Louis the Well-Beloved Read online

  When Louis saw his uncle he was ready to leap into his arms, but Philippe held up his hand to warn the boy that this was one of those occasions when ceremony must be observed.

  Then Madame de Ventadour said in a voice broken with emotion: ‘Monseigneur, here is my charge who was entrusted to me by King Louis XIV. I have cared for him to the very best of my ability and I now give him to you in perfect health.’

  Philippe sank to his knees then, while Louis looked in bewilderment from his uncle to his dear Maman Ventadour.

  ‘Sire,’ said Philippe. ‘I hope you will never forget all that this lady has done for you. When you were very little she saved your life, and since then she has cared for you as devotedly as though she were your mother.’

  Louis nodded. He was searching for words to ask what this meant, but he could not find them. A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him that he was very frightened.

  At that moment three men entered the room; one was the Duc du Maine whom he called uncle and of whom he was fond; the others were the Duc de Villeroi and André Hercule de Fleury.

  ‘Sire,’ said Philippe, ‘you are no longer a child and must devote yourself to serious matters; you must begin to prepare yourself for your great destiny. To help you in this, here are the Duc de Maine who will superintend your education, Monsieur de Fleury, Bishop of Fréjus, who will be your tutor, and the Duc de Villeroi who will be your Governor.’

  Louis looked at the three men stonily. ‘And Maman Ventadour?’ he asked.

  ‘Sire, she will always be your friend, but you will cease to live with her and will have your own household.’

  Louis stamped his foot. ‘I want Maman Ventadour,’ he cried.

  Madame de Ventadour knelt beside him and embraced him; she felt herself held in a firm, hot clasp. ‘Listen, my dearest,’ she said, ‘it is merely that you will have your own household. I shall come to see you.’

  ‘But I do not want them,’ he whispered. ‘I want you, Maman.’

  The three men were trying not to look at him; Philippe went on as though the King had not spoken. ‘Messieurs, this is a sacred charge. I trust you will consider it before aught else. It will be necessary for you to bestow every care and all the affection of which you are capable upon our King.’

  ‘We swear to do this,’ said the three together, as the King turned his face away from Madame de Ventadour momentarily to scowl at them.

  Madame de Ventadour rose. She took Louis by the hand and pulled him towards the men. Villeroi put out a hand to take the King’s but Louis had gripped Madame de Ventadour’s skirt and had nothing but frowns for his new Governor.

  Madame de Ventadour said: ‘Now, my dearest, I must go and leave you with your new guardians.’

  She withdrew her skirt from his grip, but with a loud sob he flung himself into her arms and cried: ‘Do not go, Maman. Do not let them take me away from you.’

  Over his head, she looked at the three men. ‘In time he will understand,’ she said.

  So they nodded and left her alone with the sobbing child.

  He would not eat. Every now and then a sob shook the small body. Madame de Ventadour tried to soothe him but there was no real comfort to offer, since all he asked was to stay with her, and that could not be. At last exhausted he slept, and when he awoke he found that, instead of Madame de Ventadour, his Governor, the Duc de Villeroi, was sitting by his bed. He started up in dismay but the Duc said: ‘There is nothing to fear, Sire. In a short while you will find your Governor as much to your liking as your Governess was.’

  ‘Go away,’ said Louis.

  ‘Sire, it is the wish of the people . . .’

  ‘I am the King,’ said Louis. ‘I have wishes too.’

  ‘They shall be granted, but . . .’

  ‘I want my Maman,’ said Louis. ‘Bring her to me.’

  Villeroi said: ‘There are many things you will learn, Sire, and they will be of great interest. You shall learn to fence and dance and sing. You shall hunt. You will find life much more interesting when you live among men.’

  ‘I want Maman Ventadour,’ said Louis stonily.

  ‘You shall see her now and then.’

  ‘Now!’ commanded Louis.

  ‘First you will eat, Sire?’

  Louis hesitated. He was hungry, but his fear of the future was greater than his hunger.

  ‘Bring my Maman first,’ he said.

