Louis XIII had satisfied the basic requirements of a king: he had left a son and heir to reign after him; he had appointed a regency council to rule until the young king attained his majority; he had done so while restricting the powers of a wife and queen he had never fully come to trust, yet without breaking with the cherished traditions of the realm. One thing Louis had not taken into consideration was the understanding that kings could not rule from beyond the grave; his will was valid only for as long as he lived.
Anne spent the next two days meeting ambassadors and holding discussions with various officials. She discussed the regency, the composition of the council, and her place in it. The agreements that were reached would be announced at the next day’s lit de justice before being registered by the parlement.5
The lit de justice was a solemn session of parlement originally devised to enforce the registration of a decree or edict that otherwise would have been disputed on the grounds that it was felt to be contrary to the laws and traditions of France. The lit was literally a pile of cushions upon which Louis would be seated. On the morning of May 18, he and his mother, accompanied by the princesse de Condé, the duchesse de Longueville, and Louis’s governess, Madame de Lansac, left the Louvre. The route, lined all the way by cheering crowds hedged by French guards and Cent-Suisses, took Louis across the Pont Neuf before turning towards the Palais de la Cité on the Île de la Cité.
Louis, tiny though he was, was magnificent in the violet robes of royal mourning, their ermine trimming set off by the sky blue cordon of the Ordre du Saint-Esprit. He arrived just after nine o’clock and immediately made his way to the Sainte-Chapelle to attend the mass celebrated by the bishop of Beauvais. At the same time, the gentlemen of the parlement, dressed in the long red robes of their office, had begun to take their seats. They were joined by the prince de Condé and his younger son, the prince de Conti, followed by the chancellor, Pierre Séguier.
Outside the Sainte-Chapelle, four présidents à mortier (second presidents) and eight councillors waited to escort their king and his suite into the Grand Chambre, the entourage being led by guards, with members of the nobility following behind. Louis was carried to the lit de justice by the duc de Joyeuse and supported by the comte de Charost, the captain of the guards, a ritual that served to emphasize the king’s status as a child.
Louis was seated on the lit de justice with the queen regent and the princes of the blood to his right, while the bishop of Beauvais sat to his left. At the king’s feet was his great chamberlain, the duc de Chevreuse, while four captains of the guards took their seats further down. Facing them were the gentlemen of the parlement. Once everyone was in his place, Mme de Lansac lifted Louis onto his throne before one of the captains of the guard called for silence. All eyes were now fixed on the small boy, who, “with a grace uncommon to those of his years,” addressed the assembly. His words were well rehearsed: “Messieurs, I have come to testify my affection and my good will towards my parlement. My chancellor will tell you the rest.”6 The king then stole a glance towards his mother, who smiled her approval.
Omer Talon, the avocat-général, was the first to rise. He likened Louis’s throne to that of the Living God and begged him to consider that the honor and respect the estates of his realm rendered to him were as that to a visible divinity.7 Chancellor Séguier spoke next, urging parlement to overturn the late king’s will and confirm Anne of Austria as regent. As it was, Anne had already secured her position by promising the magistrates that she would grant them automatic ennoblement within eighteen months if they would agree to the suppression of her late husband’s will. She had also come to an understanding with the duc d’Orléans and Condé, who now publicly pledged their loyalty and devotion. Anne then assured the regency council that she would be happy to receive their advice on all occasions.8 With that the business of the day was done. Louis, Anne, and their entourage made their way back to the Louvre, the air filled with acclamations of “Vive le roi.”9 Louis XIV had completed his first official ceremony as king.
A medal commemorating Louis’s accession was designed, bearing the legend FRANCORUM SPES MAGNA: Louis was the “Great Hope of the French.”10 A few days later, news arrived that the duc d’Enghein, Condé’s eldest son, had defeated the Spanish at the battle of Rocroi. The news crowned the dawn of the reign of Louis XIV with glory.
