It was time now for the enthronement. Louis was conducted up the staircase to the rood loft, where he sat on the throne in full view of his people. In procession, the dukes and peers of France kissed Louis on the cheek and paid homage.
“Vivat res in aeternum,” cried the bishop, which was the signal for the doors of the cathedral to be opened so that Louis’s subjects, who thronged in the square and streets outside, might see him as they shouted, “Vive le roi!” Special coins had been struck to mark the occasion, showing an image of Louis on one side and a hand holding the holy ampulla coming out of heaven on the other. These were distributed to the people.
A mass was said, during which Louis kissed the Bible. After this, he descended the staircase, still bearing the royal regalia, and went to the altar, where he handed the sceptre and the hand of justice to the awaiting officials. Louis now received four offerings: wine in a vessel of golden vermeil; a nugget of silver on a pillow fringed with gold; a nugget of gold; and a purse of red velvet embroidered in gold. The purse contained thirteen gold coins weighing five and a half pistoles each. They bore an image of Louis, crowned, and the inscription LUDOVICUS XIV FRANC. & NAVAR. REX CHRISTIANISSIMUS.13 On the other side was an image of the town of Reims with a dove holding the holy ampulla. An inscription on the exergue read SACRATUS AC SALUTATUS REMIS 31 MAY 1654. This was the date originally set for the coronation, but it had been changed to June 7 too late for new coins to be reminted. These offerings Louis presented to the bishop of Soissons before he took up the sceptre and the hand of justice once again and returned to his throne.
According to ancient custom, the fowlers of Paris, who were installed in the upper galleries of the nave, released forty doves. The birds flew out of the windows as the Te Deum was sung below. Three salvoes were fired to announce that His Majesty Louis XIV had been crowned and anointed king of France.
Another mass was celebrated, after which Louis returned the regalia to the officials, while his brother, Philippe, duc d’Anjou, removed the heavy crown of Charlemagne from the king’s head. Entering the oratory, which had been specially erected beside one of the pillars of the chancel, Louis made his confession and received communion of both kinds. The bread and wine had been consecrated in the magnificent golden, jewel-encrusted chalice of Saint Rémi. Following this, and taking up the regalia once more, Louis was given a lighter crown designed especially for the occasion, which was ornamented with pearls, diamonds, and other precious stones. The crown of Charlemagne was placed on a rich cushion and given to the maréchal de l’hôpital, who carried it before the king.
The procession that had escorted Louis into the cathedral now reformed to conduct him out. The air rang with the peal of bells and the cheers of his people as Louis made his way back to the archiepiscopal palace. Here, in a small, private ritual, Louis removed his gloves and shirt. These had been in contact with holy oil; according to ecclesiastical tradition, they could not be used for any profane purpose, and so they were burned.
A sumptuous feast now awaited Louis. Still dressed in his royal robes and his light crown, and bearing once again the sceptre and hand of justice, the king entered the Great Hall in the archiepiscopal palace and was conducted to his seat by the archbishop of Soissons. He sat at his table, which stood on a raised dais; his chair, which was surrounded by a wooden gilt balustrade, was surmounted by a canopy of cloth of silver. By his side was Philippe, who was entitled to this honor as the only brother of the king. Louis laid his royal regalia on the table, upon which also rested the great crown of Charlemagne. Now he enjoyed a feast, which consisted of five meat courses and two sweet dishes.
Only now, as he returned to his bedchamber, did Louis finally remove his coronation robes. The day had been long, with the service itself lasting five hours, and the king of France settled down to sleep as the sun set over the ancient town of Reims.
The next day, Louis dressed in cloth of silver and a black velvet cap, and mounted a white horse marvellously caparisoned in silver. Accompanied by a gorgeously dressed entourage, which included Philippe d’Anjou, Louis rode in procession to the Abbey of Saint Rémi. The streets, lined with bright tapestries, were filled with the people who came out to cheer their king. Louis, waving and bowing, returned their greetings as he went.
