Condé now turned northwards, his defeat in the provinces having motivated him to lay siege to Paris. Already he had many partisans within the city, and he found a faithful ally in Mademoiselle, who acted on behalf of her father, the duc d’Orléans. Having raised an army at Orléans, she put the town at the disposal of the prince.
By now, Condé was encamped outside Paris, having been refused entry by the city authorities. Thinking to enter through the Porte Saint-Antoine, he ordered his troops to march eastwards, while Louis and the royal army, under Turenne’s command, stood to the northeast of the city monitoring events. Upon receiving intelligence of Condé’s maneuver, Turenne advanced to trap the prince against the city walls, where he and his troops would be crushed.
It was July 2, 1652, one of the hottest days of the year, when the encounter between the royal forces and the rebel army took place. After several hours, an exhausted Condé went to the little house where Mademoiselle was staying. “He was in a deplorable state,” observed Mademoiselle; “his face covered with dust, his hair dishevelled, his neck and shirt stained with blood.”79 Although he had not been wounded, the prince’s cuirass was battered, and he carried his naked sword in his hand, having lost its scabbard. “Ah, Mademoiselle, I am in despair,” he said. “I have lost all my friends. Messieurs de Nemours, de la Rochefoucault [sic], and Clinchamp, are mortally wounded.” Mademoiselle reassured him that the surgeons had seen his friends and their wounds were not as bad as he feared. Although that news cheered Condé somewhat, he wept bitterly. “You must excuse the grief in which you see me,” he told her. When he recovered, he supervised the organization of the baggage and then returned to his men.
Shortly after this, Mademoiselle committed the act for which she is best remembered. Going to the Bastille, which was situated just within the Porte Saint-Antoine, she ordered the cannon to be loaded and fired on the king’s troops.80 Paul Mancini, Mazarin’s nephew, “young and brave, and already a man of honor, was mortally wounded; he paid with his life and his blood for the misfortune of his uncle, who seemed to be the pretext for this unjust war.”81 Mancini, who was being groomed to be his uncle’s heir, had been Louis’s best friend.
Mademoiselle then opened the city gates to admit Condé and what remained of his troops. A few days later, his men set fire to the Hôtel de Ville, killing several officials. Condé now became commander of the entire forces of France, while Orléans took the post of lieutenant-général of the kingdom; Broussel, whose arrest had begun the Fronde, was now prévôt des marchands of Paris, while the duc de Beaufort was made the governor of the city. With his people starving and the Spanish threatening his eastern border, Louis was urged once again to withdraw, this time to Lyons, but Turenne forbade it. Instead, the king went to Pontoise, where he established a parlement to rival that of Paris, which was under Condé’s thumb; although Mazarin felt obliged to withdraw from France once more, it was to be a temporary measure. Condé took up arms again, but he was soundly defeated once more by Turenne at Villeneuve-le-Roi. The prince retreated to Flanders, where he placed his sword at the service of the king of Spain.
On October 21, the people of Paris crowded the streets as Louis made a spectacular entry into his capital. Riding on horseback, with his hat in the air, Louis was accompanied by Charles of England and his brother, James, duke of York, both of whom were still living in exile in France. They were followed by Prince Thomas of Carignan-Savoy, and several dukes, peers, marshals of France, and officers of the crown.82 The Palais-Royal was filled with too many unhappy memories for Louis to want to move back in there. Instead, he took up residence in the Louvre, which had been his first home in Paris; he had decided that “private houses without moats were not suitable for him.”83
The following day, October 22, Louis held a lit de justice. The divided parlements now became one again, with the direct order from the king that it was not to meddle in affairs of state. Louis also announced the exile of several of the leading frondeurs, including his cousin, Mademoiselle, whose actions at the Bastille Louis would never forget.
As Christmastime approached, the court received a visit from Retz. Recently made a cardinal, he had met Louis and the Regent Anne as they had entered the Louvre all those weeks ago, and he had offered them his congratulations. Now he returned to the Louvre to pay his respects to the king and his mother. Louis and Anne had already decided that they would arrest Retz when he came to make his obeisance, but this had proved to be their first opportunity to do so.
