In late March 1655, Marie Du Bois, one of Louis’s valets de chambre, returned to court after an absence of some two years. Delighted by how accomplished Louis had become, he decided to record a typical day in the life of the sixteen-year-old king.14
Louis’s daily routine began as soon he awoke, when he recited the Office of the Holy Spirit and his chaplet. After this his preceptor, Péréfixe, came in and guided his studies, either in Scripture or the history of France. Louis now got out of bed, at which time two valets de chambre, one of whom was Du Bois, entered the room with a gentleman usher. Louis sat on the commode in the chambre de l’alcôve. He then entered the grande chambre,15 where he would be met by princes and grand seigneurs who had come to attend his lever. Still wearing his dressing gown, Louis would approach them and delight them with his informal conversation.
Louis sat in a chair and washed his hands, mouth, and face. After drying himself, he would remove his nightcap, which had been tied onto his head because of the abundance of hair beneath. Going into the ruelle, he prayed with his almoners while everyone present knelt; no one dared stand or even make a sound during this time, or they would be escorted out of the chamber by the usher.
With prayers at an end, Louis returned to his chair, where his hair was combed and he was dressed in a simple outfit of breeches and a cambric shirt. He passed onto a grand cabinet behind his antechamber where he did his exercises, including vaulting on the horse and practicing with weapons and pikes. Coming to the alcove once again, he practiced dance steps before returning to the grande chambre to change clothes and eat breakfast. Louis now left his chamber, making the sign of the cross as he did every day.
Louis went to Mazarin’s apartments, which were above his own, where the cardinal would instruct him in affairs of state. Sometimes this meant hearing reports from various ministers, at other times it involved more secret business.16 These lessons would continue for an hour or an hour and a half. Upon their completion, Louis would go to say good morning to his mother before going to the Petit-Bourbon17 to ride until his mother was ready to go to mass. Louis would accompany her to the church and then escort her back to her chambers with great deference and respect.
Returning to his own chambers, Louis changed his clothes again, dressing according to how he planned to spend the afternoon. If he wanted to go hunting, he would wear the appropriate outfit, but if he was staying indoors, he would don an unassuming costume with no embellishment. His outfit was so easy to wear that Louis would dress himself; Du Bois noted that the king had a very fine figure.
Louis would now go to dinner, often with his mother. If there were any ambassadors, he would give them an audience in the afternoons. He would listen intently as they did business, but he liked to keep them back for fifteen minutes or so afterwards to talk familiarly with them about their masters, country, and alliances, their friendships and past enemies, their houses and their kingdoms. They would return to their masters with stories about the charms of the king of France.
Free once again, Louis would sometimes go to the Cours-la-Reine, where he would exchange pleasantries with ladies and gentlemen of quality before returning to attend council. Often a play was performed in the evening, a comedy or something more serious, and Louis would receive the company with great courtesy. This would be followed by a supper, after which Louis would dance with the queen’s ladies and others before settling down to play games. In one favorite game, someone would begin to tell a story, and when he or she got stuck, the story would be taken up by the next person and so on until it was finished.18
As midnight approached, Louis bid his mother goodnight and returned to his chamber. After saying his prayers, he went into the grande chambre, where those with right of entry awaited him, just as they had that morning. Louis undressed, chatting with his attendants before bidding them goodnight and retiring to the chambre de l’alcôve. Sitting again on the commode, he chatted with the first gentleman and others before they too left and Louis, at last, went to bed.19
Occasionally, Louis wished for more than lessons in statecraft and meetings with ministers and ambassadors. In the spring of 1656, he announced his desire to hold a tournament, riding at the ring in the presence of the queen and the whole court as in the days of chivalry. The course was established in the space between the Louvre and the Palais-Royal, in the gardens of which the knights mounted their horses before riding to the lists in a magnificent cavalcade, much to the delight of the people.