At the church, Louis heard mass and listened to several sermons, the last of which was delivered by the bishop of Montauban. He exhorted Louis to deal severely with the Protestants in his kingdom, notwithstanding the fact that their freedom of conscience had been guaranteed them and they were protected by edict.14 It was highly inappropriate and struck a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious and happy visit by the king.15
That afternoon, Louis returned to Notre-Dame de Reims, where he was invested into the Ordre du Saint-Esprit, instantly becoming grand master of the order.
Kingship conferred upon Louis a mystical union with the kingdom of France and its people. It also reinforced his relationship with God and endowed him with the power to heal. On the last day of his visit, he once again went to the Abbey de Saint Rémi, where some twenty-five hundred people, all inflicted with scrofula, awaited him in the abbey park. Louis touched each one, tracing the sign of the cross over every ravaged face with the open palm of his right hand. As he did so, he spoke the words “God heals you, the king touches you.”16 Behind him came the grand almoner, who gave each person a silver coin. Just as his coronation had lasted hours, so too did this ceremony, but Louis paused only twice to drink a glass of refreshing water. His final act was to pardon six thousand criminals, who were released from prison.
Louis’s status as king had altered due to his anointing, which was understood to be the most important aspect of the ceremony in which he had just participated, and which was emphasized by the name le sacre. To be king meant that his subjects, high and low, saw Louis as a living God, whose anointing conferred upon him the necessary qualities to enable him to represent divine law and order in nature.17
Louis was the absolute ruler of eighteen million or so people, over whom he exercised complete command and the course of whose lives he could direct as he saw fit. Many, however, recognized that Louis must be guided by the teachings and ethics of Christianity. Linked to this was Louis’s responsibility for the spiritual welfare of his people. It was his duty to uphold orthodoxy in spiritual affairs, and this included the appointment of prelates who would serve the church.
As ruler of all France, Louis would define the borders of his kingdom, preserve the unity of France, and win, or maintain, the loyalty of those within his kingdom who might prefer to serve their own, local feudal lords. He was also the personification of France; his achievements would be France’s achievements, his misfortunes would be France’s misfortunes, and his children would be, as he had been, enfants de France.
Louis, as the direct successor to the semidivine Roman emperors, was also understood to be semidivine. He occupied that mysterious space between mortal humanity and the Christian God, whose representative on earth he was.
Finally, Louis was the only person who could protect his subjects from oppression and injustice. This was seen during the Fronde, when injured and starving soldiers and civilians followed the court in search of comfort and relief. It would be seen again in the predawn of the Revolution, when the peasantry would flock to Versailles to beg for bread from the royal kitchens. As such, it was in the best interests of the people to support Louis in his endeavors, both peaceful and in time of war.
Guy Patin, a physician and close observer of affairs at court, expressed his “great and high hopes that something good will come from the consecration. It is said that the spirit of the king has awakened.”18 Louis himself described his métier de roi in much simpler terms: “The only way to reign in all hearts at once, is to be the incorruptible judge and common father to all.”19
Two months after his coronation, Louis rejoined his army, where he witnessed two major developments in the ongoing war. The first was the siege of Stenay, seen by some
as a “military consecration”20 for Louis; this was followed by Turenne’s relief of Arras. Shortly afterwards, the king returned to Paris, where he would spend the winter.
FIVE
Louis in Love
At the age of sixteen, Louis was growing out of his boyish looks and blossoming into a handsome young man. Mme de Motteville noted his “fine figure and good countenance,” which “made every one admire him, and he bore in his eyes and in the whole air of his person the character of majesty which was, in virtue of his crown, essentially in him.”1
One of the most colorful and exciting expressions of Louis’s majesty was the ballet. Louis loved to dance, and, on February 4, 1655, Benserade’s Ballet des Plaisirs was performed for the court. Louis had several costume changes as he played a shepherd, an Egyptian, and a debauched man, but the grand finale showcased his major role: the Genie de la Danse, a demigod, triumphant, charming, and glorious. The choreography was very precise, and all the dancers took their time from the king.2
Among the dancers were Philippe, Louis’s brother; the duke of York; Alexandre Bontemps, Louis’s loyal chief valet de chambre and confidant; Molière, the actor and playwright who served the king variously as tapissier du roi and valet de chambre; finally there was the comte de Vivonne, brother of the future Mme de Montespan, a lady who was destined to play a major role in Louis’s life in the years to come.