Retz entered the palace and made his way to the apartment of the maréchal de Villeroy before going to see the king. Louis, having been warned of the cardinal’s approach, was expecting him. Coming out of the queen’s apartment, where he had been waiting, he met Retz in the corridor, “employing on this occasion that judicious moderation which has since been so admirably practised by him in all his actions.” With a pleasant countenance, Louis asked the cardinal if he had seen the queen. When Retz said that he had not, Louis invited him to follow; at the same time, he signalled an order to Captain Villequier to arrest Retz the moment he left Anne’s apartment.84 The Fronde finally at an end, Louis remarked that “there should be no one on stage.”85
FOUR
“The Anointed of the Lord”
The Ballet de la Nuit, composed by Isaac de Benserade, was first performed in the Petit-Bourbon, just outside the Louvre, in the presence of Queen Anne, Mazarin, and the whole court. For several weeks during the winter of 1652–53, Louis and the other dancers had practiced their steps and patiently submitted to several fittings, as the costumers had designed, sewed, and adjusted the various sumptuous outfits. Even so, as polished as the performance promised to be, it almost ended in disaster on its opening night,1 when one of the curtains burst into flames. Undeterred, Louis kept his composure, and his calmness reassured the company and the audience.
The ballet comprised four vielles, or watches, each depicting a phase of the night as the hours passed between sunset and sunrise.2 The first vielle, the hours of six to nine in the evening, saw the sun sink beneath the horizon as Night rode a chariot drawn by owls and escorted by four Hours of the Day, one of whom was played by Louis. Sea-nymphs were pursued by Huntresses, while Shepherds made their weary way back to their homes from the pastures. Gallants courted their Ladies, while Beggars and Vagabonds gathered by the Cour des Miracles.3 The second vielle showed the hours of nine in the evening to midnight and depicted the evening entertainments, while Sport and Mirth, one of whom was played by Louis, escorted Venus, the Queen of Love. In the third vielle, which ranged from midnight to three in the morning, the Moon rose, her chariot accompanied by the stars. Two astrologers, Ptolemy and Zoroaster, observed the night sky, as Dwarfs came out of snail-shells, four Old Witches rode to Sabbat on broomsticks, and six Werewolves looked on. Louis was one of a group of sightseers who watched these creatures of the night. Lastly, between three in the morning and sunrise, Sleep and Silence danced across the stage, followed by a sequence of Dreams: the Bashful Lovers’ Dream, the Optimist’s Dream, and, finally, the king dancing the part of the Angry Man’s Dream. At last the Morning Star appeared, played by Philippe, who heralded the Dawn. The final piece, the Rising Sun, was danced by Louis in a spectacular costume.
The Ballet de la Nuit was so successful that it was performed on another four occasions, and, in order to allow Louis’s subjects to enjoy the presentation, the Petit Bourbon was opened to the public.
It was not unusual for Louis to exert himself to the point that he became ill. As he was rehearsing for the Ballet de la Nuit, he suffered a skin rash on his face, although the application of a balm pomade made by Vallot quickly cleared it.4 However, following the performance of March 8, Louis was seized by a violent shivering, which lasted for an hour before giving way to a severe attack of fever. This continued through the night, much to the concern of the physicians. Again, Louis’s condition was alleviated, this time with a bleeding, which was done the following morning. The next day, Louis was
given an enema followed by a bouillon purgatif pour le Roi, a soup containing cream of tartar and senna.5 Louis performed the ballet once again on March 16 so that his subjects could see that he had fully recovered from his illness.
However, physical exercise was not the only cause of Louis’s maladies. Vallot noted that the king had overindulged in sugared drinks and was eating too many Portuguese oranges, which resulted in indigestion. Louis then went too far the other way and observed the Lenten fast too religiously, much against Vallot’s advice.6
April saw Louis once again take to the stage, this time in Les Noces de Pelée et de Thétis, in which he danced alongside several young people who were to play important roles at his court. Two of these were the children of Charles I of England: James, duke of York, who would go on to become James II of England, and Henriette, who would marry Louis’s brother, Philippe, while Mlle de Mortemart, the future Mme de Montespan, would go on to become Louis’s most celebrated mistress.
