Read Louis the Well-Beloved Online
Authors: Jean Plaidy
Soon after the arrival of the Infanta, one of Louis’ dearest wishes was granted. He was allowed to leave Paris for Versailles.
This afforded him great pleasure. It meant, to some degree, an escape from the people. Versailles was a little too far from the capital for them to come each day to the château. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he loved the place so much.
But it was not the only one. The beauty of Versailles had enchanted him from the moment he had seen it. He had inherited from Louis Quatorze his interest in and love of architecture. He was delighted therefore to see again that most magnificent of all his châteaux rising before him with its façades in that delightful stone which was the colour of honey; the fountain playing in the sunshine, the exquisite statuary, the beauty of the avenues, the charm of the gardens – every flower, every stone of this palace delighted him as it had the great-grandfather who had created it.
It did not matter that beside him rode the five-year-old girl whose exuberance and hero-worship he found so annoying. Let her bounce on her seat, let her chatter away. He would not look at her; he would not answer her. He would only think: I have come home . . . home to Versailles. And never again, if he could have his way, would he leave it.
Louis occupied the state bedroom of his great-grandfather, with the council chamber on one side and the
oeil-de-boeuf
on the other. He did not greatly like this bedroom, for it was big and draughty; moreover he would always remember being brought here by Madame de Ventadour when he had seen the old King for the last time. But it was good enough to be here. He was learning to be philosophical. He would not ask for too much. Later he would choose his own bedroom, his own suite of rooms. But that would be when he had grown out of this restricting childhood.
Now there was a Court once more at Versailles and, because the King was too young to lead it, it must be led by the Regent. Philippe was growing older and less inclined for adventure. The gay happenings assigned to him were rather of the imagination than actual, but he did not mind this. He had no wish to lose his reputation as one of the foremost rakes in France.
This meant however that the young people of the Court took their cue from what they believed the Regent to be, and promiscuity became the order of the day.
This state of affairs came to its zenith when an orgy which had taken place in the park of Versailles itself came to the notice of the public.
Here many of the young men from the noblest houses in France appeared dressed as women; but the orgy was not confined to the practice of perversion; men and women sported on the grass and made love in the shadow of the trees – while many did not even look for shadow.
Madame, the Regent’s mother, called on him the day following that on which these scenes had taken place.
‘They have gone too far,’ she told him. ‘In Paris people are talking of nothing else. You are the Regent, my son, and it is under your rule that this has happened. There will be many to say that Louis is in hands unfit to have charge of him. Take care.’
Orléans saw the point of this. As for himself, he was too old for such revelries now, and that made it easier to believe that this time they had gone too far.
Villeroi was stumping through the Palace. He would not have his beloved King exposed to such dangers. He was going to ask the Council what they thought of a Regent under whose rule such things were possible.
It gave Orléans great joy to discover that two of Villeroi’s grandsons had participated in the adventure.
‘Such scandal,’ he said slyly. ‘Grandsons of the King’s own Governor! It will not do, Maréchal. It will not do.’
‘If they have done wrong, they should be punished,’ said the Maréchal. ‘They were not the ringleaders, however, and they are young.’
‘In a matter such as this, Maréchal,’ said the Regent, ‘we should favour none. Do you not agree with me?’
‘Is is the ringleaders who should be punished . . .’ muttered Villeroi.
‘We will send
them
to the Bastille, but all’ – Orléans paused and smiled into the old man’s face – ‘all who took part in this disgraceful display shall be banished.’
It was no use pleading for them, the Maréchal knew. Better by far to let the matter pass off as quietly as possible. But it was not in the nature of the Maréchal to show tact. He continued to storm about the Palace.
‘All very well to blame these young people. But who sets the pace, eh? Tell me that – who sets the pace?’
‘I would speak with the King,’ said the Regent to the Maréchal when he called on Louis who was, as always, in the company of his Governor. ‘And I would see him alone.’
‘But Monsieur le Duc!’ Villeroi’s smile was bland. ‘It is the duty of His Majesty’s Governor to attend him on all occasions.’
‘His Majesty is no longer a child.’
‘But twelve!’
‘Old enough to take counsel of his ministers without the attendance of his . . . nurse.’
Villeroi was scarlet with rage. ‘I shall not allow it,’ he cried.
Louis looked from one to the other and realised that he had been mistaken in thinking that this enmity between them was a game.
Orléans had recovered himself first. He bowed his head and proceeded to speak to Louis while Villeroi stood by, his wig tilted a little too far over his forehead, his rage subsiding to give place to triumph.
