

If any sick persons, apparently near death, refused to receive the sacraments
of the Catholic Church from the hands of a Catholic priest, should they
recover, they were punished with confiscation of property and consignment
to the galleys for life. If they did not recover, their bodies were refused
respectful burial, and were dragged on a hurdle and thrown into a ditch, to
be devoured by carrion crows.
Many honorable Catholics cried out with horror against
Remonstrances of
these enormities. All humane hearts revolted against honorable
such cruelty. The voice of indignant remonstrance rose Catholics.
from every Protestant nation. The French court became
embarrassed. Two millions of people could not be put to death. The prisons
were filled to suffocation. The galleys were crowded, and could receive no
more. Many were transported to America.
The Jansenists remonstrated. The good Catholic bishops of Grenoble and
St. Poins boldly addressed the curates of their dioceses, directing them not
to force communion upon the Protestants, and forbidding all violence.
Many pious curates refused to act the part of accusers, or to torment the
dying with their importunities. But the Jesuits and the great mass of the
clergy urged on the persecution.
Madame de Maintenon became greatly troubled by these
Intrigues of the
atrocities, against which she did not dare to remonstrate. king.
Louis XIV. was somewhat alarmed by the outcry which
these measures aroused from Protestant Europe, but his pride revolted
against making the admission, before his subjects and foreign courts, that he
could have been guilty of a mistake. He could not endure the thought of
humbling himself by a retraction, thus confessing that he had failed in an
enterprise upon which he had entered with such determination. Thus
influenced, the king, on the 13th of April, 1662, issued a decree solemnly
confirming the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. "Not one law of torture
and blood was abolished."
The king, meanwhile, urged by his growing passion for
Madame de
Madame de Maintenon, determined to remove from Montespan to be
court Madame de Montespan, whom he had come to removed.
thoroughly dislike. But he had not the courage to

announce his determination in person. He therefore commissioned Madame
de Maintenon to make the painful communication. She, shrinking from so
unwelcome a task, persuaded the Marquis de Vivonne, brother of the
marchioness, to break the tidings to his sister. He invited her to take a ride
with him in his carriage, gradually introduced the subject, and at last plainly
informed her that she must either, of her own accord, immediately and
forever retire from Versailles, or submit to the indignity of being arrested by
the police and removed by them.
Madame de Montespan was in a fearful rage. Though
Banishment of
fully aware of her waning power over the king, the Madame de
menace of arrest and banishment was an indignity the Montespan.
thought of which had never entered her mind. But the
calm firmness of her brother soon convinced her of the impotence of all
exhibitions of indignation. The splendor-loving marchioness was, as we
have mentioned already, wealthy. She was, however, informed that the king
had decided to settle upon her an annual pension of six hundred thousand
livres. When we consider the comparative value of money then and now, it
is estimated that this amount was equivalent to about four hundred and
eighty thousand dollars at the present day.
"Madame de Montespan," writes Miss Pardoe, "buried her face in her
hands, and remained for a considerable time lost in thought. When, at
length, she looked up, her lips were pale and her voice trembled. She had
not shed a tear, but her breast heaved, and she had evidently come to a
decision. Folding her shawl about her, she requested the marquis
immediately to drive her to Versailles, it being necessary, as she asserted,
that she should collect her money, her jewels, and her papers, after which
she declared that she was ready, for the sake of her family, to follow his
advice."

Parterre of
Versailles.

PARTERRE OF VERSAILLES.
They returned to the palace. Madame de Maintenon A successful
hastened to her apartments. The Marquis de Vivonne mission.
informed her of the success of his mission, and she
communicated the intelligence to the king.
The marchioness had been in her apartments but about twenty minutes,
when, to her surprise, the door opened, and the king entered unannounced.
The marchioness, with her own graphic pen, has given an account of the
singular and characteristic interview which ensued.
The king came forward smiling very complacently at the
Egotism and
thought that with so little embarrassment he was to get heartlessness of the
rid of a companion whose presence had become an king.
annoyance to him—that he could discard her as easily as
he could lay aside a pair of soiled gloves. He congratulated the marchioness
upon the great good sense she had shown in thus readily sundering ties
which, after existing for eighteen years, had become embarrassing. He
spoke of their children as his property, and assured her that he should do all
in his power to promote their welfare; that he had already, by act of
Parliament, conferred upon them statute legitimacy, and had thus effaced
the dishonor of their birth. He apologized for not having her name

mentioned in Parliament as their mother, this being impracticable, since she
was the wife of another man.
With smiling complacency, as if he were communicating
Singular interview.
very gratifying intelligence, he informed this crushed
and discarded mother that, since her children were now princes, they would,
of course, reside at court, and that she, their dishonored mother, might
occasionally be permitted to visit them—that he would issue an order to
that effect. And, finally, he coolly advised her to write to her husband,
whom she had abandoned eighteen years ago, soliciting a renewal of their
relationship, with the assurance that it was her intention to return to the
paths of virtue.
Almost gasping with indignation, the haughty marchioness succeeded in
restraining herself until the king had finished his harangue. She then burst
forth in a reply which astonished and even alarmed the king.
"I am amazed," said she, "at the indifference with which a monarch, who
boasts of his magnanimity, can throw from him a woman who has sacrificed
every thing to his pleasure. For two years your majesty, in devotion to
others, has been estranged from me, and yet never have I publicly offered
one word of expostulation. Why is it, then, that I am now, after silently
submitting for two years to this estrangement, to be ignominiously banished
from the court? Still, my position here has become so hateful, through the
perfidy and treachery of those by whom I am compelled to associate, that I
will willingly consent never again to approach the person of the king upon
condition that the odious woman who has supplanted me[W] shall also be
exiled."
The proud monarch was enraged. Pale with anger, he
The king defends
replied, "The kings of Europe have never yet ventured to Madame de
dictate laws in my palace, nor shall you, madame, Maintenon's
subject me to yours. The lady whom I have too long character.
suffered you to offend is as nobly born as yourself. If
you were instrumental in opening the gates of the palace to her, you thus
introduced there gentleness, talent, and virtue. This lady, whom you have
upon every occasion slandered, has lost no opportunity to excuse and justify
you. She will remain near the court which her fathers defended, and which

her wise councils now strengthen. In seeking to remove you from the court,
where your presence and pretensions have long since been misplaced, I
wished to spare you the evidence of an event calculated to irritate your
already exasperated nature. But stay you here, madame," he added,
sarcastically, "stay you here, since you love great catastrophes and are
amused by them. Day after to-morrow you will be more than ever a
supernumerary in the palace."
This heartless announcement, that Madame de Maintenon was to take the
place of Madame de Montespan in the affections of the king, and probably
as his wedded wife, pierced, as with a dagger's point, the heart of the
discarded favorite. She fell senseless to the floor. The king, without the
slightest exhibition of sympathy, looked on impatiently, while her women,
who were immediately summoned, endeavored to restore consciousness. As
the unhappy marchioness revived, the first words which fell upon her ears
were from the king, as he said,
"All this wearies me beyond endurance. She must leave the palace this very
day."
In a frenzy of rage and despair, the marchioness seized a
Scene of frenzy and
dessert-knife which chanced to lay upon the table, and, despair.
springing from the arms of her attendants, rushed upon
her youngest child, the little Count de Toulouse, whom the king held by the
hand, and from whom she was to be cruelly severed, and endeavored to
plunge the knife into his bosom, exclaiming,
"Yes, I will leave this palace, but first—"
At that moment, before the sentence was finished, the
Madame de
door opened, and Madame de Maintenon, who had Maintenon and
probably anticipated some tragic scene, sprang upon the Madame de
wretched woman, seizing the knife with one hand, and Montespan.
with the other thrusting the child away. The maniacal
marchioness was seized by her attendants. The king tottered to the chimney-
piece, buried his face in his hands, and, from a complicity of emotions not
easily disentangled, wept convulsively.

Madame de Maintenon's hand was cut by the knife. As she was binding up
the bleeding wound with her handkerchief, the half-delirious marchioness
said to her, referring to the fact that the king had at first been unwilling to
receive her as the guardian of the children,
"Ah! madame, had I believed what the king told me fourteen years ago, my
life would not have been in your power to-day."
Madame de Maintenon, her eyes suffused with tears, looked sadly upon her,
then taking her hand, pressed it feelingly, and, without uttering a word, left
the apartment. The king followed her. The heart-broken marchioness, in
most imploring tones, entreated the king not thus to leave her. He paid no
heed to her supplications. The agitation of this scene threw Madame de
Montespan into such a burning fever that for several days she could not be
removed from her bed of pain and woe.

Chapter X.

The Secret Marriage.
1685-1689

T he king exerted all his powers of persuasion to
induce Madame de Maintenon to enter into the same
Temptation resisted.

