Louis XIV

by Josephine Wilkinson

  In September and October, Louis, his health fully recovered, travelled to Metz with Mazarin. The Holy Roman emperor, Ferdinand III, had died in April, and a new successor was being elected. Ferdinand had assisted the Spanish against the French, thereby violating the terms of the Treaty of Westphalia. It was generally agreed throughout Europe that the imperial crown should go to a non-Habsburg in order to curtail the power of the new emperor, whoever he might be. One of the favored candidates was the duke of Neuburg, the elector of Bavaria. Another was Louis XIV. Although Mazarin would have liked Louis to wear the imperial crown, his candidature was never taken seriously. Mazarin declared that Louis had never really coveted the crown, and he took advantage for their sojourn in Metz to educate the young king in European politics. In the end, it came to be realized that the most suitable candidate was in fact Ferdinand’s son, Leopold, to whom the electors looked for future favors. Leopold was duly elected the following year, and in him Louis would find a lifelong rival.44

  SIX

  A Royal Wedding

  As the hot summer of 1658 mellowed into autumn, the court once again withdrew to Fontainebleau. Among the entertainments on offer was a collation given by Philippe, which was served in the hermitage of Franchard to the accompaniment of twenty-four violins.1 The party donned riding habits and rode out to the hermitage, except for the comtesse de Soissons, who felt unwell and travelled in a coach.

  The moment they arrived, Louis decided it would be fun to scramble among the rocks, although not everyone agreed and several of the ladies remained behind with Philippe. Then, having discovered a good spot, Louis sent for the musicians and ordered the rest of the party to join him. The going was extremely hard: “I am surprised that no one was hurt,” complained Mademoiselle, “for we ran great risks of having our arms and legs broken, or even our skulls fractured,” and several were obliged to return to the hermitage. After supper, they returned to the château in carriages, their way lighted by flambeaux, and spent the evening watching a comedy. When that was finished, they went into the forest, where they set a fire. It got out of hand, and several trees were burned.

  Most of the time was taken up with quieter pursuits of water excursions, attending plays, listening to music, or riding out in coaches to enjoy the vast grounds of the château and the huge forest beyond. One day an unexpected guest arrived: Gaston d’Orléans. Louis and his mother were playing cards when the duke was announced, and Their Majesties continued their game, barely rising from their seats. For most of Gaston’s stay, Louis and Anne continued as usual, but one day they invited Gaston to accompany them. At this time Louis rarely wore a hat, and this obliged Gaston to go without his, “which very much embarrassed his Royal Highness [Gaston], who dreaded the damp air.” In order to convey his discomfort, the duke placed his gloves on his head until Louis, after some time, invited him to put on his hat.2

  Of those who had wept at the king’s bedside during those dreadful days when he had lain seriously ill, perhaps the saddest was Marie Mancini. She had never forgotten the kindness Louis had shown her as her mother lay dying, and, inevitably perhaps, she fell in love with him. It was during the visit to Fontainebleau that Louis, who was still half-interested in the comtesse de Soissons, began to tire of her; or rather, as Mme de Motteville explains, “His heart grew weary of being unoccupied,”3 and he began to notice Marie. It was the beginning of a great passion. Louis would escort her to receptions and partner her at dances, and the two of them would ride out into the forest together to escape the prying eyes of the courtiers. They both enjoyed music, and Louis, an expert player, would accompany Marie on the guitar as she sang her favorite airs.

  Marie was not considered beautiful by the standards of the day, which required a pale complexion, blond hair, and blue eyes framed by dark eyebrows. Marie was blessed with an abundance of dark curls, a swarthy complexion, and brown eyes that sparkled with life, love, and not a little mischief. A cultured lady, she introduced Louis to the world of literature and painting, an area of his education that had been neglected in favor of state affairs. Louis was shy of showing his emotions, but Marie understood, and she loved him for himself, not for his crown. “There is no stronger chain to bind a noble heart,” says Mme de Motteville, “than that of feeling itself beloved; and it is easy to see how, on both sides, their attachment became as strong as it was tender.”4 When the court returned to Paris, Louis did not resume his visits to the Hôtel de Soissons, spending each evening amusing Marie Mancini instead.

