Love And Louis XIV: The Women In The Life Of The Sun King Part 2

Queen Anne, an altogether more doughty operator, as witness her dismissal of Marie Mancini, had a different perspective. In a sense she had brought the La Valliere affair about by her horrified reaction to the over-close friends.h.i.+p with the King's 'sister' Henriette-Anne. No one knew better than this majestic survivor that great men tended to have mistresses, even if her own husband's loves had been platonic. The Spanish kings, including her brother Philip IV, had had numerous entanglements, and as for the French! It was significant that the most popular king in French history was Louis's grandfather Henri IV, the role model of manliness and swagger, who had been a philanderer on a serious scale. But Queen Anne was not a cynic and she was sincerely pious. What worried her was the thought of Louis's immortal soul, the state of sin into which he had plunged himself. There was no resignation here, only a helpless sadness.

The Catholic Church however was not helpless. And Louis's religion, in which he had been so carefully trained by his mother, might be simple, as commentators sometimes pointed out, but it was sincere: and because it was simple it was not for that reason shallow. He understood, since it had been constantly reiterated to him, that kings had been put in charge of their peoples by G.o.d, but that kings were for this reason answerable to G.o.d. These feelings, incidentally, were in quite a different category from his att.i.tude to the Church in France as an organisation, and its connection to the overall government of the Pope in Rome. His relations.h.i.+p with Louise was adulterous (that is to say, as a married man he was committing adultery while she of course was not).

It was the matter of an adulterer receiving Holy Communion that became the symbolic battlefield of this epic struggle, since the King publicly attended the Ma.s.s daily in his entire life, he only missed attending daily Ma.s.s two or three times and any falling away in receiving Communion drew public attention.31 The reason was not really very difficult for outsiders to perceive. Already Fouquet, in his unwise approaches to Louise, had noticed the royal 'backslidings' where taking Communion was concerned and drawn the correct conclusion. This was a mini-scandal for those who cared to note it. But ahead of King Louis, as the year 1662 dawned, loomed an annual occasion which became central to the drama of his illicit affairs: the occasion when he made his Easter duties The reason was not really very difficult for outsiders to perceive. Already Fouquet, in his unwise approaches to Louise, had noticed the royal 'backslidings' where taking Communion was concerned and drawn the correct conclusion. This was a mini-scandal for those who cared to note it. But ahead of King Louis, as the year 1662 dawned, loomed an annual occasion which became central to the drama of his illicit affairs: the occasion when he made his Easter duties (faire ses Paques). (faire ses Paques). By the rules of the Catholic Church, a professing Catholic had to make his or her confession at Easter or thereabouts, followed by Communion. By the rules of the Catholic Church, a professing Catholic had to make his or her confession at Easter or thereabouts, followed by Communion.* This was an extremely public event for a monarch, a testing time. What was more, notable prelates were invited to preach the Lenten sermons, not always as compliant to weakness as the private confessor. This was an extremely public event for a monarch, a testing time. What was more, notable prelates were invited to preach the Lenten sermons, not always as compliant to weakness as the private confessor.

Every king had his personal confessor, and the Jesuits, traditionally confessors to the kings of France, had a more relaxed approach to the subject of human frailty than some of the mighty monastic orders who did not. A quick confession and a firm promise of amendment, totally sincere at the time, could be followed by Absolution and Communion; the confessor would hope that a soft approach would bring the (moderately) penitent monarch to virtue by slow degrees.

The Jesuit Father Francois Annat, over seventy at the time of this first crisis of the King's marital life, had been Louis's confessor since he was sixteen, and as was his duty had nursed him through his various adolescent troubles. He practised discretion and detachment: the confessional was after all secret, and as Louis approvingly remarked later, he did not get mixed up in any intrigues. Father Annat was a great enemy of extremism in the Catholic Church, so-called 'Jansenism'.33* He had written a work attacking the type of austere Catholic who thought that 'those not chosen were predestined to d.a.m.nation' a doctrine of grace close to Calvinism some twenty years earlier, He had written a work attacking the type of austere Catholic who thought that 'those not chosen were predestined to d.a.m.nation' a doctrine of grace close to Calvinism some twenty years earlier, Quibbles of the Jansenists. Quibbles of the Jansenists. Saint-Simon later denounced Father Annat as a 'supple Jesuit' responsible for tolerating much wrongdoing. It is difficult however to see how a less 'supple' confessor would have survived so long at the King's side, with the aim all along of one day drawing in the long rein and bringing him back to the path of virtue. Saint-Simon later denounced Father Annat as a 'supple Jesuit' responsible for tolerating much wrongdoing. It is difficult however to see how a less 'supple' confessor would have survived so long at the King's side, with the aim all along of one day drawing in the long rein and bringing him back to the path of virtue.

The views of the great prelates were, on the other hand, a great deal less supple. What went on in private in the confessional, promises made and broken, did not concern them. What went on in public, to the edification or scandal of the entire nation, did. The celebrated series of Lenten sermons which led up each year to the great public feast of Easter with the absolute necessity of a public Communion from the monarch (if in a state of grace, that is) were very different from the private counsels of Father Annat. It was a crucial factor in the first phase of the affair of Louis and Louise that the Lenten sermons of 1662 were to be given by the rising orator and theologian Jacques-Benigne Bossuet.

Aged thirty-five in 1662, Bossuet was a follower of St Vincent de Paul, whose att.i.tude to the poor he much admired and promulgated in a series of sermons: 'No, no, oh rich men of our time!' he once declaimed in the face of a large body of them. 'It is not for you alone that G.o.d causes his sun to rise.' Queen Anne (herself an admirer of St Vincent de Paul) heard Bossuet preach with approval in 1657 and he was then made preacher-extraordinary to the King. In 1659 he delivered a sermon in Paris on 'The outstanding dignity of the poor in the Church'. At his first court sermon he announced to the great ones before him that 'honours' would not follow them into the next life. It will be obvious that in an age when flattery was the daily bread of court life, this man was not a flatterer. At the same time his lessons were delivered in such magnificent style that everyone flocked to hear them. Sainte-Beuve, in a happy image, would describe his style of oratory as 'like the stops of a huge organ in a vast cathedral nave'. His solemn, handsome countenance only enhanced the impression Bossuet made.34 All this time, while the King made love and both Queens lamented, there was one person whose att.i.tude to her religion was quite as literal as that of the two pious royal women. This was Louise de La Valliere herself. After a few months, she could hardly bear her sense of her own sinfulness, so painfully coupled with her abject devotion to the King. On top of it all, Louise, who was no court politician, had become unwittingly involved in an intrigue between Henriette-Anne and the das.h.i.+ng Comte de Guiche when details of it were confided to her by a fellow maid-of-honour, Francoise de Montalais.35 Louise incurred the temporary displeasure of Louis, who could not believe that his sweet little mistress had kept anything from him. All this acted further on a palpitatingly guilty conscience. Louise incurred the temporary displeasure of Louis, who could not believe that his sweet little mistress had kept anything from him. All this acted further on a palpitatingly guilty conscience.