relations with him which Madame de Montespan had occupied. At last she
declared, in reply to some passionate reproaches on his part, that she should
be under the necessity of withdrawing from the court and retiring to the
cloister, rather than continue to expose herself to a temptation which was
destroying her peace of mind and undermining her health. Under these
circumstances the king had been led to think of a private marriage. At first
his pride revolted from the thought. But in no other way could he secure
Madame de Maintenon.
Rumors of the approaching marriage were circulated
Rumors of
through the court. The dauphin expostulated with his marriage.
father most earnestly against it, and succeeded in
inducing the king to consult the Abbé Fenelon and Louvois. They both
protested against the measure as compromising the dignity of the monarch
and the interests of the nation. Bossuet, however, urged the marriage.
Boldly he warned the king against entering again into such connections as
those which had hitherto sullied his life, wounded his reputation, and
endangered his eternal welfare.
Pure as Madame de Maintenon was, the devotion of the
Preparations for the
king to her was so marked that her reputation began to marriage.
suffer. She felt the unjust imputations cast upon her very The archbishop
keenly. The king at last resolved that it should be so no summoned.
longer. Having come to a decision, he acted very
promptly. It was a cold night in January, 1686. A smothering snow-storm
swept the streets of Paris. At half past ten o'clock a court messenger entered
the archiepiscopal palace with a sealed packet, requesting the archbishop to
repair immediately to Versailles to perform the marriage ceremony. The
great clock of the Cathedral was tolling the hour of eleven as the prelate

entered his carriage in the darkness and the storm. At half past twelve he
reached the gate of the chateau. Here Bontems, the first valet de chambre of
the king, conducted the archbishop to the private closet of his majesty.
Madame de Maintenon was there in full dress. Louis XIV. stood by her side.
In the same apartment were the Marquis de Montechevreuil and the king's
confessor, Père la Chaise.
Miss Pardoe thus describes the scene that ensued:
"As the eye of the king rested upon the archbishop, he
An extraordinary
exclaimed, 'Let us go.' Taking the hand of the lady, he scene.
led her forward through the long suite of rooms,
followed by the other actors in this extraordinary scene, who moved on in
profound silence, thrown for an instant into broad light by the torch carried
by Bontems, and then suddenly lost in the deep darkness beyond its
influence. Nothing was to be heard as the bridal party proceeded save the
muffled sound of their footsteps, deadened by the costly carpets over which
they trod. But it was remarked that as the light flashed for an instant across
the portraits of his family which clothed the walls, Louis XIV. glanced
eagerly and somewhat nervously upon them, as though he dreaded the
rebuke of some stern eye or haughty lip for the weakness of which he was
about to become guilty."
The marriage ceremony was performed by the
Ceremonies.
Archbishop of Paris. There were eight persons present as
witnesses, most of them of high distinction. The king was in the forty-
eighth year of his age, and Madame de Maintenon in her fifty-second. The
marriage was celebrated with all the established ceremonies of the Church,
the solemnization of the mass, the exchange of marriage rings, and the
pronouncing of the benediction by the archbishop. A magnificent suite of
apartments was prepared for Madame de Maintenon at Versailles. She
retained her own liveries, but thenceforward appeared in public only in the
carriage of the king. Though by her own private attendants she was
addressed as "your majesty," she was never publicly recognized as the
queen. The king addressed her simply as Madame.
Though the morning after the nuptials the astounding
The Widow
rumor spread through the court that the king had actually Scarron.

married the Widow Scarron, still there were no positive vouchers found for
the fact. As she was never recognized as the queen, for a long time many
doubts rested upon the reality of the marriage.
It was a matter of necessity that Madame de Montespan
Etiquette.
should call upon Madame de Maintenon, and pay her
respects to her as the real though unrecognized wife of the monarch.
Dressed in her richest robes, and glittering with jewels, the discarded
favorite entered the apartment of her hated rival. The king was seated by her
side. His majesty rose, bowed formally, and took his seat. Madame de
Maintenon did not rise, but, with a slight flush upon her cheek, motioned to
Madame de Montespan to take a seat upon a tabouret which stood near by.
The king scarcely noticed her. Madame de Maintenon addressed her in a
few words of condescension. The unhappy visitor, after a short struggle to
regain her composure, rose from the humble stool upon which she had been
seated, and, repeating the stately reverences which etiquette required,
withdrew from the room.
With crushed heart she retired to her apartment, and,
Humiliation of
weeping bitterly, threw herself upon a sofa. She soon Madame de
sent for her son, the Duke du Maine, hoping to hear, Montespan.
from his lips at least, words of sympathy. But the duke,
who had reproached his mother with his dishonorable birth, and who, by a
royal decree, had been recognized as a prince, was not at all disposed to
cultivate intimate relations with that mother, now that the memory of
disgrace only would be perpetuated by that recognition. Without the
exhibition of the slightest emotion, the duke addressed his mother in a few
cold, formal words, and left her. The marchioness summoned her carriage,
and left Versailles and the court forever. As she cast a last look upon the
palace, she saw the king standing at the balcony of a window watching her
departure.
The reader will be interested in learning the routine of a
Routine of a day at
day as passed by this most sumptuous of earthly kings Versailles.
amidst the splendors of Versailles. At eight o'clock in the
morning the under valets carefully entered the bedchamber, opened the
shutters, replenished the wood fire, if cold, and removed the ample

refreshments which were always placed by the royal bedside in case the
king should need food during the night.
The first valet then entered, carefully dressed, and took his stand
respectfully by the side of the bed-curtains. At half past eight precisely he
drew the curtains and awoke the king, assuming always that he was asleep.
The valet then immediately retired to an adjoining room, where several
distinguished members of the court were in waiting, and communicated to
them the important intelligence that the king no longer slept.
The folding doors were thrown open, and the dauphin, attended by his two
sons, the eldest of whom was entitled Monsieur, and the youngest the Duke
of Chartres, entered, and inquired of the king how he had passed the night.
They were immediately followed by the Duke du Maine and the Count de
Toulouse, sons of Madame de Montespan, and by the first lord of the
bedchamber and the grand master of the robes. They were succeeded by the
first valet of the wardrobe, and by several officers, each bearing a portion of
the royal vestments. The two medical attendants of the king, the physician
and surgeon, also entered at the same time.
The king, still remaining pillowed in his gorgeous bed, held out his hands,
and his first valet de chambre poured upon them a few drops of spirits of
wine, holding beneath them a basin of silver. The first lord of the
bedchamber presented a vase of holy water, with which the king made the
sign of the cross upon his brow and breast. His majesty then repeated a
short prayer. A collection of wigs was presented to him. He selected the one
which he wished to wear. As the king rose from his couch, the first lord of
the bedchamber drew upon him his dressing-gown, which was always a
richly embroidered and costly robe.
The king then sat down, and, holding out one sacred foot after the other, his
valet, Bontems, drew on his stockings and his slippers of embroidered
velvet. The monarch condescended to place upon his head, with his own
hand, the wig which he had selected. Again the devout monarch crossed
himself with holy water, and, emerging from the balustrade which inclosed
the bed, seated himself in a large arm-chair. He was now prepared for what
was called The First Entrée.

The chief lord of the bedchamber, with a loud voice,
The First Entrée.
announced The First Entrée. A number of courtiers, who
were peculiarly favored, were then admitted to the distinguished honor of
seeing his majesty washed and shaved. The barber of the king removed his
beard and gently washed his face with a sponge saturated with spirits of
wine and water. The king himself wiped his face with a soft towel, while
Bontems held the glass before him.
And now the master of the robes approached to dress the
The ceremony of
king. Those who had been present at what was called the dressing.
petit lever retired. A new set of dignitaries, of higher
name and note, crowded the anteroom to enjoy the signal honor of being
present at the Grand Entrée, that is, of witnessing the sublime ceremony of
seeing shirt, trowsers, and frock placed upon his sacred majesty.
Three of the highest officers of the court stood at the
The Grand Entrée.
door, attended by several valets and door-keepers of the
cabinet. Admission to the Grand Entrée was considered so great an honor
that even princes sought it, and often in vain.
As each individual presented himself, his name was whispered to the first
lord of the bedchamber, who repeated it to the king. When the monarch
made no reply the visitor was admitted, and the duke walked back to his
station near the fireplace, where he marshaled the new-comers to their
several places in order to prevent their pressing too closely about his
majesty. Princes and governors, marshals and peers, were alike subjected to
this tedious and somewhat humiliating ceremony, from which three
individuals alone were excepted, Racine, Boileau, and Mansard. On their
arrival at the guarded door they simply scratched against the panel, when
the usher threw open the folding door, and they stood in the presence of the
monarch.

RACINE AND BOILEAU.
In the mean time, a valet of the wardrobe delivered to a
Dressing the king.
gentleman of the chamber the socks and garters, which
the gentleman presented to the monarch, and which socks his majesty
deigned to draw on himself. Even with his own hand he clasped the garters
with their diamond buckles. Etiquette did not allow the king to unclasp
them at night. The head valet de chambre enjoyed the privilege of
unclasping the garter of the right leg, while a more humble attendant
performed the same office for the left leg.
A distinguished officer of the household presented the monarch with his
haut de chausses (breeches), to which silk stockings were attached; the king
drew them on; another gentleman put on his shoes; another gentleman
buckled them. Two pages, richly dressed in crimson velvet embroidered
with gold, removed the slippers which the king had laid aside.
And now came the royal breakfast. Two officers of the
The royal breakfast.
household entered, in picturesque attire, one bearing a
loaf of bread on an enameled salver, and another a folded napkin between
two enameled plates. The royal cup-bearer handed a golden vase, richly
decorated, to one of the lords. He poured into it a small quantity of wine
and water. Another lord tasted of it, to prove that it contained no poison.

The vase was then carefully rinsed, and being again filled with the wine and
water, was presented to the king on a gold salver.
His majesty drank. Then the dauphin, who was always
Formalities.
present at these solemnities, handed his hat and gloves to
the first lord in waiting, and presented the monarch with a napkin with
which to wipe his lips. Breakfast was a very frugal repast. Having partaken
of these slight refreshments, the king laid aside his dressing-gown. One of
his lordly attendants then assisted him in removing his night-shirt by the left
sleeve. It was Bontems's peculiar privilege to draw it off by the right sleeve.
The royal shirt, which had been carefully warmed, was
Dressing the king.
then given to the first lord. He presented it to the
dauphin, who approached and presented it to the king. Some one of the
higher lords, previously designated for the honor, assisted the king in the
arrangement of his shirt and breeches. A duke enjoyed the honor of putting
on his inner waistcoat. Two valets presented the king with his sword, vest,
and blue ribbon. A nobleman then stepped forward and buckled on the
sword, assisted in putting on the vest, and placed over his shoulders a scarf
bearing the cross of the Holy Ghost in diamonds, and the cross of St. Louis.
The king then drew on his under coat, with the
The dressing
assistance of the grand master of the robes, adjusted his completed.
cravat of rich lace, which was folded round his neck by a The king prays.
favorite courtier, and finally emptied into the pockets of
the loose outer coat, which was presented to him for that purpose, the
contents of those which he had worn the previous day. He then received two
handkerchiefs of costly point from another attendant, by whom they were
carried on an enameled saucer of oval shape called salve. His toilet once
completed, Louis XIV. returned to the ruelle of his bed, where he knelt
down upon two cushions already prepared for him, and said his prayers; all
the bishops and cardinals entering within the balustrade in his suite, and
reciting their devotional exercises in a suppressed voice.
The king, being thus dressed, retired from his chamber to his cabinet. He
was followed, in solemn procession, by all those dignitaries of Church and
State who had enjoyed the privilege of the Grand Entrée. He then issued
the orders of the day, after which all withdrew excepting some of his