  That autumn witnessed the arrival in Paris of a theater company led by the actor and playwright Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, better known under his stage name, Molière. His troupe had been introduced to Philippe d’Anjou by the abbé Daniel de Cosnac, the former gentleman of the chamber to the prince de Conti, who had recently entered Philippe’s household. On October 24, at Philippe’s request, Molière presented Corneille’s Nicomède before Louis and the court.

  Because the Louvre had no theater of its own, and the nearby Salle du Petit-Bourbon was being used by an Italian company, the performance took place upon a makeshift stage specially erected for the purpose in the Louvre’s Salle des Gardes on Louis’s orders. The king was very impressed, even though the play was a farce, a style of theater that had gone out of fashion. Molière followed it with a one-act comedy entitled Le Docteur Amoureux, which so delighted Louis that he invited Molière to establish his company in Paris. He gave the Troupe de Monsieur, as it was now called, permission to share the Salle du Petit-Bourbon with the Italian theater run by Scaramouch, each company taking it in turns to perform.5

  Little did Louis realize that he had set upon the road to stardom one of France’s greatest playwrights, but while he was enjoying the thrill of comedy theater, elsewhere more serious matters were being discussed. The subject was Louis’s marriage.

  Queen Anne had taken Louis’s recent illness as a sign of God’s displeasure. While the Lord had been merciful this time, it was clear to the queen that reconciliation must be reached between France and Spain and that the drawn-out war, so costly and destructive, must come to an end.6

  Anne had long cherished a wish that her son should marry the Infanta Maria Teresa, the daughter of her brother, Philip IV of Spain. Until recently, King Philip refused to countenance such a match because Maria Teresa would confer to Louis her rights to the Spanish throne. Recently, however, the Spanish queen had given birth to a son, Philip Prospero, and was once more pregnant; there would be, therefore, at least two lives between Maria Teresa and the Spanish succession. Nevertheless, a Spanish match remained a desirable prospect for France, since it would seal a peace treaty between their two countries.

  Despite this, Philip remained reluctant to come to the negotiating table; but no matter, Anne had a second choice: Henriette, princess of England. The princess’s only fault, as far as Anne could see, was that she was not three years older, for she might have pleased Louis better had she been closer to his own age. Unfortunately, Louis did not care for Henriette, nor did Mazarin see any reason why he should influence Louis to accept her.7

  Instead, Mazarin pressed for a match with Marguerite of Savoy. She was the daughter of Christine de France and Victor Amadeus I, and granddaughter of Henri IV, making her Louis’s first cousin.8 Initially, Savoy had been an ally of France, but for several years it had maintained strict neutrality. When Mazarin pressed Christine to support France, she said she would do so only if Louis XIV would marry her daughter, Marguerite. Mazarin, who knew that Louis could make a better match than this, could see no means by which he could satisfy Christine, but pragmatically he saw that, like the proposed Spanish marriage, this one also had its advantages: the duchy of Savoy’s geographical position, sandwiched between Austria to the north and the duchies of Tuscany and Modena to the south, made it strategically important.

  As such, Mazarin agreed in principle to the marriage, but he insisted that Louis should be allowed to meet Marguerite before any final decision would be reached. This was agreed
, and arrangements were made to bring the king and the princess to Lyons, where the interview would take place.

  Such was the protocol surrounding the events that the two courts left their respective capitals at the same time. At first, it was planned that Louis would be accompanied only by the cardinal and a gentleman-inordinary, while leaving Queen Anne and the rest of the court in Paris. In the event, Louis was reluctant to leave his mother behind because he “considered that her consent was necessary to his marriage.” He begged her to travel with him, and she readily consented.9

  Louis left Paris on October 25, 1658, after hearing mass at Notre-Dame. His entourage, which included Marie Mancini and Mademoiselle, was so great that everyone who saw it thought the king was making a royal progress. The weather was fine and sunny but cold, and the party travelled in coaches the first day. Louis, however, suggested that if the weather continued fine the next day, he and some of the ladies would travel on horseback. This allowed him to stay very close to Marie, talking to her “in a most gallant manner.”10