On 2 February Bossuet began preaching his series of Lenten sermons at the Louvre. On the one hand he commended Queen Anne, comparing her to Saint Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary. On the other hand he was soon ripping into the King's immoral behaviour, under the scarcely disguised figure of the biblical David who had in his early life been swayed by unlawful pa.s.sion for another man's wife. (There was no perceived connection here with the 'other' David, a soulful figure praising the Lord with his harp, of whom a portrait bought from the Mazarin estate hung in the King's own room.) Biblical imagery was and remained a convenient ruse for denouncing the all-powerful sovereign of the country: not only David but Solomon and Ahasuerus were royal wrongdoers who could be usetully cited.36 It was all too much for Louise. On 24 February she bolted from the court to the Convent of the Visitation at Chaillot.

* The Memoirs for the Instruction of the Dauphin The Memoirs for the Instruction of the Dauphin by Louis XIV, begun in 1661, went through several versions; although the King received considerable a.s.sistance, he always had an essential role in the publication, thus the sentiments are his. by Louis XIV, begun in 1661, went through several versions; although the King received considerable a.s.sistance, he always had an essential role in the publication, thus the sentiments are his.5* It can still be seen today at the palace of the Inst.i.tut de France, a magnificent monument, spared the depredations of the French Revolution because it was used as a grain store.* The King wrote from Dijon in 1668: 'If I didn't love you so much I wouldn't write because I have nothing to say to you after the news which I've already given to my brother.'15* Alexandre Dumas, in the third novel of The Three Musketeers The Three Musketeers series published in the mid-nineteenth century, series published in the mid-nineteenth century, The Vicomte de Bragelonne (sic), The Vicomte de Bragelonne (sic), builds on this story, before pa.s.sing on to her subsequent fate in builds on this story, before pa.s.sing on to her subsequent fate in Louise de La Valliere. Louise de La Valliere.* A laValliere laValliere is still noted in Larousse as a necktie with a large bow. is still noted in Larousse as a necktie with a large bow.* Vaux-le-Vicomte remains to this day a magnificent monument to the high style of the so-called grand siecle and to the perils of Icarus trying to fly higher than the Sun King.* Modern scientific and genetic knowledge enables us to see that the desperate intermarrying of the Habsburgs, for reasons of state, was not calculated to produce healthy offspring (Carlos was the son of an uncle and niece). Marie-Therese and Louis, first cousins on both sides, got lucky with the healthy Dauphin, although their luck did not last. At the time frequent infant deaths in the children of great persons were attributed more sternly to the wrath of G.o.d with the parents concerned.* Easter Communion had been obligatory in the Catholic Church since the fourth century and is still today a precept that must be fulfilled at least once a year 'during paschal time' unless there is good reason to the contrary. Even the seventeenth-century state prisoner known as 'the Man in the Iron Mask' was allowed to doff his mask to receive communion at Easter.32* The name was applied by the hostile Jesuits to the beliefs of the followers of the Dutch theologian Cornelius Jansen. Jansenism was not therefore a body of doctrine.

CHAPTER 5

Sweet Violence

Beauty embraces me wherever I find it, and I can easily yield to the sweet violence with which it sweeps me along. Moliere, Don Juan, Don Juan, 1665 1665 On 24 February 1662 Louis XIV was in the midst of receiving the Spanish envoy, come to congratulate him on the birth of his son the previous November, when the news was whispered to him: 'La Valliere has taken the veil!' The stately diplomatic visit was hurried along in a way that was hardly consonant with the dignity of Spain. And then Louis, swirling a dark grey cloak about him to cover his face, mounted his fastest horse. He galloped the three miles to the convent at Chaillot where his mistress had taken refuge.

The tearful reconciliation was sweet to both sides. Louise confessed all she knew about the tentative intrigue of Henriette-Anne and Guiche. A carriage was commanded and Louise returned to the court. She was in time for the rest of Bossuet's Lenten sermons: the general theme was the horrifying fate of those, especially kings, who died impenitent. According to Christ, Dives, the sinful rich man, was in h.e.l.l, Lazarus, the good beggar, in Heaven. One who did not die impenitent was of course the saint Mary Magdalen. And the organ-voiced orator preached about her too. His terms were resounding: 'the heart of Magdalen is broken, her face is all covered in shame ...' In spite of, or more probably because of, her own sense of shame, Louise was among the many people men as well as women in seventeenth-century France who adopted Magdalen as their favourite saint.1 Some of the most beautiful motets by Marc-Antoine Charpentier, suitable for women's voices, were t.i.tled Some of the most beautiful motets by Marc-Antoine Charpentier, suitable for women's voices, were t.i.tled Magdalen Weeping Magdalen Weeping and and The Dialogue between Magdalen and Jesus The Dialogue between Magdalen and Jesus: 'Weep, lament, Magdalen,' commanded the plangent texts. 'That is what the love of the sweet Saviour asks of you.'2 It has been noted that Henriette-Anne, not a noticeably Magdalen-like figure to the outward eye, had a painting by Correggio of the subject; the widowed Francoise Scarron had another version. With the exception of the Virgin Mary, no saint of either s.e.x was painted so often at this period. There was even a tradition that Magdalen, fleeing persecution, had come to rest at Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume near Aix and had been buried there: the road to La Sainte Baume was one of the most popular routes in France for pilgrims.* Somehow the figure of the Magdalen expressed the obsession of the times with sin sin and salvation following penitence. Somehow the figure of the Magdalen expressed the obsession of the times with sin sin and salvation following penitence.