  And after much attempted persuasion it was at length realised that Madame de Ventadour must be brought back.

  She comforted him; she explained that he was the King and must do, not what he wanted, but what was right. If he did that, she said, he would be a very happy man.

  He clung to her, and cried until he was exhausted; and then suddenly the understanding came to him that there was nothing he could do but accept this life which was thrust upon him.

  Bravely he kissed Madame de Ventadour and allowed himself to be led into the new life which would be dominated by his guardian, the Duc de Villeroi.

  It was less miserable than he had believed it could be. Indeed, he began to realise that what they had told him was true; living with men was more interesting than life with Madame de Ventadour. Moreover he saw her frequently and that was always a pleasure. He was realising that he had not only Madame de Ventadour but a new and exciting existence.

  In the first place the Duc de Villeroi sought to please him in every way; he flattered him and lost no opportunity of calling everyone’s attention to the beauty and the outstanding intelligence of his charge. That was pleasant. He saw more of his amusing Uncle Philippe, who always made him laugh and whose coming always put Monsieur de Villeroi into a bad mood which he unsuccessfully attempted to hide from Louis. But Uncle Philippe laughed slyly at the ill humour of Monsieur de Villeroi, and Louis joined in the laughter.

  His tutor made the deepest impression upon the boy. Fleury was not outwardly sycophantish, and perhaps for this reason won the boy’s respect. He had a quiet dignity and, because he rarely gave an order as such, he extracted the utmost obedience from his charge.

  Being determined that the King’s education should be as perfect as he could make it, he had called in assistants. There was a fellow-historian, Alary, to add his wisdom to that of Fleury for the King’s benefit, since it was of the utmost importance that the King should have an understanding of history; there was the mathematician, Chevalier, and the geographer, Guillaume Delisle. And if Fleury felt further experts were needed he did not hesitate to call in professors from the Lycée Louis-le-Grand.

  Fleury had arranged that there should be lessons in the mornings and evenings, so that there would be an interval when the boy might amuse himself with his favourite games and pastimes. Important subjects, such as writing, Latin and history, appeared on the curriculum every day; others were spread over the week. Fleury planned to have a printing press set up so that Louis might be taught typography; military science was not forgotten and, as it was Fleury’s wish that this should be of a practical nature, he planned to have the Musketeers and the King’s Own Regiment perform manoeuvres in which the King could take part.

  Thus being educated became a matter of absorbing interest to the boy, who proved to be of more than average intelligence.

  There were other matters to interest him. He formed a friendship with one of his pages, the Marquis de Calvière, and these two spent many happy hours playing games and taking their toys to pieces and putting them together again. Louis developed an interest in cooking, and he enjoyed making sweetmeats and presenting them to Madame de Ventadour, Uncle Philippe, Villeroi, Fleury – any with whom he felt particularly pleased.

  It was impossible to be bored with so much of interest happening and it was not long before Louis discovered the intrigue which was going on.

  Monsieur de Villeroi feared and hated someone. Louis wondered whom.

  One day as they were making sweetmeats while the Duc de Villeroi was enjoying a siesta, Louis asked young Calvière if he had no
ticed it.

  ‘Look,’ said the King. ‘This is to be an Easter egg. For whom shall it be? My Governor? Uncle Philippe? Or Maman Ventadour? Or Monsieur de Fleury?’

  ‘That,’ said Calvière, ‘is for you to decide.’

  ‘Monsieur de Villeroi locks up my bread and butter,’ Louis announced.

  The page nodded.

  ‘And my handkerchiefs,’ went on Louis. ‘They are kept in a box with a triple lock.’

  ‘He is afraid,’ said Calvière.

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘He is afraid of poisoners.’

  ‘He is afraid someone will poison me!’ said the King. ‘Who?’

  Calvière lifted his shoulders. ‘That egg is not the right shape,’ he said.

  ‘It is,’ said Louis.

  ‘It is not.’

  ‘It is.’

  Louis picked up a wooden spoon and would have brought it down on the page’s head but Calvière jerked up his hand and the spoon hit Louis in the face. In a moment the two boys were wrestling on the floor.

