LOUIS XIV AND VERSAILLES

Nearly three hundred years ago, a little boy not yet five years old, with a mass of golden curls, sat in a great armchair and made a speech to the French Parliament. He said, “I have come to show my good-will. My chancellor will say the rest.” This was Louis XIV, son of Louis XIII.

Of course there had to be a regency until the little king should be of age. His mother, the queen, was appointed. She chose as her chief adviser an Italian named Mazarin. He had worked under Richelieu, and Richelieu had recommended him to become his successor.

The small sovereign had come to the throne in the midst of the “Thirty Years’ War.” This had begun in a struggle between the Catholics and Protestants in Germany; but one country after another was dragged into it; and as the years passed, people actually forgot what the war was really about, but kept on fighting for power and territory. Fortunately for France, she had a brilliant general, the Prince of Condé, and a second almost equally brilliant, Turenne; and when the war finally came to an end, in 1646, her territory stretched out on the east to the river Rhine.

In spite of his great ability, Cardinal Mazarin was at first a very unpopular man, because he laid such heavy taxes on the people. The one that aroused them most was laid on all food brought into Paris by land or water. The Parisians were indignant, and the Parliament of Paris declared that this should not be permitted. In a day the streets of the city were filled with angry mobs, and probably King Louis himself heard them crying, “Down with Mazarin! Hurrah for our king!” Parliament told the queen how dangerous this uprising of the people might become. “If harm is done, you shall answer for it,” she retorted in a rage, and rushed back to her room, slamming the door behind her. She and Mazarin took the little king, now ten years of age, and went away from Paris to a half-furnished palace a few miles away.

These street contests were the beginning of what is called the “War of the Fronde.” At first the Parliament and the people of Paris were on one side, and the queen and her friends on the other; but before long, it turned into a wild tangle. There was a good deal of fighting, and there was a good deal of calling one another hard names and making absurd cartoons of one side and the other. The very name by which the war is called is a jest, for “fronde” was the name of a little sling which boys played with in the streets. All Paris sang,

“A Fronde-ly wind Got up to-day; ’Gainst Mazarin It howls, they say.”

For the greater part of five years this absurd imitation of war continued. It was often mere amusement for the nobles; but for the peasants, whose harvests were trampled down, cattle stolen, and homes burned, it was anything but amusement.

Meanwhile a real war between France and Spain was going on; and this did not come to an end until the Peace of the Pyrenees, in 1659. Both countries were tired of war, but to persuade them to agree on terms of peace was not an easy thing to do, and even the enemies of the cardinal recognized his rare tact and ability.

Mazarin, however, was planning more than the peace. Louis was sixteen years old, and it was high time for him to be married, thought Mazarin, but who should be his bride? Louis himself was much pleased with Mazarin’s niece, but the wise cardinal knew that such a marriage would not be suitable for the King of France, and the maiden was sent to a convent. There was a certain princess of Savoy who had been proposed for Louis’s queen, but the cardinal had not worked in vain, and one evening late in 1659 he entered the queen’s room joyfully. “Good news, Madame,” he cried. “Is it to be peace?” the queen asked. “More than that,” replied the cardinal. “I bring you peace and the infanta.” A paper was given to the disappointed princess of Savoy, promising her the hand of the king, provided the Spanish marriage did not take place within a year.

It did take place, however. Maria Theresa, the Spanish princess, promised that neither for herself nor any child that she might have would she make any claim to the throne of Spain. Spain agreed to pay a large dowry, and all went on merrily.

The cardinal was at the height of his glory. He had brought about peace, and he had joined in marriage the royal families of Spain and France. But his health was failing rapidly, and within two years after the Peace of the Pyrenees he died.

Louis was eighteen. He had been declared of age five years before, but he had made no attempt to lessen the cardinal’s authority. “I put up with it,” he had said long before, “because of the good service he has rendered me; but I shall be master in my turn.” Mazarin’s last word of advice to the king had been, “Manage your affairs yourself, sir,” and Louis followed the advice. The first official who came to him after Mazarin’s death and asked to whom he should go for orders was met by the king with a decided “To me.”

Louis did not intend to rule ignorantly, and he set to work to understand the business of being King of France. For eight hours a day he gave close attention to public matters. The courtiers smiled behind his back. “That won’t last long,” they whispered, but it did last. He had faults enough for two kings, but all through his long reign he was an industrious, persevering worker. If this work had been to help the French people, he could have done a great deal for them; but unfortunately Louis’s one care was to win glory for himself. It was his business to command, and the business of every one else to obey, this monarch firmly believed.

Louis was keen to see who could serve him well, and for minister of finance he chose an honest man named Colbert, who had worked his way up in the world by his own merits. Colbert’s chief business was to provide money for the king by taxation. In France at that time the rich nobles and clergy paid almost no taxes, while the poor were taxed to the last penny. Colbert could not change all this in a moment, but he did much to make life easier for the poor, for, just as far as possible he had taxes laid on houses, lands, income, and luxuries. He introduced some of the most famous manufactures of France, such as the making of china, tapestry, lace, and rich materials for dresses. This not only increased the revenues, but it gave employment to thousands of people, and thus France became prosperous. He improved the roads, and they were sadly in need of improvement. He made canals, and he built ships, both ships of war and merchantmen. Colbert was working for the good of France and its people, but Louis was working for himself and his own glory and amusement.