In fact the saint represented a collage of various women from the Gospels. In the sixth century Pope Gregory the Great had announced that Mary Magdalen, Mary of Bethany and the penitent woman in St Luke's Gospel who used precious ointment on the feet of Christ were all the same beata peccatrix, beata peccatrix, blessed sinner, redeemed wh.o.r.e. Since women loved to be painted in the role of the Magdalen, it was an important part of the representation that Magdalen's long hair, with which she had dried the feet of Christ, could be painted as flowing down across her bosom, sumptuously and of course penitently (long hair was the sign of a virgin, and married women were not generally painted with their tresses so erotically visible). It was significant that all the chief lovers of Louis XIV were painted as the Magdalen at one time or another; and so were the four chief mistresses of Charles II, whose first and longest-serving lover Barbara Villiers prided herself on her beautiful hair. blessed sinner, redeemed wh.o.r.e. Since women loved to be painted in the role of the Magdalen, it was an important part of the representation that Magdalen's long hair, with which she had dried the feet of Christ, could be painted as flowing down across her bosom, sumptuously and of course penitently (long hair was the sign of a virgin, and married women were not generally painted with their tresses so erotically visible). It was significant that all the chief lovers of Louis XIV were painted as the Magdalen at one time or another; and so were the four chief mistresses of Charles II, whose first and longest-serving lover Barbara Villiers prided herself on her beautiful hair.3 The affair of Louis XIV and Louise de La Valliere flourished on her return and for the next year without further interruptions; the tears of Marie-Therese, shed in front of her mother-in-law, and the embarra.s.sing discussions she was insisting on having about fidelity by the summer of 1663 did not really count. Queen Anne also wept and prayed, but no official cognisance of the situation had to be taken: Louise was a secret love, not a maitresse en t.i.tre maitresse en t.i.tre like Barbara Villiers. As for the girl herself, she continued to a.s.sure the King of her devotion, which left her asking for nothing more than his love. How happy they could have been in another world where he was not the monarch, she was supposed to have exclaimed. And as for Louis, if not exactly in love with her at this point, since his maximum point of love was probably in the weeks and days before he conquered her resistance, he was happy enough with his young and charming mistress. like Barbara Villiers. As for the girl herself, she continued to a.s.sure the King of her devotion, which left her asking for nothing more than his love. How happy they could have been in another world where he was not the monarch, she was supposed to have exclaimed. And as for Louis, if not exactly in love with her at this point, since his maximum point of love was probably in the weeks and days before he conquered her resistance, he was happy enough with his young and charming mistress.

An English observer, Edward Browne, who was touring France with Christopher Wren, was charmed by the sight of her: 'returning to Paris, the King overtook us in a chaise roulante chaise roulante with his mistress La Valliere with him, habited very prettily in a hat and feathers [probably the hat trimmed with white feathers which was part of the new uniform designed for the King's friends] and an especially fas.h.i.+onable jacket called a with his mistress La Valliere with him, habited very prettily in a hat and feathers [probably the hat trimmed with white feathers which was part of the new uniform designed for the King's friends] and an especially fas.h.i.+onable jacket called a Just-au-corps Just-au-corps.' To the Englishman the pair looked settled and content. In another incident whose 'Condescension' on Louis's part deeply impressed the courtiers that witnessed it, the King covered Louise's ma.s.s of tumbling fair hair with his own hat when she lost hers out riding. Such chivalrous gestures recalled the moment in his youth when he had thrown away his own sword because it had accidentally caused hurt to Marie Mancini.4 But there were incipient problems. First, the King liked to give: it was part of his nature, his concept of his role, that the Sun King was bountiful. Louise however was neither greedy nor extravagant and thus gave him few opportunities for that warm feeling of generosity beloved of wealthy men. Her brother, the Marquis de La Valliere, benefited and received a position at court, but someone else, less of a hidden violet, could provide the Sun King with the opportunity to spread his rays further. Second, while the King might not consciously be seeking another serious entanglement at this point, he understood the feelings expressed by Moliere's Don Juan: 'Constancy is only good for fools. Every beautiful woman has the right to charm us ... As for me, beauty embraces me wherever I find it, and I can easily yield to the sweet violence with which it sweeps me along.'5*

The third problem was of a different nature. In late March 1663 Louise de La Valliere fell pregnant; this could not have been totally unexpected, since there is no reason to believe that the King used contraception at this or any other moment.

Contraceptive knowledge did exist, and given that the need was as old as society, always had. The condom, made of animal membranes, although generally seen as an eighteenth-century prophylactic invention, was already in use in the middle of the seventeenth century, as recent archaeological discoveries have demonstrated.6 Of more ancient and more universal provenance were tampons made of different materials, sponges soaked in vinegar or other astringents, or similarly const.i.tuted douches. These had always been used by prost.i.tutes, and where the necessity existed, a too-rapidly-increasing family or an extramarital affair, doubtless by many others. Madame de Sevigne believed that her beloved daughter fell into the former category. 'What, haven't they heard of astringents in Provence?' she enquired bitterly after the birth of Juliette's third child. Saint-Simon mentioned with approval that French d.u.c.h.esses rarely had more than two children, compared with the over-fertile Spaniards: in France, dukes knew how to limit their families. Then, as has been mentioned, there was the practical preventive of coitus interruptus, what the French Church called disapprovingly Of more ancient and more universal provenance were tampons made of different materials, sponges soaked in vinegar or other astringents, or similarly const.i.tuted douches. These had always been used by prost.i.tutes, and where the necessity existed, a too-rapidly-increasing family or an extramarital affair, doubtless by many others. Madame de Sevigne believed that her beloved daughter fell into the former category. 'What, haven't they heard of astringents in Provence?' she enquired bitterly after the birth of Juliette's third child. Saint-Simon mentioned with approval that French d.u.c.h.esses rarely had more than two children, compared with the over-fertile Spaniards: in France, dukes knew how to limit their families. Then, as has been mentioned, there was the practical preventive of coitus interruptus, what the French Church called disapprovingly etreinte reservee etreinte reservee (embrace withheld). Denunciations by the preachers of this so-called 'sin of Onan', a biblical character who was suppose to have wasted his seed on the ground, makes it clear that withdrawal was widely used and, given a cooperative male, certainly the easiest method of avoiding conception. (embrace withheld). Denunciations by the preachers of this so-called 'sin of Onan', a biblical character who was suppose to have wasted his seed on the ground, makes it clear that withdrawal was widely used and, given a cooperative male, certainly the easiest method of avoiding conception.7 Royal procreation, even outside marriage, like royal virility, was somehow different. There was a primitive instinct to regard a fertile king as symbolic of a fertile and successful country. The archetypal monarch Henri IV had left enough b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for the survivors to be among the honoured members of society, even if Louis XIII had not added to their number. In 1663 you found Cesar Duc de Vendome, son of the fabulous mistress Gabrielle d'Estrees, and his sister the d.u.c.h.esse d'Elboeuf; the Duc de Verneuil, Governor of Languedoc, was Henri's child by another woman and Jeanne-Baptiste, the powerful Abbess of Fontevrault (appointed as a mere child), by yet another. Rank was not an issue. Under the entry 'Royal b.a.s.t.a.r.ds' Antoine Furetiere's magisterial Dictionnaire Universel Dictionnaire Universel stated baldly: 'the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds of kings are princes.' stated baldly: 'the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds of kings are princes.'