Seated on the throne of the living God he might have been, but Louis XIV was still a child and too young to govern. Anne of Austria immediately began the process of arranging the regency council to suit her own needs. Out went Richelieu’s creatures, Claude Bouthillier and his son, Léon de Chavigny, and in came Nicolas de Bailleul, a président à mortier of the Parlement of Paris,11 while the marquise de Seneçay replaced Mme de Lansac as Louis’s governess. Cardinal Mazarin, who had been Richelieu’s protégé, also expected to be dismissed and was already packing his bags in readiness for his return to Rome when the marquis de Chouppes knocked on his door. The marquis tried to assure his friend that the queen mother would not let him leave, but Mazarin felt certain that she meant to replace him with the bishop of Beauvais, a favorite for whom she had already requested a cardinal’s hat. At that moment, Beauvais arrived and Mazarin braced himself for bad news, but he was to be surprised. Beauvais announced that he had come from the queen with the message that “Her Majesty offers Your Eminence the only post befitting his dignity, that of Prime Minister.”12
Mazarin met Anne of Austria in 1631 during his first visit to Paris. Richelieu introduced him to the queen with the observation, “Madame, you will like him well, he resembles Buckingham.”13 Indeed, Anne did like the handsome and personable man who was about the same age as her, and this did not go unnoticed by Richelieu, who sought to control her through him.14
It is true that there was some resemblance between Mazarin and Buckingham, and Richelieu’s insolent remark has inspired historians to question the true nature of the relationship that formed between the queen and the future cardinal, but any suggestion that they were lovers, or even that they married, remains unfounded.15 Anne’s own words, spoken to Mme de Brienne, show the true depth of feeling she had for Mazarin: “I grant you that I like him, and I may even say tenderly, but the affection I bear him does not go so far as love, or if it does so without my knowledge it is not my senses which are involved but only my mind, which is charmed by the beauty of his.”16 The attraction was obvious: Mazarin was a capable diplomat and administrator dedicated to the service of his adopted country. He and Anne shared much in common, most importantly the duty to preserve the security and integrity of the kingdom inherited by Louis XIV.
Anne of Austria did not feel secure in her role as regent, and she attempted to buy support with favors, governorships, and appointments. This greatly alarmed Mazarin, who quickly grasped her political naïveté and susceptibility to flattery; he warned her that such actions could result in factionalism because “a favor granted to one meant the enmity of the other.”17 Mazarin advised Anne to recall from exile her old friend Mme de Chevreuse, to neutralize any intrigue that might arise. Although Anne no longer had any love for her former companion, she agreed. Meanwhile, the cardinal educated Anne in politics, and they would convene each evening to discuss the business of the day. During their meetings, which lasted half an hour or more, they might have been out of earshot of Anne’s ladies, but they were never out of sight.
Mazarin’s perceived influence over Anne aroused jealousy in those who had hoped that the death of Louis XIII and Richelieu would signal their return to power. A cabal formed, led by the duc de Beaufort, who, worryingly, was soon joined by Mme de Chevreuse. Another who joined their ranks was the duchesse de Longueville, Condé’s brilliant, beautiful, and scheming daughter. Their haughtiness led them to be labelled the Cabale des Importants, and their plan was as dangerous as it was ambitious: to assassinate Mazarin and exert their own influence over the queen regent. Their one opportunity to execute their plan failed because the cardinal happened to be travell
ing in a coach with Gaston, who would have regarded any violence against his passenger as an affront to his honor. The conspiracy having been uncovered, the leaders were rounded up and imprisoned or sent into exile.