children, whom a royal decree had legitimatized and raised to the rank of
princes, with their former tutors or governors.
In the mean time a crowd of courtiers were assembled in
The king attends
the great gallery of Versailles, to accompany the king to mass.
mass. The captain of the royal guard awaited orders at
the door of the cabinet. At 12 o'clock the door was thrown open, and the
king, followed by a splendid retinue, proceeded to the chapel.
The service was short. At one o'clock the king returned
Etiquette at the
to his room, and dined sumptuously and alone. He was royal dinner.
waited upon, at the table, by the first gentleman of the
chamber. Sometimes the dauphin or other lords of highest rank were
present, but they stood respectfully at a distance. No one was permitted to
be seated in the royal presence. The brother of the king stood at times by the
chair of his majesty, holding his napkin for him. Upon the king's twice
requesting him to be seated, he was permitted to take a seat upon a stool,
behind the king, still holding his napkin.
Upon rising from the table the king repaired to the grand
Visits the kennel.
saloon, where he tarried for a few moments, that persons
of high distinction, who enjoyed the privilege of addressing him, might
have an opportunity to do so. He then returned to his cabinet. The door was
closed, and the king had a brief interview with his children, of whom he
was very fond. He then repaired to the kennel of his dogs, of whom he was
also fond, and amused himself, for a time, in feeding them and playing with
them.
He now made some slight change in his dress. A small
The morning drive.
number of persons, of high rank, enjoyed the
distinguished honor of being present in his chamber as the monarch, with
all suitable stateliness of ceremony, exchanged one royal garment for
another. The carriage awaited the king in the marble court. He descended by
a private staircase. His craving for fresh air was such that he took a drive
whatever the weather. Scarcely any degree of heat or cold, or floods of rain,
could prevent him from his drive, or his stag-hunt, or his overlooking the
workmen. Sometimes the ladies of his court rode out with him on picnic
excursions to the forests of Fontainebleau or Marly.

Upon returning from the drive, the king again changed
The royal supper.
his dress and repaired to his cabinet. He then proceeded Tasting and trying.
to the apartments of Madame de Maintenon, where he
remained conversing with her, or reading, and sometimes transacting
business with his minister, until ten o'clock. The hour for supper had now
arrived. The house-steward, with his badge of office in hand, gave the
information to the captain of the guard. He, entering the royal presence
from the antechamber, announced the fact to the king, and opened wide the
door. After the delay of a quarter of an hour, which etiquette required, his
majesty advanced to the supper-room. During the quarter of an hour which
had elapsed, the officers of the household had made preparations for the
royal repast by tasting the bread and the salt, and by testing the plates, the
fork, the spoon, the knife, and the tooth-pick of the king, so as to be assured
that no poison could be thus conveyed.
As the king, preceded by the house-steward and two
"Drink for the
ushers with flambeaux, entered the supper-room, he king!"
found there awaiting him the princes and princesses of
France, with a numerous assemblage of courtiers, gentlemen, and ladies.
The king, having taken his seat, requested the others to be seated also. Six
noblemen immediately stationed themselves at each end of the table, to wait
upon the king. Each one, as he presented a dish to the king, first tasted of it
himself. When the king wished for a drink, his cup-bearer exclaimed aloud,
"Drink for the king." Two of the principal officers, making a profound
obeisance, approached his majesty, one bearing an enameled cup and two
decanters upon a salver. The other poured out the wine, tasted it, and
presented the goblet to the king. With another low salutation, the two
officers replaced the decanters upon the sideboard.
The repast being finished, the king rose, and, preceded
He feeds his dogs at
by two guards and an usher, and followed by all the midnight.
company, proceeded to the bedchamber. He there bowed
adieu to the company, and, entering the cabinet, took a seat in a large arm-
chair. The members of the royal family were introduced. His brother,
Monsieur, was permitted to take an arm-chair. All the rest remained
standing except the princesses, who were indulged with stools. After an
hour or so of such converse as these stately forms would admit, the king,
about midnight, went again to feed his dogs. He then retired to his chamber,

with great pomp said his prayers, and was undressed and put to bed with
ceremonies similar to those with which he had been dressed in the morning.
Such was the ordinary routine of the life of the king at Versailles. Its dreary
monotony was broken by occasional fêtes, balls, and theatric shows.
Madame de Maintenon testifies to the almost insupportable tedium of such
a life. "If you could only," she exclaims, "form an idea of what it is!"
Magnificent apartments were prepared for Madame de
Madame de
Maintenon at Versailles, opposite the suite of rooms Maintenon's
occupied by the king. Similar arrangements were made apartments.
for her in all the royal palaces. Royalty alone could Her tact.
occupy arm-chairs in the presence of the sovereign. In
each of her apartments there were two such, one for the king and the other
for herself. The king often transacted business with his minister, Louvois, in
her room. She had sufficient tact never to express an opinion, or to take a
part in the conversation except when appealed to.
Madame de Maintenon was exceedingly anxious that the king should
publicly recognize her as his wife. It is said that the king, tormented by the
embarrassments which the secret marriage had brought upon him, seriously
contemplated this. His minister, Louvois, remonstrated even passionately
against such a recognition. At the close of a painful interview upon this
subject, he threw himself upon his knees before his majesty, and, presenting
to him the hilt of a small sword which the minister usually wore, exclaimed,
"Take my life, sire, that I may not become the witness of a disgrace which
will dishonor your majesty in the eyes of all Europe."
Others of the most influential members of the court joined in the opposition,
and so strenuously that the king commanded Madame de Maintenon never
again to allude to the subject.
Premature old age was fast advancing upon the king,
Sickness of the
though he had as yet attained only his forty-ninth year. king.
He was tortured by the gout. He was also attacked by a A surgical operation
very painful and dangerous internal malady. His necessary.
sufferings were dreadful. It became necessary for him to
submit to a perilous surgical operation. The king met the crisis with much

heroism. Four persons only, including Madame de Maintenon, were present
during the operation. Indeed, the greatest precautions had been adopted to
keep the fact that an operation was to be performed a profound secret.
During the operation the king uttered not a groan. It was successful. In
gratitude he conferred upon the skillful operator who had relieved him from
anguish and saved his life an estate valued at more than fifty thousand
crowns.
Weary of every thing else, the king now sought to find
World-weariness of
some little interest in building. The renowned architect, the king.
Mansard, whose genius still embellishes our most
beautiful edifices, was commissioned to erect a pavilion on the grounds of
Versailles in imitation of an Italian villa. Thus rose, within a year, the
Grand Trianon, which subsequently became so celebrated as the favorite
rural residence of Maria Antoinette.

THE TRIANON.

MARLY.
Most men who, with vast wealth, attempt to build a Dissatisfied with
mansion which shall eclipse that of all their neighbors, Versailles.
and which shall be perfect in all the appliances of
comfort and luxury, find themselves, in the end, bitterly disappointed. This
was pre-eminently the case with Louis XIV. The palace of Versailles, still
unfinished, had already cost him countless millions. But it did not please
the king. It had cold and cheerless grandeur, but no attractions as a home.
The king looked with weary eyes upon the mountain pile of marble which
had risen at his bidding, and found it about as uncongenial for a home as
would be the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Disgusted with the etiquette which
enslaved him, satiated with sensual indulgence, and having exhausted all
the fountains of worldly pleasure, with waning powers of body and of mind,
it is not possible that any thing could have satisfied the world-weary king.
He had other palaces. None suited him. The Tuileries
The royal palaces
and the Louvre were in the heart of the noisy city. The unsatisfactory.
banqueting hall at St. Germain overlooked the sepulchre
of St. Denis, where the grave-worm held its banquet. Fontainebleau was at
too great a distance from the capital. To reach it required a carriage drive of

four or five hours. Vincennes, notwithstanding the grandeur of the antique,
time-worn castle, was gloomy in its surroundings, inconvenient in its
internal arrangements—a prison rather than a palace.
About nine miles from Paris, upon the left bank of the
The "hermitage" at
Seine, there reposed the silent village of Marly. The king Marly.
selected that as the spot upon which he would rear a
snug "hermitage" to which he could retire "from noise and tumult far." The
passion for building is a fearful passion, which often involves its victim in
ruin. The plans of the king expanded under his eye. The little hermitage
became a spacious palace, where a court could be entertained with all the
appliances of regal elegance.
But dark and stormy days were rapidly gathering around
War with Germany.
the path of the king. He became involved in war with The dauphin in
Germany. The complicated reasons can scarcely be command.
unraveled. The king sent his son, the dauphin, at the
head of one hundred thousand men, to invade Holland. Situated upon both
sides of the Rhine there was a territory called the Palatinate. It embraced
one thousand five hundred and ninety square miles, being not quite so large
as the State of Delaware. It contained an intelligent, industrious, and
prosperous population of a little over three hundred thousand. The beautiful
city of Manheim was the capital of the province.
Though the dauphin was nominally at the head of the invading army, that
the glory of its victories might redound to his name, the ablest of the French
generals were associated with him, and they, in reality, took the direction of
affairs. One city after another speedily fell into the hands of the French. The
king mercilessly resolved, and without any justification whatever, to
convert the whole province into a desert. An order was issued by the king
that every city, village, castle, and hut should be laid in ashes.
It was midwinter—the month of February, 1689. There
Devastation of the
were many beautiful cities in the province, such as Palatinate.
Manheim, Philipsbourg, Franckendal, Spire, Treves,
Worms, and Oppendeim. There were more than fifty feudal castles in the
territory, the ancestral homes of noble families. The citizens had but short
warning. Houses, furniture, food, all were consumed. The flames rose to

heaven, calling upon God for vengeance. Smouldering ruins every where
met the eye. Men, women, and children wandered starving through the
fields.
Nearly all Europe soon became banded against this haughty monarch, and
he found it necessary to raise an army of four hundred thousand men to
meet the exigencies.
Intoxicated by the pride of past success, he thought that
Designs upon
he should be able to force upon England a Roman England.
Catholic king, and the Roman Catholic faith, and thus
expel heresy from England, as he dreamed that he had expelled it from
France. He equipped a fleet, and manned it with twenty thousand soldiers,
to force upon the British people King James II., whom they had indignantly
discarded.
Civil war was now also desolating unhappy France. The
Civil war in France.
Protestants, bereft of their children, robbed of their
property, driven from their homes, dragged to the galleys, plunged into
dungeons, broken upon the wheel, hanged upon scaffolds, rose in several
places in the most desperate insurrectionary bands. And the man who was
thus crushing beneath the heel of his armies the quivering hearts of the
Palatinate, and who was drenching his own realms with tears and blood,
was clothed in purple, and faring sumptuously, and reclining upon the
silken sofas of Marly and Versailles. It is not strange that Faith, with
uplifted hands and gushing eyes, should have exclaimed, "O Lord, how
long!"
The singular complication of the royal family, with the
Complications of
various mothers and the various children, some of which the royal family.
children were recognized by royal decree as princes, and
some of whom were not, filled the palaces with bickerings, envyings, and
discontent in every form. The unhappy dauphiness, who had long been
immersed in the profoundest gloom, at last found a welcome retreat in the
grave. Neither her husband nor the king shed a single tear over her remains,
which were hurried to the vaults of St. Denis.