Louise, a girl without a husband, may possibly have tried to avoid conception by some of the whispered artificial expedients, although coitus interruptus was surely not part of the Sun King's vision of himself. It is more likely that she accepted the inevitable consequences of the King's sinful (but rapturous) love-making as part of the price. This would have been combined with just a soupcon soupcon of pride: after all, her children would be royal, and they would be of pride: after all, her children would be royal, and they would be his his children. In a muddling way fertility was also considered one of the female virtues, even if the consequences might be awkward: as a saying on the subject had it, 'A good land is a land that gives a good harvest.' Similarly, abortifacients, like contraceptives, were known since ancient times and pa.s.sed from generation to generation of women: wormwood, hyssop, rue and ergot were all believed to be effective. children. In a muddling way fertility was also considered one of the female virtues, even if the consequences might be awkward: as a saying on the subject had it, 'A good land is a land that gives a good harvest.' Similarly, abortifacients, like contraceptives, were known since ancient times and pa.s.sed from generation to generation of women: wormwood, hyssop, rue and ergot were all believed to be effective.8 But there is no evidence that anyone ever tried to abort one of the King's children, regardless of the mother's marital status. What did happen in Louise's case was an attempt at concealment. But there is no evidence that anyone ever tried to abort one of the King's children, regardless of the mother's marital status. What did happen in Louise's case was an attempt at concealment.

At the Ballet of the Arts, Ballet of the Arts, performed in the early part of 1663, Louise was still being described, in the lines of the poet Benserade, as the most beautiful shepherdess in the show, with that special 'sweet languor' in her melting blue eyes. performed in the early part of 1663, Louise was still being described, in the lines of the poet Benserade, as the most beautiful shepherdess in the show, with that special 'sweet languor' in her melting blue eyes.9 But as her pregnancy advanced before an expected birth-date in December, Louise was bought a house in Paris where she pa.s.sed her time entertaining the court and playing cards. Did Queen Anne know? Most likely some rumour reached her. And Marie-Therese? Probably not. In any case the Queen herself was similarly occupied. After the births of her first two children, a boy and a girl of whom only the Dauphin survived, Marie-Therese would give birth to another daughter Marie-Anne in 1664 who died after six weeks, yet another in January 1667, a little Marie-Therese known as 'the Pet.i.te Madame', and the desired second son Philippe Duc d'Anjou in August 1668. With La Valliere entering the maternal lists, the King would be found by August 1668 to have been responsible for no fewer than nine royal or quasi-royal births in six and three-quarter years. But as her pregnancy advanced before an expected birth-date in December, Louise was bought a house in Paris where she pa.s.sed her time entertaining the court and playing cards. Did Queen Anne know? Most likely some rumour reached her. And Marie-Therese? Probably not. In any case the Queen herself was similarly occupied. After the births of her first two children, a boy and a girl of whom only the Dauphin survived, Marie-Therese would give birth to another daughter Marie-Anne in 1664 who died after six weeks, yet another in January 1667, a little Marie-Therese known as 'the Pet.i.te Madame', and the desired second son Philippe Duc d'Anjou in August 1668. With La Valliere entering the maternal lists, the King would be found by August 1668 to have been responsible for no fewer than nine royal or quasi-royal births in six and three-quarter years.

Leaving aside the paternity of their offspring, however, the experience in childbirth of the two women, the wife and the mistress, was very different. The accouchement of the Queen of France was witnessed by as many people as could cram into the chamber: that was the custom. When the Dauphin was born, Louis himself flung open the window to the waiting crowds in the courtyard and shouted: 'The Queen has given birth to a boy!'

On 19 December, Louise also gave birth to a boy, but in the greatest secrecy in a house in Paris. There was a story that the fas.h.i.+onable doctor Boucher who attended was escorted in an anonymous carriage and entered though a garden gate with his eyes bandaged. There he helped a masked lady give birth10 ... It was a story told of more than one mysterious beyond-the-law-of-the-Church birth. In the case of Louise, it may even have been true. ... It was a story told of more than one mysterious beyond-the-law-of-the-Church birth. In the case of Louise, it may even have been true.

What is certain is that the boy was smuggled away by the loyal minister Colbert and his wife. It was Colbert who sent a note to the King: 'We [sic] [sic] have a boy' contradicting reports that Louis was actually present, lurking, also masked, in a corner of the room. The baby was baptised Charles, registered under a false surname, given suitably obscure parentage and brought up far from his mother. Louise returned to the court and, only a few days after a long and painful labour, was back in attendance at the midnight Ma.s.s on the eve of Christmas. Not for Louise the long lying-in period of recovery granted to the Queen of France, who would recline, surrounded by congratulatory crowds, for several weeks. Even Madame de Sevigne's daughter did not move till the tenth day, a period of rest generally thought essential to the preservation of youth and beauty, especially a graceful figure. have a boy' contradicting reports that Louis was actually present, lurking, also masked, in a corner of the room. The baby was baptised Charles, registered under a false surname, given suitably obscure parentage and brought up far from his mother. Louise returned to the court and, only a few days after a long and painful labour, was back in attendance at the midnight Ma.s.s on the eve of Christmas. Not for Louise the long lying-in period of recovery granted to the Queen of France, who would recline, surrounded by congratulatory crowds, for several weeks. Even Madame de Sevigne's daughter did not move till the tenth day, a period of rest generally thought essential to the preservation of youth and beauty, especially a graceful figure.

This child Charles died some two years later, not of neglect, but the victim of one of the many childhood maladies which plagued rich and poor alike. Nevertheless, there is evidence from her later life that Louise always regarded the children of her sin with more pious regret than maternal solicitude. She was soon back in her way of life as the King's pliant, submissive and allegedly secret mistress.

The year which followed was cruelly frustrating for the virtuous at court. None of the issues, foremost among them the King's adultery but including Louise's status, was either resolved or put aside. Louise for her part angrily spurned the idea of an arranged marriage to some complaisant n.o.bleman of a certain age. This suggestion was not quite as gross or insensitive as it might seem, especially when Louise became pregnant with her second child in April. Kings and others were expected to provide cover or security for their unmarried mistresses. For example, the Duke of Savoy was congratulated by one of his amba.s.sadors for having married off Gabrielle de Marolles so well: not only was his behaviour generous in itself but it might act as a 'fish-hook', pulling in future mistresses.11 But the whole idea upset Louise's romantic susceptibilities. As a married woman she too would have been committing adultery (like the King) and the whole fantasy of her quasi-holy devotion to the King would be shown up for what it was. But the whole idea upset Louise's romantic susceptibilities. As a married woman she too would have been committing adultery (like the King) and the whole fantasy of her quasi-holy devotion to the King would be shown up for what it was.

At Easter for the first time the King did not make his public Communion. Father Annat, worldly-wise but not a cynic, threatened to give up his post as confessor if such a blatantly false penitence was proposed on the part of his royal master in order to receive the Sacred Host at Communion. Luckily the royal pew at St-Germain-l'Auxerrois, the parish church of the palace of the Louvre, had heavy curtains so that the royal embarra.s.sment, if revealed on his face, was concealed from the congregation.

