Louis XIV
Page 43
At first, the duc paid it no attention, but the next day, he was seized with a fever and started throwing up dried blood. It soon became clear that a hemorrhage had been caused by the blow, and on May 4, at four in the morning, the young man was dead. For the king, it was another staggering blow, not so much because he loved Berry - although he was fond of him - but because it seemed to him that God was determined to eradicate his descendants from the surface of the earth. Now, only the little dauphin remained, but not, everyone assumed, for much longer.
Under these dreadful circumstances, and with constant assistance from Mme de Maintenon, the king’s fondness for his illegitimate children reasserted itself. The comte de Toulouse was, in fact, discreet, brave, modest and affectionate; the duc du Maine, wholly lacking in these qualities, knew how to pretend fondness even if he did not feel it, and how to court all those who might be helpful, and he had two powerful assistants in Mme de Maintenon and in his wife. As for Louis XIV, who may be excused for not relating much to the four-year-old dauphin, he could look at two sons capable of comforting his old age.
Nothing, however, not even old age and loneliness, could make him forget his duty; du Maine and Toulouse remained illegitimate. Still, as Mme de Maintenon kept saying, that need not matter anymore, so, for a time, the king hesitated. When, finally, he reached a decision, it was such as gravely to shock the traditionalists, but looked at carefully, it is, in fact, a careful compromise.
As it was, the king’s daughters who had married into the royal family proper had all had children, so that the new generation of princes of the blood royal reflected a mixture of legitimate and illegitimate blood; as for the two surviving sons, they had been raised by degrees to a position immediately below that of the princes of the blood royal and immediately above the dukes; then, they were equated to princes of the blood, but still with the important difference that they could not succeed to the crown. As things stood, therefore, the order of succession was as follows: the little dauphin; the duc d’Orléans; his son; Monsieur le duc; his children; the prince de Conti; his son, always keeping in mind the custom according to which, in France, women could neither reign nor transmit rights to the throne.
Had Louis XIV gone as far as the duc du Maine hoped, and Mme de Maintenon hinted, he would have given him the right to succeed as if he were a younger son proper - i.e., after the dauphin but before the duc d’Orléans. What he did instead was far more moderate: By an edict given out in July 1714, and registered by the Parlement on August 2, the duc du Maine, the comte de Toulouse, and all their heirs male were enabled to succeed to the crown after all the other princes of the blood royal, and they were given the same rank and honors as the said princes with precedence immediately following them.
Although this compromise raised the légitimés without in any way detracting from the rights of the princes proper, and although both Court and Parlement were too thoroughly cowed to even hint at resistance, many people found this promotion shocking, in that it equated the king’s bastards born of a double adultery with the children of duly sanctified marriages. Still, there was a small difference: Du Maine and Toulouse enjoyed the same rights as the princes of the blood without actually being princes of the blood; the distinction was subtle but, to eighteenth-century eyes, real. Then, on May 23, 1715, that last difference was dropped: In a registered Declaration, the duc du Maine and the comte de Toulouse officially became princes of the blood royal.
Conjectures are always idle, but it seems probable that this last step in the legitimizing of the bastards would not have occurred had the duc de Bourgogne been alive. As it was, it could be painted as merely a prudent move, given the recent rate of mortality in the royal family, or, by those opposed, as the dreadful result of Mme de Maintenon’s influence on an aged and weakened monarch. In fact, it reflects exactly what Louis XIV saw as his position. Just as, earlier in the reign, he had transcended the laws that bind the rest of humanity, so rather like the Greek gods, he felt that his descendants, albeit illegitimate, somehow partook of his own divinity, that it was more important to be the bastard son of Louis XIV than the great-great-great grandson of his great-grandfather’s brother.
