While the school was a religious establishment, it focused upon giving the students a worldly education. This is reflected in the way the staff and students were referred to. The teachers were addressed as “Madame” with their family name, rather than “Mother” or “Sister,” while the girls were called “demoiselles” to reflect their status as aristocrats. Louis also insisted that the demoiselles should be required to take simple vows, rather than the solemn vows initially advocated by Françoise. The king despised the limited education imposed upon women by convents, and he was determined that Saint-Cyr would be different. His confessor, Père La Chaise, agreed:
Girls are better brought up by people belonging to the [outer] world. The object of the foundation [St. Cyr] is not to multiply convents, which multiply enough of themselves, but to give well-educated girls to the State. There are enough good nuns, and not enough good mothers of families. St. Cyr will bring forth great virtues, and great virtues, instead of being shut up in the cloister, should be used to sanctify the world.19
Moreover, Louis took an active interest in every aspect of the creation of Saint-Cyr, even down to the dress worn by the dames. Their habits were to be “grave and modest, without being conventual.” Sketches were presented to him, which he modified with his own hand. The demoiselles were divided into four classes distinguished by color: red, green, blue, and yellow. Their uniform was a dress made of brown serge, with a lace or muslin frill around the neck and a little apron trimmed with a ribbon to match. Their hair was dressed according to the latest fashion, although it was held in place by a small linen cap edged with muslin and a ribbon of the appropriate color.
Louis also insisted that each demoiselle should have her own drinking cup, fork, and spoon, all of which were made of silver. They would have proper beds, clean and neatly made, and with curtains as befitting the rank of the young lady who occupied it. He stipulated that gifts were forbidden, as were unexpected visits by the ladies of the court, and no guests were to be allowed to stay for meals. Any princess who wished to would be allowed to visit Saint-Cyr provided they obtained Françoise’s permission first; and it was strictly laid down that such visits, which should be rare, would be attended by all due ceremony.20
There would be thirty-six dames, twenty-four lay sisters, and 250 demoiselles. The dames and demoiselles were required to provide proof of their nobility over a period of three generations or one hundred years, which Louis verified in person.21 The king also urged Françoise to keep watch for any suitable husbands for the demoiselles, for each of whom he set aside 3 thousand francs as a dowry to pay for their wedding outfit.22 That August, the first demoiselles began to arrive at Saint-Cyr from Noisy.23
Lessons included religious instruction, the mastery of French, and needlecraft in many forms, especially knitting, lace-making, embroidery, and tapestry work.24 The elder demoiselles were talented seamstresses, and they made a bed set for Louis of crimson velvet embroidered with gold and silver. They also made vestments to be used at the cathedral at Strasbourg, which Louis had recently annexed to France.25 In addition to the lessons, Louis required the dames and demoiselles to say two masses daily:
That it may please God to give Us and Our successors the necessary light to govern the State according to the laws of justice, and the grace of increasing His worship and exalting the Church in Our Kingdom and the lands and lordships under Our obedience, and to give Him thanks for the graces shed upon Us, upon Our royal house and Our dominions.26
In addition to praying for God to grant Louis the “necessary light” he ardently desired, the demoiselles no doubt also prayed for his good health, for the truth was that the founding of Saint-Cyr coincided with several instances of illness for the now middle-aged king.
The first ailment to afflict Louis was a worsening of the toothache from which he had suffered intermittently since 1676.27 It had made its first appearance when he was on campaign in Flanders,28 and while it usually responded well enough to an application of oil of cloves or thyme, the treatment was sometimes overdone, leaving Louis with a burned mouth and feelings of nausea.
Two years after this, Louis suffered a new bout of toothache, which his chief physician, Antoine d’Aquin,29 attributed to the king’s continual hunting in the full heat of the sun. A suppurating abscess caused swelling in Louis’s right cheek and gum, which was made worse by the use of a poultice made of breadcrumbs and milk. The abscess eventually had to be lanced, which let out the pus and allowed the condition to clear up.30 Another time, sugary treatments prescribed by d’Aquin hurt Louis’s teeth.31 However, worse problems were to come.
