his wife than anyone else in the world.
After the banquet a play of Molière’s was performed before the King and Queen to the satisfaction of everyone except Voltaire who, having been brought to Court by Madame de Prie, had written an entertainment of his own and was acutely disappointed that preference should be shown to a dead writer when a living one had his reputation to establish.
The next day all noticed the change in the King. He was ecstatically happy, completely contented. The courtiers smiled fondly at him and knowledgeably at each other. The marriage was a success.
Exuberantly, and with the Queen smiling beside him, Louis called for his barbers.
‘Cut off these curls,’ he said. ‘I am no longer a child.’ So the lovely hair was shorn, and Louis gave no regretful glance at the soft auburn curls lying on the floor by his chair. They set the wig on his head. It had the desired effect. He might have been eighteen or nineteen – nearer the age of his bride.
The next days were given to celebrating the marriage. There were firework displays, illuminations, dancing in those streets which but a short while ago had been the scene of bread riots. There was free wine, which meant that the people could forget their miseries for a while.
‘Our little Louis is a husband,’ they said to one another. ‘Soon he will dispense with his ministers and rule alone. God bless him! That will be a happy day for France.’
Louis was their hero; it was the First Minister and his mistress, and also their creature, Pâris-Duverney, whom they had made Minister of Finance, who were the villains.
Even Voltaire was happy. Madame de Prie had presented him to the Queen, and one of his entertainments had been played; moreover a pension had been granted him; so all his dissatisfaction with the proceedings was over and he had nothing but praise for all.
There were deputations to be received from the merchants; as usual on such occasions the women from Les Halles were prominent. It was they who, in their best clothes, sent a deputation carrying a basket of truffles. ‘Eat a great many of them, Your Majesty,’ said their spokeswoman; ‘and implore his Majesty to do likewise, for they will help you to get children.’
Marie graciously accepted the truffles and assured the women that she would do her duty, and that she prayed, as earnestly as they did, that before long she and the King would give them a Dauphin.
Meanwhile Louis, exploring the road of conjugal adventure, was becoming more and more pleased with Marie. This was his first experience with a woman, and he was finding in himself a hitherto unsuspected sensuality. Unlike many young men of his Court he had in the care of Fleury been kept innocent and almost ignorant of love-making. Now he was exulting because he had discovered an avenue which seemed to him to offer even greater excitement than hunting or gambling.
He felt deeply grateful to the Queen – his partner in this bliss; their mutual ecstasy clothed her with a beauty which seemed dazzling to him. Beside her, all other women seemed dull, lacking perfection.
If any of his courtiers referred to the beauty of another woman, he would say sharply: ‘She is well enough, but compared with the Queen she seems almost unattractive.’
Fleury was delighted with this state of affairs. He could congratulate himself that he had been wise in not allowing the King to indulge in love affairs before his marriage. The de la Tremouille affair had presented a danger, he was ready to admit, but that had been safely overcome; and now here was Louis, passionately in love with his Queen – the very best way in which to ensure a fertile union.
It was not necessary to wait for his spies to tell him how often the King spent the night with the Queen, because this happened every night.
Villeroi had instilled in the King his respect for Etiquette and this was not forgotten even in the first heat of passion. The ceremonies of the lever and
After the banquet a play of Molière’s was performed before the King and Queen to the satisfaction of everyone except Voltaire who, having been brought to Court by Madame de Prie, had written an entertainment of his own and was acutely disappointed that preference should be shown to a dead writer when a living one had his reputation to establish.
The next day all noticed the change in the King. He was ecstatically happy, completely contented. The courtiers smiled fondly at him and knowledgeably at each other. The marriage was a success.
Exuberantly, and with the Queen smiling beside him, Louis called for his barbers.
‘Cut off these curls,’ he said. ‘I am no longer a child.’ So the lovely hair was shorn, and Louis gave no regretful glance at the soft auburn curls lying on the floor by his chair. They set the wig on his head. It had the desired effect. He might have been eighteen or nineteen – nearer the age of his bride.
The next days were given to celebrating the marriage. There were firework displays, illuminations, dancing in those streets which but a short while ago had been the scene of bread riots. There was free wine, which meant that the people could forget their miseries for a while.
‘Our little Louis is a husband,’ they said to one another. ‘Soon he will dispense with his ministers and rule alone. God bless him! That will be a happy day for France.’
Louis was their hero; it was the First Minister and his mistress, and also their creature, Pâris-Duverney, whom they had made Minister of Finance, who were the villains.
Even Voltaire was happy. Madame de Prie had presented him to the Queen, and one of his entertainments had been played; moreover a pension had been granted him; so all his dissatisfaction with the proceedings was over and he had nothing but praise for all.
There were deputations to be received from the merchants; as usual on such occasions the women from Les Halles were prominent. It was they who, in their best clothes, sent a deputation carrying a basket of truffles. ‘Eat a great many of them, Your Majesty,’ said their spokeswoman; ‘and implore his Majesty to do likewise, for they will help you to get children.’
Marie graciously accepted the truffles and assured the women that she would do her duty, and that she prayed, as earnestly as they did, that before long she and the King would give them a Dauphin.
Meanwhile Louis, exploring the road of conjugal adventure, was becoming more and more pleased with Marie. This was his first experience with a woman, and he was finding in himself a hitherto unsuspected sensuality. Unlike many young men of his Court he had in the care of Fleury been kept innocent and almost ignorant of love-making. Now he was exulting because he had discovered an avenue which seemed to him to offer even greater excitement than hunting or gambling.
He felt deeply grateful to the Queen – his partner in this bliss; their mutual ecstasy clothed her with a beauty which seemed dazzling to him. Beside her, all other women seemed dull, lacking perfection.
If any of his courtiers referred to the beauty of another woman, he would say sharply: ‘She is well enough, but compared with the Queen she seems almost unattractive.’
Fleury was delighted with this state of affairs. He could congratulate himself that he had been wise in not allowing the King to indulge in love affairs before his marriage. The de la Tremouille affair had presented a danger, he was ready to admit, but that had been safely overcome; and now here was Louis, passionately in love with his Queen – the very best way in which to ensure a fertile union.
It was not necessary to wait for his spies to tell him how often the King spent the night with the Queen, because this happened every night.
Villeroi had instilled in the King his respect for Etiquette and this was not forgotten even in the first heat of passion. The ceremonies of the lever and
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