Did Louis XIV Have Absolute Power?
ABRIDGED VERSION, 5-minute-long read (created with ChatGPT)
At just four years old, Louis XIV became king of France. By the time he died, his reign had lasted 72 years—the longest of any European monarch. Yet, despite ruling from a glittering court at Versailles and becoming the symbol of absolute monarchy, Louis XIV's power was never as total as it appeared.
Historian Philip Mansel offers a nuanced portrait in King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV. Although Louis XIV projected strength and control, his reign reveals that power was always entangled with limitations. As political theorist Keith Dowding puts it, "absolute" monarchs still had to negotiate with the nobility, the Church, and internal bureaucracy. Louis XIV was no exception.
Childhood and Powerlessness
Louis became king at just four years old after his father’s death in 1643, but real governance remained in the hands of his mother, Queen Anne, and Cardinal Mazarin until Louis took over in 1661. His early years were marked not by luxury, but by political instability, civil war (the Fronde), and personal insecurity.
Mansel writes, "Even at the age of two, Louis was a pawn in his parents’ marriage." At court, he was raised in a minefield of ceremony and intrigue. Though his mother instilled in him a belief in divine kingship, it is clear that his earliest lessons were in powerlessness.
A Monarch Who Worked
When Mazarin died, Louis surprised his court by declaring, “I am determined henceforth to govern my state by myself.” He worked obsessively, attending council meetings nearly every day, dictating letters, and overseeing even military strategies.
Despite this, Mansel notes: “Despite the King’s hard work, many believed that he could be ‘absolutely governed by his ministers.’” Louis wanted to embody the state, but in reality, he was often overwhelmed by the machinery of governance and the limits of what he could personally control.
Versailles: Power on Display
Louis transformed Versailles into a symbol of royal magnificence. He micromanaged its design, visited the site frequently, and even wrote a guidebook for showing guests around the gardens.
But the accessibility he cultivated at Versailles also signaled his dependence on appearances. The public was usually welcome in palace gardens, and ceremonies like the King’s lever and coucher were open to courtiers, sometimes to the point of chaos. As Mansel observes, “Not even Louis XIV, for all the fear and awe he inspired, was in total control.”
The Contradictions of War
Louis inherited a strong France, yet his aggressive foreign policies left it financially drained and diplomatically isolated. His desire for glory—sometimes masked as strategy—contributed to unnecessary wars, like the War of Spanish Succession, that devastated his country.
One war minister wrote that Louis wanted to show he could conquer "solely by his own judgement," but these military decisions often backfired. The King micromanaged battles from afar, sometimes undermining his own generals. His final wars brought France to the brink of ruin.
Religious Zealotry
Louis's revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, which had guaranteed rights to Protestants, was one of his greatest errors. He believed Catholicism was essential to French identity and his own divine authority. Yet, by expelling or converting Huguenots—many of whom were skilled professionals—he weakened the economy and further alienated Europe.
Ironically, his alliance with the Muslim Ottoman Empire and tolerance of Protestants in Alsace contrasted with his persecution at home. Mansel calls the revocation of the Edict "his single greatest mistake."
Power and Powerlessness
Louis XIV was certainly powerful—he centralized authority, built a cultural empire, and dominated European politics for decades. But he was also deeply limited:
He cultivated the myth of absolutism, but as his reign progressed, even his admirers grew wary. After his death, public reaction was mixed: solemn tributes alongside mocking songs and laughter.
Why This Matters
My goal is not to excuse Louis XIV's actions, but to show how human fallibility, emotional needs, and inherited meanings shaped his decisions. He was not just a king with power; he was a person subject to the same psychological and social forces that affect us all.
Yes, he made catastrophic mistakes. But those errors were forged in the crucible of court expectations, childhood traumas, and unexamined ideologies. As Mansel notes, Louis XIV "helped unite Europe against France," but he also gave France much of its modern identity.
Final Reflection
If Louis XIV could see how he is remembered—as a patron of the arts and architecture, but also as a deeply flawed ruler—would he feel pride or despair? Probably both. His life, like all lives touched by great power, illustrates this paradox: the more power one seems to hold, the more one is shaped by forces beyond one’s control.
Understanding that paradox is not an act of forgiveness. It is a call for empathy—and for humility, especially in our judgments of others.
At just four years old, Louis XIV became king of France. By the time he died, his reign had lasted 72 years—the longest of any European monarch. Yet, despite ruling from a glittering court at Versailles and becoming the symbol of absolute monarchy, Louis XIV's power was never as total as it appeared.