It has sometimes been said that Louis had an unhappy childhood, one marked by neglect,18 but there is no evidence to support this. There are, however, numerous accounts describing Louis’s hauteur and pride, although few realized that such traits masked shyness. On September 5, 1643, Angelo Contarini, envoy extraordinary of the Republic of Venice, saw the king, who was celebrating his fifth birthday. Contarini left a pen portrait praising Louis’s alert mind and “the beauty of his disposition,” which he saw as “an indication of high qualities as yet undeveloped.” He continued:
He is of sturdy build and has an animated if rather serious expression, but it is a seriousness full of charm. He rarely laughs, even at play. He insists that his three-year-old brother, the duc d’Anjou, shall show him respect and obedience. He knows and understands that he is King and intends to be treated as such. And when, occasionally, the Queen his mother reproves him, he replies that the time is coming when he will be master. When the Ambassadors talk to the Regent, he does not listen, but when they address him he is very attentive . . . In short, unless his life and education play him false, he promises to be a great King.19
A few days later, Louis attended a special ceremony in Paris to congratulate his cousin, the duc d’Enghein, upon the capture of Thionville.20 The town, which had been besieged since 1639, had finally capitulated during the summer, one of several towns to do so in a year that had seen mixed fortunes for the French forces. Yet while these victories added to the glory of the new reign, they did nothing to end the ongoing war. The financial burdens caused by the conflict fell heaviest upon the poor, and this led inevitably to unrest. The peasants of the Rouergue were the first to rise up, followed by those of Aunis and Saintonge, where the people were joined by the local nobility. The revolt was swiftly and brutally put down by the marquis d’Aumont, but Mazarin opposed such harsh measures. He persuaded Anne that concord would come only through leniency and compassion, and together they prepared a royal proclamation. In this, the earliest such declaration to be signed by Louis XIV, the king assured his subjects that “the rapidity with which the said provinces have been reduced to submission has led me, on the advice of my Mother, the Queen Regent, to overlook their misdemeanors.”21 Louis was learning a valuable lesson: that the highest attribute of princes was mercy towards those he saw as misguided and unfortunate.
The following day, Louis reviewed his troops for the first time. The occasion had more the air of a family outing than the formal royal duty it actually was. Louis, accompanied by his mother and a small party, sat in a coach in the Bois de Boulogne, to the west of Paris, and watched the Cent-Suisses performing maneuvers.22 The king was expected to be as much a military leader as a political one, and good relations with his troops were vital. This event, the first of many, reinforced Louis’s emerging interest in all things military. Already his play had a distinct martial flavor. He was surrounded by enfants d’honneur, children his own age specially selected from noble families, who would share his games and, later, his lessons. Among these were Louis-Henri Loménie, the future comte de Brienne, who would recall Louis playing with wooden swords and toy guns and banging his drum to the rhythm of the march of the Cent-Suisses.23
At this point Louis was still living at the Louvre, but in early October Anne moved her family into a new home, the nearby Palais-Cardinal. Originally built in the 1630s for Cardinal Richelieu and situated opposite the Louvre in the rue Saint-Honoré, the palace was spacious and filled with light, and it boasted beautiful gardens for the boys to play in. Renamed the Palais-Royal, it would become Louis’s main residence in Paris for the rest of the regency. Mazarin, meanwhile, took over three neighboring mansions, transforming them into a magnificent, ostentatiously decorated residence filled with the minister’s art collection and other treasures.
Louis’s relationship with his mother was unusually close, and he and Philippe would spend most of their day with her, except for playtimes. Considered too young to eat with her, they would nevertheless sit with her while she ate. In the morning, Louis was always present at Anne’s lever, or her rising and dressing ceremony, at which he handed her the chemise in a ritual that should have been allowed to a favored lady.24
At seven, Louis attained the “age of reason,” when he was deemed capable of discerning right from wrong, mature and responsible in thought and action. Now he was taken out of his skirts and dressed in male clothing; at the same time, he was removed from the care of women and placed under the tutelage of men.
Anne wanted her sons to be “instructed in all knowledge.”25 Latin was considered desirable, though not essential, for the education of princes, but history was seen as indispensable, for it “will show them examples, and give them views by which to govern great kingdoms, to control by the same laws people of different natures, to maintain them in peace with their neighbors, and make them feared by their enemies.” Such vital learning as this, however, could not be taught, but must come through experience.
