I felt like revisiting one of my favourite historical biographies, exploring the relationships between the greatest monarch of his age and the women in his life.
Louis XIV ruled France for 72 years, primarily from his magnificent palace at Versailles, and presided over the most glittering court in all of Europe. His overall legacy might be debatable, but everyone can at least agree that the man had tremendous style. My personal fascination with the Sun King and the important figures in his life, such as his mother Anne of Austria, undoubtedly springs from my teenage love for Alexandre Dumas’ great historical adventures, The Three Musketeers and its sequels. I was also fortunate to visit the Palace of Versailles when staying in Paris a few years ago, and the Hall of Mirrors is still the most dazzling and grandiose palace room I’ve seen to date.
Other biographies cover the political and military side of Louis’ reign in greater detail, but Fraser’s book focuses on the women in his life: his mother, his wives, mistresses, sister-in-laws and wayward illegitimate daughters. By extension, it also covers Louis’ relationship with the Catholic Church, which greatly disapproved of his promiscuity, in particular his long-lasting affair with his most glamorous (and most fertile) maîtresse-en-titre, Marquise de Montespan, who happened to be a married woman.
That the battle for Louis’ soul was eventually won by the church can be traced all the way back to his mother, arguably the most important woman in his life. By the standards of the day, Anne of Austria was ancient thirty-seven when she gave birth to Louis after decades of barren, loveless marriage. She was also highly unusual for cutting through the strict etiquette that separated royal mothers from their children, and spending way more time with Louis and his younger brother than was expected. Dignified, intelligent and virtuous, Anne provided Louis with an early feminine ideal. When he eventually settled down with the maternal and pious Madame de Maintenon, his secret second wife (a marriage believed to be recognised by the church if not officially by the state), it’s hard not to see things coming to a full circle.
Until then, it’s fair to say that the handsome and amorous Louis enjoyed himself as much as a youthful royal possibly can, and there’s a lot of gossipy and scandalous fun to be had in the first half of the book. To his credit, Louis XIV did fully embody the “work hard, play hard” motto, and took an active interest in running the country; he wasn’t the one to yawn through the council meetings while itching to go back to hunting. On the other hand, there was the opulent court with its parties, fireworks, ballet and theatre performances, and its many attractive ladies. There was also Louis’ first wife, Maria Theresa of Spain, whose misfortune was that her upbringing at the rigid and joyless Spanish court had left her ill-prepared for the role of Queen of France as Louis saw it.
Fraser’s view is that, with a couple of exceptions, the women in the life of Louis XIV were never victims and did as well out of Louis as he did out of them. He was self-absorbed and had a ruthless side, but he was unfailingly generous to his former mistresses. The one who possibly came out of it damaged was Louise de La Vallière, the most touching figure in the book who seemed to genuinely love Louis for himself, and ended up secluding herself at the convent. I also winced when reading about the sorry fate of Louis’ niece, sent off to marry the truly awful King of Spain with nothing but a terse “Farewell. For ever” from Louis. He likewise had no patience for the tears of foreign-born royal women whose homeland faced destruction at the hands of French troops.
Love and Louis XIV does have an organisational flaw where it becomes a tad difficult to keep track of the various players, especially when it comes to Louis’ many illegitimate grown children. Though the book is split into four parts, titled after the seasons of nature, there’s no real separation between the various characters and their constantly interweaving stories. Add to that the many noble titles and similar-sounding names, and what you get is not a mess exactly, but definitely a narrative that can be hard to follow in the later chapters. At some point I simply gave up on remembering who was the offspring of which mistress.
I still enjoyed revisiting the many colourful personalities and remarkable women from a fascinating period in French history, impressively researched and portrayed with warmth (and quite a few humorous asides). On this re-read, one aspect that stood out to me was the sobering reality of sudden illness, an egalitarian killer of the time, and the medical horrors with bloodletting a cure for everything. One of the last chapters deals with the tragic blow Louis suffered when, in a span of eleven months, he lost his son, grandson, great-grandson and a beloved granddaughter-in-law. His other great-grandson was only saved by the extraordinary action of his governess, who simply barricaded herself and the toddler from the doctors wishing to bleed him along with his unlucky family members.
P.S. If asked where and when I’d choose to go if time travel was suddenly available, a lavish 17th-century party at Versailles would be on my list somewhere, even if the female fashions of the time would probably feel like a burden.
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