  Suddenly they stopped and went back to the bench. ‘I shall make fondants,’ said Calvière.

  ‘My egg shall be for Uncle Philippe. I love him best today.’

  ‘I know why,’ said Calvière laughing. ‘It is because Monsieur de Villeroi made you dance before the ambassadors.’

  Louis stood still, remembering. It was true. The Maréchal had made him strut before the foreign ambassadors. ‘What do you think of the King’s beauty?’ he had asked. ‘Look at his beautifully proportioned figure and his beautiful hair.’ Then Villeroi had asked the King to run round the room, that the ambassadors should see how fleet he was; and to dance for them that they might see how graceful. ‘See! It might be his great-grandfather dancing before you. It is said that none danced as gracefully as Louis XIV. That is because they had not seen Louis XV.’

  ‘I like making sweetmeats better than dancing,’ said Louis. ‘Uncle Philippe does not ask me to dance. He laughs at old Villeroi. Yes, my egg shall be for Uncle Philippe.’

  And as the two boys continued their sweet-making the page said: ‘I wonder who Villeroi thinks is trying to poison you.’

  They began enumerating all the people of the Court until they tired of it; and when the egg was completed and was being tied about with a blue riband Uncle Philippe entered the room. As Louis leaped into his arms and was carried shoulder-high about the apartment he called to the page that Uncle Philippe should certainly have the Easter egg, for he was his favourite person today.

  Uncle Philippe had brought Easter eggs for Louis who immediately shared one of them with Calvière, while the Duc d’Orléans listened with amusement to their comparisons of other people’s sweetmeats with their own.

  Later, when Uncle Philippe had left, Louis showed the eggs to Villeroi, who seized them at once and said they must be examined.

  ‘We have already eaten one,’ Louis told him; and Villeroi’s face turned white with fear.

  Louis did not notice anything strange in this, at the time, but later when he was writing in his book in Latin his mind wandered from the sentiments he was expressing.

  ‘The King,’ he wrote, ‘and his people are bound together by ties of mutual obligation. The people undertake to render to the King respect, obedience, succour, service and to speak that which is true. The King promises his people vigilance, protection, peace, justice and the maintenance of an equable and unclouded disposition.’

  It was all very boring, and it was small wonder that his attention strayed.

  Suddenly he began to chuckle. Papa Villeroi thinks Uncle Philippe is trying to poison me! he told himself.

  It seemed indescribably funny; one of those wild adventures which took place in the imagination and which he and Calvière liked to construct; it was like a game; it must be a game. He wondered if Uncle Philippe knew.

  It was impossible not to be aware of the awe which he, a ten-year-old boy, was able to inspire in those about him. There was not one of these dignified men of his household or of the Regency Council who did not take great pains to propitiate him. This afforded the King secret amusement, but he was intelligent enough not to overestimate his power. He knew that in small matters he might have his way, but in the larger issues – as he had seen at the time of his parting with Madame de Ventadour – these important men about him would make the final decision.

  He had enjoyed watching, with Calvière, the feud between his uncle Philippe and his governor Villeroi. The two boys entered into the game. When they were alone, Calvière would leap forward whenever Louis was about to eat anything, snatch it from him, eat a piece, and either pretend to drop dead at the King’s feet or declare: ‘All is well. We have foiled the poisoners this time, Sire.’

  Sometimes Louis played the page. It added variety to the game.

  The Duc d’Orléans noticed the secret amusement of the boys, the looks which passed between them, and he knew that he and Villeroi were the cause of them.

  Orléans wondered then what Villeroi had hinted to Louis. It could have been nothing blatantly detrimental, for Louis was as affectionate as ever towards him. But Villeroi had conveyed something, and Orléans was doubly on the alert, and was determined to take the little King out of the care of Villeroi as much as possible. Villeroi in his turn was aware of the additional alertness in the attitude of Orléans, so he increased his watchfulness.

