As king, Louis was seen by his subjects as the guardian of their rights. A prince or a nobleman could pose a tremendous threat to these rights as they robbed, tortured, and murdered the citizenry with impunity. There was no limit to the damage they could do, both to the local economy and to the well-being of the people.57 It was part of Louis’s duty as king to ensure that his subjects were protected.
Louis’s tour was, therefore, in the public interest. The Gazette assured its readers, who were anxious about the king’s absence from Paris, that there was “no reason to be dismayed . . . it is not His Majesty’s purpose to wait until trouble has risen before protecting his subjects against it, for, like a good doctor, he believes that prevention is better than cure.”58
The first stop was Normandy, the governorship of which was held by the duc de Longueville, and which was one of the “market gardens” of France, where much of the food supplied to Paris was produced. In April, Louis journeyed into Burgundy, which was governed by Condé.
Paris, meanwhile, was left in the care of the duc d’Orléans, but his loyalty, which was never strong, was now wavering. When Mazarin compared the behavior of the Parlement and the nobility with that of the English regicides, an outraged Orléans joined the rebellion of the princes.59
When the uprising led by Retz joined the Fronde of the Princes,60 Orléans was appointed leader. His first priority was to free the princes, and the first step to this goal was to secure the exile of Mazarin. The cardinal’s supporters urged Anne to remove Louis to a place of safety, put herself at the head of the army, and force the submission of Orléans and the parlement. She insisted, however, that Mazarin was firmly in charge, adding for good measure that nothing would induce her to release the princes.
On February 4, Retz delivered a rousing speech in parlement, demanding the cardinal’s exile. Confronted by these demands, combined with death threats, Mazarin had little choice but to comply. He left Paris on February 6,61 leaving Anne and Louis in Paris and very alone. Anne confided to Mme de Motteville that she wished “it were always night, for though I cannot sleep the silence and the solitude please me; in the daytime I see none but those who would betray me.”62
Within a day, a rumor spread among the populace of Paris that the queen was planning to remove Louis from the capital, and two squadrons of cavalry were stationed at strategic points in the city.63 Orléans sent M. des Ouches, captain of his Cent-Suisses, to the Palais-Royal to make sure the king was still in residence and to ask Anne to put a stop to the rumor.64 Anne assured Ouches that she had no intention of taking Louis away from Paris, and the proof was that both the king and Philippe were in bed, sleeping soundly. In order that the guard could “bear testimony to the duc d’Orléans,” she bid him go to “see the king in his bed, being certain that the noise would not waken him.” Ouches duly went to Louis’s chamber and, obeying the queen’s command, lifted the curtain and “watched him for some time in a deep sleep.”
Anne’s action persuaded Ouches that she had no desire to leave Paris, and, as he returned to his master he did his best to calm the people in the streets through which he passed, advising them to be quiet because their king was asleep. The populace, however, insisted upon seeing the king for themselves. A number of them entered the Palais-Royal “crying out that the king must be shown to them, for they wished to see him.” Anne, hearing their cries, ordered the doors to be thrown open and the crowd to be conducted to Louis’s bedchamber. “The rioters were enchanted at this frank treatment,” said Mme de Motteville, adding:
They stood around the king’s bed, the curtains of which had been opened, and returning once more to a spirit of affection, gave him a thousand benedictions. They looked at him sleeping for a long time and could not admire him sufficiently. The sight gave them a great respect for him; it increased their desire not to lose his presence, but they now expressed this feeling with sentiments of fidelity. Their excitement ceased, and whereas they had entered the Palais-Royal like furies, they left it full of gentleness, asking God with all their hearts to preserve their young king, whose presence had the power to charm them.65
Although Louis appeared to be asleep throughout this ordeal, he almost certainly was not, and the memory of this incident, more than any other, would remain with him. It would influence his decision to leave Paris for good and establish his court at Versailles, where he could control who could see him and, more importantly, who could not.