Chapter XI.

Intrigues and Wars.
1690-1711

T he treasury of the king was empty. Extravagant
Exhaustion of the
building, a voluptuous court, and all the enormous treasury.
expenses of civil and foreign wars, had quite exhausted The royal plate
the finances of the realm. It became necessary to call sacrificed.
upon the cities for contributions. New offices were
invented, which were imposed upon the wealthy citizens, and for which
they were compelled to pay large sums. Even the massive silver plate and
furniture, which had attracted the admiration of all visitors to Versailles,
were sent to the Mint and coined. Most of the value of these articles of
ornament consisted of the skill with which the materials had been wrought
into forms of beauty. In melting them down, all this was sacrificed, and
nothing remained but the mere value of the metal. Large as were the sums
attained by these means, they were but trifling compared with the
necessities of the state.
Louvois, the minister of Louis, had for a long time held the reins of
government. It was through his influence that the king had been instigated
to revoke the Edict of Nantes, to order the dragonnades, and to authorize
those atrocities of persecution which must ever expose the name of Louis
XIV. to the execrations of humanity. It was Louvois who, from merely
contemptible caprice, plunged France into war with Germany. It was
through his persuasions that the king was induced to order the utter
devastation of the Palatinate.
But the influence of Louvois was now on the wane. The
Assumptions of
jealous king became weary of his increasingly haughty Louvois.
assumptions. The conflagration of the Palatinate raised a
cry of indignation which the king could not but hear. The city of Treves had
escaped the flames. Louvois solicited an order to burn it. The king refused
to give his consent. Louvois insolently gave the order himself. He then

informed the king that he had done so that he might spare the conscience of
the king the pain of issuing such an edict.

LOUIS XIV. DIRECTING THE SIEGE.
Louis was furious. In his rage he forgot all the restraints of etiquette. He
seized from the fireplace the tongs, and would have broken the head of the
minister had not Madame de Maintenon rushed between them. The king
ordered a messenger immediately to be dispatched to countermand the
order. He declared that if a single house were burned, the head of the
minister should be the forfeit. The city was saved.
In 1691 the French army was besieging Mons. The king visited the works.
The haughty minister, unintimidated even by the menace of the tongs,
ventured to countermand an order which the king had issued. The lowering
brow of the monarch convinced him that his ministerial reign was soon to
close.
The health of the minister began rapidly to fail. He
Disgrace, sickness,
became emaciate, languid, and deeply depressed. A few and death of
subsequent interviews with the king satisfied him that Louvois.

his disgrace and ruin were decided upon. Indeed, the king had already
drawn up the lettre de cachet which was to consign him to the Bastile.
About the middle of June, 1691, Louvois met the king in his council
chamber, and, though the monarch was unusually complaisant, Louvois so
thoroughly understood him that he retired to his residence in utter despair.
Scarcely had he entered his apartment ere he dropped dead upon the floor.
Whether his death were caused by apoplexy, or by poison administered by
his own hand or that of others, can never be known. The king forbade all
investigation of the case.
Immediately after the death of Louvois, the king began
Louis suspicious of
to devote himself to business with an energy which he Madame de
had never before manifested. Madame de Maintenon Maintenon.
made some farther efforts to induce him to proclaim
their marriage, but she soon perceived that nothing would induce him to
change his resolution, and she accepted the situation. Louis now yielded
more than ever to her influence; but he was always apprehensive that she
might be engaged in some secret intrigue, and kept a vigilant watch over
her. In letters to a friend, she gives some account of her splendid misery.
"The king is perpetually on guard over me. I see no one.
Letters.
He never leaves my room. I am compelled to rise at five
in the morning in order to write to you. I experience more than ever that
there is no compensation for the loss of liberty."
Again she writes, in reference to the weary routine of
Court life.
court life: "The princesses who have not attended the
hunt will come in, followed by their cabal, and wait the return of the king in
my apartment in order to go to dinner. The hunters will come in a crowd,
and will relate the whole history of their day's sport, without sparing us a
single detail. They will then go to dinner. Madame de Dangeau will
challenge me, with a yawn, to a game of backgammon. Such is the way in
which people live at court."
It will be remembered that the king and queen had an
The dauphin.
only son, the dauphin. He was a man of ignoble
character and of feeble mind. Still, as heir to the throne, he was, next to the
king, the most important personage in the realm. The dauphin had three

sons, who were in the direct line of succession to the crown. These were
Louis, duke of Burgoyne, Philip, duke of Anjou, and Charles, duke of Berri.
The eldest, the Duke of Burgoyne, who, of course, next
His sons.
to the dauphin, was heir to the throne, was thirteen years
of age. The king selected for his wife Adelaide, the daughter of the Duke of
Savoy, a remarkably graceful, beautiful, and intelligent child of eleven
years. The pretty little girl was brought to France to spend a few months in
the court previous to her marriage, which was to take place as soon as she
should attain her twelfth year. She came in great splendor, with her retinue,
her court, and her ladies of honor. Both the king and Madame de Maintenon
were charmed with the princess. Sumptuous apartments were assigned her
in the palace of Versailles. Madame de Maintenon wrote to the Duchess of
Savoy,
"The king is enchanted with her. He expatiates on her
Graces of the
deportment, her grace, her courtesy, her reserve, and her Duchess of
modesty. She has all the graces of girlhood, with the Burgoyne.
perfections of a more mature age. Her temper appears as
perfect as her figure promises one day to become. She only requires to
speak to display the extent of her intellect. I can not resist thanking your
royal highness for giving us a child who, according to all appearance, will
be the delight of the court, and the glory of the century."
The king resolved that the festivities at the marriage of these two children
should be the most splendid which France had ever witnessed. He
announced the intention of appearing himself, upon the occasion, in the
most sumptuous apparel which the taste and art of the times could furnish.
This intimation was sufficient for the courtiers. Preparations were made for
such a display of folly and extravagance as even alarmed the king. All
ordinary richness of dress, of satin, and velvet, and embroidery of gold, was
discarded for fabrics of unprecedented costliness, for bouquets of diamonds,
and wreaths of the most precious gems.
"I can not understand," exclaimed the king, "how husbands are mad enough
to suffer themselves to be ruined by the folly of their wives."
The marriage took place between the bride of twelve
Misery of the
years and the bridegroom of fourteen at six o'clock in people.

the evening of the 7th of December, 1697. The Extravagance of the
court.
ceremony was performed in the chapel of the palace at
Versailles. The ensuing festivals exceeded in magnificence all that
Versailles had previously witnessed. But there was no rejoicing among the
people. They listened, some silently, some sullenly, some murmuringly, to
the chiming bells and the booming cannon. The elements of discontent and
wrath were slowly beginning to collect for bursting forth one hundred years
later, in that most sublime of moral tempests, the French Revolution.
The grand avenue to Versailles day after day was
Brilliant assembly.
crowded with gorgeous equipages. At night it blazed
with illuminations. The highest ingenuity was taxed to devise new scenes of
splendor and amusement, which followed each other in rapid succession.
Three days after the marriage, the king gave a special assembly which was
to eclipse all the rest. All the ladies were directed to appear in dresses of
black velvet, that the precious gems, which were almost literally to cover
those dresses, might sparkle more brilliantly. The great gallery of Versailles
was illuminated by four thousand wax-lights. The young bride wore upon
her apron alone jewels estimated at a sum equal to fifty thousand dollars.
On the 1st of November, 1700, Charles II., the half
Death of Charles II.
crazed King of Spain, died, leaving no heir. The pope,
Innocent XII., bribed by Louis XIV., sent a nuncio to the dying king,
enjoining upon him to transmit his crown to the children of the Dauphin of
France, as the legitimate heirs to the monarchy. As the Duke of Burgoyne
was the direct heir to the throne of France, the second son of the dauphin,
the Duke of Anjou, still a mere boy, was proclaimed King of Spain, with the
title of Philip V.
On the 14th of the month the Spanish embassador was summoned to an
audience with Louis XIV. at Versailles. The king presented his grandson to
the minister, saying, "This, sir, is the Duke of Anjou, whom you may salute
as your king."
A large crowd of courtiers was soon assembled. The
The Duke of Anjou
Spanish minister threw himself upon his knees before proclaimed King of
the boy with expressions of profound homage. There Spain.
was a scene of great excitement. The king, embracing

with his left arm the neck of the young prince, pointed to him with his right
hand, and said to those present,