Historian Philip Mansel offers a nuanced portrait in King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV. Although Louis XIV projected strength and control, his reign reveals that power was always entangled with limitations. As political theorist Keith Dowding puts it, "absolute" monarchs still had to negotiate with the nobility, the Church, and internal bureaucracy. Louis XIV was no exception.
Childhood and Powerlessness
Louis became king at just four years old after his father’s death in 1643, but real governance remained in the hands of his mother, Queen Anne, and Cardinal Mazarin until Louis took over in 1661. His early years were marked not by luxury, but by political instability, civil war (the Fronde), and personal insecurity.
Mansel writes, "Even at the age of two, Louis was a pawn in his parents’ marriage." At court, he was raised in a minefield of ceremony and intrigue. Though his mother instilled in him a belief in divine kingship, it is clear that his earliest lessons were in powerlessness.
A Monarch Who Worked
When Mazarin died, Louis surprised his court by declaring, “I am determined henceforth to govern my state by myself.” He worked obsessively, attending council meetings nearly every day, dictating letters, and overseeing even military strategies.
Despite this, Mansel notes: “Despite the King’s hard work, many believed that he could be ‘absolutely governed by his ministers.’” Louis wanted to embody the state, but in reality, he was often overwhelmed by the machinery of governance and the limits of what he could personally control.
Versailles: Power on Display
Louis transformed Versailles into a symbol of royal magnificence. He micromanaged its design, visited the site frequently, and even wrote a guidebook for showing guests around the gardens.
But the accessibility he cultivated at Versailles also signaled his dependence on appearances. The public was usually welcome in palace gardens, and ceremonies like the King’s lever and coucher were open to courtiers, sometimes to the point of chaos. As Mansel observes, “Not even Louis XIV, for all the fear and awe he inspired, was in total control.”
The Contradictions of War
Louis inherited a strong France, yet his aggressive foreign policies left it financially drained and diplomatically isolated. His desire for glory—sometimes masked as strategy—contributed to unnecessary wars, like the War of Spanish Succession, that devastated his country.
One war minister wrote that Louis wanted to show he could conquer "solely by his own judgement," but these military decisions often backfired. The King micromanaged battles from afar, sometimes undermining his own generals. His final wars brought France to the brink of ruin.
Religious Zealotry
Louis's revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, which had guaranteed rights to Protestants, was one of his greatest errors. He believed Catholicism was essential to French identity and his own divine authority. Yet, by expelling or converting Huguenots—many of whom were skilled professionals—he weakened the economy and further alienated Europe.
Ironically, his alliance with the Muslim Ottoman Empire and tolerance of Protestants in Alsace contrasted with his persecution at home. Mansel calls the revocation of the Edict "his single greatest mistake."
Power and Powerlessness
Louis XIV was certainly powerful—he centralized authority, built a cultural empire, and dominated European politics for decades. But he was also deeply limited:
- Dependent on ministers, clergy, and nobles
- Unable to prevent backlash against his policies
- Frequently blindsided by unintended consequences
He cultivated the myth of absolutism, but as his reign progressed, even his admirers grew wary. After his death, public reaction was mixed: solemn tributes alongside mocking songs and laughter.
Why This Matters
My goal is not to excuse Louis XIV's actions, but to show how human fallibility, emotional needs, and inherited meanings shaped his decisions. He was not just a king with power; he was a person subject to the same psychological and social forces that affect us all.
Yes, he made catastrophic mistakes. But those errors were forged in the crucible of court expectations, childhood traumas, and unexamined ideologies. As Mansel notes, Louis XIV "helped unite Europe against France," but he also gave France much of its modern identity.
Final Reflection
If Louis XIV could see how he is remembered—as a patron of the arts and architecture, but also as a deeply flawed ruler—would he feel pride or despair? Probably both. His life, like all lives touched by great power, illustrates this paradox: the more power one seems to hold, the more one is shaped by forces beyond one’s control.
Understanding that paradox is not an act of forgiveness. It is a call for empathy—and for humility, especially in our judgments of others.
FULL VERSION, 45-minute-long read
I spent the first five years of my life in Peterhof, a satellite town of St. Petersburg, Russia. There, I lived with my parents in an apartment my grandfather had received for his military service—he was a World War II veteran. Peterhof was originally created by Peter the Great, the same tsar who strategically founded the city of St. Petersburg in 1703 as the first port to connect Russia with the West. As part of his plan to modernize the country, Peter the Great brought in many innovations from Europe. In particular, Peterhof remains a testimony to his admiration for the French culture of his time.
This admiration was somewhat of a paradox. In his detailed account of Louis XIV’s reign, historian Philip Mansel notes that Peter the Great, despite his personal preference for simplicity, constructed Peterhof as a vast country palace inspired in part by Versailles—complete with gardens, fountains, and a villa modeled after Marly by J. B. le Blond a pupil of Le Nôtre (see Chapter 24; here and below, I am referring to Mansel's book King of the World).