  In each town he approached, Louis received a warm and enthusiastic welcome from the people and the dignitaries. Nowhere was this more so than at Dijon, where he planned to spend a week. The Estates of Burgundy, which decided the revenue to be raised for the king’s projects, was meeting, and it was hoped that Louis’s presence would encourage them to be more generous than would otherwise have been the case.11

  All the while, Louis continued his attentions to Marie, but he completely ignored her sister, the comtesse de Soissons, who was travelling with the queen, much to Louis’s annoyance. Each evening he would arrange to receive a large collation, “equal to supper,” in order to avoid supping with his mother. This allowed him to spend four or five pleasant hours in Marie’s company, but his strategy did not go unnoticed. On one occasion, as he was enjoying his meal, the queen sent a message to him, requesting some rissolles,12 as did Mademoiselle. He sent some, but there were not enough, so Anne asked for more. Louis sent word that he had enough rissolles for the queen and Mademoiselle but not enough for himself and his company, and “everyone believed that this was meant to apply to the comtesse de Soissons.”13 As the court left Dijon, the fine weather broke, but while the cold and the rain drove most of the ladies back to the coaches, Marie continued to ride alongside Louis all the way to Lyons.

  The court reached Lyons on November 28. News arrived the next morning that the Savoyard party was expected the following Friday, December 2. On that day, Louis and Anne, with the cardinal, Philippe, and Mademoiselle, advanced to meet them, and when he heard that the duchess Christine was near, Louis took to horse to be the first to welcome her.

  Anne, watching the king go, admitted that she was impatient to know what Louis would think of Princess Marguerite. She tried to feign indifference towards the marriage, but it was clear that she would have preferred Louis to marry the Infanta Maria Teresa: “I cannot but be content with what pleases the king,” she said, adding, “at the same time, I think that he would better like the princess of England.”14

  Just then, Louis galloped back, looking very happy and self-satisfied. “Well, my son?” asked Anne, to which Louis replied, “She is much smaller than Madame la maréchale de Villeroy—her shape is the most graceful in the world. Her complexion . . .” Here, Louis searched for the right word “. . . is olive-colored, and it becomes her well. She has beautiful eyes, she pleases me, and I find her to my fancy.”15 Louis “had always said that his wife must be beautiful,”16 and it seems Marguerite fulfilled his hopes.

  Louis had just finished speaking when the Savoyard party approached. Anne and Duchess Christine greeted each other with a kiss before Christine presented her daughter. They then went into Anne’s coach, where Louis immediately began to talk to Marguerite, and she to him, as though they had known each other all their lives. This surprised Mademoiselle, who remarked that Louis was always cold with strangers and “very little disposed to be sociable.”17

  Upon reaching Lyons, Louis escorted Christine to her apartments in the archbishop’s palace. Anne withdrew to her own rooms, where she was immediately joined by Mazarin, who had some news. Anne hazarded a guess: “Is it that the king, my brother, has sent to me to offer the Infanta? For that is what I least expect.” “Yes, Madame,” replied Mazarin, “it is that.”18

  The journey to Lyons had not been a secret; it was intended that Philip of Spain should hear of it. When he learned that Louis was contemplating another match, Philip was adamant that it “cannot be, and shall not be.”19 This had been Mazarin’s intention all along, and his gamble paid off.20 Philip IV sent Don Antonio Pimentel to treat with Mazarin.21

  That evening, Louis and Marie were chatting as usual, when Marie asked him, “Are you not ashamed, Sire, at their wishing to give you so ugly a wife?” Whatever Louis had thought of Marguerite until that moment, he now acted very coldly towards her. He called upon her very early the next morning in order, as it was said, “that he might see her figure in an undress [en déshabillé], for it was rumored that she was hump-backed.”22 As evening fell, Louis devoted his time to Marie and addressed not a word to Marguerite.