In 1685, Louis experienced pain in the left side of his upper jaw. D’Aquin recommended the removal of all the teeth in the affected part. However, the operation left a hole in the jaw, which meant that whenever Louis drank or gargled, the liquid in his mouth would flow into his nose, from which “it flowed like a fountain.” The jaw itself was decayed, causing it to discharge foul-smelling pus. D’Aquin thought it was possible to repair the hole by cauterizing the gum, to which Louis gave his consent. On January 10, the procedure was carried out, with d’Aquin applying the hot iron fourteen times. The wound was then treated with a concoction of spirits of wine applied as a lotion and a gargle of orange flower water to ward off any further decay, help the scabs fall off, and encourage the regeneration of the gum.32 Although the treatment worked to the extent that no more fluid flowed from Louis’s mouth into his nose, he would continue to have problems with an excess of unpleasant mucus, which obliged d’Aquin to monitor his patient for the possible recurrence of abscesses. The procedure left Louis’s jaw sunken on the left side. In the portrait of the king painted by Hyacinthe Rigaud circa 1700, the damage caused to his face is not disguised, although it was possibly played down. As though to compensate, Rigaud painted the legs with the strength and elegance of a younger man, with the feet arranged in the fourth ballet position as a reminder of the king’s talent as a dancer.33
Louis had not long to enjoy his health, as the following year brought with it a new ailment. In February 1686, the marquis de Dangeau noted that Louis was suffering from a “tumor” on his left thigh, which kept him in his bed all that day. He was still unwell the next day, although the tumor had reduced in size, which gave the hope that it would vanish completely.34 This hope was misplaced, for the tumor returned on the sixteenth, causing Louis so much pain that he ordered a bed to be placed in the room where he was accustomed to meet his council, in case he was unable to get up.35 A week later, he was still feeling under the weather; the gout from which he had suffered for some while was bothering him, and the tumor on his thigh showed no sign of diminishing this time. The physicians agreed that the best course of treatment was to cauterize it. The procedure involved applying a hot stone to the tumor and leaving it in place for an hour and a half, before opening the skin with a lancet. It was carried out at ten o’clock on February 23, and it appears to have been successful, for Louis was said to have slept very peacefully that night.36
The preceding ten or twelve years had seen an increase in the occurrence of a particularly painful condition, the anal fistula. This was attributed to a variety of causes, such as the feather cushions used in carriages, an excess of stews, or “ultramontane debauchery.” In 1687, when Louis developed one, an abscess resulting from his active lifestyle, particularly riding, hunting, walking, and travelling were blamed.37
On November 17, Louis toured the gardens of Versailles. He loved his garden, no matter the weather or the season, and he always enjoyed being out in the fresh air, but he was not at all well. He had already made up his mind to undergo an operation for the fistula, which was scheduled for two days’ time. Only a handful of people knew of it: Françoise; Louvois; d’Aquin; Félix;38 and Père de La Chaise, Louis’s confessor. The dauphin was also aware that the operation was to take place, but he was not told when. Upon his return from his walk, Louis alerted Françoise, d’Aquin, Louvois, and Félix to be present in his bedchambe
r at eight the following morning. As to Père de La Chaise, he was still in Paris and was unaware that the operation had been brought forward.39
As the clock chimed eight the following morning, the small, select group entered Louis’s chamber to find him still sleeping soundly, “a great sign of the tranquillity of his soul, on an occasion where others were in great anxiety,” noted the marquis de Sourches.40 When they awoke the king, he asked if everything was ready and if M. de Louvois was in his antechamber. When he was assured that all was indeed prepared and Louvois was waiting, Louis arose and knelt at the bottom of his bed, where he quietly prayed. His prayers finished, he said in a loud voice, “My God, I put myself in your hands.”41
Louis now returned to his bed and ordered Félix to begin the operation. Félix, who had practiced on several people suffering from the same condition in order to perfect his technique, worked alongside Bessière, “the most skillful surgeon in Paris.” Louvois held the king’s hand throughout, while Françoise remained in the room but kept a discreet distance by the fireplace.42
The operation was painful, but Louis was as brave at the hands of his doctors as he was on the battlefield, and his cry of “Mon Dieu” when the first incision was made was the only sound he uttered. As the procedure was almost at an end, he urged Félix not to spare him but to treat him “as the least important person in his kingdom.” This encouraged Félix to make two more snips, after which he dressed the wound before bleeding Louis by the arm. Félix was pleased with his work, “for he had done it to perfection.”43
Louis’s lever had been delayed by only one hour, and as the first gentlemen of the chamber and the officers of the court came in, Louis explained to them that he was unwell. They thought it must be an attack of gout. Then, at ten o’clock, those with right of entry came in and approached the royal bed, and they were astonished as Louis told them all about his operation and the circumstances surrounding it.44 As traumatic and painful as the procedure had been, Louis insisted upon presiding over a council meeting as usual.