I spent the first five years of my life in Peterhof, a satellite town of St. Petersburg, Russia. There, I lived with my parents in an apartment my grandfather had received for his military service—he was a World War II veteran. Peterhof was originally created by Peter the Great, the same tsar who strategically founded the city of St. Petersburg in 1703 as the first port to connect Russia with the West. As part of his plan to modernize the country, Peter the Great brought in many innovations from Europe. In particular, Peterhof remains a testimony to his admiration for the French culture of his time.
This admiration was somewhat of a paradox. In his detailed account of Louis XIV’s reign, historian Philip Mansel notes that Peter the Great, despite his personal preference for simplicity, constructed Peterhof as a vast country palace inspired in part by Versailles—complete with gardens, fountains, and a villa modeled after Marly by J. B. le Blond a pupil of Le Nôtre (see Chapter 24; here and below, I am referring to Mansel's book King of the World).
Image credit: Peterhof by Slava Korolev
I walked in the Peterhof park many times, alone and with friends, admiring its scope and beauty. Little did I know that years later, living in a different country, I would turn to Louis XIV's reign to help explain my theory of power. Peterhof seems to be a perfect manifestation of Louis’s immense influence. Even Peter the Great, who disliked luxury, chose to imitate the French king's extravagant style. But was Louis’s influence truly limitless? To answer this question, I turned to Mansel’s comprehensive biography of this controversial king, published in 2020. Relying on the authority of this reputable historian, I will explain below why Louis XIV’s power was far from absolute.
To be clear, I am not inventing the wheel. The idea that so-called absolute monarchs did not have absolute power is not new. As political science scholar Keith Dowding puts it in his entry on absolutism in the Encyclopedia of Power:
"These monarchs had great formal powers, which in practice extended to closing down other power centers, emasculating parliaments, creating powerful bureaucracies and standing armies, and generally centralizing power to a greater extent than previously happened... [However, their power] can be overemphasized. Certainly there were other centers of power, notably the churches and nobility, though absolutist monarchs attempted to enfeeble the latter by requiring them to work with state officials on their lands. [I]t is not clear that the absolute rulers had significantly greater power than other rulers. Absolute rulers still needed to negotiate with barons and with the church and were beholden to powerful figures within their palaces and bureaucracies." (my emphasis)
Still, the idea that absolute monarchs lacked absolute power might come as a surprise. In this essay, I draw on Mansel’s account of Louis XIV’s reign to bring some life to the dry language of the encyclopedia entry quoted above.
I must clarify that any historical account is ultimately a work of interpretation. Therefore, the description I offer below can be contested by those who interpret historical sources differently. My interpretation is guided by a personal belief in the importance of empathy. As a scholar, I aim to support my theory of power, which holds that in any person's actions, power always coexists with powerlessness—though this combination takes different forms depending on the individual and their circumstances.
I acknowledge that it is my choice not to see Louis XIV merely as a haughty and heartless lover of exquisite entertainments. Instead, I choose to see him as a person who, like all of us, was born into a world of meanings and relationships he did not fully comprehend. He tried to navigate this world as best he could, in the process making many mistakes and hurting numerous people—something he was able to do because of the meanings of absolute monarchy instilled in his mind and reinforced by those around him.
I walked in the Peterhof park many times, alone and with friends, admiring its scope and beauty. Little did I know that years later, living in a different country, I would turn to Louis XIV's reign to help explain my theory of power. Peterhof seems to be a perfect manifestation of Louis’s immense influence. Even Peter the Great, who disliked luxury, chose to imitate the French king's extravagant style. But was Louis’s influence truly limitless? To answer this question, I turned to Mansel’s comprehensive biography of this controversial king, published in 2020. Relying on the authority of this reputable historian, I will explain below why Louis XIV’s power was far from absolute.
To be clear, I am not inventing the wheel. The idea that so-called absolute monarchs did not have absolute power is not new. As political science scholar Keith Dowding puts it in his entry on absolutism in the Encyclopedia of Power:
"These monarchs had great formal powers, which in practice extended to closing down other power centers, emasculating parliaments, creating powerful bureaucracies and standing armies, and generally centralizing power to a greater extent than previously happened... [However, their power] can be overemphasized. Certainly there were other centers of power, notably the churches and nobility, though absolutist monarchs attempted to enfeeble the latter by requiring them to work with state officials on their lands. [I]t is not clear that the absolute rulers had significantly greater power than other rulers. Absolute rulers still needed to negotiate with barons and with the church and were beholden to powerful figures within their palaces and bureaucracies." (my emphasis)
Still, the idea that absolute monarchs lacked absolute power might come as a surprise. In this essay, I draw on Mansel’s account of Louis XIV’s reign to bring some life to the dry language of the encyclopedia entry quoted above.