Anne could think of no better instructor for Louis than Mazarin, whom she appointed superintendent of the government and of the conduct of the king, but he could not work alone. He selected Nicolas de Neufville, marquis de Villeroy as governor of the king’s person, while Hardouin de Péréfixe was appointed director of studies. Péréfixe taught the king history and the liberal arts, and attempted to instill in his pupil a desire for peace over war. However, under Péréfixe’s guiding hand, Louis would come to believe that God “made me out of nothing and drew me up out of nothingness where I was, to give me being, life, my kingdom and all the advantages I now possess.”26 It was all heady stuff for so young a person, and the origins of Louis’s self-identification as a divinely appointed king. Focusing on more mundane subjects, other teachers would instruct Louis in writing, reading, arithmetic, and drawing, as well as Spanish and Italian. Latin was not neglected, however, and Louis was made to translate the Commentaries of Caesar.
Louis’s schooling was not entirely of an intellectual nature, for he received lessons in fencing, horsemanship, and, most important of all, dancing. As it was, his first chance to show off his dancing skills came when he made his début appearance at a ball held at the Palais-Royal. Here, the seven-year-old king partnered his cousin, Mlle de Montpensier, “with a grace characteristic of all his actions, but unusual in this respect that it caused everyone to wonder at the way in which this young prince, combining so charmingly dignity with pleasure, comported himself as a king even while dancing.”27
There was one area of her son’s life where Anne refused to relinquish control: religion. She “took great care to maintain in the soul of the young king those sentiments of virtue, honor, and piety, which she had instilled in him from infancy.”28 Anne, with Louis and Philippe in tow, visited churches in Paris and beyond, but perhaps the most important of these was the Val-de-Grâce, her own establishment, which she had renovated as thanksgiving for the birth of the king.
Anne’s faith was deep and sincere, and it was marked by the rigorous and ostentatious observances she had learned as a child in Spain; but hers was a simple faith, which did not require the application of intellectual study. This approach she passed on to Louis, who would always prefer to be guided by carefully selected chaplains rather than his own reading of the Bible and theological works.
When he was six, Louis began to spend his autumns at Fontainebleau, the beautiful château built by François I upon an older structure, much as Louis himself was to do with Versailles. Initially, these sojourns were a means to escape the stifling heat of the Parisian summer, but they had now become a regular feature of the king’s calendar. The royal family would enjoy entertainments in the park and the vast forest that surrounded the château, but most of the time they would don their long gray shifts and bathe in the cool waters of the Seine.29
Of course, the business of the court continued, and Fontainebleau provided the setting for diplomatic audiences and royal visits. One special guest was Charles, prince of Wales, who came in 1645.30 Charles had fought alongside his father and had been appointed nominal leader of the royal forces in England’s West Country. By this time, however, it was becoming clear that the war was not going well for the royalists, and the exile of the young prince grew imperative. At first Charles withdrew to the Scilly Isles before moving on to Jersey and then to France. Here, he was united with his mother, Henriette-Marie, and lived at the expense of the French court.
Despite his presence in France for several weeks, it was not until August 14 that Charles was formally presented to King Louis at Fontainebleau amid elaborate ceremony. Charles was given the honor of riding in the same coach as Louis, on the same side as the king and at his right hand. Royal protocol, however, went only so far, and Charles was accorded no more than the customary three days at court.31
The two cousins met again the following March at the Palais-Royal, where three days of festivities had been laid on for Shrovetide. Already Louis was developing a love of theater, much to the indignation of the rector of Saint-Germain, who thought such amusement to be “a mortal sin and ought not to be permitted.”32 On this occasion, Mazarin offered a spectacular play, complete with moving scenery, magnificent costumes, and “music in the Italian fashion.”33
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