Louis danced several parts in this ballet, including a fury and La Guerre. For La Guerre, he wore a Romanesque tunic with gold flashings and a helmet festooned with a mass of orange plumes, as he wielded a naked sword in his right hand and a lighted flambeau in his left. Louis also reprised his role of Apollo, who appears in the first entrée and shares the stage with female courtiers playing the nine Muses. Louis/Apollo relates how he endlessly runs after la gloire rather than Daphne, but by the third stanza he admits that, although he is a god, his fate is to run after women. Louis/Apollo must also decide which of the nine Muses is the more attractive; already the young king’s senses in matters of sex are encouraged to awaken.7 Equally important, however, was the message the ballet was intended to convey. Louis/Apollo vanquishes a python, a symbol of the powers of darkness; in this context, it represented Louis overcoming disorder and the Fronde.
As the summer approached, preparations were underway for the most important event in the young king’s life so far: his consecration, or sacre. The ceremony should have taken place when Louis came of age, but the troubles caused by the Fronde meant it had to be delayed. Now, in his sixteenth year, Louis made his way through the countryside and sumptuous vineyards of Champagne to the ancient city of Reims.
For almost six hundred years, the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Reims had provided the setting for the coronation of the kings of France.8 According to custom, the king would travel to the city in a magnificent carriage. Then, at about half a league from Reims, he would mount a horse to make his entrance. Louis broke with this tradition. He decided, instead, to enter in his mother’s carriage, a fitting tribute to the lady who had fought so hard to preserve his royal authority and to make this day a reality.9
It was on June 4, 1654, that Louis was met at the door of Notre-Dame de Reims by the bishop of Soissons10 and his canons, the civic officials, and the people of Reims, who thronged to catch their first glimpse of their king. Louis was escorted to the altar, where, after a short prayer was said over him, he knelt as the Beata Dei Genitrix was sung. He then withdrew to the archiepiscopal palace, which was to be his home for the length of his visit.11
The following day, Louis and his mother heard mass in the Benedictine Abbey of Reims, after which they visited the tomb of Saint Rémi. This saint had baptized Louis’s predecessor, Clovis, using oil said to have been brought to earth from heaven by a dove. This tradition, which dated back to Archbishop Hincmar,12 underpinned the French coronation ceremony, since a drop of this oil was used in the holy chrism with which all French kings were anointed.
On the eve of his coronation, Louis attended vespers at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Reims. After the service, he presented a silver-gilt chef reliquaire of Saint Rémi to the cathedral. This was a reliquary in the shape of a human head, designed to hold the skull or facial bones of a saint. Louis had it engraved with his own image on one side and a Latin inscription commemorating the event of his coronation on the other. The king then made his confession before retiring for the night.
The quiet of the archiepiscopal palace was disturbed at six in the morning, when the bishops of Beauvais and Châlons, resplendent in the full robes of their office, proceeded towards the closed doors of the king’s chamber. The precentor rapped lightly with his silver staff, upon which a voice from within asked, “What do you desire?” This was the grand chamberlain, who received the answer, “The king.” The grand chamberlain replied, “The king is sleeping.” This ritual was repeated twice more, after which the bishop of Châlons said, “We desire Louis, the fourteenth of that name, son of the great King Louis the Thirteenth, whom God has given to be our king.”
The doors now opened to admit the bishops, who stood at the foot of the richly adorned bed in which Louis lay. Louis, who pretended to be asleep, opened his eyes and crossed himself with holy water, which had been offered by the bishop of Châlons. After the bishop said a short prayer over him, Louis rose from the bed. He was wearing a shirt of white Holland cloth beneath a tunic of red satin edged in gold. These garments had openings that corresponded to the places where he would be anointed with the holy chrism. Over this simple but beautiful costume was placed a floor-length robe of cloth of silver, while a black velvet cap, garnished with a row of diamonds, a feather, and a white aigrette attached with a diamond was set on his head.