I must clarify that any historical account is ultimately a work of interpretation. Therefore, the description I offer below can be contested by those who interpret historical sources differently. My interpretation is guided by a personal belief in the importance of empathy. As a scholar, I aim to support my theory of power, which holds that in any person's actions, power always coexists with powerlessness—though this combination takes different forms depending on the individual and their circumstances.
I acknowledge that it is my choice not to see Louis XIV merely as a haughty and heartless lover of exquisite entertainments. Instead, I choose to see him as a person who, like all of us, was born into a world of meanings and relationships he did not fully comprehend. He tried to navigate this world as best he could, in the process making many mistakes and hurting numerous people—something he was able to do because of the meanings of absolute monarchy instilled in his mind and reinforced by those around him.
King's Childhood
When his father died in 1643, four-year-old Louis XIV was proclaimed King. Of course, he did not begin managing France immediately. Upon the death of her husband, Queen Anne became regent and ruled with the help of Cardinal Mazarin until Louis reached the age of majority (13 years old) in 1651. Even then, although his mother was no longer regent, the young king did not fully take the reins of state until Mazarin’s death in 1661—ten years later.
Image credit: Louis XIV during his minority, c. 1643, by Pierre Mignard
Let us first take a look at the formative years of the future self-proclaimed Sun King. We could hardly claim that Louis XIV came anywhere close to absolute power as a child. But as a king by law, perhaps he enjoyed a life of exceptional happiness and freedom?
Mansel’s account dispels this myth from the outset. He writes that even by royal standards, the family into which Louis XIV was born was deeply dysfunctional
("a nest of vipers," as Mansel puts it in Chapter 1). Intrigues, mistrust, and rivalry flourished, even between closest relatives. Queen Anne herself, being of Spanish origin, conspired against her husband and aided Spain during the war between the two countries.
Furthermore, Mansel explains that royal lineage and divine claims to authority did not protect French kings from revolt or assassination. France, he writes in the Introduction, was “a monarchy on a knife-edge,” where rulers like Henri IV, Louis XIII, and Louis XIV faced constant threats of rebellion, religious conflict, and regicide.
All in all, Louis XIV's family could hardly be called a healthy environment for a young child trying to make sense of the world. According to Mansel (Chapter 1), even at the age of two, Louis was used as a pawn in his parents’ strained marriage—his behavior and feelings exploited as political tools. The court surrounding him was no less treacherous. Every personal interaction and physical space had political implications. It was, as Mansel puts it in Chapter 1, “a zone of negotiation, and a school of psychology, as well as a battlefield.” From a very young age, Louis had to navigate this battlefield, attending countless ceremonial events. As he grew older, his public life turned into “an unending sequence of ceremonies” (Chapter 2), which he soon came to detest but could not avoid.
One can only wonder how becoming king at age four might affect a child. No psychological study can tell us what it really means to grow up as an absolute monarch. But it is clear that before Louis XIV could begin exercising power, he received many lessons in powerlessness.
On the positive side, he had a close and affectionate relationship with his mother—something few contemporary monarchs could claim. Unlike many royal parents of the time, Queen Anne spent considerable time with her beloved first-born son and played an active role in his education.
In particular, she worked to instill in Louis a belief in the divine rights of the French king. Having experienced her own powerlessness, Queen Anne may have wished for absolute power for her son out of love—hoping it would protect him and bring happiness. These lessons appear to have taken root. Over time, the conviction in his divine authority—reinforced by life’s stresses, heartbreaks, and human biases—contributed to the mistakes Louis XIV would later make, sometimes with harmful consequences. One such heartbreak was his mother’s painful death from breast cancer at the age of 64, when Louis was only 28. She died in a Parisian convent where she had retired after her regency. Shaken by her death, Louis rarely visited the city afterward, preferring instead to develop Versailles and other royal residences.
Let us first take a look at the formative years of the future self-proclaimed Sun King. We could hardly claim that Louis XIV came anywhere close to absolute power as a child. But as a king by law, perhaps he enjoyed a life of exceptional happiness and freedom?
Mansel’s account dispels this myth from the outset. He writes that even by royal standards, the family into which Louis XIV was born was deeply dysfunctional
("a nest of vipers," as Mansel puts it in Chapter 1). Intrigues, mistrust, and rivalry flourished, even between closest relatives. Queen Anne herself, being of Spanish origin, conspired against her husband and aided Spain during the war between the two countries.