Even so, the king clearly had lingering doubts, and resented the pressure to which he had been subjected. Late in July 1714, just before the Edict was published, Saint-Simon tells us, he turned to the duc du Maine in front of several attendants and said to him: “You wanted this; but you had better know that however great I may make you while I live, you will be nothing once I am gone, it will be up to you then to defend what I have done for you if you can.”314
Just as important, of course, were the provisions to be made for the following reign: In 1714, it was clear to all that the king would not live to see the dauphin of age. Should the four-year-old child survive, therefore, a regent would have to rule in his place until such time as he could assume power. Precedents here were not applicable: The dauphin was an orphan, so the respective regencies of Marie de Médici and Anne of Austria meant nothing. The regent must be the future king’s nearest relative, the man who would succeed him should he die childless: the duc d’Orléans.
That might not have worried Louis XIV, whose opinion of his nephew was rapidly rising, but it drove Mme de Maintenon and her coterie to despair. That wily lady therefore started to propound a solution which would obviate the duc’s ineradicable right, and nagged the king to enshrine it in his will.
Royal wills were, in fact, a touchy issue. While the king was all-powerful in his own lifetime, he was nothing after death inasmuch as he could not bind his successor: What one monarch did the next could undo. As a result, there was a well-established tradition of breaking royal wills: It had been the case at Henri IV’s death in 1610, and at Louis XIII’s, in 1643. Both times, the Parlement had annulled the regency as set up by the late ruler to defer all power to the queen mother. No matter what dispositions Louis XIV took in regard to the regency that was to follow his demise, therefore, there was a substantial possibility that they would be canceled.
Countering this possibility in the king’s mind, however, were two anxieties: One, despite his remarks, was about the future of his sons, the other, much stronger, was about the treatment likely to be meted out to Mme de Maintenon; there was also his desire to end the marquise’s constant pressure. As a result, on August 26, 1714, he solemnly handed his will, sealed with seven seals, to the premier président of the Parlement, M. de Mesmes. “Messieurs,” he said as he gave it to them, “this is my will. I alone know its contents. I entrust it to the Parlement, to whom I cannot give a greater proof of my esteem and my confidence … The example of the Kings, my predecessors, and that of the will of my father show me what may become of this; but they wanted it; they tormented me; they would leave me no peace, no matter what I said. Well, then! I have bought my rest. Here it is, take it; happen what may, I will have peace and hear no more on the subject.” And the next day, speaking to Mary of Modena, Louis XIV, uniquely repeated himself: “Madame,” he said angrily, “I have made my will; they tormented me until I did,” and turning to Mme de Maintenon: “I have bought some peace. I know how useless and powerless it is. We can do anything we want while we live; afterwards, we are more limited than private people; one only has to look at what became of my father’s will, immediately after his death, and at those of so many other kings. I know it all; but despite all this they wanted it; I was given neither peace nor rest until it was done. Well, then! it is done, Madame; happen what may, I will no longer be tormented about it.”315 We may trust Saint-Simon’s report: He heard the words, in both cases, from witnesses to both these scenes.
The will itself was taken to Paris and sealed into the wall of one of the Parlement’s towers, and it remained there until the day after the king’s death. But even so, its contents were no secret: It was assumed, rightly, that a mechanism of some sort had been set up so that while the duc d’Orléans remained regent in name, France and the little monarch would be ruled by the duc du M
aine. The assumption was right; what Louis XIV had done was to set up a Council of Regency, without whom no decision could be taken, or appointment made; the regent had only his own voice on the Council, whose majority consisted of du Maine and his followers; and finally, the latter became Superintendent of the King’s Household, that is to say, the man in charge of his safety as well as his education, which, however, was also to be controlled by the Governor, the maréchal de Villeroy. Thus, Orléans, while retaining the title of Regent, became a mere cipher. Further, just before he died, the king added a codicil to his will in which he made du Maine commander of the Royal Guard, thus giving him the armed might he needed to resist any attempt at breaking his power.