Of the three troops, Louis’s came first, bearing colors of rose and white; the duc de Guise led the second troop, with colors of blue and white, while the duc de Candale’s troop had green and white for their colors. Each wore coats fashioned in the Roman style and embroidered in gold and silver; the little caps on their heads were adorned with plumes and aigrettes. Their horses were similarly caparisoned, and men and horses were adorned with ribbons.
Fourteen pages carrying the lances and devices of the knights opened the procession, followed by six trumpeters and the king’s chief equerry. All were dressed in cloth of silver with rose and white ribbons. Twelve royal pages followed, all mounted and richly dressed, laden, as were the others, with plumes and ribbons. Of the two last pages, one carried Louis’s lance, the other his shield, which bore a sun and the motto Ne piu, ne pari—“None greater, none equal.” After the pages came the brigadier, who commanded the royal troops and was richly dressed but wore no mask. Louis came next, followed by knights, all masked, richly attired and gallant. The king, however, “surpassed each one of them, as much by his fine carriage, his grace and skill, as by his quality of sovereign and master.” Following Louis came Guise, whose “fine appearance . . . and romantic genius well fitted him for tournaments,” and Candale, who was praised for his “fine figure and his beautiful blond head [which] received all the praises it deserved.”20 The comte de Lude won the prize, which was presented to him by the duchesse de Mercoeur.
The summer saw Louis and the court travel to Compiègne, where the king could observe his armies. It was here that he received a very special visitor, Christina, the former queen of Sweden. Christina had aroused great interest by abdicating her throne “apparently from a generous disdain of a crown, and in order not to force her inclinations in favour of her nearest relation, whom her subjects desired her to marry.” A controversial figure, she had abjured her religion to embrace Catholicism, renouncing “heresy in person to the pope”21 while in Rome during a tour of Europe. She declared her desire to see France, much to the delight of Queen Anne.
Christina arrived in Paris on September 8, 1656 and lodged in the king’s apartment at the Louvre. Having seen the places of interest in Paris, she made her way to Compiègne, where she was introduced to Anne. Arrangements had been made for Christina to dine at Chantilly, and Mazarin rode out to meet her there. Two hours after dinner, Louis and Philippe arrived, disguised as private gentlemen. They entered Christina’s bedchamber, where she was receiving guests, and joined the crowd.22 Mazarin, spotting them, introduced them to Christina as “two noblemen of the highest rank in France.” The wile was unsuccessful, however, for Christina had seen their portraits in the Louvre; she replied that she could “well believe it, for they seemed to her born to wear crowns.”23
Louis was still shy at this stage and naïve as to the ways of the world, but he took to Christina and they became friends. Mme de Motteville made the observation that Louis recognized in Christina an aspect of his own character: “the shyness he exhibited proceeded from his self-respect and his judgment, which made him desire to be perfect in all things and to dread being found to fail in any.”24
Christina offered Louis some advice. Speaking of his love for Olympe, she told him he must marry her: “If I were in your place, I would marry a person I loved.” This did not go down well with Queen Anne or Mazarin, “for at court they do not like those people who give their advice unasked.”25
Christina remained in France until late September, when she left to go to Rome; L
ouis and Mazarin left the following day for La Fère. The royal army under Turenne was besieging La Capelle, close to the border of the Spanish Netherlands, which caused Condé’s troops to besiege Saint-Ghislain in retaliation. Turenne sent word that unless they surrendered, his attack would be merciless. Condé’s commanding officer, Chamilly, saw the wisdom of obeying, and on September 27, the siege of Saint-Ghislain was lifted. La Capelle remained in French hands.
Louis, who was now camped at Guise, conducted a convoy carrying supplies to Saint-Ghislain. He entered the town as the enemy army looked on, keeping their distance. Then, with winter drawing on, the king returned to his mother, who awaited him impatiently at Compiègne. He arrived on October 6, and two days later the court made its way back to Paris.