Furthermore, Mansel explains that royal lineage and divine claims to authority did not protect French kings from revolt or assassination. France, he writes in the Introduction, was “a monarchy on a knife-edge,” where rulers like Henri IV, Louis XIII, and Louis XIV faced constant threats of rebellion, religious conflict, and regicide.
All in all, Louis XIV's family could hardly be called a healthy environment for a young child trying to make sense of the world. According to Mansel (Chapter 1), even at the age of two, Louis was used as a pawn in his parents’ strained marriage—his behavior and feelings exploited as political tools. The court surrounding him was no less treacherous. Every personal interaction and physical space had political implications. It was, as Mansel puts it in Chapter 1, “a zone of negotiation, and a school of psychology, as well as a battlefield.” From a very young age, Louis had to navigate this battlefield, attending countless ceremonial events. As he grew older, his public life turned into “an unending sequence of ceremonies” (Chapter 2), which he soon came to detest but could not avoid.
One can only wonder how becoming king at age four might affect a child. No psychological study can tell us what it really means to grow up as an absolute monarch. But it is clear that before Louis XIV could begin exercising power, he received many lessons in powerlessness.
On the positive side, he had a close and affectionate relationship with his mother—something few contemporary monarchs could claim. Unlike many royal parents of the time, Queen Anne spent considerable time with her beloved first-born son and played an active role in his education.
In particular, she worked to instill in Louis a belief in the divine rights of the French king. Having experienced her own powerlessness, Queen Anne may have wished for absolute power for her son out of love—hoping it would protect him and bring happiness. These lessons appear to have taken root. Over time, the conviction in his divine authority—reinforced by life’s stresses, heartbreaks, and human biases—contributed to the mistakes Louis XIV would later make, sometimes with harmful consequences. One such heartbreak was his mother’s painful death from breast cancer at the age of 64, when Louis was only 28. She died in a Parisian convent where she had retired after her regency. Shaken by her death, Louis rarely visited the city afterward, preferring instead to develop Versailles and other royal residences.
Image credit: Queen Anne, Louis XIV's mother, c. 1620, by Peter Paul Rubens
There was another reason Louis XIV disliked Paris—one that further illustrates how troubled his childhood was. Mansel describes the city as “a cauldron of combustible institutions” (Chapter 2), both supportive of and in tension with the monarchy. This combination could be confusing, frustrating, and frightening. Louis might be cheered in the streets one day, and threatened the next. For example, only three days after his formal state entry into Paris, Louis was paraded through streets thick with mud and excrement on his way to the Parlement—an experience hardly fit for a divine monarch (see Chapter 2 for more details).
Before he reached the age of majority, Paris became the epicenter of a major uprising known as the Fronde. It was essentially a civil war—though not a grassroots one. It was led by aristocrats upset over the erosion of their privileges, who stoked popular discontent among Parisians already burdened by rising taxes and a weakened Parlement. At the age of twelve, Louis was directly affected when a mob broke into the palace and demanded to see him. Finding the boy asleep, the rioters left, but not long after, the Queen and her son fled the city. On another occasion, they were held under virtual house arrest.
This is not to say Parisians lacked reasons to be concerned about the government's actions—centralization was a defining trait of absolutist regimes. But rather than excusing the monarchy, my goal is to explore how these events may have shaped the young king’s understanding of the world. At the time, he was not even making the decisions himself. For a growing child, the idea of divine kingship must have held strong appeal: it promised clarity in a world riddled with conflict and contradiction. And it resonated with what Louis often witnessed. As Mansel notes in Chapter 1, for most French people under Louis XIII and Louis XIV, both monarchy and Christianity were “cults of hierarchy and obedience.”
Rebellions like the Fronde, in the mind of the young Louis, could be dismissed as unfortunate deviations. Inspired by his mother, he grew up believing he was destined to rule the world.
He was learning about his rights and responsibilities—but no one could explain how the power he had been given would one day begin to change him.
There was another reason Louis XIV disliked Paris—one that further illustrates how troubled his childhood was. Mansel describes the city as “a cauldron of combustible institutions” (Chapter 2), both supportive of and in tension with the monarchy. This combination could be confusing, frustrating, and frightening. Louis might be cheered in the streets one day, and threatened the next. For example, only three days after his formal state entry into Paris, Louis was paraded through streets thick with mud and excrement on his way to the Parlement—an experience hardly fit for a divine monarch (see Chapter 2 for more details).