Louis’s health began to improve, and by December 2 he was eating almost normally, taking “a little meat and even a drink of wine.”45 A few days later, however, on the seventh, it was found that Louis’s wound was not healing as well as it should. The problem was caused by the formation of calluses, which had to be removed, an operation every bit as painful and unpleasant as the first, and which carried the threat of fever.46 Nevertheless, Louis agreed to it and the procedure was carried out two days later, on the morning of December 9. Dangeau noted that “the surgeons strongly assured us that there will be no further cutting, and that [the king’s] recovery is assured.”47 The operation went ahead, and once again, “the pain suffered by the king did not prevent him holding council and seeing the courtiers as usual.” Even so, Françoise noted on December 11 that Louis had “suffered for seven hours as though he had been on the wheel, and I fear that his pains will return tomorrow.”48 Dangeau confirmed the dreadful extent of Louis’s suffering, adding that the king’s misery was worsened by his grief at news of the death of his cousin, the prince de Condé.
As he was dying, Condé wrote Louis a final letter filled with remorse for all his actions against him. He was thinking of the Fronde. He acknowledged his behavior, which he himself condemned, and expressed his gratitude to Louis for his forgiveness, lamenting that he felt he had not and could never have done enough to merit the goodness that Louis had shown him. He thanked Louis, too, for forgiving his nephew, the young prince de Conti, the knowledge of which allowed Condé to die a happy man. When Louis received the news of Condé’s death, he noted sadly, “I have just lost the greatest man in my kingdom.”49
Louis began to improve on the thirteenth, but his recovery was not fully assured until December 23, when the surgeons advised him to rest for a day or two and, after four days, he would be completely cured without fear of relapse.50 A Te Deum was sung in the parish church of Versailles to give thanks for Louis’s convalescence.51
TWENTY-FOUR
The League of Augsburg
The truce of Ratisbon had marked a significant victory for Louis, who was then at the height of his power. The other European leaders, however, continued to worry about where his ambition might take him next. They had watched helplessly as Louis grabbed one territory after another, and they came to the conclusion that only strong diplomatic alliances would guarantee the terms of the truce, which would in turn curtail further French expansion. Moreover, the Protestant powers of Europe had been shocked by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes and Louis’s treatment of their coreligionists. For his part, Louis wanted to convert the truce into a permanent peace treaty, which would allow him to retain his acquisitions legally and in perpetuity. Such a move would have brought peace to Europe, consolidated France’s frontier, increased the reputation of his kingdom, and made Paris, or perhaps more accurately Versailles, the center of a powerful and united Christian monarchy.1 However, while Louis saw Ratisbon as a prelude to everlasting peace, the rest of Europe used it as a breathing space during which they consolidated their alliances.