As if in defiance of the holy laws, the prolonged and glorious Fete ent.i.tled The Pleasures of the Enchanted Isle The Pleasures of the Enchanted Isle took place in early May. It was planned and carried out by Louis XIV 'in the manner in which he did everything, that is to say the most gallant and the most magnificent way you could imagine', in the words of Bussy-Rabutin. The planning also showed Louis XIV's attention to detail: he was personally shown a mock-up of the stage machinery which was intended to be a startling feature of the celebration, and all the outdoor stages proposed. Only then did he hand matters over to the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber, the Comte de Saint-Aignan. took place in early May. It was planned and carried out by Louis XIV 'in the manner in which he did everything, that is to say the most gallant and the most magnificent way you could imagine', in the words of Bussy-Rabutin. The planning also showed Louis XIV's attention to detail: he was personally shown a mock-up of the stage machinery which was intended to be a startling feature of the celebration, and all the outdoor stages proposed. Only then did he hand matters over to the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber, the Comte de Saint-Aignan.12 This early facilitator of life with Louise was a noted impresario of the ballet. The theme chosen was from Ariosto's This early facilitator of life with Louise was a noted impresario of the ballet. The theme chosen was from Ariosto's Orlando Furioso Orlando Furioso and the Fete was supposed to be dedicated to the two Queens, Marie-Therese and Anne. But everyone knew the true dedicatee was Louise, in attendance as one of the maids-of-honour of Henriette-Anne. and the Fete was supposed to be dedicated to the two Queens, Marie-Therese and Anne. But everyone knew the true dedicatee was Louise, in attendance as one of the maids-of-honour of Henriette-Anne.

Apart from the gorgeousness of it all, and the t.i.tillation of Louise's presence, there was a special excitement to be had because this was the first official court entertainment held at Versailles. Ironically enough in view of what was to become of it the charm of Versailles at this point was its modesty. Since there was limited accommodation, only those who were nominated by the King were present: as the Grande Mademoiselle reflected, this made Versailles particularly agreeable. Certainly it was convenient for Louis to use it to entertain his intimates, including Louise; it was no wonder that by 1663 he was reported as having 'a special affection' for the place. Queen Anne was beginning to love it too, for her apartments were decorated with two things for which she had a pa.s.sion: gold filigree and jasmine plants.13*

Modest as Versailles might be at this stage, by the standards of the future, the gardens, designed by Le Notre, were already ravis.h.i.+ng and there was already a delightful menagerie full of rare birds, pelicans and ostriches, to be viewed from a balcony; wild animals would be added later. And already the King had been seized by the mania for building which would hardly leave him in the course of his reign, so that as in some Sisyphean labour he would turn a modest chateau into a vast palace, only to resent the lack of privacy, and start all over again with a modest chateau ...

In the three years up to the end of 1663, Louis had spent 1,500,000 livres on Versailles (about 5 million pounds in today's money). The winter of 1663 was a hard one and the deep frost delayed the plasterers. Undeterred by religious observance, Louis sent a message to the parish priest of Versailles to ask him to let the men work on the Feast days of the Church which were normally holidays. In 1664 alone he would spend nearly 800,000 livres. And the pillaging of Fouquet's creative legacy continued while the erstwhile minister languished in captivity.

Louis XIV, a fanatical gardener, had a special interest in orange trees, whose subtle but distinct perfume he adored. Perhaps the golden globes were connected to his self-mythification as the Sun King. Now twelve thousand seedling orange trees were transferred for the new orangery at Versailles, designed by Le Vau. As time went by, the King's gardeners would keep a number of them in bloom all the year round, replacing them at fifteen-day intervals; specimens would be brought from Flanders and even Santa Domingo. And they were not cheap: the d.u.c.h.esse de La Ferte was paid 2,200 livres (over seven thousand pounds in modern money) for twenty orange trees. One, known as Le Grand-Bourbon, traditionally planted in 1421 by the Princess of Navarre, was moved by Francois I to Fontainebleau and by Louis XIV to Versailles.14*

The pleasures of the ballet's enchanted isle allegedly it lay somewhere off the coast of France were supposed to be enjoyed by a company of knights held there in a rather agreeable form of captivity by the enchantress Alcina. Louis, flas.h.i.+ng with the jewels which studded his silver breastplate, flame-coloured plumes nodding from his head, took the role of their leader Roger, and rode the finest horse among his troop. Saint-Aignan played Gaudon the Savage and the Duc de Noailles Olger the Dane. 'A small army' of actors, dancers, musicians and stage-hands also took part. The vast number of tapers and candles needed to light the whole proceedings over days had to be protected from the wind by a specially made dome.16 There was a tournament at which Louise's brother, the Marquis de La Valliere, won the prize of a bejewelled sword, presented by Queen Anne. There was a play written specially for the occasion by Moliere, The Princess of Elide, The Princess of Elide, in which the playwright acted. And there was a new ballet composed by Jean-Baptiste Lully, who since 1662 had been in charge of all the music and musical activities at court. in which the playwright acted. And there was a new ballet composed by Jean-Baptiste Lully, who since 1662 had been in charge of all the music and musical activities at court.

Louis's heartfelt patronage of these two artists may be seen in the fact that he volunteered to act as G.o.dfather to the sons of both men (a coveted honour). In the case of Lully, this patronage survived the composer's extramarital dalliance in the Paris underworld: a bon mot bon mot by Saint-evremond on the difference between Orpheus and Lully suggested that Lully would have picked up some criminal young man and left Eurydice behind. by Saint-evremond on the difference between Orpheus and Lully suggested that Lully would have picked up some criminal young man and left Eurydice behind.17 As for the theme of Moliere's play, that was very much to Louis's current taste, for it celebrated young love in royalty. A courtier went so far as to commend the hero, Euryale, King of Ithaca, for his pa.s.sionate nature, 'a quality I like in a monarch' and especially 'a prince of your age'. A shepherd's song proposed that 'There is nothing that does not surrender / Before the sweet charms of love.' As for the theme of Moliere's play, that was very much to Louis's current taste, for it celebrated young love in royalty. A courtier went so far as to commend the hero, Euryale, King of Ithaca, for his pa.s.sionate nature, 'a quality I like in a monarch' and especially 'a prince of your age'. A shepherd's song proposed that 'There is nothing that does not surrender / Before the sweet charms of love.'18 At the end of the festival, there was a huge display of fireworks. Alcina's palace, dome and all, was reduced to cinders and vanished into the waters of the ornamental lake where it stood.* Everyone talked of the marvels of these feasts, wrote the poet La Fontaine, the palace which had become gardens, the gardens which had become palaces and the suddenness with which it had all happened. Certainly that notorious Fete of La Fontaine's former patron Fouquet at Vaux-le-Vicomte in August 1661 was thoroughly eclipsed that was surely part of the point. Everyone talked of the marvels of these feasts, wrote the poet La Fontaine, the palace which had become gardens, the gardens which had become palaces and the suddenness with which it had all happened. Certainly that notorious Fete of La Fontaine's former patron Fouquet at Vaux-le-Vicomte in August 1661 was thoroughly eclipsed that was surely part of the point.