In spite of Colbert’s excellent management, it was sometimes all that he could do to provide money for the king’s demands. Louis spent a vast amount in war, for to him victorious warfare was the greatest glory on earth. He began with a war against the Spanish Netherlands on the ground that as Spain had never paid Maria Theresa’s dowry, she was not bound by her promise to claim no Spanish possessions. The two great generals, Condé and Turenne, planned the campaigns, assisted by the military engineer Vauban, and Louis was successful. More territory was added to France, and the country became the most powerful in Europe.

Warfare was not the only way in which Louis was extravagant by any means. He loved magnificence, and he determined to build a palace that should be worthy of even so great a monarch as he thought himself to be. This palace was the famous Versailles, in which the makers of the Peace Treaty and the League of Nations met in 1919.

The best architects were employed to plan this palace. The best artists decorated its walls. Tapestries, paintings, and carvings were everywhere. Orange trees grew in silver tubs; silver candlesticks, chandeliers, railings, and benches were to be seen, and a silver throne eight feet high. Everywhere were statues and paintings of Louis in different costumes. Mirrors reflected the magnificence of the endless number of apartments.

Around this palace was an immense park, sixty miles or more in circumference. Here were groves formed of large trees brought from a distance. Here were lakes and fountains almost without number. At first, force pumps supplied them with water from the Seine River; but later a stream ninety miles away was turned from its course and brought into the grounds. Colbert lectured the king in most daring fashion on his extravagance. He said bluntly, “It has seemed to me that you were beginning to prefer your pleasures and your diversions to everything else.” But the king paid no heed to his wise minister.

Louis gathered to his court the most talented men of his time. Here were not only the greatest nobles and public men, but also the most illustrious poets, scholars, and artists of France. It was a glorious society, but Louis’s chief enjoyment of it was in obliging all these men of talent to pay him reverence. He taught them that it was an honor to serve him in any way, even to hand him his shirt when he dressed in the morning.

Life at Versailles was as extravagant as the palace itself. It was always gorgeous, but at any fête the costumes were most magnificent. Cloth of silver embroidered with silver, cloth of gold sprinkled with diamonds, black velvet with great diamonds for buttons, head-dresses covered with jewels--it reads like a tale from fairyland. Even the every-day life of the king was full of ceremony, which he heartily enjoyed. Ordinary dressing was with him a lengthy proceeding, for each article had to pass through the hands of at least two persons. It actually required two pages to carry away his slippers. A special official presented him with his handkerchief, and another official gave him his stockings.

But this _lever_, or arising, of the king was not in point of ceremony to be compared with his public dinners. Merely spreading the table was a matter of much form and state. To bring in the food required a long procession. Guards, ushers, the “Gentleman Servant of the Pantry,” the “Equerry of the Kitchen,” the “Chief of the Goblet,” the “Chief of the Wine Cellars,” and a great number of other officials formed in line and solemnly marched up staircases, along several corridors, through vestibules and salons and ante-chambers, to the king’s apartments. It was all very imposing, but the food must have been a bit cold before it reached His Majesty; and even after it had come, every dish had to be tasted before the king touched it, lest it should contain poison. There was just as much formality in eating as in bringing in the food. If the king wanted a sip of wine, the cup-bearer cried in a loud voice, “The drink for the king!” and it took the services of four more people before the wine could reach the royal lips. During the dinner, all well-dressed persons were allowed to file through the room; and people went to watch the king eat just as they go now to the circus or the zoölogical gardens to watch the animals fed.

For forty years King Louis had pretty much his own way. His courtiers looked upon him as almost a god--or made him think that they did. His wars were successful. France had become larger and more prosperous, and he had in general much more money than was good for him. Then came a change. Maria Theresa died, and the following year he married Madame de Maintenon, a lady of good family but no fortune. She was his wife, but she was never recognized as queen. She had been educated as a Protestant, but had become a Roman Catholic; and she did much to persuade Louis that he ought to permit no Protestantism in his kingdom. He first tried to persuade the Huguenots to change their faith. Then he commanded all women not of noble birth who were found at their religious meetings to be whipped and branded. He quartered soldiers in the homes of the Huguenots with orders to torment them as much as possible. At length he revoked the Edict of Nantes. The Huguenots were forbidden to leave the country, but two or three hundred thousand contrived to escape. Most of these were skilled workmen, and other countries were delighted to receive them. So it was that Louis made his own country poorer, while Holland, England, and Germany became richer through the labor of these industrious people.

In 1688, several of the countries which Louis had injured united against him, and after a war of eight years he had to restore nearly all that he had taken in his earlier attacks. The throne of Spain had become vacant, and Louis placed his grandson upon it. Then Europe was indeed aroused, for if France and Spain were united under one ruler, no other country could stand against them. The Grand Alliance was now formed, a union of Louis’s opponents, and warfare went on for twelve years. At its close, Louis’s grandson, Philip V, was allowed to keep the crown of Spain, but Louis had to give back the Netherlands to Austria, and to give up to England the French colonies in Nova Scotia.

Two years after the close of this war, Louis died. He left his kingdom deeply in debt, few of its people living in comfort, and many of its people beggars. Commerce was ruined. Wide stretches of the country were left barren. The time of Louis is spoken of as the greatest age of France, but that is because so many famous men lived in his day--writers, artists, generals, admirals, and ministers of state. The heir to the kingdom was Louis’s greatgrandson, a little boy of five years. The dying king realized some of his faults, and he said to the little child: “I have loved war too much. Do not be like me in that, nor in the useless spending of money. Try to improve the condition of your people.”