As 1657 dawned, the mother of Louis’s friends, the Mancini sisters, died. The loss had a particularly profound effect on the duchesse de Mercoeur, who was pregnant at the time. She gave birth to a son but became partially paralyzed and lost her speech. She appeared to recover, and her uncle left her bedside to attend the ballet L’Amour Malade, in which Louis danced, but then the duchess grew rapidly worse and died on February 8.
Later in February, Olympe, “who had had the honor of occupying the king’s heart, abandoned these flattering prospects which did not wholly satisfy her”26 and married Prince Eugène, the son of Prince Thomas of Carignan-Savoy.27 This focused the court’s attention on Olympe’s younger sister, Marie.
Marie had arrived in France at her uncle’s request in 1653. At first her mother had been reluctant to send her, wishing to advance her second youngest, Hortense. The reason seems to have been that Hortense was deemed much prettier, and so stood a better chance of making a good match in her new country. As for Marie, she was told to choose between going to France or remaining in Rome and consecrating herself to God in a cloister. Her choice fell on France, much to her mother’s dismay, although Mme Mancini pressed her brother the cardinal to put the girl in a convent, hoping she would never leave it. Mazarin was reluctant to do this, but, seeing that Marie was “at this time a thin, sallow-complexioned, and ungainly child” who would not make a good impression at court, he found a place for her in the Convent of the Visitation to see “if she would not put on a little flesh.”28
Here Marie stayed for eighteen months before leaving to join the court, which was then at La Fère. Mazarin’s motive was to marry Marie to the son of the maréchal de la Meilleraye, although the arrangement was eventually abandoned.29 When the court returned to Paris, Marie feared she would be sent back to the convent, but Mazarin decided to keep her at court instead, and he lodged her at the Louvre with her mother. Mme Mancini, however, ill-treated her daughter, and Marie led a miserable existence, which even the delights offered by the court did little to alleviate.
When Mme Mancini became ill, Louis paid her the courtesy of visiting her most evenings. In order to reach her apartments, he had to go through Marie’s room. Marie made sure to be present when the king was expected, and he made a point of stopping to talk to her. He knew she was lonely, and the sympathy he showed her and their few minutes of conversation sufficed to make her “sad and mournful days pass more quickly.”30 After the king’s visit, Marie would return to her solitude “less afflicted than before.”31 Then, as Mme Mancini’s condition worsened, she urged Mazarin to send Marie to a convent. She believed Marie to have a bad disposition, a view that was supported by Marie’s father, an astrologer, who had foreseen that Marie would “be the cause of much evil.”32 Again Mazarin defied his sister, even though this had been her dying wish. He felt Marie and her younger sister, Hortense, should remain at court as companions for Louis.
At this point, Louis decided it was time to end hostilities with his cousin, Mlle de Montpensier, and he invited her to court, which was at Sedan. Louis was with his armies, but within a week, news arrived that the siege of Montmédy had been broken. Louis arrived at Sedan at two that afternoon, and, having ridden hard, he was covered with mud. Queen Anne, watching from a window, told Mademoiselle that she did not wish her to see the king until he had changed his dress. Louis, however, came in anyway, and “however wanting in style,” Mademoiselle found him “very handsome.”33
As he approached, Anne said, “Here is a damoiselle I must present to you, and who is very sorry for having been so naughty; but promises to be wiser in future.” Louis laughed, and, after a few pleasantries, they began to speak of the siege and an adventure Louis had met on the way back.34 Later, they all ate together as a family, and in the evening Louis danced with Mademoiselle. She noticed that Louis talked much with Marie Mancini, but since he said nothing to her about it, she asked no questions. After staying with the court for twelve days, Mademoiselle returned home.