  Villeroi was determined to make another Grand Monarque of his charge. Often, instead of the handsome little boy, he saw the handsome King. He wanted young Louis to follow slavishly in his great-grandfather’s footsteps.

  The boy must perform a ballet, for Louis Quatorze had excelled at the ballet. Everyone declared that the child’s dancing reminded them so much of great Louis that it was as though he lived again in his great-grandson. That delighted Villeroi.

  The child must meet the people on every possible occasion. When the cheers and cries of ‘Vive notre petit Roi’ echoed in his ears, Villeroi declared he was supremely happy. He insisted that his little charge ride with him through the streets of Paris and appear frequently on the balconies.

  Often in his dreams Louis heard the shouts of the people and saw faces which took on a nightmare quality. The shouts grew raucous and threatening; the faces savage and inhuman.

  He would protest that there were so many public displays. ‘But you must love the people as they love you,’ Villeroi told him. He loved some people – Maman Ventadour, Uncle Philippe, Papa Villeroi, and many others; but they did not stare and shout at him.

  ‘Papa Villeroi,’ he said, ‘let us go to Versailles. I do not like Paris. There are so many people.’

  ‘Some day . . . some day . . .’ Villeroi told him.

  And Louis would grow wistful thinking of Versailles, that fairytale château which had seemed to him full of a hundred delights, and in which he could shut himself away from the shouting people.

  Philippe, eager to wean the King from the overwhelming devotion of Villeroi, took him to the Council of Regency. Louis was a little bored by the long speeches and the interminable discussions but he liked to sit there among these men and feel that he was their King.

  He asked that whenever the Council sat he should attend.

  Villeroi beamed with pleasure. ‘You see,’ he said to the Duc d’Orléans, ‘how intelligent is His Majesty. I am not the only one who finds it difficult to remember he is but ten years old.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Orléans, ‘he grows apace in mind and body. He longs to escape from his Governor’s leading strings.’

  There was a threat in the words. Soon, implied Orléans, he will not need your services, Papa Villeroi.

  When that time comes, thought Villeroi, I will expose you, Monsieur d’Orléans, in all your infamy, before you have an opportunity to do to that innocent child what you did to his parents.

  Villeroi was certain that only his watchfulness and care had preserved Louis’ life so far. The King should continue in his care.

  I beli
eve, thought Orléans, that the old fool’s brain is softening.

  On one occasion, while the Regency Council was conducting its business and Louis sat in a chair of state, his legs not reaching the floor, fighting a desire to go to sleep, he heard a slight scratching on the legs of his chair and as he looked to see what it was, a black and white kitten sprang onto his lap.

  Louis caught the furry little body and held it. A pair of wide green eyes surveyed him calmly and the kitten mewed. The gentlemen of the Council stopped their talk to look at the King and the kitten.

  The Duc de Noailles, who could not bear to be in the same room as cats, sprang to his feet.

  ‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I will order it to be removed at once.’

  Uncle Philippe reached to take the kitten from Louis, but the King held the little creature against him. He loved the kitten which already sensed his sympathy and began purring contentedly.

  Louis then decided to exert his authority, to show these men that he was the King.

  He stroked the kitten and, without looking at Monsieur de Noailles or Uncle Philippe, he said: ‘The kitten shall remain.’

  There was a brief silence, then Orléans turned his smiles on Noailles and murmured: ‘The King has spoken.’

  It amused Louis to see the horror on the face of de Noailles. He felt very happy that day; he had a new companion and he had realised that in small matters he could have his way.

  After that occasion the kitten joined in the frolics he shared with Calvière; and Louis was watchful that no harm should come to it; he was ready to fly into a rage with anyone whom he suspected of ill-treating it, so very quickly all learned to pay proper respect to the little ‘Blanc et Noir’.

  Louis took it everywhere he went and, if he did not take it, it followed him.

  The Court declared that there was a new member of the Regency Council: His Majesty’s kitten.

  It was hot in the church and Louis longed for Mass to be over.

  The air inside the building was stifling for the place was thronged with people who had come to celebrate the feast of Saint Germain l’Auxerrois.