Louis was effectively a prisoner in his own capital as Orléans posted armed guards on all the gates of Paris to prevent him from leaving.66 Meanwhile, Anne signed an order for the release of the princes;67 a few days later, parlement registered a royal edict stating that no foreigners, not even naturalized subjects, should be allowed to become a minister. It was a direct attack on Mazarin, who, as he made his way to Germany, had received news of the king’s detention. He made a detour to Le Havre and released the princes before travelling on to Schloss Bruhl, near Cologne. Here, he maintained contact with Louis and Anne through secret agents.
Louis had now been imprisoned inside his own palace for a month. To help ease the tension and introduce a sense of normality, Anne staged a ballet, in which Louis danced the part of a knight in the entourage of Cassandra. This was something of a triumph for Louis, for it was his first solo part. At another time, he played the part of the deity, Bacchante, in Ballet des Fêtes de Bacchus. Louis’s lines looked forward to the future glory that was his as a result of his divinely granted birthright. However, when news of the events reached Mazarin, he sent a message of reproof; he felt it was important to emphasize that Louis and Philippe were depressed by being held against their will.68
Despite the cardinal’s warnings, life did assume a sense of normality, and that summer Louis would often go to the Seine to enjoy a swim. One day, as he was driving along the Cours-la-Reine on his way back to the palace, he met Condé coming the other way. Condé, who had made a spectacular entry into Paris a few weeks earlier but had never paid Louis the courtesy of a visit, was bound by court etiquette to stop, climb out of his carriage, and salute the king. On this occasion, however, he remained in his carriage and merely bowed to Louis as he passed. It was a terrible affront to the king, and one Louis would never forget. Condé was later rebuked in parlement for his insolence, which not only upset the hierarchical order that governed all aspects of life but also brought home to him just how far his power had diminished in the capital. With nothing further to lose, as he saw it, Condé decided on civil war. His ultimate aim was to separate Navarre and Guyenne from France and rule in those regions as king in his own right.69 There was little Louis could do to resist his cousin’s ambition as yet, but he stood on the threshold of a long-awaited milestone in his life, one that would bring about a complete reversal in his affairs and those of the state: Louis was about to attain his majority.
It was eight o’clock in the morning on September 7, 1651.70 Louis was lying in his bed in the Palais-Cardinal when the master of ceremonies came to inform him that the queen was coming to see him. She had with her Philippe, Louis’s only brother, the duc d’Orléans, and many of the dukes and peers, marshals of France, and other nobles of the kingdom.71
Louis, upon receiving the news, sent the duc de Joyeuse, his grand chamberlain, to meet the queen at the door and escort her and her entourage to the alcove of the king’s bed. Louis moved to the opening in the balustrade and received the queen, who bowed to him. He raised her up with a kiss and made a short discourse, at the end of which Philippe gave his brother “a very respectful salutation as for homage,” as did Orléans and all the others in their turn. Louis then ordered Joyeuse to mount everyone on horseback, while observing strict order of rank.
The cavalcade was spectacular. It was led by the chevalier de Saint-Masgrin at the head of a company of one hundred cavaliers of the queen’s light horse, and heralded by four trumpeters wearing black velvet trimmed with silver lace. The chevalier wore a coat embroidered in gold and silver and was mounte
d upon a white horse, caparisoned, and with ribbons in its mane and tail and a saddlecloth that matched the coat of its rider. Next came the two-hundred-strong company of the king’s light horse under the command of the comte d’Olonne, and heralded by four trumpeters in blue velvet laced with gold and silver. Resplendent in his coat of gold and silver, a baldric adorned with pearls, and “hat with white plumes, dead-leaf and flame colored, with a gold cord around it,” the comte rode a white horse, well caparisoned, with a red saddlecloth embroidered to match his coat. They were followed by the company of the grand provost on foot, the Cent-Suisses, and the aide of the ceremonies. The seigneurs of the court came behind them, with the governors of the towns and the lieutenant-generals of the provinces.