Before he reached the age of majority, Paris became the epicenter of a major uprising known as the Fronde. It was essentially a civil war—though not a grassroots one. It was led by aristocrats upset over the erosion of their privileges, who stoked popular discontent among Parisians already burdened by rising taxes and a weakened Parlement. At the age of twelve, Louis was directly affected when a mob broke into the palace and demanded to see him. Finding the boy asleep, the rioters left, but not long after, the Queen and her son fled the city. On another occasion, they were held under virtual house arrest.
This is not to say Parisians lacked reasons to be concerned about the government's actions—centralization was a defining trait of absolutist regimes. But rather than excusing the monarchy, my goal is to explore how these events may have shaped the young king’s understanding of the world. At the time, he was not even making the decisions himself. For a growing child, the idea of divine kingship must have held strong appeal: it promised clarity in a world riddled with conflict and contradiction. And it resonated with what Louis often witnessed. As Mansel notes in Chapter 1, for most French people under Louis XIII and Louis XIV, both monarchy and Christianity were “cults of hierarchy and obedience.”
Rebellions like the Fronde, in the mind of the young Louis, could be dismissed as unfortunate deviations. Inspired by his mother, he grew up believing he was destined to rule the world.
He was learning about his rights and responsibilities—but no one could explain how the power he had been given would one day begin to change him.
Closer to Power
Between 1651—when Louis XIV formally began ruling on his own at the age of thirteen—and 1661, when Mazarin died, the young king was gradually learning to manage his country. But during this ten-year period, many of his decisions were shaped more by Mazarin’s and his mother’s wills than his own. In an interesting twist, it was rumored that Mazarin and Queen Anne had secretly married, forming with the king a kind of nuclear family. Though not without tension, their bond was unusually tender by royal standards. Louis XIV trusted and admired both his mother and Mazarin, even if he did not always approve of their decisions.
Image credit: Cardinal Jules Mazarin, 1658, by Pierre Mignard
One moment that revealed the limits of his power came when Louis fell deeply in love with Marie Mancini, Mazarin’s niece. When he shared his intention to marry her, both Mazarin and Queen Anne rejected the idea. The Cardinal may have briefly entertained the possibility of becoming the king’s uncle-in-law, but the Queen stood firmly against it. Her opposition was not rooted in disregard for her son’s happiness. Rather, she believed that securing his position as an absolute monarch—through strong political and dynastic alliances—was the best way to protect him from the uncertainties of life. In her view, marrying the daughter of Philip IV of Spain, Louis’s double first cousin, would offer the security and prestige she wanted for him.
To persuade the heartbroken king, Mazarin wrote a letter that perfectly captures the contradictory messages Louis was receiving about power. He reminded Louis that, although he had the authority to do as he wished, he was not merely an individual but an institution, accountable both to God and to the world for his actions and reputation (Chapter 4). And so, fulfilling his mother’s will, Louis married Maria Theresa of Spain in 1660.
It must be noted that monarchs—especially so-called absolute ones—rarely had the freedom to marry for love. Dynastic marriages were often fraught with biological, emotional, and political risks. As Mansel explains, European rulers usually married within the “family of kings,” often cousins, to preserve royal prestige. These unions, however, increased the risk of illnesses, infertility, and other consequences of inbreeding (Chapter 5). Most of the children born to Louis and Maria Theresa died young—likely an outcome of this genetic closeness. Louis loved his children dearly, and each loss left him devastated.
In 1661, a year after his wedding, Mazarin died—a blow that deeply affected the king. Louis reportedly wept so uncontrollably during the Cardinal’s last rites that he had to be asked to leave the room (Chapter 5). Saying goodbye to both Marie Mancini and his beloved mentor in such quick succession were likely the first major heartbreaks of his life. And yet, in his early twenties, Louis had not yet become the hardened ruler he would later be. As Mansel writes, between the age of fourteen and thirty, “between the abjection of the Fronde and the intoxication of absolutism,” Louis was still affable and informal, with a certain Parisian charm (Chapter 4).
Now 23, Louis XIV finally took the reins of power into his own hands. To everyone’s astonishment, he announced on the day of Mazarin’s death: “I am determined henceforth to govern my state by myself.” He would allow no one—not even his mother—to challenge his authority (Chapter 6). After all the lessons in powerlessness he had received throughout his life, and fueled by the conviction that absolute power was his destiny, Louis was ready to seize as much control as he could.
Like all of us, Louis XIV was full of contradictions. He wanted to wield the power he believed was rightfully his, but not solely for selfish ends. For twenty years, those he loved and respected had told him his duty was to strengthen France and secure the Bourbon dynasty. Believing he could best serve his country by eliminating intermediaries, he threw himself into the task of governing—often to the point of micromanagement. He did so with conviction, believing he was doing good. One of the greatest contradictions in his character was that he sincerely wanted to make France powerful and admired, yet could blind himself to his own motivations. Vanity, anxiety, and personal bias often guided his decisions more than he realized.