And still the jollity was not over. The King decided to hold an extravagant Court Lottery at the end of dinner, on a scale to match the splendour of what had gone before. These lotteries were in effect a gallant way for the Pasha Louis XIV to present some favourite ladies of his Seraglio with cash, jewels, or even on occasion silver and furniture. Thus in 1659 Marie Mancini, at the height of her influence, had won some awesome rubies in a Court Lottery.19 On this occasion the number of On this occasion the number of billets heureux billets heureux (lucky tickets) equalled that of the ladies present, although Queen Marie-Therese got the biggest prize five hundred pistoles (over fifteen hundred pounds today). (lucky tickets) equalled that of the ladies present, although Queen Marie-Therese got the biggest prize five hundred pistoles (over fifteen hundred pounds today).

On 12 May 1664, as the Fete ended, Moliere presented another play, ent.i.tled Tartuffe. Tartuffe. King Louis found it 'most amusing', this study of the impostor and hypocrite who managed to dupe the foolish Orgon (played by Moliere himself). But it was symbolic of his growing differences with his mother that Queen Anne on the contrary found the piece deeply shocking. A prodigious row ensued in which the highly vocal ultra-devout party represented by the Confraternity of the Holy Sacrament (to which Bossuet ministered) shared the Queen Mother's point of view and denounced 'this wicked play'. In the end Louis compromised. King Louis found it 'most amusing', this study of the impostor and hypocrite who managed to dupe the foolish Orgon (played by Moliere himself). But it was symbolic of his growing differences with his mother that Queen Anne on the contrary found the piece deeply shocking. A prodigious row ensued in which the highly vocal ultra-devout party represented by the Confraternity of the Holy Sacrament (to which Bossuet ministered) shared the Queen Mother's point of view and denounced 'this wicked play'. In the end Louis compromised. Tartuffe Tartuffe was banned from public performances: however, private performances were permitted on the elitist grounds that the aristocracy could cope with satire where the 'little people' could not. was banned from public performances: however, private performances were permitted on the elitist grounds that the aristocracy could cope with satire where the 'little people' could not.20 the Prince de Conde became a patron, and five years later the Grande Mademoiselle offered a performance to celebrate the wedding of a lady-in-waiting. the Prince de Conde became a patron, and five years later the Grande Mademoiselle offered a performance to celebrate the wedding of a lady-in-waiting.

In the event, Moliere did not suffer from the gesture of demi-banning by which the King tried to conciliate the devots devots and his mother. In August 1665, his troop of actors was made into the King's Company. No doubt Louis appreciated the lines of and his mother. In August 1665, his troop of actors was made into the King's Company. No doubt Louis appreciated the lines of Tartuffe Tartuffe's supposedly happy ending when the hypocrite is unmasked: 'We live under a King who hates deceit / A King whose eyes see into every heart / And cannot be fooled by an impostor's art.'21 Queen Anne was not so easily mollified. In June mother and son had a painful, angry showdown in which both sides wept copiously: but unlike that previous encounter, five years earlier, when Louis had given way over Marie Mancini, he did not now give way over Louise de La Valliere. Instead he talked honestly enough about the 'pa.s.sions' which possessed him and were too strong for him to control: yet he loved his mother as much as ever and had not been able to sleep all night on hearing that she wanted, out of sheer misery, to withdraw from court to the convent of Val-de-Grace. Anne for her part harped on the gloomy theme of Louis's eventual 'salvation', which was in grave peril; how would G.o.d judge him if he died in a state of mortal sin? And she threw in some harsh maternal words on the subject of Louis's overweening sense of his own grandeur (although Anne of all people should not have complained of what she had inculcated in her son since his earliest days).

In the end Anne was the one who weakened. 'Oh these sons, these sons,' she moaned to the d.u.c.h.ess of Molina. But she told the d.u.c.h.ess that she could not bear to be estranged from either of them (Monsieur's dalliance with his elegant male favourites such as the Chevalier de Lorraine was hardly more to her taste). In spite of their sins, they brought her more consolation than suffering.22 The Queen Mother's best hope lay in time: advancing years would perhaps diminish the unlawful ardour of the gallant King. It was a point he made himself to his wife, who, heavily pregnant, flew into a jealous pa.s.sion at the thought of an expedition to Villers-Cotterets from which her condition barred her. (It did not bar Louise, a mere six months on her way.) Louis promised Marie-Therese that when he reached thirty, he would quit acting the gallant and act instead the good husband: this was the age in men when 'the flower of life' was considered to be over and in principle at least, promiscuity was supposed to wither away too.23 In the event things did not quite work out like that. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that even at this point, when he was in his mid-twenties, Louis, the sincerely religious man, only too conscious of his wrongdoing but unable to give it up, had in mind some vague notion of eventual reform. In the event things did not quite work out like that. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that even at this point, when he was in his mid-twenties, Louis, the sincerely religious man, only too conscious of his wrongdoing but unable to give it up, had in mind some vague notion of eventual reform.

The trouble was that such a reformation would very likely come too late for Queen Anne to witness and rejoice. The Queen's health had been frail for some time: the previous year she had felt a great 'la.s.situde', with aches and pains in her limbs and a fever which made it difficult to fast severely in Lent according to her usual custom. Louis, ever the devoted son, had watched over her on that occasion, spending several nights on a mattress at the foot of her bed, a revival of his childhood intimacy. Now, in May, shortly before the battle with her son which she had lost, Queen Anne showed the first symptoms of the breast cancer which would almost inevitably at that time kill her. Fearfully apprehensive on her behalf, with an attack of nerves his doctors called 'vapours', Louis took refuge in swimming to try and calm himself.

