Thus this baby prince, when first he saw the light, was greeted by the homage of a court—an homage which, during a life of seventy-seven years, he ever exacted and received, until as Louis XIV., the Grand Monarque, in obedience to Him who is King of kings and Lord of lords, he laid aside his sceptre and his crown, and slept with his fathers in the royal vaults of St. Denis. The birth of the dauphin afforded Louis XIII. such delight that for a time he threw aside his melancholy manner; but his health, never robust, failed rapidly, and on the 20th of April, 1643, feeling that his end could not be far distant, he declared the regency of the queen, and desired the christening of the dauphin. It accordingly took place on the following day with much pomp in the chapel at St. Germain. The king desired he should be called Louis, and after the ceremony, when the little prince was carried to his bedside in order to ascertain if his wishes had been fulfilled, he demanded, “What is your name, my child?” And the little dauphin replied promptly, “I am Louis XIV.”
“Not yet, my son, not yet!” said the dying king; “but I pray to God that it may soon be so.”
From this time his health failed rapidly, and on the 14th of May, 1643, he expired, having reigned thirty-three years.
The little dauphin early displayed that haughtiness and self-will which were to be the ruling principles of his life. His education had been grossly neglected, and through this came many of his after faults; and though he excelled in every punctilio of court etiquette, and was the very essence of politeness, yet in other things he was far behind the other youths of his age. This was exactly as Cardinal Mazarin intended that it should be, that by thus dwarfing the intellect of the king, he might the longer grasp the reins of government. The wily cardinal fully understood the character of the young prince with whom he had to deal, and upon one occasion, when some one remonstrated with him concerning the course he had adopted toward the king, he replied, “Ah, you do not know His Majesty! he has the stuff in him to make four kings and an honest man.”
The hatred and dislike of Louis for the cardinal increased day by day. The state affected by him jarred upon his natural haughtiness, and, boy as he was, it was impossible that he could contrast the extreme magnificence of his mother’s minister with his own neglected condition without feeling how insultingly the cardinal had profited by his weakness and want of power. On one occasion at Compiègne, as the cardinal was passing with a numerous suite along the terrace, the king turned away, saying contemptuously, without any attempt to lower his voice, “There is the Grand Turk going by.”
A few days afterwards, as he was traversing a passage in which he perceived one of the cardinal’s household named Bois Fermé, he turned to M. de Nyert, who was following him, and observed, “So the cardinal is with mamma again, for I see Bois Fermé in the passage. Does he always wait there?”
“Yes, sire,” replied Nyert; “but in addition to Bois Fermé there is another gentleman upon the stairs and two in the corridor.”
“There is one at every stride, then,” said the young; king dryly.
But the boy-king was not the only one who found the arrogance of the haughty cardinal unbearable. There had gradually sprung up a deadly feud between the court and Mazarin on one side, and the Parliament on the other.