When Olympe became comtesse de Soissons, Louis continued to visit her at her hôtel in Paris, but gradually these visits decreased. He now had other ladies to occupy his thoughts, among them Marie Mancini. However, he never forgot the advice of the ex-queen Christina, who told him he should marry where his heart lay, and there was one lady at court with whom he had fallen hopelessly in love. Her name was Mademoiselle de La Motte-Argencourt.35
Naturally the affair attracted the attention of the whole court, and it was reported that Louis “spoke one day to Mademoiselle de La Motte as a man in love who was no longer virtuous.”36 So stricken was the king that “he even offered, if she would love him, to resist the queen and the cardinal,”37 that is, he would marry her against the wishes of his mother and his godfather. The lady, however, was not willing or daring enough to accept the king’s proposal, and when news of it reached the queen, she scolded him, pointing out to him “in how short a time he had wandered from the paths of innocence and virtue.”38 When Mazarin found out about it, he and Queen Anne discussed the matter with Louis. Three hours later, when they emerged from behind locked doors, Louis “took no further notice of La Motte,” at least according to Mademoiselle.39 However, her account slightly abridges the story, for, as Mme de Motteville makes clear, Louis’s “resolution was not formed without much pain; he groaned, he sighed, but finally he conquered.”40
If affairs of the heart made life difficult for Louis, at least he could escape by joining his armies, now encamped at Dunkirk. Turenne, as always, led the royal forces, and this time, he was joined by some six thousand men sent by Oliver Cromwell.41 In late May, Turenne had begun to besiege Dunkirk as the Spanish forces approached the town from the east, taking up position on the dunes. Condé saw immediately that they had failed to take account of the tides, which, as they receded, left the Spanish right flank exposed. The French, with Cromwell’s Ironsides, attacked the Spanish at the center and left flank, while the French cavalry approached their right flank across the sands. The Battle of the Dunes, as it came to be known, was a major victory for the Franco-English alliance. All the while, Louis sat on the sidelines to watch, having been forbidden to approach any closer by Mazarin, who persuaded him that the life of the king was of greater value than all the armies of France. As Dunkirk capitulated, the king made a formal entrance into the town, where he received the keys. He then handed them to the English commander, Sir William Lockhart.
Louis desperately wanted to share the soldier’s life with his men, and his obedience to Mazarin only went so far. Determined to ride to Mardyck, he ignored the cardinal, who pleaded with him to remain in Calais. The weather was very hot that summer, and Louis spent long days in the saddle. When he arrived at Mardyck, he found the water bad and the air corrupted from the bodies of the dead, which had lain half-buried for a year. At the end of June, he had to admit to feeling unwell and in need of rest.42
At first, the physicians thought Louis was simply tired; he had ridden too hard and had caught too much sun. However, it quickly became apparent that he was seriously ill. He was feverish and trembled so much it was feared he would go into convulsions. Suffering with what appears to have been typhoid fever, the king was bled eight times and purged four times with cassia and sen
na. Still his fever increased to the point that his physicians feared he would die. At one point Louis summoned Mazarin to his bedside and asked him to let him know when the end was near.
When news of the king’s malady reached Paris, the Blessed Sacrament was exposed at every altar and prayers said in every church. At one point, Louis was given antimony, but this proved to be of no use. “To see a king die so young, gives one a great shock,” said Mademoiselle. News arrived that Louis had received the last sacraments and that Queen Anne and Mazarin had left his chamber in distress. In his dispatches, Mazarin wrote of his despair at the thought of losing the best friend that he had in the world.43
Philippe had not seen his brother since the onset of his illness, and as Louis’s condition worsened, it was considered not worth the risk to allow him to visit him now. Then, just as all seemed lost, a doctor from nearby Abbeville came to offer his services. Breaking all the rules of etiquette, he sat on the king’s bed as he examined the patient, but this breach of formality was forgiven when he announced that “the young man is very ill, but he shall not die.” He duly administered an emetic wine, much to the horror of Guy Patin, who believed it to be a poison. Louis began to recover, and, after a second dose of antinomy, his fever broke and he was out of danger. As soon as his health permitted, the court moved on to Compiègne and then to Paris. Everywhere he went, Louis was greeted by his joyful people, and in his own quiet way, he thanked subjects and courtiers alike for the goodwill they had shown him.
Louis XIV Page 9