It says a good deal for the changes made by Louis XIV since 1661 that not a single voice was heard to criticize these dispositions: In 1714, in 1715, even, when he had begun to weaken and it was clear that he would not live much longer, obedience was as prompt and complete as it had been in the middle of the reign, at least when it came to matters of state. In their private lives, both the princes and the Court, by 1715, were beginning to anticipate the king’s death. Restraints which had prevailed earlier were discarded, and the first indications of a new age could already be glimpsed. The regency, that explosion of all the pent-up hungers, was well under way in the king’s own time.
Still, the great Court ceremonies continued, but one, at least, took place which would have been unthinkable earlier. In February, a rather dubious character arrived in Paris; posing as the ambassador of the shah of Persia, he requested an audience at Versailles; in fact, as the ministers quickly discovered, he was nothing more than a merchant, but they thought it would please the king to think that he was admired as far away as Persia, so, keeping the truth quiet, they arranged for a grand reception.
It was the last of the great Court functions which had been dazzling the world for over half a century. A splendid throne was placed at one end of the Hall of Mirrors; the king, surrounded by the royal family, stood before it, while along both sides, splendidly adorned bleachers were set up for the public; all present were richly dressed, the duc d’Orléans in blue velvet with a mosaic of pearls and diamonds. As for the king, he wore a suit of black velvet and gold cloth almost completely covered with the Crown’s finest diamonds, but, Saint-Simon noted, “he was bending under the weight of all this and looked much older, thinner and unhealthy.”316
In fact, for some time it had been clear that Louis XIV was declining, losing both weight and strength but not his appetite; what his physicians did not know, although it seems clear today, is that he had begun to suffer from diabetes. Not surprisingly, when he left Versailles on June 12 for Marly, he was looking worse still, and people were beginning to speculate openly about the succession, and the respective positions of the duc d’Orléans and the duc du Maine. Always unwilling to take risks, therefore, the court attended both men assiduously.
By now, the king was seen to decline from day to day, and in London bets were offered that he would not live past September; this rather dreadful piece of sportsmanship was published in the Dutch gazettes, which Torcy ordinarily read to the monarch. One day, when he was doing so, “he suddenly stopped, stuttered, and passed over [these articles]. The King, who noticed it easily, asked him why he was embarrassed, what was happening and why; Torcy blushed deeply, said what he could and finally added that it was an impertinence not worthy of being read. The King insisted; Torcy, more embarrassed than ever, kept refusing; but finally he was not able to resist repeated orders. He read out the story about the bets. The King appeared not to mind, but he did, greatly, so much so that having sat down for dinner right afterward he was unable to refrain from mentioning it … We saw that he was trying to eat but that the food would not go down.”317
When, on August 10, Louis XIV returned to Versailles, it was clear that he had lost most of his strength, and that, indeed, he would not live much longer, but still the Councils were held as always. On the eleventh, he went to Trianon, but it was his last outing: From that day on, he stayed inside the Palace. Although he still kept his usual schedule, he now began to complain of a pain in his leg, but rather than the sciatica he thought it must be, it was, in fact, the beginning of gangrene. That day, August 13, he had dinner in public for the last time.
Of course, Fagon quite failed to understand what was happening. For the last two years, he had put his patient on a diet of overripe fruit and sweets of all kinds - more than enough to provoke the onset of diabetes in a man of that age. Now, he assured the king and Mme de Maintenon that there was nothing really wrong.
On August 14, Louis could no longer walk; he was carried to Mass, then, in the evening, to a concert in Mme de Maintenon’s apartment, after which he had supper in his room, with the Court in attendance. For the next eight days, while spending much time in bed, he continued to hold the Councils, see the ministers, and visit Mme de Maintenon, but still he grew weaker. On the twenty-second, he found himself unable to review the gendarmerie, an elite corps, and sent the duc du Maine in his place. That was hint enough for the Court: From then on, the duc was worshiped as the rising sun, but many prudent courtiers began to pay attendance on the duc d’Orléans as well. The next day still, however, the king maintained his schedule and although staying in his room, was surrounded by the courtiers who had the privilege of the entrées. He knew he was dying, though, and refused to nominate to several vacant bishoprics in spite of his confessor’s urgings.