Louis is famously remembered as the monarch who declared, “I am the state.” But as Mansel points out, there is no record of him ever having said this in a speech or writing. It appears to be a later invention. Similarly, the image of Louis XIV as an all-powerful absolute monarch is often distorted by time and myth. These stories can obscure the complex interplay of power and powerlessness that shaped his life and reign.
One moment that revealed the limits of his power came when Louis fell deeply in love with Marie Mancini, Mazarin’s niece. When he shared his intention to marry her, both Mazarin and Queen Anne rejected the idea. The Cardinal may have briefly entertained the possibility of becoming the king’s uncle-in-law, but the Queen stood firmly against it. Her opposition was not rooted in disregard for her son’s happiness. Rather, she believed that securing his position as an absolute monarch—through strong political and dynastic alliances—was the best way to protect him from the uncertainties of life. In her view, marrying the daughter of Philip IV of Spain, Louis’s double first cousin, would offer the security and prestige she wanted for him.
To persuade the heartbroken king, Mazarin wrote a letter that perfectly captures the contradictory messages Louis was receiving about power. He reminded Louis that, although he had the authority to do as he wished, he was not merely an individual but an institution, accountable both to God and to the world for his actions and reputation (Chapter 4). And so, fulfilling his mother’s will, Louis married Maria Theresa of Spain in 1660.
It must be noted that monarchs—especially so-called absolute ones—rarely had the freedom to marry for love. Dynastic marriages were often fraught with biological, emotional, and political risks. As Mansel explains, European rulers usually married within the “family of kings,” often cousins, to preserve royal prestige. These unions, however, increased the risk of illnesses, infertility, and other consequences of inbreeding (Chapter 5). Most of the children born to Louis and Maria Theresa died young—likely an outcome of this genetic closeness. Louis loved his children dearly, and each loss left him devastated.
In 1661, a year after his wedding, Mazarin died—a blow that deeply affected the king. Louis reportedly wept so uncontrollably during the Cardinal’s last rites that he had to be asked to leave the room (Chapter 5). Saying goodbye to both Marie Mancini and his beloved mentor in such quick succession were likely the first major heartbreaks of his life. And yet, in his early twenties, Louis had not yet become the hardened ruler he would later be. As Mansel writes, between the age of fourteen and thirty, “between the abjection of the Fronde and the intoxication of absolutism,” Louis was still affable and informal, with a certain Parisian charm (Chapter 4).
Now 23, Louis XIV finally took the reins of power into his own hands. To everyone’s astonishment, he announced on the day of Mazarin’s death: “I am determined henceforth to govern my state by myself.” He would allow no one—not even his mother—to challenge his authority (Chapter 6). After all the lessons in powerlessness he had received throughout his life, and fueled by the conviction that absolute power was his destiny, Louis was ready to seize as much control as he could.
Like all of us, Louis XIV was full of contradictions. He wanted to wield the power he believed was rightfully his, but not solely for selfish ends. For twenty years, those he loved and respected had told him his duty was to strengthen France and secure the Bourbon dynasty. Believing he could best serve his country by eliminating intermediaries, he threw himself into the task of governing—often to the point of micromanagement. He did so with conviction, believing he was doing good. One of the greatest contradictions in his character was that he sincerely wanted to make France powerful and admired, yet could blind himself to his own motivations. Vanity, anxiety, and personal bias often guided his decisions more than he realized.
Louis is famously remembered as the monarch who declared, “I am the state.” But as Mansel points out, there is no record of him ever having said this in a speech or writing. It appears to be a later invention. Similarly, the image of Louis XIV as an all-powerful absolute monarch is often distorted by time and myth. These stories can obscure the complex interplay of power and powerlessness that shaped his life and reign.
Image credit: Louis XIV, c. 1655, by Charles Le Brun
Powerful/less King
Louis XIV clearly did not have absolute power as a child-king. Nor did he have absolute power as a young man while Mazarin was still alive. But what about his reign beginning at age 23, when he began managing France as best as (he thought) he could? From that point on and until the end of his life, Louis XIV’s decisions influenced—and hurt—numerous people inside and outside of France. Still, it would be wrong to argue that he could do whatever he wanted, even as one of the seemingly most powerful monarchs in Europe at the time.
It would also be wrong to assume that his life was always easy or enjoyable, despite the luxurious beauty of his court and the extravagant entertainments of Versailles. Far from justifying the many mistakes Louis XIV made during his eventful life, we can acknowledge that he often tried to be a good person and to do what he thought—or wanted to think—was best for his country and people. We can also recognize that some of his mistakes stemmed from factors difficult for him to fully understand or change, and that his delusions of grandeur, combined with anxieties about losing his power, were shaped by the contradictions of his life.