The two bishops placed themselves to the right and left of the king as they escorted him out of the palace to the door of the cathedral. The great procession was about to begin. It was led by the grand provost, who was followed by guards, drummers, trumpeters, and other musicians, all dressed in white taffeta and playing oboes, flutes, bagpipes, and sackbuts. The heralds of the various provinces of France came next, bearing staffs and clad in velvet with white stockings and tunics powdered with fleur-de-lis. These were followed by the gentilshommes de bec-de-corbins, named after the beak-shaped head of their halberds. The grand master of the ceremonies, in his black-hooded cloak with its silver embroidery, came next, followed by the chevaliers and officers of the Saint-Esprit. M. le Connétable, who bore the naked sword, was accompanied by two gentlemen ushers carrying the heavy silver-gilt mace.
The congregation now caught their first glimpse of Louis, who entered the cathedral with the two bishops. The Chancellor Séguier followed, wearing a crimson satin robe and mortier of cloth of gold. Behind him walked various members of the royal household, as well as the captain of the Scottish Guards, the comte de Noailles. Finally, there were the six gardes de la manche dressed in white velvet with silver embroidery.
The cathedral was a riot of color. Rich tapestries hung from the galleries, falling in three tiers that reached to the floor of the chancel, which was covered in Turkish carpets. In the center stood a chair covered in purple velvet powdered with golden fleur-de-lis, and a prie-dieu. On the high altar, upon which lay rich vestments of gold-embroidered satin, two chef reliquaires, of Saint Louis and Saint Rémi, caught the light of the flickering candles. Two daises, twelve feet high, stood to the right and left of the high altar and were furnished with chairs for Queen Anne and other dignitaries. From either side of the chancel, two broad staircases, carpeted with cloth of gold, led to the rood loft, the balustrade of which had been removed to allow a clear view of the throne, which stood on a raised dais beneath a purple canopy powdered with golden lilies of France.
As litanies were sung against the background of cheers coming from outside, Louis walked to the chancel and knelt on the prie-dieu, where he said a quiet but fervent prayer. The holy ampulla was now brought in by the grand prior of Saint Rémi, who entered the cathedral on a white charger magnificently caparisoned in silver, while four knights of the holy ampulla, all on horseback, held over his head a canopy of cloth of silver. The vial was set on the altar with the rest of the royal regalia.
The bishop of Soissons, assisted by the bishops of Beauvais and Châlons, approached Louis and asked him to take the oath to defend the rights of the Catholic Church. Louis, sitting and with his head covered, assented and said the oath
in a firm, clear voice. The bishop now asked all present if they would accept Louis as their king. This part of the rites dated back to a time when kings were elected from among their peers. The traditional answer was “We agree,” but because kingship was now a birthright, this custom had long since fallen into disuse; instead, the cathedral fell into silence as a mark of consent.
Louis was endowed with the trappings of kingship. Sandals of purple velvet were placed on his feet, over which were fastened the golden spurs. The bishop blessed the sword inside its scabbard before unsheathing it and offering it to Louis. The king kissed it and, in a prayer, dedicated it to the service of God. He then handed the sword to the constable, who held it upright as a symbol of royal power.
The bishop now took the holy ampulla and drew a drop of oil the size of a grain of wheat. He placed this on a golden paten of the chalice of Saint Rémi. Louis prostrated himself on a square of purple velvet embroidered with fleur-de-lis, which lay before the altar, as litanies were chanted and blessings of God and the saints were called down upon him. As the king knelt, his silver robe was removed in readiness for the most sacred part of the coronation ceremony, and the one after which it is named, la sacre, or anointing. Louis was anointed in seven places: the top of his head, the chest, between the shoulders, on the right and left shoulder, and inside each elbow.
Louis now received the vestments of his office. His silver robe was replaced, and a dalmatic, which represented the orders of deacon and subdeacon, was placed over it. On top of that he wore a great mantle of blue velvet powdered with golden fleur-de-lis, the left side of which was raised, as was that of a priest. Louis knelt once again and was anointed twice more: on the palm of each hand. He then put on gloves to protect the anointed hands as the bishop placed a ring on the fourth finger of his right hand, which symbolized the mystical marriage between Louis and France. The archbishop placed the sceptre into Louis’s right hand and the hand of justice in his left hand. Finally, Louis was crowned with the great crown of Charlemagne, which had been carried to Reims from Saint-Denis. As the crown was placed on Louis’s head, the peers raised their hands towards it in a silent gesture of support.
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