Again, on August 24, for the last time, he tried supping in public, but was unable to eat and asked the Court to leave the room. Upon getting back into bed, his leg, which had grown much more painful, was seen to bear the black marks of gangrene. On the twenty-fifth, it became evident to all that death was close, but the king ordered his musicians to play as usual. He met with the chancellor and added the codicil to his will under which the duc du Maine became commander of the Guard; he then confessed, took communion, and received the last rites, after which he called in all the members of his family, one by one. The duc d’Orléans was first; then came the duc du Maine, followed by the comte de Toulouse, the king’s three daughters, and the princes of the blood; all through these hours, Mme de Maintenon remained at the king’s side.
By the twenty-sixth, the time had come for public farewells. The Court was allowed in again. “At noon,” Dangeau noted, “His Majesty had the little Dauphin brought in to his room and, after having kissed him, he said: ‘Sweet child, you are about to be a great King, but your whole happiness will depend on your submission to God, and on the care you take to relieve the people of their burden. In order to do this you must, whenever you can, avoid making war: it is the ruin of the people. Do not follow the bad example I have given you on this point. Often, I have started wars without sufficient cause and continued them to satisfy my pride. Do not imitate me, be a peaceful ruler, and let your main object be to look after your subjects. Take advantage of the education Mme la duchesse de Ventadour [the Dauphin’s governess] is giving you, obey her and follow the advice of Father Le Tellier when it comes to serving God. I give him to you as your confessor.
“‘As for you, Madame [he said to Mme de Ventadour], I owe you much gratitude for the care with which you are bringing up this child and for the tenderness you show him. I ask that you continue in the same fashion, and I urge him to give you every possible proof of his gratitude.’ After this, he still kissed the Dauphin twice and gave him his blessing.”318
Then, wrote Madame, “he called for us, the duchesse de Berry, myself, all his daughters and grandchildren. He bade me farewell with words so loving that I still cannot understand why I did not faint dead away. He assured me that he had always loved me, and more than I had thought, that he was sorry he had sometimes caused me sorrow.”319
By now, all the women were crying out loud, but the king remained as composed as he had always been. He called in the duc d’Orléans again and ordered him to have the dauphin taken to Vincennes as soon as he, the king, was
dead, to have Versailles thoroughly cleaned out, and afterward to bring the child-monarch back to the great palace.
It was then that Louis XIV called in all his courtiers. Crowding around the bed, they listened in complete silence to the king who had ruled them so firmly and so long. “Messieurs,” he said, “I am pleased with your services; you have served me faithfully and with the desire to please. I am sorry I could not reward you better; these last few years have not allowed me to do so. Serve the Dauphin with the same affection you have shown me; he is only a five-year-old child who may have many setbacks, for I remember having had many myself when I was young. I am going, but the State will remain. Be faithful to it and let your examples inspire all my other subjects. Always remain united and in accord - that is the strength of a state - and always obey the orders my nephew [the duc d’Orléans] will give you; he will govern the kingdom. I hope that you will do your duty and also that you will remember me sometimes.” At that, according to Dangeau, “we all burst into tears, and nothing could begin to describe the sobs, sorrow and despair of all those present.”320
After that, there was nothing more to be said. On the August 27, only Mme de Maintenon and the king’s Confessor were allowed into the room; on the twenty-eighth, he told Mme de Maintenon that, given her age, he hoped they would soon be together again. And seeing two weeping valets reflected in a mirror, he told them: “Why are you crying? Did you think me immortal? As for me, I knew I was not and you must have been prepared to lose me considering my age.”321 Later that day, a charlatan came to the Palace and said he had a cure for gangrene; he was allowed to give it to the king, who briefly regained a little strength, but then started to sink again; and throughout it all he was in great pain. Death, clearly was imminent, and Mme de Maintenon, careful to the last, discreetly went off to Saint-Cyr, the school she had founded near Versailles and where she kept an apartment.