But afterwards the Maréchal felt uneasy. The most important man in the country was Orléans and it had been somewhat foolish to oppose his wishes so openly.
Villeroi knew that Orléans would not let the slight pass without some retaliation, and after a great deal of consideration he had come to the conclusion that his wisest plan would be to humble himself and apologise to the Regent. He decided to do this without delay, and called upon him.
As he entered the Regent’s apartments, the Captain of the Musketeers, the Comte d’Artagnan, intercepted him.
Villeroi looked at the man haughtily. ‘Conduct me at once to the Duc d’Orléans,’ he commanded.
‘Sir, he is engaged at this moment.’
Villeroi did not like the insolence of this man and he made as though to pass him.
‘Sir,’ said the Comte d’Artagnan, ‘you are under arrest. I must ask you to give me your sword.’
‘You forget, sir, to whom you speak.’
‘Sir, I am fully aware to whom I speak, and my orders are to take your sword.’
‘That you shall not do,’ blustered Villeroi; but when d’Artagnan lifted his hand several of his musketeers came forward and surrounded the old man. In a few moments they had seized him and dragged him out of the Palace.
There a carriage was waiting, and d’Artagnan forced him to enter it.
‘Whip up the horses,’ cried d’Artagnan.
‘This is monstrous,’ spluttered Villeroi. ‘I have my work at the Palace. Where are you taking me?’
‘To your estates at Brie,’ d’Artagnan answered him. ‘There, on the orders of the Duc d’Orléans, you will remain.’
‘I . . . I . . . Governor of the King!’
‘You no longer hold that post, sir.’
‘I’ll not endure this.’
‘There is one other alternative, sir.’
‘And that?
‘The Bastille,’ said the musketeer.
Villeroi sank back against the upholstery. He realised suddenly that he was an old man who had been foolish; and old men could not afford to be foolish. The long battle between the Regent and the King’s Governor was over.
‘Where is Papa Villeroi?’ asked Louis. ‘I have not seen him all day.’
No one knew. They had seen him preparing to call on the Regent that morning, and none had seen him since.
Louis sent for Orléans.
‘The Maréchal is missing,’ he said. ‘I am alarmed for him.’
The Regent smiled suavely. ‘Sire, there is no cause for alarm. Old Papa Villeroi is an old man. He yearns for the peace of the countryside – where he belongs.’
‘He has gone on a holiday! But he did not ask if he might go.’
‘He has gone for a long, long holiday, Sire. And I thought it best that you should not be grieved by sad farewells.’
Louis, looking into his uncle’s face, understood.
Tears came to his eyes; he had loved the old man who had flattered him so blatantly.
But Orléans was embracing him. ‘Dearest Majesty,’ he said, ‘you grow too old for such companionship; you will find the greatest pleasure in life awaiting you.’
Louis turned away. He wept all that night for the loss of poor Papa Villeroi. But he knew it was useless to demand his return. He must wait for that glorious day when it would be his prerogative to command.
There was little time for grief. Life had changed abruptly. Louis had a new Governor, the Duc de Charost; life at Versailles became staid, as it had been during the last years of Louis Quatorze. But the King passed from one ceremony to another.
In the autumn he was crowned at Rheims, and immediately after the coronation there was another ordeal to pass through which was very distasteful to him.
Many had come into Rheims to see the twelve-year-old boy crowned King of France; and among them were the maimed and the suffering. They were encamped in the fields close to the Abbey of Rheims awaiting the arrival of the King. Louis, seeming almost supernaturally beautiful in his coronation robe of cloth of gold, his dark-blue eyes enormous in his rather delicate face, his auburn hair hanging in natural curls over his shoulders, must walk among those sick people; he must stop before each, and no matter if their bodies were covered with sores, he must place the back of his hand on their cheeks and murmur that as the King touched them so might God heal them.
Watching him, the hearts of the sick were uplifted, and emotion ran high in the fields of Rheims. This boy with his glowing health and his beautiful countenance was chosen by Providence, they were sure, to lead France to greatness.
Louis longed to be at peace in Versailles, but before returning there he must be entertained at Villers-Cotterets by the Duc d’Orléans and, because the Bourbon-Condés could never be outshone by the rival house of Orléans, he must be similarly and as lavishly entertained at Chantilly.
Next February the King embarked upon his fourteenth year and he was considered to have reached his majority. More festivities there must be to celebrate his coming of age; and in honour of this was held the
lit de justice
in the Grande Chambre where he solemnly received the Great Seal from the Regent.