"Gentlemen, this is the King of Spain. His birth calls him to the crown.[X]
The late king has recognized his right by his will. All the nation desires his
succession, and has entreated it at my hands. It is the will of Heaven, to
which I conform with satisfaction."
The Duke of Anjou was quite delighted in finding
Anecdote of the
himself thus liberated from all the restraints of tutors and princes.
governors, and of being, in his boyhood, elevated to the
dignity of a crowned king. As soon as these stately forms of etiquette were
concluded, and he was alone with his brothers, he kicked up his heels and
snapped his fingers, exclaiming with delight,
"So I am King of Spain. You, Burgoyne, will be King of France. And you,
my poor Berri, are the only one who must live and die a subject."
The little prince replied, perhaps upon the principle that "the grapes were
sour," perhaps because he had observed how little real happiness regal state
had brought to his grandfather,
"That fact will not grieve me. I shall have less trouble and more pleasure
than either of you. I shall enjoy the right of hunting both in France and
Spain, and can follow a wolf from Paris to Madrid."
Preparations were immediately made for the departure
Preparations for the
of the boy-king to take possession of his Spanish throne coronation.
and crown. The pomp-loving French king had decided to Exultation of Louis
invest the occasion with great splendor. He regarded it as XIV.
a signal stroke of policy, and a great victory on his part,
that he had been enabled, notwithstanding the remonstrances of other
nations, to place a French Bourbon prince upon the throne of Spain, thus
virtually uniting the two nations. He thought he had thus extended the
domain of France to the Straits of Gibraltar. "Henceforth," exclaimed Louis
XIV., exultingly, "there are no more Pyrenees."
To his grandson, the new king, he said, "Be a good Spaniard, but never
forget that you were born a Frenchman. Carefully maintain the union of the

two nations. Thus only can you render them both happy."
There was a final meeting of the royal family to take
Final meeting of the
leave of the young monarch as he was departing for his royal family.
realm. All the young nobility of France, with a numerous
military escort, were to compose his brilliant retinue. The Duchess du
Maine, the legitimatized daughter of Madame de Montespan, and thus the
half brother of the dauphin, persuaded the dauphin to invite her mother to
the palace on this occasion. Here occurred the last interview between the
heartless king and his discarded favorite.
As the king made the tour of the room, he found himself
Last interview
opposite Madame de Montespan. She was greatly between Madame
overcome by her emotions, and, pale and trembling, was de Montespan and
near fainting. The king coldly and searchingly, for a the king.

moment, fixed his eye upon her, and then said, calmly,
"Madame, I congratulate you. You are still as handsome and attractive as
ever. I hope that you are also happy."
The marchioness replied, "At this moment, sire, I am very happy, since I
have the honor of presenting my respectful homage to your majesty."
The king, with his studied grace of courtesy, kissed her
Penance of
hand, and continued his progress around the circle. The Madame de
monarch and his perhaps equally guilty victim never met Montespan.
again. She lived twenty-two years after her expulsion
from the palace. They were twenty-two years of joylessness. Her confessor,
who seems to have been a man of sincere piety, refused her absolution until
she had written to her husband, the Marquis de Montespan, whom she had
abandoned for the guilty love of the king, affirming her heartfelt
repentance, imploring his forgiveness, and entreating him either to receive
her back, or to order her to any place of residence which he should think
proper. The indignant marquis replied that he would neither admit her to his
house, nor prescribe for her any future rules of conduct, nor suffer her name
ever again to be mentioned in his presence.
The reverend father compelled her, in atonement for her sins, to sit at a
frugal table; to consecrate her vast wealth to objects of benevolence; to

wear haircloth next her skin, and around her waist a girdle with sharp
points, which lacerated her body at every movement. She was also daily
employed in making garments of the coarsest materials with her own hands
for the sick in the hospitals, and for the poor in their squalid homes.
The guilty marchioness was dreadfully afraid of death.
Her death.
Every night a careful guard of women watched her
bedside. In a thunder-storm she would take an infant in her lap, that the
child's innocence might be her protection. In the night of the 26th of May,
1707, she was attacked in her bed by very distressing suffocation. One of
her sons, the Marquis of Antin, was immediately sent for. He found his
mother insensible. Seizing a casket which contained her jewels, he
demanded of an attendant the key. It was suspended around the neck of his
dying mother, where she ever wore it. The young man went to the bedside,
tore away the lace which veiled his mother's bosom, seized the key,
unlocked the casket, emptied its contents into his pockets, descended to his
carriage, and hurried away with the treasure, leaving his mother to die
without a relative to close her eyes. An hour after she breathed her last.
The king was informed of the death of Madame de
Heartless conduct
Montespan just as he was setting out on a shooting of the king.
excursion. "Ah! indeed," he said, "and so the
marchioness is dead. I should have thought that she would have lasted
longer. Are you ready, M. de la Rochefoucald? I have no doubt that after
this last shower the scent will lie well for the dogs. Come, let us be off at
once."
We have slightly anticipated the chronological sequence of events in this
narrative of the death of Madame de Montespan, which took place in the
year 1707. James II. of England died in exile at St. Germain in September,
1701. The Prince of Orange then occupied the British throne with the title
of William III. He formed what was called the "Grand Alliance" against the
encroachments of France. For several years the war of the "Spanish
Succession" raged with almost unprecedented fury throughout all Europe.

FRONT VIEW OF ST. GERMAIN.
The king's health was now failing, and troubles in rapid His health failing.
succession came crowding upon him. His armies Quarrel with Philip.
encountered terrible defeats. The king had thus far lived He is stricken with
apoplexy.
on friendly terms with his only brother Philip, duke of
Orleans, the playmate of his childhood, and the submissive subject of
maturer years. They were now both soured by misfortune. In a chance
meeting at Marly they fell into a violent altercation respecting the conduct
of one of the sons of the duke. It was their first quarrel since childhood. The
duke was so excited by the event that he hastened to his palace at St. Cloud
with flushed cheeks and trembling nerves, where he was stricken down by
apoplexy. A courier was immediately dispatched to the king. He hastened to
the bedside of his brother, and found him insensible.
Philip was two years younger than Louis. To see him die was a louder
appeal to the conscience of the king than the view of St. Denis from the
terrace at St. Germain. Death was, to this monarch, truly the king of terrors.
He could not endure the spectacle of his brother's dying convulsions.
Burying his face in his hands, he wept and sobbed bitterly. It was a

midnight scene, or rather it was the sombre hour of three o'clock in the
morning.
At 8 o'clock in the morning the king took his carriage
Death of the king's
and returned to Marly, and repaired immediately to the brother.
apartment of Madame de Maintenon. At 11 o'clock his
physician arrived with the intelligence that the duke was dead. Again the
king was overcome with emotion, and wept almost convulsively; but, soon
recovering himself, he apparently resolved to make every effort to throw off
these painful thoughts.
Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Madame de
The king dispels his
Maintenon, he persisted in his determination to dine, as gloom.
usual, with the ladies of the court. Much to the
astonishment of the ladies, he was heard, in his own room, singing an air
from a recent opera which was far from funereal in its character.
In the month of May of this same year, 1701, the Duke
The Princess des
of Anjou, the young King of Spain, who was uneasily Ursins.
seated upon his beleaguered throne, entered into a
matrimonial alliance with Maria Louisa of Savoy, younger sister of
Adelaide, the duchess of Burgoyne. She was of fairy-like stature, but
singularly graceful and beautiful, with the finest complexion, and eyes of
dazzling brilliance. Her mental endowments were also equal to her physical
charms. Louis XIV., ever anxious to retain the control over the court of
Spain, appointed the Princess des Ursins to be the companion and adviser of
the young queen. This lady was alike remarkable for her intelligence, her
sagacity, her tact, and her thorough acquaintance with high and courtly
breeding. The young King of Spain was perfectly enamored of his lovely
bride. She held the entire control over him. The worldly-wise and
experienced Princess des Ursins guided, in obedience to the dictates of
Louis XIV., almost every thought and volition of the young queen. Thus the
monarch at Marly ruled the court at Madrid.
While foreign war was introducing bankruptcy to the
Civil war.
treasury of France, civil war was also desolating the Insurrection of the
kingdom. The sufferings of the Protestants equaled any Protestants.
thing which had been witnessed in the days of pagan

persecution. The most ferocious of all these men, who were breathing out
threatenings and slaughter, was the Abbé de Chayla. This wretch had
captured a party of Protestants, and, with them, two young ladies from
families of distinction. They were all brutally thrust into a dungeon, and
were fettered in a way which caused extreme anguish, and crushed some of
their bones. It was the 24th of July, 1702. At ten o'clock in the evening, a
party of about fifty resolute Protestants, thoroughly armed, and chanting a
psalm, broke into the palace of the infamous ecclesiastic, released the
prisoners from the dungeon vaults, seized the abbé, and, after compelling
him to look upon the mangled bodies and broken bones of his victims, put
him to death by a dagger-stroke from each one of his assailants. The torch
was then applied, and the palace laid in ashes.
Hence commenced the terrible civil war called The War
Enthusiasm of the
of the Camisards. The Protestants were poor, dispersed, Camisards.
without arms, and without leaders. Despair nerved them.
They fled to rocks, to the swamps, the forests. In their unutterable anguish
they were led to frenzies of enthusiasm. They believed that God chose their
leaders, and inspired them to action. Thus roused and impelled, they set at
defiance an army of twenty thousand men sent against them.
The terrible war lasted two years. Fiends could not have
Cruelty of the
perpetrated greater cruelties than were perpetrated by the persecutors.
troops of the king. It is one of the mysteries of divine
providence that one man should have been permitted to create such wide-
spread and unutterable woe. Louis XIV. wished to exterminate
Protestantism from his realms. Millions were made wretched to an intensity
which no pen can describe. Louis XIV. wished to place his grandson,
without any legal title, upon the throne of Spain. In consequence, Europe
was deluged in blood. Cities were sacked and burned. Provinces were
devastated. Hundreds of thousands perished in the blood of the battle-field.
The book of final judgment alone can tell how many widows and orphans
went weeping to their graves.
The Pope Clement IX. fulminated a bull against the Camisards, and
promised the absolute remission of sins to those engaged in their
extermination. Protestant England and Holland sent words of cheer to their
fellow-religionists. We can not enter into the details of this conflict. The