  Mazarin, meanwhile, continued his discussions with Pimentel, and at last some agreement was reached. The cardinal went to speak with Anne, who was clearly unhappy with the prospect of the Savoy match.

  “Good news, madame!” Mazarin said.

  “Eh, what?” Anne exclaimed, “can it be peace?”

  “More than that, madame,” replied Mazarin. “I bring Your Majesty both peace and the Infanta.”23

  For several days, talks between France and Savoy were suspended, but when Duchess Christine learned of Pimentel’s presence, she confronted Mazarin. He told her of the proposals sent from Spain, adding that “when it comes to a question of peace, it seemed to him that it would be a crime not to listen to the proposals just made.”24 Christine understood the cardinal’s position, but she asked for some promise regarding Marguerite in case Louis should not, in the end, marry the Infanta. This not unreasonable request was granted, and a paper was signed by Louis and several secretaries of state, promising that should the Spanish marriage not take place within one year, Louis would marry Marguerite.25 Of course, everyone knew that Louis could never be held to such a promise, and by way of assuaging his feelings of guilt, Mazarin presented Marguerite with a magnificent pair of diamond earrings, other jewelry, and perfumes.26 Louis and his court left Lyons at the end of January 1659 to find Paris in the grip of deepest winter.

  Louis continued to spend most of his time at Marie’s side, and not only the court but the people began to murmur about their passion. Anne was in despair; every time Louis came to see her, Marie was by his side, and she would whisper in the king’s ear even as he spoke to his mother. Eventually Anne decided enough was enough, and she confronted Louis. At one time, the king would have listened to his mother, but now he was defiant, even losing his temper.27 Anne remained firm. She was concerned only that Louis should marry the Infanta and was not prepared to allow anything to get in the way of this cherished ambition. When Pimentel came to Paris to complete his part of the negotiations, Anne received him warmly.

  Once the overtures were concluded, it was time to enter into more detailed discussions of the proposed peace treaty between France and Spain; this included, of course, the terms of the marriage contract between Louis and Maria Teresa. It was agreed that this vital and delicate work, which would be conducted by Mazarin and the Spanish first minister, Don Luis de Haro, should take place on neutral territory. The tiny Ile de Faisans in the Bidassoa, the river that formed part of the border between France and Spain, was chosen as the most appropriate setting.28 Mazarin urged Louis and Anne to follow him to Bayonne, where they could be on hand should any difficulty arise.

  Mazarin, however, had not envisaged that the greatest difficulty facing him lay in Louis’s love for his niece, Marie. So smitten was Louis that it was believed by some that he asked the cardinal’s permission to marry h
er.29 For Mademoiselle, this was “the mere rumor of the day,” and she pointedly refrains from discussing it.30 The comte de Brienne, however, wrote that Anne went so far as to consult some of the lawyers in the parlement, including his father, to find out if the Mancini match would be valid if it went ahead against her wishes.31

  Louis’s love for Marie threatened to undermine everything that Mazarin was working for. It was decided that the girl had to go away, and Brouage, south of La Rochelle on the west coast, was chosen. After some persuasion, Louis finally had to agree to the separation, and many tears were shed during their last few days together. “You weep, and yet you are the master,”32 Marie told Louis in a scene that would later be adopted by Jean Racine.33

  As a parting gift, Louis bought Marie a magnificent string of pearls from Henriette-Marie, who was living in reduced circumstances at Saint-Germain.34 Marie had often admired the pearls, and as soon as Louis heard that they were for sale, he asked Mazarin to give him the seventy-eight thousand livres necessary to buy them. His delight in pleasing his lady, however, was mixed with grief at their imminent parting. The evening prior to Marie’s departure, Louis, in a state of “extreme depression,” went to visit his mother. Anne, seeing her son’s distress, took him into her private bathroom, where he had played as a child. When he emerged an hour or so later, his eyes were swollen. The unhappy queen told Mme de Motteville, “I pity the king; he is loving and reasonable both; but I have just told him that I am certain he will one day thank me for the pain I give him, and from what I see in him I do not doubt it.”35