On May 27, 1685, Karl II, elector of the Palatinate, died childless. Louis advanced a dubious claim to the Palatine on the grounds that the late elector’s sister, Elisabeth-Charlotte, duchesse d’Orléans, was married to Louis’s brother, Philippe. The claim sent shock waves throughout Europe. It was believed that Louis would resort to war in order to press his claim, and so, in 1686, the League of Augsburg was formed, an alliance between Emperor Leopold, most of the German princes, and the kings of Sweden and Spain. Louis’s response was to strengthen the defenses along his eastern frontier; however, the political landscape in Europe was about to undergo a major upheaval.
It was at this point that Louis found himself in conflict once again with Pope Innocent XI. The pope was horrified at Louis’s treatment of the Huguenots, and he was angry about the king’s refusal to assist the emperor against the Turks. Innocent had rejected the Four Articles drawn up by the Gallican Church, and he refused to ratify any of Louis’s episcopal appointments. As one diocese after another fell vacant, this became a matter of concern.2
Innocent also abolished the right of diplomatic immunity for foreign ambassadors to Rome, which Louis took as an act of aggression. When the pope refused to discuss this latest policy, Louis sent the marquis de Lavardin, with a small army. Innocent’s response was to excommunicate the marquis. A few months later, in January 1688, he extended the decree of excommunication to include Louis and his ministers. Louis had already consulted Archbishop Le Tellier about his options should such a scenario arise, but the archbishop assured him that the decree would be invalid. Even so, Louis felt uncomfortable with the idea that the Most Christian King should be cast out of the church, and he ordered the news to be kept secret.3
As he surveyed his frontiers, Louis identified Alsace as the weakest point because it was vulnerable to attack from Philipsburg in the Palatinate. The electorate of Cologne posed another possible threat. Fortunately, the archbishop-elector of Cologne,4 Maximilian-Henry, was one of Louis’s allies, but he was an elderly man and not expected to live much longer. Louis considered who best to put forward to succeed Maximilian-Henry, and his choice settled upon Wilhelm Egon von Fürstenberg, bishop of Strasbourg. Louis then obtained a cardinal’s hat and the post of coadjutor to Maximilian-Henry for Fürstenberg, putting him in Louis’s debt. There was another candidate, however: Joseph-Clemens von Wittelsbach, the sixteen-year-old brother of the elector of Bavaria. The emperor favored Joseph-Clemens, who would nevertheless require papal dispensation of age if he was to be promoted to archbishop. Considering the state of relations between Louis and Innocent, Louis had no doubt that the pope would be only too happy oblige the emperor. As Louis considered his options, news arrived from England.
On June 10, 1688, Mary of Modena,5 the queen of James II, gave birth to a prince, James Francis Edward. King James had acceded to the throne three years earlier following the death of Charles I
I. He had made it clear that he desired to convert his country back to Catholicism in the event of his becoming king. Now, faced with the prospect of a Catholic royal dynasty, the Anglicans entered into negotiations with William of Orange, inviting him to lead an army to England and assert his wife’s and his own claims to the English crown.6 William, however, was closely watching Louis’s activity. He wanted to be available to meet him with armed force if Louis attacked Cologne. William encamped at Nijmegen, a suitable spot from which he could move to England or descend upon Cologne, according to what Louis did next.7
In July, Louis made one final attempt to persuade Innocent to support Fürstenberg’s candidature to the electorate of Cologne. He sent an ambassador, the marquis de Chamley, to the Vatican with a letter setting out in the strongest terms the consequences should the pope refuse Louis’s request. Innocent refused even to receive Chamley.
In September, Louis issued his Déclaration, in which he wrote of the treachery and aggression of his enemies who had formed the League of Augsburg against him, denied his rights in the Palatinate, and opposed his candidate to the electorate of Cologne, all of which clearly demonstrated their hostility towards France and their resistance to Louis’s very real desire for peace. He then seized Avignon and sent armed forces into Italy before laying siege to Philippsburg. His objective was to force his enemies to come to the negotiating table with a view to converting the truce of Ratisbon into a permanent peace. Having achieved his aim, he would restore the towns.8
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