Among the balls and masques Louis attended was a fête hosted by Chancellor Séguier. While this was a dazzling event, others were more understated. On one occasion, Queen Anne invited Henriette-Marie of England to come and see Louis dance.3 The evening was to be low-key, and Anne appeared en déshabillé to show that she was “keeping her room,” accompanied only by her maids-of-honor, some of the young ladies of the court, and certain duchesses who were married to crown officers; this was in deference to the queen of England, who was still in mourning for her late husband, Charles I. The evening was intended to allow the guests to admire Louis, as well as to amuse Henriette, princess of England, who “was beginning to come out of childhood and to show that she was likely to be charming.”
Although the company was small, the occasion was beautiful “and worthy of the royal persons who were present.” Louis, accustomed to entertaining Mazarin’s nieces, rose as soon as the music for the branle began and made to lead out Victoire, duchesse de Mercoeur. Anne, thinking Louis had made a mistake, rose from her seat to take the duchess away, telling Louis in a low voice to dance with Henriette. The queen of England, seeing Anne’s anger, ran to her and begged her not to constrain Louis, saying that the princess had injured her foot and was unable to dance. Anne replied that if the princess could not dance, then Louis would not either. Then, so as not to make a scene, the queen of England allowed Henriette to dance, although “in her soul she was very ill-pleased with the king.”
This incident marked a rare lack of civility on Louis’s part; the king was normally very good mannered, especially where women were concerned. Later that evening, after the guests had left, Anne soundly scolded Louis, but he answered that “he did not like little girls.” Henriette was eleven at the time, and the disparity in their ages seemed greater to Louis than it did to his elders, especially as, according to Mme de Motteville, the sixteen-year-old king “seemed more like twenty.” Here, she offers an interesting glimpse into the relationship between mother and son at this stage. “Before the world, the queen behaved to him in a manner both tender and respectful; but when he committed little faults she reproved him like a mother.” On this occasion, Anne felt that her anger with Louis had been justified: “She had been so astonished to see him lacking in the civility he owed to the princess of England that she had not been able to restrain herself.”
Anne had shown concern over Louis’s relations with ladies before, and she had tackled it in a most unusual manner. One cold winter’s night,4 Louis was returning from his bath when he encountered Catherine de Beauvais, who proceeded to teach him how to perform with ladies. The incident is known only through court gossip, with the memoirist La Bruyère noting that Mme de Beauvais “was the first to assure the queen that the king, who in his youth appeared strongly indifferent to the ladies, would be, very assuredly, suited to marriage” and that he would be most suitable to father children.5
Mme de Beauvais was the first lady of Queen Anne’s chamber and a close confidante. Born in 1615 or thereabouts, she was some twenty-three years the king’s senior at the time of their encounter, but throughout his life Louis would show her great favor.6
What Queen Anne and La Bruyère failed to understand was that Louis was shy with girls, and this reserve showed itself as indifference. He knew Mazarin’s nieces well, of course; they lived at the Louvre, and he saw them almost every day when he was in Paris. However, both his mother and the cardinal had always imposed strict guidelines, and this strengthened Louis’s reticence. While the king had enjoyed friendships with the young ladies, he had never demonstrated any emotional attachment or signs of sexual desire towards any of them. However, his lesson at the hands of Mme de Beauvais appears to have opened the king’s eyes to the charms of the opposite sex.