result was that the king found it impossible to exterminate the Protestants,
or to blot out their faith. A policy of semi-tolerance was gradually
introduced, though in various parts of the kingdom the persecuting spirit
remained for several years unbroken. The king, chagrined by the failure of
his plans, would not allow the word Protestant or Huguenot to be
pronounced in his presence.
The distress in France was dreadful. A winter of
Distress in France.
unprecedented severity had even frozen the impetuous
waters of the Rhone. Provisions commanded famine prices. The fields were
barren, the store-houses exhausted, the merchant ships were captured by the
enemy, and the army, humiliated by frequent defeats, was perishing with
hunger. The people became desperate. The king was ignominiously
lampooned and placarded. He dared not appear in public, for starving
crowds gathered around his carriage clamoring for bread. Even the king and
the nobility sent their plate to the Mint. The exhaustion of the realm had
become so complete that the haggard features of want seemed to be staring
in even at the windows of the palace. Madame de Maintenon practiced so
much self-denial as to eat only oaten bread.
In April of 1711 the dauphin was taken sick with
The dauphin taken
apparently an attack of fever. It proved to be malignant sick.
smallpox. After a brief sickness, which terrified and
dispersed the court, he died, almost alone, in a burning fever, with a
frightfully swollen face, and in delirium. Even the king could not visit the
dying chamber of his son. He fainted upon his sofa when he heard that the
dauphin was in his last agonies.
The terror-stricken courtiers fled from the palace of
Death and burial of
Meudon, where the loathsome remains of the heir to the the dauphin.
throne of France awaited burial. The corpse was hurried
into a plain coffin, which was not even covered by the royal pall. Not a
single mourning coach followed the only legitimate son of Louis XIV. to
the grave. He had two sisters, the Princess of Conti and the Duchess of
Bourbon Condé. Neither of them ventured to join the funeral procession of
their only brother. He had three sons, Louis, Philip, and Charles. Philip was
king of Spain. Louis and Charles were at home. But they kept at a safe
distance, as did the king his father, from the meagre funeral procession

which bore, with indecent haste, the remains of the prince to the vaults of
St. Denis.

Chapter XII.

The Last Days of Louis XIV.
1712-1715

U pon the death of the king's son, the Duke of
The Duke of
Burgoyne assumed the title of Dauphin, which his Burgoyne.
father had previously borne, and became direct heir to
the crown. He was a retiring, formal man, very much devoted to study, and
somewhat pedantic. He was also religiously inclined. In his study, where he
passed most of his time, he divided his hours between works of devotion
and books of science. His sudden advent to the direct heirship to the French
throne surrounded him with courtiers and flatterers. The palace at Meudon,
where he generally resided, was now crowded with noble guests.
He became affable, frequently showed himself in public,
His character.
entered into amusements, and was soon regarded as a
general favorite. Taught by Madame de Maintenon, he succeeded, by his
marked respect for the king and his submission to his slightest wishes, in
gaining the good will of the homage-loving monarch. The years had rolled
rapidly along, and the young dauphin was thirty years of age. He had three
children, and, being irreproachable in his domestic relations, was
developing a very noble character. The dauphiness had attained her twenty-
seventh year. She was an extremely beautiful and fascinating woman.
The dauphiness was fond of snuff. On the 3d of
The dauphiness
February, 1712, the Duke de Noailles, a true friend, poisoned by means
presented her with a box of Spanish snuff, with which of snuff.
she was delighted. She left the box upon the table in her
boudoir. It was there for a couple of days, she frequently indulging in the
luxury of a pinch. On the 5th she was attacked with sudden sickness,
accompanied by shivering fits, burning fever, and intense pain in the head.
The attack was so sudden and extraordinary that all the attendants thought
of poison, though none ventured to give utterance to the surmise. For four
days she grew worse, with frequent seasons of delirium. The dauphin was
almost frantic. The king sat in anguish, hour after hour, at her bedside.

No remedies were of any avail. Her sufferings were so
Anguish of the
great that the dauphin could not remain in her dying king.
chamber to witness her agony. She was greatly surprised Death.
when informed that she must die. All the offices of the
Church were attended to. She received the rite of extreme unction, and, in
the wildness of delirium, lost all recognition of those who were around her.
The king, bowed down with anguish, was with difficulty prevailed upon to
retire. He had but reached the door of the palace when she expired.
The king was now a world-weary, heart-stricken old man, who had
numbered more than his threescore years and ten. He seemed crushed with
grief, and his eyes were flooded with tears as he returned, with Madame de
Maintenon, to Marly. The apartment which the dauphin paced in agony was
immediately above the dying chamber. As soon as the death-struggle was
over, he was induced to retire to Marly, that he might be spared the anguish
of witnessing the preparations for the funeral.
As the dauphin entered the chamber of the king, the
The dauphin taken
monarch was startled in witnessing the change which ill.
had taken place in his appearance. His face was flushed Death of the
with fever; his eyes were dilated and inflamed, and livid dauphin.
stains covered his face. It was manifest that the same
disease, whatever it was, which had stricken down the dauphiness, had also
attacked the dauphin. The malady made rapid progress. In the intensity of
his anguish, the sufferer declared his entrails were on fire. Conscious that
his dying hour had come, he, on the night of the 17th, partook of the
sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and almost immediately expired.
The dreadful tidings were conveyed to the king as he sat in the apartment of
Madame de Maintenon, with the younger brother of the dauphin, Charles,
the duke de Berri, by his side. The king, anticipating the announcement, sat
with his head bent down upon his breast, and clasping almost convulsively
the hand of the prince who sat at his feet. Throwing his arms around the
neck of the Duke de Berri, the king exclaimed, in accents of despair, "Alas!
my son, you alone are now left to me."
The Duke of Burgoyne had buried three children. There
Death of the child-
were two then living. The eldest, the Duke of Bretagne, dauphin.

was five years of age. The youngest, the Duke of Anjou, had just attained
his second year. By the death of the Duke of Burgoyne, his eldest child
became the dauphin and the immediate heir to the crown. The next day both
of these children were taken sick, evidently with the same malady, whether
of natural disease or the effect of poison, which had proved so fatal to their
parents. The eldest immediately died. The same funeral car conveyed the
remains of the father, the mother, and the child to the gloomy vaults of St.
Denis.
The youngest child, the Duke of Anjou, by the most careful nursing
recovered to ascend the throne with the title of Louis XV., and to present to
the world, in his character, one of the most infamous kings who had ever
worn an earthly crown.
We have previously mentioned the death of the king's
The Duke of
only brother, Philip, duke of Orleans. He left a son, the Orleans.
Duke of Chartres. Upon the death of the Duke of
Orleans his son inherited the title and the estate of his father. He was an
exceedingly dissolute man. Should all the legitimate descendants of the
king die, he would be heir to the throne. With the exception of Philip, who
was King of Spain, and thus precluded from inheriting the throne of France,
all were now dead except the infant Duke of Anjou. The death of that child
would place the crown upon the brow of Philip, duke of Orleans.
As it was evident that all these victims had died of
He is suspected as
poison, suspicion was so directed against the Duke of the poisoner.
Orleans that the accusation was often hooted at him in A quarrel and its
the streets. There is, however, no convincing evidence result.
that he was guilty. One of the daughters of the Duke of
Orleans had married the Duke de Berri. She was as wicked as she was
beautiful, and scarcely condescended to disguise her profligacy. The duke
intercepted some letters which proved her guilty intimacy with an officer of
her household. A violent quarrel took place in the royal presence. The
husband kicked his wife with his heavy boot, and the king lifted his cane to
strike the duke.
A sort of reconciliation was effected. The duchess, who, beyond all doubt,
was a guilty woman, professed to be satisfied with the apologies which her

husband made. Soon after they went on a wolf-hunt in the forest of Marly.
Both appeared in high spirits. The run was long. Heated by the race and
thirsty, the duke asked the duchess if she had any thing with her with which
he could quench his thirst. She drew from the pocket of her carriage a small
bottle, which contained, she said, an exquisite cordial with which she was
always provided in case of over-fatigue. The duke drained it, and returned
the empty bottle to the duchess. As she took it she said, with a smile, "I am
very glad to have met you so opportunely."
Thus they parted. In a few hours the duke was a corpse.
Death of the Duke
It was so manifestly for the interest of the dissolute and de Berri.
unprincipled Duke of Orleans that the princes which
stood between him and the throne should be removed, that all these cases of
poisoning were attributed to him. Indeed, one of the motives which might
have influenced his daughter, the Duchess de Berri, to poison her husband,
whom she loathed, may have been the hope of seeing her father upon the
throne. When the funeral procession passed near the Palais Royal, the
residence of the duke, the tumult was so great that it was feared that the
palace might be sacked.
The anguish of the duke, thus clamorously assailed with
Anguish of the
the crime of the most atrocious series of assassinations, Duke of Orleans.
was great. A friend, the Marquis de Canillac, calling Feelings of the
upon him one day, found him prostrate upon the floor of king.
his apartment in utter despair. He knew that he was
suspected by his uncle the king, and by the court as well as by the populace.
At last he went boldly to the king, and demanded that he should be arrested,
sent to the Bastile, and put upon trial. The king sternly, and without any
manifestation of sympathy, refused, saying that such a scandal should not,
with his consent, be made any more public than it already was. The king
also recoiled from the idea of having a prince of the blood royal tried for
murder.
As it was known that the king could not live long, and a
The regency.
babe of but two years was to be his successor—a feeble Intrigues and plots.
babe, who had already narrowly escaped death by
poison, the question of the regency, during the minority of this babe, and of
heirship to the throne in case the babe should die, became a matter of vast