Six of the king’s trumpeters, in blue velvet, marched next, and they were followed by six more heralds on horseback. They wore velvet caps and coats of arms of crimson velvet powdered with golden fleur-de-lis, and they were carrying the caduceus in their hands.72 Behind them came the sieur de Saintot, master of ceremonies, whose job it was to ride back and forth keeping everyone in their place. The marquis de La Meilleraye, grand master of the artillery, followed him with the marshals of France riding two by two. All were richly dressed and riding large horses, whose trappings were “laden with gold and silver.”
The comte d’Harcourt, the grand equerry of France, came next, bearing the king’s sword in a blue velvet scabbard powdered with golden fleur-de-lis. His doublet was of cloth of gold and silver, and he was mounted upon a dapple-gray charger, whose crimson trappings were embroidered with gold in Spanish point, with two scarves of black taffeta for reins. He was followed by a host of pages and valets in an abundance of red, white, and blue plumes, who led the bodyguard on foot, the ushers, and the mace bearers.
It was now that the crowd got its first glimpse of the king. Among the witnesses to this spectacle was the English writer and diarist John Evelyn, who was visiting his friend Thomas Hobbes. Watching from the window, they saw Louis riding an Isabella barb, whose caparison was powdered73 with crosses of the Order of the Holy Ghost, and fleur-de-lis, while:
the king himself, like a young Apollo, was in a suit so covered with rich embroidery, that one could perceive nothing of the stuff under it; he went almost the whole way with his hat in his hand, saluting the ladies and acclamators, who had filled the windows with their beauty, and the air with “Vive le Roi.”74
Evelyn added that Louis “seemed a prince of grave yet sweet countenance.”
The official account noted Louis’s “august countenance and gentle gravity, truly royal, and his natural civility [which] made him observable to all for the delight of the human race.” The king “seemed of such tall stature that it was hard to believe he had not yet completed his fourteenth year.”75 The shouts of the crowds and the general excitement made Louis’s cream-colored barb “rear and curvet, verifying the words of Plutarch, that horses never flatter kings; which gave occasion to our king to show himself one of the best riders in his kingdom.”
Behind Louis were the senior members of his household, and then “the princes followed in great numbers, and the dukes and peers, without precedence of rank and in confusion, closed the cavalcade.” The coach carrying the Regent Anne, Philippe, and various princesses and other ladies came next, and this was followed by the coaches of the “maids-of-honor, the ladies of the Court, and the suite of their Majesties.”
The procession followed the length of the “rues Saint-Honoré, de la Ferronnerie, de Saint-Denis, past the Châtelet, by the rue de Crucifix-Saint-Jacques, the bridge Notre-Dame, the Marché-Neuf” before entering the courtyard of the Palais de la Cité from the rue Sainte-Anne.
With the cries of “Vive le roi” ringing in his ears, Louis dismounted and was received at the foot of the Sainte-Chapelle by the bishop of Bayeux and his clergy. After mass, Louis made his way to the sound of trumpets to the grande chambre and took his seat on the lit de justice. The silence that followed was broken by the calm, clear voice of the king, who announced:
Messieurs, I have come to my parlement to tell you that, following the law of my State, I intend to take the government myself; and I hope by the goodness of God that it will be with piety and justice. My chancellor will tell you more particularly my intentions.
Following a short harangue by the Chancellor Séguier, Anne leaned forward in her seat to the left of the king and said:
Monsieur, This is the ninth year that, by the last will of the late king, my very honored lord, I have taken care of your education and the government of your State; God having, by his goodness, blessed my labor and preserved your person, which is dear and precious to me and to all your subjects. Now that the law of the kingdom calls you to government of this monarchy, I return to you, with great satisfaction, the power which was given me to govern it; and I hope that God will do you the favor to assist you with His spirit of strength and prudence, to render your reign a happy one.
At this, Louis replied:
Madame, I thank you for the care you have been pleased to take of my education and of the administration of my kingdom, I beg you to continue to give me your good advice, and I desire that you shall be, after myself, the head of my council.
Anne now rose from her seat and approached Louis in readiness to bow to him, but Louis stepped down from his lit de justice, “went to her, and, embracing her, kissed her; after which they returned to their seats.”