The lady Louis had led out to dance was Victoire, duchesse de Mercoeur, the eldest of the Mancini sisters, and, while many expected him to be attracted to her, she being the most beautiful, he instead “attached himself” to her younger sister, Olympe.7 At sixteen, Olympe’s eyes were “full of fire.” She was plump, with a beautiful complexion, pretty arms, and beautiful hands, and she wore dresses chosen to show off her assets. Louis was charmed by her, so that people “almost feared that this passion, slight as it was, might lead him to wish to do her more honor than she deserved.” Anne of Austria, however, was not unduly concerned, because she believed the romance to be innocent, and she was sure of Louis’s virtue, as well as that of Olympe. Even so, she was eager that none should speak of it, lest it “might lead to legitimate consequences.”8
Anne need not have worried, for Louis’s feelings were “more a sentiment which led him to amuse himself with this young girl, than a great passion.”9 For her part, Olympe had already sensed that she would never be queen. Instead, she enjoyed the privileges of being a high-ranking lady at court; she and Louis continued to be friends, and he frequently chose her for the first dance whenever they attended fêtes or masques. All the while, though, Olympe continued to dream of becoming a princess like her sister, the duchesse de Mercoeur.
Although Louis “was beginning to attract to himself the eyes and hearts of his subjects,” he found that though he reigned, he did not yet rule. Instead, the people looked to the cardinal for favors, for “men love and seek in the person of the king only that which will advance their personal interests,”10 and it was Mazarin who held the reins of power. However, an incident that occurred in the spring of 1655 gave Louis the opportunity to assert his authority in a way that shocked all those who witnessed it.
That March, Louis had held a lit de justice at the Palais de la Cité to register edicts allowing new taxes to be raised to support the continuing war.11 Later, however, certain members of the assembly began to complain that the edicts had been registered too quickly and they had not had time to debate them. As the clamor grew louder, news of the disquiet reached Louis and Mazarin, who were hunting together in the forest of Vincennes. Mazarin pointed out to Louis just how dangerous the situation could become, recalling as it did the overture of the Fronde. Louis understood all too well, and he took decisive action.
Louis issued an order for the parlement to meet three days later, and, when that day arrived, he left Vincennes and rode to Paris. Stopping only to visit the Sainte-Chapelle, Louis then barged into the chamber of the Palais de la Cité. He was still wearing his hunting clothes, complete with a red jacket and a gray hat, and he was accompanied by other members of the court, similarly dressed. He then sat on the lit de justice and spoke to the assembly:
Everyone knows how much trouble your meetings have stirred up in my State, a
nd how dangerous the effects they have produced. I have learned that you pretend still to continue them, under the pretext of deliberating upon the edicts, which but lately have been read and published in my presence. I have come here expressly to forbid (at this stage, he pointed his finger at the Masters of Enquêtes) you to continue, and to you, Monsieur le Premier Président (again pointing the finger), neither to permit nor tolerate it, no matter what pressure the Masters of Enquêtes may apply to you.
Louis had spoken. He rose and promptly left the chamber without waiting to hear what the members might have to say. After calling at the Louvre, Louis made his way back to Vincennes, where Mazarin awaited him.
Later tradition would have it that the premier président, Pomponne de Bellièvre, had started to explain to the king that the parlement was simply acting in the best interests of the state, upon which Louis replied, “L’état c’est moi”—‘I am the state.’ Alas for tradition, there is nothing to support this assertion. Moreover, Louis could not have made such a statement because he would never have thought in such terms. Rather, Louis saw himself as the servant of the state and its keystone, but he never believed himself to be the state-incarnate.12
The parlement was displeased with Louis’s intervention, and the following day Pomponne de Bellièvre led a delegation to Vincennes, where they demanded to speak to Mazarin. They complained that Louis had behaved in “a manner so strange and so far removed from that of his predecessors and even from his own past behavior.”13 They then asked Louis’s permission to reopen the negotiations surrounding the original edicts, but he firmly refused. Instead, Mazarin arranged for the maréchal de Turenne to explain to parlement that the threat posed by Condé, the ongoing war, and even the risk that a new Fronde could erupt justified the new taxes. The parlement reluctantly agreed, assisted no doubt by the promise of large financial rewards. However, it was clear to all that Louis was not a king to be trifled with. Louis’s transformation largely came about as a consequence of his sacre. Although he had been king since he was four and a half years old, it was only once he had been anointed with the sacred oil that his kingship took on a new, more powerful aspect.
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