The treatment for tumours of this sort was rudimentary: bleeding and purges (the usual prescriptions for every illness), which were supposed in theory to restore the natural balance of the body, but in practice merely weakened the patient. Some medical textbooks mentioned the possibility of a mastectomy, but what Queen Anne actually endured was less radical: the application of hardening agents such as burnt lime paste so that the diseased tissue could be gradually cut away.24 At Christmas, the doctors p.r.o.nounced the cancer incurable. In a moving scene the Queen Mother broke the news to her two sons: she was determined to be steadfast in her coming suffering. Although the pain made sleep almost impossible, she decided at first that it was 'by the orders of G.o.d' that the remedies of man were useless in trying to cure her body; later she believed that she was being punished for the pride she had always felt in her own beauty. The following year was marked by a series of hideous ordeals in which even such a pious woman's resolution was tested to the utmost; by the summer erysipelas inflammation of the skin covered half her body and her arm was so swollen that the sleeve of her chemise had to be cut off. An attempt at lancing the visible tumour ended in disaster and caused yet more suffering. In all this time her courage never deserted her, nor, touchingly, did her feminine love of fine things: she could bear only the finest batiste against her skin. This recalled an erstwhile joke by Cardinal Mazarin, that if she went to h.e.l.l, there would be no greater torture for her than being made to sleep in coa.r.s.e linen sheets.25 Everyone at court could see that the Queen Mother's death, whenever it came, would bring great changes. The King for one would no longer have that emotional tug towards his mother's approval which had, at least in part, guided his behaviour. Anne's death might see the return to the French court of the maitresse en t.i.tre maitresse en t.i.tre last seen in the reign of Henri IV. It was significant that in October the King had dared to introduce Louise into the usual crowd in the Queen Mother's salon for a game of cards. Although Anne was horrified and withdrew into an inner sanctum, she made no official objection. Louise gave birth on last seen in the reign of Henri IV. It was significant that in October the King had dared to introduce Louise into the usual crowd in the Queen Mother's salon for a game of cards. Although Anne was horrified and withdrew into an inner sanctum, she made no official objection. Louise gave birth on 7 7 January 1665 to a second son, Philippe, who was smuggled away in the same fas.h.i.+on as the first and like him died in infancy. Louis's gallantry, or January 1665 to a second son, Philippe, who was smuggled away in the same fas.h.i.+on as the first and like him died in infancy. Louis's gallantry, or galanterie galanterie in that useful French term, was however leading him in new directions. While the court reacted predictably: if the King was s.e.xually available, perhaps he was available to more women than one? in that useful French term, was however leading him in new directions. While the court reacted predictably: if the King was s.e.xually available, perhaps he was available to more women than one?

The reason galanterie galanterie was a useful term at this period was that it had no single meaning and could therefore be discreetly employed to cover a number of modes of behaviour. The range was considerable. To the Comtesse de La Fayette, gallantry was merely 'a polite or agreeable manner of saying a thing'. For Madeleine de Scudery, a.n.a.lysing the subject, it all began with a wish to please and thus style was all-important. A gallant man with a certain 'worldly was a useful term at this period was that it had no single meaning and could therefore be discreetly employed to cover a number of modes of behaviour. The range was considerable. To the Comtesse de La Fayette, gallantry was merely 'a polite or agreeable manner of saying a thing'. For Madeleine de Scudery, a.n.a.lysing the subject, it all began with a wish to please and thus style was all-important. A gallant man with a certain 'worldly je tie sais quoi' je tie sais quoi' could say out loud things that other people would not dare mention. At the same time the word definitely had other darker and more exciting meanings, from amorous conduct, the 'sweet badinage of love', to pa.s.sionate flirtation and outright s.e.x. In her famous Map of Love, included in her best-selling novel could say out loud things that other people would not dare mention. At the same time the word definitely had other darker and more exciting meanings, from amorous conduct, the 'sweet badinage of love', to pa.s.sionate flirtation and outright s.e.x. In her famous Map of Love, included in her best-selling novel Clelie, Clelie, Madeleine de Scudery was quick to admit that the River of Inclination flowed all too fast into the Sea of Danger and beyond this Sea lay 'the Unknown Lands.' Madeleine de Scudery was quick to admit that the River of Inclination flowed all too fast into the Sea of Danger and beyond this Sea lay 'the Unknown Lands.'26 Just as gallantry itself was an ambivalent term, it was not always clear how far the King's own gallantry with particular ladies actually went. What exactly transpired when the King was chez les dames chez les dames late of an afternoon, as the contemporary euphemism had it? (His own apartments were never used for such rendezvous.) A seventeenth-century dictionary actually defined a late of an afternoon, as the contemporary euphemism had it? (His own apartments were never used for such rendezvous.) A seventeenth-century dictionary actually defined a chambre chambre or bedroom as 'a place where you sleep and receive guests'. or bedroom as 'a place where you sleep and receive guests'.27 Thus beds were everywhere and ladies happily entertained from them according to the manners of the time. The Thus beds were everywhere and ladies happily entertained from them according to the manners of the time. The ruelle ruelle was the name for the s.p.a.ce between a bed and the wall where a gallant might conventionally sit enjoying his lady's conversation. But it was a remarkably short hop from was the name for the s.p.a.ce between a bed and the wall where a gallant might conventionally sit enjoying his lady's conversation. But it was a remarkably short hop from ruelle ruelle to bed. to bed.

For Louis, there was a brief affair, as it probably was, with the saucy and malicious Princesse de Monaco, sister of the Comte de Guiche.* Another candidate for a fling was the rather more agreeable Anne de Rohan-Chabot, Princesse de Soubise, with her reddish hair, white skin and her slanting brown eyes. Another candidate for a fling was the rather more agreeable Anne de Rohan-Chabot, Princesse de Soubise, with her reddish hair, white skin and her slanting brown eyes. 'La belle Florice 'La belle Florice', as she was known to her friends, maintained her beauty by a strict diet, surprising for her time, of chicken and salad, fruit, some milky foods and water only occasionally tinctured with wine. A devoted wife, still very young, at this stage she probably did reject the advances of the gallant King in favour of a flirtatious friends.h.i.+p.

Olympe Mancini, now Comtesse de Soissons and Superintendent of the Queen's Household (her husband's family, the Carignans, were Savoyard royalty), was another candidate. Whether their youthful affair had been consummated or not, there was nothing to stop Olympe and Louis now, and she should surely be included among his periodic mistresses. Amusing and lively company, which was very much to Louis's taste, time would show that Olympe had an Italian taste for intrigue, which was not. Then there were the younger girls propelled forward by those who believed it would be advantageous all round to supplant Louise: Charlotte-Eleanore de La Motte Houdancourt, another maid-of-honour, was one of these, although the incipient romance was nipped in the bud by the sternly virtuous d.u.c.h.esse de Navailles, Marie-Therese's Dame d'Honneur, who had special grilles put over the windows of the maids-of-honour to eliminate late-night junketings.

It was to the King's discredit that, furious with the distinguished d.u.c.h.esse, who was after all only doing her duty of protection, he banished her and her husband from court, despite pleas on their behalf by Queen Anne. His treatment of the Duc de Mazarin, granted the t.i.tle because he was married to Hortense Mancini, was more in keeping with the high standards of a great monarch. When Mazarin impertinently remonstrated with Louis over his conduct, the King merely tapped his forehead: 'I always thought you were mad,' he said, 'and now I know it.'29 More important than these variegated philanderings was the first death in the royal family: not, as expected, that of Queen Anne but of her brother Philip IV. The Spanish King died at the age of sixty on 17 September. He left a troubled legacy. The four-year-old child who now became King Carlos II was, as has been mentioned, a dismal prospect for a long life. Since Marie-Therese had renounced her rights to succession, Philip in his will designated as heiress presumptive his other daughter, Margarita Teresa. Long promised in marriage to her Habsburg cousin the Emperor Leopold, she would wed him at the end of the following year.