moment. The court was filled with intrigues and plots. The Duke of Orleans
had his numerous partisans, men of opulence and rank. He was but a
nephew of the king—son of the king's brother.
On the other hand was the Duke du Maine, an acknowledged son of the
king—the legitimated son of Madame de Montespan. But no royal decree,
no act of Parliament could obliterate the stain of his birth. He had many and
powerful supporters, who, by his accession to power, would be placed in all
the offices of honor and emolument. Madame de Maintenon, in herself a
host, was one of the most devoted of his friends. She had been his tutor. She
had ever loved him ardently. He had also pledged her, in case of his success,
that she should be recognized as Queen of France.
The monarch was harassed and bewildered by these
Louis harassed.
contending factions. The populace took sides. The Duke The Duke of
of Orleans could not leave his palace without being Orleans removes to
exposed to the hootings of the rabble. He withdrew from St. Cloud.
his city residence, the Palais Royal, to the splendid
palace of St. Cloud. He was accompanied by a magnificent train of nobles,
and, being a man of almost boundless wealth, he established his court here
in regal splendor.
There was no proof that the Duke of Orleans was implicated in the
poisonings. The king was unwilling to receive evidence that his brother's
son could be guilty of such a crime. Being superstitiously a religionist, the
king recoiled from the attempt to place upon the throne a son of Madame de
Montespan, who was the acknowledged wife of another man. He therefore
favored the claims of the Duke of Orleans, and sent him word at St. Cloud
that he recognized his innocence of the crime of which public rumor
accused him.
It is, however, very evident that this was a measure of
Policy.
policy and not of sincere conviction. He entered into no Wretchedness of the
friendly relations with the duke, and kept him at a king.
respectful distance. The disastrous war of the Spanish
Succession was now closed, through the curious complications of state
policy. Philip VI. retained his throne, but France was exhausted and
impoverished. The king often sat for hours, with his head leaning upon his

hand, in a state of profound listlessness and melancholy. Famine was
ravaging the land. A wail of woe came from millions whom his wars and
extravagance had reduced to starvation.
The Duchess de Berri, the unblushing profligate, the
The Duchess de
undoubted murderess, was, as the daughter of the king's Berri.
brother, the only legitimate princess left to preside over
the royal court. She was fascinating in person and manners, with scarcely a
redeeming virtue to atone for her undisguised vices.
"Thus the stately court of Anne of Austria, the punctilious circle of Maria
Theresa, and the elegant society of the Duchess of Burgoyne were—at the
very period of his life when Louis XIV., at length disenchanted of the
greatness, and disgusted with the vices of the world, was seeking to purify
his heart and to exalt his thoughts that they might become more meet for
heaven—superseded by the orgies of a wanton, who, with unabashed brow
and unshrinking eye, carried her intrigues into the very saloons of Marly."
[Y]

Madame de Maintenon resorted to every measure she
Plottings.
could devise to induce the king to appoint her favorite
pupil, the Duke du Maine, regent during the minority of the infant Duke of
Anjou. The king was greatly harassed. Old, infirm, world-weary, heart-
stricken, and pulled in opposite directions, by powers so strong, he knew
not what to do. At last he adopted a sort of compromise, which gave
satisfaction to neither party.
The king appointed a council of regency, of which the
The council of
Duke of Orleans was president. But the Duke du Maine regency.
was a member of the council, and was also intrusted
with the guardianship and education of the young heir to the throne. This
will was carefully concealed in a cavity opened in the wall of a tower of the
state apartment. The iron door of this closet was protected by three keys,
one of which was held by the president of the chambers, one by the attorney
general, and one by the public registrar.
A royal edict forbade the closet to be opened until after
The last testament
the death of the king, and then only in the presence of of the king.
the assembled Parliament, the princes, and the peers.

The document had been extorted from the king. It was Unsatisfactory.
not in accordance with his wishes. Indeed, it satisfied no
one. As he placed the papers in the hands of the president of the chambers,
he said to him, gloomily,
"Here is my will. The experience of my predecessors has taught me that it
may not be respected. But I have been tormented to frame it. I have been
allowed neither peace nor rest until I complied. Take it away. Whatever may
happen to it, I hope that I shall now be left in quiet."[Z]
The advanced age of the king and his many infirmities
Sickness of the
rendered even a slight indisposition alarming. On the king.
evening of the 3d of May, 1715, the king, having supped
with the Duchess de Berri, retired to bed early, complaining of weariness
and exhaustion. The rumor spread rapidly that the king was dangerously
sick. The foreign embassadors promptly dispatched the news to their
several courts.
The jealous king, who kept himself minutely informed
The last review.
of every thing which transpired, was very indignant in
view of this apparent eagerness to hurry him to the tomb. To prove, not only
to the court, but to all Europe, that he was still every inch a king, he ordered
a magnificent review of the royal troops at Marly. The trumpet of
preparation was blown loudly. Many came, not only from different parts of
the kingdom, but from the other states of Europe, to witness the spectacle. It
took place on the 20th of June, 1715. As the troops, in their gorgeous
uniforms, defiled before the terrace of Marly, quite a spruce-looking man,
surrounded by obsequious attendants, emerged from the principal entrance
of the palace, descended the marble steps and mounted his horse. It was the
poor old king. Inspired by vanity, which even dying convulsions could not
quell, he had rouged his pale and haggard cheeks, wigged his thin locks,
padded his skeleton limbs, and dressed himself in the almost juvenile
costume of earlier years. Sustained by artificial stimulants, this poor old
man kept his tottering seat upon his saddle for four long hours. He then,
having proved that he was still young and vigorous, returned to his
chamber. The wig was thrown aside, the pads removed, the paint washed
off, and the infirm septuagenarian sought rest from his exhaustion upon the
royal couch.

Day after day the king grew more feeble, with the usual
Struggles against
alternations of nervous strength and debility, but with no death.
abatement of his chronic gloom. The struggles which he Affects
endured to conceal the approaches of decay did but youthfulness.
accelerate that decay. He was restless, and again
lethargic. Dropsical symptoms appeared in his discolored feet and swollen
ankles. Still he insisted every day upon seeing his ministers, and exhibited
himself padded, and rouged, and costumed in the highest style of art. He
even affected, in his gait and gesture, the elasticity of youth. In his
restlessness, the king repaired, with his court, from Marly to Versailles.
Here the king was again taken seriously sick with an
Summons a band.
attack of fever. With unabated resolution, he continued
his struggles against the approaches of the angel of death. While the fevered
blood was throbbing in his veins, he declared that he was but slightly
indisposed, and summoned a musical band to his presence, with orders that
the musicians should perform only the most animating and cheerful
melodies.
But the fever and other alarming symptoms increased so
Scene in the death-
rapidly that scarcely had the band been assembled when chamber.
the court physicians became apprehensive that the king's
dissolution was immediately to take place. The king's confessor and the
Cardinal de Rohan were promptly summoned to attend to the last services
of the Catholic Church for the dying. There was a scene of confusion in the
palace. The confessor, Le Tellier, communicated to the king the intelligence
that he was probably near his end. While he was receiving the confession of
the royal penitent, the cardinal was hurrying to the chapel to get the
viaticum for administering the communion, and the holy oil for the rite of
extreme unction.
It was customary that the pyx, as the box was called in
The last offices of
which the host was kept, should be conveyed to the the Church.
bedside of expiring royalty in formal procession. The The king resigned.
cardinal, in his robes of office, led the way. Several
attendants of the royal household followed, bearing torches. Then came
Madame de Maintenon. They all gathered in the magnificent chamber, and
around the massive, sumptuous couch of the monarch. The cardinal, after

speaking a few words in reference to the solemnity of a dying hour,
administered the sacrament and the holy oils. The king listened reverently
and in silence, and then sank back upon his pillow, apparently resigned to
die.
To the surprise of all, he revived. Patiently he bore his sufferings, which at
times were severe. His legs began to swell badly and painfully.
Mortification took place. He was informed that the amputation of the leg
was necessary to save him from speedy death.
"Will the operation prolong my life?" inquired the king.
"Yes, sire," the surgeon replied; "certainly for some days, perhaps for
several weeks."
"If that be all," said the king, "it is not worth the suffering. God's will be
done."
The king could not conceal the anguish with which he was agitated in view
of his wicked life. He fully believed in the religion of the New Testament,
and that after death came the judgment. He tried to believe that the priest
had power to grant him absolution from his sins. How far he succeeded in
this no one can know.

Openly he expressed his anguish in view of the
Remorse of the
profligacy of his youth, and wept bitterly in the king.
retrospect of those excesses. We know not what
compunctions of conscience visited him as he reflected upon the misery he
had caused by the persecution of the Protestants. But he had been urged to
this by his highest ecclesiastics, and even by the holy father himself.
It would not be strange, under these circumstances, if a
Energy of
man of his superstitious and fanatical spirit should, even fanaticism.
in a dying hour, reflect with some complacency upon
these crimes, believing that thus he had been doing God service. It is this
which gives to papal fanaticism its terrible and demoniac energy. The
sincere papist believes "heresy" to be poison for the soul infinitely more
dreadful than any poison for the body. Such poison must be banished from
the world at whatever cost of suffering. Many an ecclesiastic has gone from
his closet of prayer to kindle the flames which consumed his victim. The
more sincere the papist is in his belief, the more mercilessly will he swing
the scourge and fire the fagot.
Loudly, however, he deplored the madness of his
Deplorable
ambition which had involved Europe in such desolating condition of France.
wars. Bitterly he expressed his regret that he left France
in a state of such exhaustion, impoverished, burdened with taxation, and
hopelessly crushed by debt.
The condition of the realm was indeed deplorable. A boy of five years of
age was to inherit the throne. A man so profligate that he was infamous
even in a court which rivaled Sodom in its corruption was to be invested
with the regency of the kingdom—a man who was accused, by the general
voice of the nation, of having poisoned those who stood between him and
the throne. That man's sister, an unblushing wanton, who had poisoned her
own husband, presided over the festivities of the palace. The nobles,
abandoned to sensual indulgence, were diligent and ingenious only in their
endeavors to wrench money from the poor. The masses of the people were
wretched beyond description, and almost beyond imagination in our land of
liberty and competence. The execrations of the starving millions were rising
in a long wail around the throne.