Next was the turn of Philippe, who knelt before Louis, kissed his hand, and professed his fidelity. He was followed by the duc d’Orléans and the prince de Conti, and then all the other princes, chancellors, dukes and peers, the ecclesiastics, marshals of France, and the crown officers, in their turn.
Then, after a short speech by the chief president, the chancellor ordered the doors to be opened so the people could enter. They heard the sieur Guiet, clerk of the parlement, reading the edicts issued by Louis against blasphemy and duelling, and the declaration of the innocence of the prince de Condé. This declaration was surprising, given Condé’s activities over the past several months; however, Louis was prepared to accept the opinions of his lawyers, and stated that “all warnings that the prince was plotting against the king whether within or without the kingdom, were not believed by His Majesty, who, on the contrary, condemned them as false and artfully invented.” It was, therefore, Louis’s will and pleasure that all writings on the subject that had been given to parlement and other courts should be suppressed and, if necessary, revoked and annulled as false and counterfeit, “so that in future nothing might be imputed to his cousin the Prince de Condé.” Louis’s gesture was one of generosity, an olive branch calculated to placate Condé and restore peace to the kingdom; yet, even as the declaration of his innocence was being read out, Condé was committing treason by amassing an army against the king and negotiating an alliance with Philip IV of Spain, whose country was still at war with France.
Returning to the Palais-Royal, Anne confided to her ladies that she saw the end of her regency “with veritable joy; if any regret mingled with this joy it was that of not placing in the hands of the king her son as absolute a sovereign authority as she wished.” However, Louis’s majority deprived the frondeurs of one of their main objections to the rule of Anne and Mazarin, which was that only an adult king could rule in the fullness of the royal authority. Louis was now able to issue decrees in his own right, which would confirm and support those of his mother and the cardinal. Although the parlement accepted this new state of affairs, Condé and his supporters did not, and so the civil war entered a new chapter.76
Condé and his Spanish allies attempted an invasion of France, but their plan was ultimately frustrated at Rethel by Turenne, who had tired of Condé’s attitude and treachery. For the next few weeks Condé travelled through his governorships enlisting reinforcements, obliging Louis once again to follow in his footsteps. The king appearing before his subjects won their hearts and their loyalty, but Louis’s was affected by the stress of th
e situation he was facing. One night, at Corbeil, he desired his brother, Philippe, to sleep in his chamber, a room that was so narrow there was space for only one person to pass through at a time. In the morning, Louis, without thinking, spat on Philippe’s bed, and Philippe responded in kind. Louis, annoyed by this, spat in Philippe’s face, upon which Philippe leaped onto Louis’s bed and pissed over it. Louis then pissed on Philippe’s bed. They then set about tugging at the curtains before challenging each other to a fight. They had to be restrained by La Porte and M. de Villeroy. Philippe was more angry than the king, but Louis was the more difficult to pacify.77
Everywhere he went, Louis was followed by sick and maimed soldiers begging for help, but he had no money to give them. However, the plight of the soldiers, bad though it was, diminished in the face of that of the people. Peasants in search of protection from the rebel armies that ravaged the countryside besieged the court wherever it went. Unable to put their cattle out to pasture, they brought the animals with them, only to see them die of hunger. When the cattle died, the people did too, for they had nothing to live on except the meager charity the court could afford to offer. The people had no protection from the summer heat or the chill of the night except for a few pathetic awnings, carts, and vans in the streets. “When the mothers were dead,” added La Porte, “the children died after; and I saw on the bridge of Melun . . . three children lying on their dead mother, one of them still suckling her.”78
Louis was not oblivious to the suffering of his people, but he was powerless to do anything about it. On October 8, he issued decrees against his cousin of Condé, but it would take armed conflict finally to subdue him. The tide, however, was slowly turning. Condé, who was hatching a plan to capture Louis, once again encountered Turenne at the Battle of Bléneau on April 7, 1652. The prince, soundly beaten, was forced to retreat.
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