Louis broke the news of Philip's death personally to Marie-Therese, and he did so gently; wherever possible he treated his betrayed wife with the greatest courtesy and tenderness, as he sympathised with her sorrow over the death of her third child Marie-Anne, born in November and dead by Christmas. He knew that Marie-Therese had loved her father; he also knew that she disliked her stepmother, the new Regent Marianna, and had no feeling about the brother Carlos born after she left Spain. Marie-Therese might be sequestered but she had a fine Castilian sense of what was Duc to her.

Louis's own preoccupation was also with his wife's rights. There were two points here: the non-payment of her dowry which might render the whole renunciation void, and the so-called Law of Brabant by which children of the first marriage, such as Marie-Therese, preceded those of the second, Carlos and Margarita Teresa. Here was an opportunity to increase French security in its northern borders by grabbing certain territories of the Spanish Netherlands under the guise of law.

As his mother's health suddenly deteriorated at the beginning of January 1666 Louis was still undecided on the direction of his future foreign policy. He had in fact been bound since 1662 in a defensive alliance with the Dutch, already at war with England over naval supremacy and maritime trade. As he recounted his cogitations in his memoirs, the King initially held back from the prospect of engaging two great powers, Spain and England, at the same time. In the end he decided to use fighting the English as a smokescreen for his real intentions: the Dutch, who wanted his a.s.sistance against England, would in the future be fervent in their support against the Spaniards. 'But while I prepared my arms against England, I did not forget to work against the House of Austria [Louis equated Spain and Austria] by all the means that negotiation favoured.'30 Queen Anne survived until late in the month of January. Madame de Motteveille wrote loyally that she had never been so beautiful as when on her deathbed. Even when the unfortunate woman had been subjected earlier to that public cutting of the tumour, the faithful lady-in-waiting still found something to admire in her breast, lacerated as it was. In spite of her sufferings, the Queen Mother attempted even now to retain some of the lightness of touch in desperate situations which had endeared her for so long and over so many crises to her household.

'I am not crying, this is just water coming out of my eyes,' she said to the d.u.c.h.ess of Molina. 'In truth Your Majesty is very red,' the d.u.c.h.ess replied, also in Spanish. 'Well, Molina, I've got a good big fever', said the Queen, still trying to speak lightly.31 It could not last for ever, this frightful ordeal in a room where even a profusion of perfumed sachets could not altogether conceal the smell of illness. The Queen's beautiful hands of which she had once been so proud were swollen beyond endurance. (After her death, she was found to possess over four hundred pairs of gloves: none of them now wearable or bearable.) Looking at them, the long white fingers now unrecognisable, she said at last: 'So it is time to go.' At this point even Madame de Motteville had to admit that her adored mistress, by now more alabaster than flesh, looked old rather than beautiful. The relics of Sainte-Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, once used to solace her in childbed, were brought to her aid yet again, but in vain. The Grande Mademoiselle, seeing the crystal cross and candlesticks, brought from the chapel as a kind of comfort, contrasted the brilliance of the crystal with the approaching darkness of death.32 Quite apart from the grief of the onlookers, a deathbed was, in the religious sense, the most serious moment of a seventeenth-century Catholic life. It was considered crucial for a person to face the fact of their impending death in order to repent fully and ensure that salvation on which the Queen herself placed such emphasis. The ideal frame of mind was to be 'neither fearing nor desiring' the end, in a line of the poet Francois Maynard quoted with approval by Madame de Sevigne.33 The Last Sacrament was to be administered and Extreme Unction applied. (Hence the contemporary horror of sudden death, which gave no such opportunity.) In theory the living lay people no longer had any role to play, only the clergy, intermediaries with the next world. But when were the doctors to announce that the end was coming? It was a fine call to make for those everyone in awe of the King. Louis, who once again had a bed installed in his mother's room, was enraged when he felt that she was being denied her Duc out of servility. The Last Sacrament was to be administered and Extreme Unction applied. (Hence the contemporary horror of sudden death, which gave no such opportunity.) In theory the living lay people no longer had any role to play, only the clergy, intermediaries with the next world. But when were the doctors to announce that the end was coming? It was a fine call to make for those everyone in awe of the King. Louis, who once again had a bed installed in his mother's room, was enraged when he felt that she was being denied her Duc out of servility.

'What!' he exclaimed. 'They would flatter her and let her die without the sacraments, after months of sickness. I will not have this on my conscience.' He made the point again, strongly: 'We have no more time for flattery.'

Queen Anne finally expired just after six o'clock in the morning on 20 January 1666. Monsieur was with her; the King was in the next room with the Grande Mademoiselle, where he had been taken, 'half fainting', in the course of the night. As his mother's hand had slipped from his own for the last time he gave a great cry. In the Queen's last audible words, she asked for a crucifix to hold.

Anne of Austria was in her sixty-fifth year. Her example, the prudence, dignity and virtue of her conduct, would leave an indelible mark on Louis XIV, whether he followed it or not. In his affliction, he paid his mother an unparalleled tribute from a son to one who had also ruled the country: Queen Anne was to be numbered, he said, among the great kings kings of France. The years had slipped away and as happens with the death of a parent, his memories went back to his youth, when 'the vigour of the princess' had preserved him on his throne. It was fitting that an inventory of the Queen's belongings after her death included, among the list of brilliant many-coloured gems, a bracelet containing the hair of the infant Louis. of France. The years had slipped away and as happens with the death of a parent, his memories went back to his youth, when 'the vigour of the princess' had preserved him on his throne. It was fitting that an inventory of the Queen's belongings after her death included, among the list of brilliant many-coloured gems, a bracelet containing the hair of the infant Louis.34 'I never disobeyed her in anything of consequence,' he said. Whether of consequence or not, at some date very close to the deathbed of the Queen Mother, Louise de La Valliere conceived her third child. With the dark cloud of Anne's disapproval dissipated for ever, there was no reason for Louis not to yield to 'the sweet violence' of love when and where he wished. Its only rival was that other violence, the violence of war, or as Louis would have it: the glory of the martial contest. On 26 January, less than a week after his mother's death, Louis XIV declared war on England allegedly in support of the Dutch. In the words of Racine, he went in search of 'the glory and the joy / That a first victory brings to a young man's heart'.35 * In 1683 a huge altar was erected there by Lieutaud, a pupil of Bernini; iron grills featured the emblems of France and suitably enough the arms of Louis XIV; in the crypt a nineteenth-century casket is said to preserve the relics of Mary Magdalen.* Moliere's Dom Juan ou le Festin de Pierre (Don Juan or the Stone Banquet) Dom Juan ou le Festin de Pierre (Don Juan or the Stone Banquet) was first performed on 15 February 1665; the play became the basis for Mozart's opera was first performe