Thomas Jefferson, subsequently President of the United
Testimony of
States, who, not many years after this, was the American Thomas Jefferson.
embassador at Paris, wrote, in 1785, to Mrs. Trist, of
Philadelphia,
"Of twenty millions of people supposed to be in France, I am of the opinion
that there are nineteen millions more wretched, more accursed in every
circumstance of human existence than the most conspicuously wretched
individual of the whole United States."
Even the Duke of Orleans, the appointed regent, said, "If I were a subject I
would certainly revolt. The people are good-natured fools to suffer so long."
These sufferings and these corruptions were the origin
Napoleon.
and cause of the French Revolution.[AA] Napoleon, the
great advocate of the rights of the people in antagonism to this aristocratic
privilege, said, at St. Helena,
"Our Revolution was a national convulsion as irresistible in its effects as an
eruption of Vesuvius. When the mysterious fusion which takes place in the
entrails of the earth is at such a crisis that an explosion follows, the eruption
bursts forth. The unperceived workings of the discontent of the people
follow exactly the same course. In France, the sufferings of the people, the
moral combinations which produce a revolution, had arrived at maturity,
and the explosion took place."[AB]
Such was the condition in which unhappy France was
Devotion of
left by Louis XIV., after a reign of seventy years. He was Madame de
now seventy-seven years of age. Madame de Maintenon, Maintenon.
two years his senior, was entering her eightieth year.
With unwearied devotion she watched at the bedside of that selfish husband
whose pride would never allow him to acknowledge her publicly as his
wife.
Feeling that his end was drawing near, the king
Last messages.
summoned the Duke of Orleans to his bedside, and
informed him minutely of the measures he wished to have adopted after his
death. The duke listened respectfully, but paid no more regard to the wishes
of the now powerless and dying king than to the wailing of the wind. The

king had penetration enough to see that his day was over. He sank back
upon his pillow in despair.
On the 26th of August several prominent members of his court were invited
to the dying chamber of the king. His voice was almost gone. He beckoned
them to gather near around his bed. Then, in feeble tones, tremulous with
emotion, the pitiable old man, conscious of his summons to the tribunal of
God, said,
"Gentlemen, I ask your pardon for the bad example I have set you. I thank
you for your fidelity to me, and beg you to be equally faithful to my
grandson. Farewell, gentlemen. Forgive me. I hope you will sometimes
think of me when I am gone."
"By many a death-bed I have been,
By many a sinner's parting scene,
But never aught like this."
It was, indeed, a spectacle mournfully sublime. The Melancholy
dying chamber was one of the most magnificent spectacle.
apartments in the palace of Versailles. The royal couch,
massive in its architecture, richly curtained in its embroidered upholstery of
satin and gold, presented a bed whose pillowed luxury exhibited haggard
death in the strongest possible contrast.
Upon this gorgeous bed the gray-haired king reclined, wrinkled and wan,
and with a countenance which bore the traces both of physical suffering and
of keen remorse. The velvet hangings of the bed were looped back with
heavy tassels of gold. A group of nobles in gorgeous court costumes were
kneeling around the bed. Dispersed over the vast apartment were other
groups of courtiers and ladies, in picturesque attitudes of real or affected
grief. The gilded cornices, the richly-painted ceilings, the soft carpet,
yielding to the pressure of the foot, the lavish display of the most costly and
luxurious furniture, all conspired to render the dimmed eye, and wasted
cheek, and palsied frame of the dying more impressive.
At a gesture from the king nearly all retired. For a few
The young heir to
moments there was unbroken silence. The king then the throne.
requested his great grandchild, who was to be his

successor, to be brought to him. A cushion was placed by the side of the
bed, and the half-frightened child, clinging to the hand of his governess,
kneeled upon it. Louis XIV. gazed for a few moments with almost pitying
tenderness upon the infant prince, and then said,
"My child, you are about to become a great king. Do not
Dying advice.
imitate me either in my taste for building or in my love
of war. Live in peace with the nations. Render to God all that you owe him.
Teach your subjects to honor His name. Strive to relieve the burdens of your
people, in which I have been so unfortunate as to fail. Never forget the
gratitude you owe to the Duchess de Ventadour."[AC]
"Madame," said the king, addressing Madame de Ventadour, "permit me to
embrace the prince."
The dauphin was placed upon the bed. The king encircled him in his arms,
pressed him fondly to his breast, and said, in a voice broken by emotion,
"I bless you, my dear child, with all my heart." He then
The king blesses the
raised his eyes to heaven, and uttered a short prayer for dauphin.
God's blessing upon the boy.
The next day, after another night of languor and suffering, the restless,
conscience-stricken king again summoned the dignitaries of the court to his
bedside, and said to them, in the presence of Madame de Maintenon and of
his confessor, who had mainly instigated him in the persecution of the
Protestants,
"Gentlemen, I die in the faith and obedience of the
Dying confession.
Church. I know nothing of the dogmas by which it is
divided. I have followed the advice which I have received, and have done
only what I was desired to do. If I have erred, my guides alone must answer
before God, whom I call upon to witness this assertion."
The succeeding night the king was restless and greatly agitated. He could
not sleep, and seemed to pass the whole night in agonizing prayer. In the
morning he said to Madame de Maintenon,
"At this moment I only regret yourself. I have not made you happy. But I
have ever felt for you all the regard and affection which you deserved. My

only consolation in leaving you exists in the hope that we shall, ere long,
meet again in eternity."
Hours of agony, bodily and mental, were still allotted to
Scenes of suffering.
the king. His limbs were badly swollen. Upon one of
them mortification was rapidly advancing. He was often delirious, with but
brief intervals of consciousness. The service for the dying was performed.
The ceremony seemed slightly to arouse him from his lethargy. His voice
was heard occasionally blending with the prayers of the ecclesiastics as he
repeated several times,
"Now, in the hour of death, O my God, come to my aid."
Last words.
These were his last words. He sank back insensible upon
his pillow. A few hours of painful breathing passed The death of the
king.
away, and at eight o'clock in the morning of the 1st of
September, 1715, he expired, in the seventy-seventh year of his age and the
seventy-second of his reign. It was the longest reign in the annals of France.
Had he been governed through this period by enlightened Christian
principle, how many millions might have been made happy whom his
crimes doomed to life-long woe!
An immense concourse was assembled in the court-yard at Versailles,
anticipating the announcement of his death. The moment he breathed his
last sigh, the captain of the body-guard approached the great balcony, threw
open the massive windows, and, looking down upon the multitude below,
raised his truncheon above his head, broke it in the centre, threw the
fragments down into the court-yard, and cried sadly, "The king is dead!"
Then, instantly seizing another staff from the hands of
Louis XV.
an attendant, he waved it joyfully above his head, and proclaimed.
shouted triumphantly, "Long live the king, Louis XV.!"
A huzza burst from the lips of the assembled thousands almost loud enough
to pierce the ear of the king, now palsied in death.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE
DEATH OF LOUIS XIV.
There were few to mourn the departed monarch. As his Ignominious burial
remains were hurried to the vaults of St. Denis, those of Louis XIV.
vaults which he had so much dreaded, the populace Louis XV.
shouted execrations and pelted his coffin with mud. Not Louis XVI.
The Revolution.
the slightest regard was paid to his will. The Duke of
Orleans assumed the regency with absolute power. His reign was execrable,
followed by the still more infamous reign of Louis XV. Then came the
Revolution, as the sceptre of utterly despotic sway passed into the hands of
the feeble Louis XVI. The storm, which had been gathering for ages, burst
with fury which appalled the world. A more tremendous event has not
occurred in the history of our race. The story has too often been told by
those who were in sympathy with the kings and the nobles. The time will
come when the people's side of the story will be received, and the terrible
drama will be better understood.

THE END.

Footnotes:
[A] Louis XIV. et son Siècle.
[B] There were at that time two palaces at St. Germain. The old palace,
originally built by Charles V., and in the alteration of which Louis XIV. spent
over a million of dollars, still remains. The new palace, constructed by Henry IV.
about a quarter of a mile from the other, is now in ruins.
[C] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. i., p, 262.
[D] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. i., page 351.
[E] As Louis XIV. was now king, his brother Philip, eleven years of age,
according to usage, took the title of Monsieur. The title for a time adhered still to
the Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIII.
[F] Jules, the Christian name of Mazarin.
[G] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 23, 24.
[H] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 48.
[I] The chateau of Vaux was a spacious and magnificent palace in the small
village of Maincy, about three miles from Melun. M. Fouquet purchased it, and
expended enormous sums in enlarging the buildings, ornamenting the gardens,
and decorating the walls with paintings. His expenditures were so lavish that the
chateau exceeded in magnificence any of the royal palaces.
[J] Chaillot was a village on the banks of the Seine, about a mile and a half from
the Tuileries, near the present bridge of Jena. The nuns of the order of St. Mary
had a celebrated convent here, where persecuted grandeur often sought an
asylum. Within the walls of this convent the widowed queen of Charles I. and
daughter of Henry IV. died in the year 1669.
[K] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 125.
[L] Bradshaw's Guide through Paris and its Environs.
[M] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 145.
[N] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 268.
[O] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 274.
[P] Louis XIV and the Court of France.
[Q] Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier.
[R] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, by Miss Pardoe, vol. ii., p. 339.
[S] History of the Protestants of France, by Professor G. de Félice, p. 275.
[T] Histoire de l'Edit de Nantes, t. iv., p. 479.
[U] History of the Protestants of France, by Prof. G. De Félice.

[V] M. G. De Félice.
[W] Madame de Maintenon.
[X] The claim of the young prince was founded upon the fact that his
grandmother, Maria Theresa, was the eldest daughter of Philip IV. of Spain. She
had, however, upon her marriage, renounced all claim to the succession. Her
younger sister, Margarita, had married the Emperor Leopold of Austria without
this renunciation. The emperor claimed the crown for her daughter, who had
married the Elector of Bavaria. Hence the war of The Spanish Succession.
[Y] Louis XIV. and the Court of France, vol. ii., p. 588.
[Z] Memoires de St. Simon.
[AA] Abbott's French Revolution, as viewed in the Light of Republican
Institutions.
[AB] Napoleon at St. Helena, p. 374
[AC] The Duchess de Ventadour, by the most careful nursing, to which she
entirely devoted herself, had rescued the infant Duke of Anjou from the effect of
the poison to which his father, mother, and brother had fallen victims.

Transcriber's Notes

1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors, and to
ensure consistent spelling and punctuation in this etext; otherwise, every
effort has been made to remain true to the original book.
2. The sidenotes used in this text were originally published as banners in the
page headers, and have been moved to the relevant paragraph for the
reader's convenience.
3. Typesetting for italics was very inconsistent in this book; no attempt has
been made to regularize the use of italics.

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