Fouquet felt the keen rebuke, and turned pale. The king and his courtiers returned to Paris, but in the mind of Louis XIV. there loomed up distant visions of the palaces of Versailles and the great hydraulic machine at Marly. On the 8th of January, 1666, Anne of Austria died. It was a gloomy winter’s night when the remains of her who had been both queen and regent of France were borne to their last resting-place in the vaults of St. Denis. In his previous campaigns, Louis had taken Flanders in three months, and Franche-Comté in three weeks. Alarmed by these rapid conquests, Holland, Switzerland, and England entered into an alliance to resist further encroachments, should they be attempted. That such a feeble state as Holland should think of limiting his conquests, aroused the anger of the Grand Monarque. Armies were mustered, munitions of war got together, and ships prepared; and on the 12th of June, 1672, at the head of an army of one hundred and thirty thousand men, Louis crossed the Rhine, and made his triumphal entry into the city of Utrecht. Then, indeed, Holland trembled; Amsterdam trembled; Louis was at the gates. But, rising in the frenzy of despair, they pierced the dikes, which alone protected the country from the sea. In rushed the flood, and Amsterdam rose like a mighty fortress in the midst of the waves, surrounded by ships of war, which found depth to float where ships never floated before. Thus suddenly Louis XIV. found himself checked in his proud career. Chagrined at seeing his conquest at an end, he left his army under the command of Turenne, and returned to his palaces in France.
Louis XIV. had never recovered from the mortification he had experienced at the fête at Vaux. He resolved to rear a palace so magnificent that no subject, whatever might be his resources, could approach it; so magnificent that, like the pyramids of Egypt, it should be a lasting monument of the splendor of his reign. In 1664, Louis selected Versailles as the site for this stupendous pile of marble, which, reared at a cost of thousands of lives, and two hundred millions of money, decorated by the genius of Le Notre, of Mansard, and Le Brun, twenty-five years after its commencement, was ready to receive its royal occupants; and, resting proudly upon its foundations, presented to admiring Europe the noblest monument of the reign of Louis XIV. The splendors of the fêtes which attended the completion of this palace transformed it into a scene of enchantment, and filled all Europe with wonder.
The most magnificent room in the palace, the Gallerie des Glaces, called the Grand Gallery of Louis XIV., is two hundred and forty-two feet long, thirty-five feet broad, and forty-three feet high. Germany, Holland, Spain, Rome even, bend the knee in the twenty-seven paintings which ornament this grand gallery. But to whom do they bow? Is it to France? No; it is to Louis XIV.
“Louis XIV. and his palace not only afforded conversation for Europe, but their fame penetrated the remote corners of Asia. The emperor of Siam sent him an embassy. Three o’pras, high dignitaries of the empire, eight mandarins, and a crowd of servitors landed at Brest, charged with magnificent presents and a letter from the emperor. Arrived at Versailles, they were fêted with unheard-of splendor. The day of their public audience, the fountains played in the gardens; flowers were strewn in the paths; the sumptuous Gobelin carpets were paraded, as well as the richest works of the goldsmith. The cortège of ambassadors was received with the most refined forms of etiquette, and led through apartments filled with the court, glittering in diamonds and embroidery, and at length reached the end of the grand gallery, where Louis XIV., clad in a costume that cost twelve millions, stood on a throne of silver placed on an estrade elevated nine steps above the floor, and covered with Gobelin carpets and costly vases. There the Siamese prostrated themselves three times, with hands clasped, before the Majesty of the West, and then lifted their eyes to him.”
Louis spent millions on Versailles, millions on his pleasures, millions on his pomps, millions in his wars; he lavished gold on his favorites, his generals, and his lackeys. And all ended in national bankruptcy.
Let us, then, in imagination look upon the grand gallerie of Louis XIV. during one of those gorgeous fêtes which attracted the attention of all Europe. Before us is the grand salon, with its glittering candelabra and thousand brilliant lights, reflected in prismatic rays from the costly mirrors which line the walls. Under foot, a pavement of variegated marble, shining and polished as a floor of glass; and overhead the gorgeous frescoes of Le Brun, setting forth in glowing colors the great achievements of the Grand Monarque. The highest nobility of the realm, the grande noblesse of France, throng this splendid gallery.
The costly costumes of the cavaliers and the gorgeous robes of the Grande Dames, the waving plumes and flashing jewels, all conspire to render the scene of marvellous magnificence. And now, as the impatient throng turn their gaze in the direction of the Salon of War, in expectation of the approach of royalty, the folding-doors are thrown back, and the stentorian voice of the usher resounds throughout the gallery: “His Majesty the King!” and upon the threshold, in a costume resplendent with sparkling gems, stands Louis XIV., the Grand Monarque. As a parterre of blooming flowers bends low before a rushing gust of wind, so bow these titled lords and ladies before his piercing glance; while Louis, full conscious of his kingly majesty, walks slowly, and with measured step, all down the long and glittering lines, pausing ever and anon to address those whose rank entitles them to this inestimable boon.
“It was not only on festive occasions that Versailles wore an air of grand gala. It was its habitual aspect. At Vaux, nature had contributed quite as much as art, to the marvellous beauty of the scene. At Versailles, she had done nothing, and Louis’ pleasure was the greater, in that he considered it the unrivalled creation of his own genius. Versailles, with its palace, its gardens, its fountains, its statues, and water-works, Trianon, and appendages, was a work of art to gaze upon with wonder. Let us ascend; for, in whatever place you may be, it is necessary to mount, to reach this palace; at whatever point you may stand to look at it, you see its roofs, apparently touching the clouds. It crowns the hill like a diadem. If you come from Paris, it rises above the town, which lies prostrate at the feet of its majesty; if you approach from the park, it lifts itself above the gigantic trees, above the terraces which pile themselves up towards it, above the jets of water which surround it; the groves seem to support it upon their tall heads, and the whole forest serves as its footstool. Let us ascend, for the doors are open; people are going and coming. The ladies smile, the mirrors reflect them, the chandeliers light them, the ceilings throw their golden coloring upon them. The courtiers stare in the midst of the riches of this magnificent dwelling; but, amid all this stir, all these surprises, all these wonders, only one man is calm,—this man Louis XIV.
“He feels as much at ease in this palace as in a vestment made for him; and, contemplating the work to which his pride gave birth, he exclaims, in the fulness of his satisfaction, ‘Versailles is myself!’