I present details about various aspects of Louis’s life and reign in the sections below.
1. King and His Court
To understand the relationship between Louis XIV and his court, we first need to recognize that a court was essentially an extended royal household. It included thousands of individuals—many of them nobles—who lived near the king and queen, not only to serve them but also to enjoy the power and prestige that came with proximity. Once Versailles became Louis XIV’s primary residence, his court could include up to 10,000 people, depending on the day.
Having a large and beautiful court was considered essential for signaling royal power to the world. But maintaining such a court was enormously expensive. Louis XIV invested vast sums in building and then expanding Versailles, in part to ensure that it could accommodate all those courtiers. Despite the rigid etiquette, courtiers were not mere servants. They were often there as much to advance their own personal and political goals as to serve the monarchy. Courts were full of intrigues and tensions and could become toxic environments that monarchs had to navigate daily. To Louis XIV’s credit, as Mansel notes, he succeeded in turning his court into a relatively cohesive “emotional community”—a stark contrast to the conspiracy-ridden and violent courts of the Stuarts, the Hanovers, the Romanovs, and even his own father’s (Chapter 14).
Louis XIV and his courtiers took part in numerous ceremonies inherited from previous reigns. Over time, the King introduced some changes that made the court less formal. Foreign visitors often remarked that it was more accessible and less hierarchical than others. Louis himself disliked ceremony and once wrote, “if there is a singularity in this monarchy, it is the free and easy access of subjects to the monarch” (Chapter 13). Less formality meant less structure. An Italian observer described the court as “a real confusion of men and women,” while another remarked in 1698 that you could almost “touch the King.” Louis, for all the awe he inspired, was not in total control—even needing his cane at times to keep back the crowd or make space for the Queen and her ladies (Chapter 13).
This mix of ceremony and informality was especially clear in the daily rituals of lever (the King’s awakening) and coucher (his bedtime). Sometimes as many as a hundred men were admitted to the King’s room after he was dressed. Whereas in his youth courtiers stood silent, by adulthood they would continue chatting even while he prayed. John Locke, visiting in 1678, was surprised by “the noise and buzz” in the King’s chamber (Chapter 13). At the coucher, after most guests had left, a more intimate gathering—the petit coucher—began. Here, Louis would sit on his commode [toilet], wearing only his dressing gown, and speak with a select few courtiers. The ritual of brevet d’affaires [chamber pot] gave these men special access to the King and a chance to ask for favors. Like other monarchs of the era, Louis had little privacy, and in some cases—such as these ceremonies—he even chose to reduce it further in the name of accessibility.
As much as Louis XIV wanted to be in control, he could not oversee everything himself—not even within his court. He had to delegate responsibilities and hoped to do so wisely. According to Mansel, the King saw job allocation as one of his core duties. Versailles functioned not just as a royal residence, but also as “a national job centre” for the nobility (Chapter 13). One of Louis’s strategies was to delay decisions, which kept people dependent while allowing time to identify the right candidate. But this also meant he was constantly petitioned. On his daily walk through the palace to attend mass, people would hand him written requests. On June 12, 1702, 103 petitions were submitted—carefully logged by an official—which illustrates his central role in distributing jobs and money (Chapter 13).
Like the broader French public, courtiers could be in awe of the King while also fearing or criticizing him. Louis knew he was constantly under scrutiny. Even in July 1672, at the height of his success, his ministers, generals, and policies were targets of court gossip. By the end of his reign, Madame de Maintenon was complaining that “freedom of speech in our court has been taken to excess”—though she herself criticized his wars and entertainments in private letters (Chapter 13). Louis sometimes ignored these voices but sometimes welcomed dissent. Individuals who openly disagreed with him were sometimes admitted to court if he appreciated their opinions.
The court, by bringing together so many intelligent and ambitious people, fostered not only loyalty but also opposition. Writers like La Fontaine and La Bruyère, who spent time at court, offered pointed critiques in their works. The Duke of Saint-Simon used his years at Versailles to collect stories for his famously hostile memoirs about Louis XIV. Yet even Saint-Simon, despite his criticisms, wrote admiringly of the King’s charm, grace, and kindness. He praised Louis’s “incomparable grace and majesty,” his generosity, and his courtesy—down to the way he would raise his hat to every woman, even maids (Chapter 14).
According to Mansel’s interpretation, supported by many sources, young Louis XIV’s warmth, charm, and joie de vivre helped strengthen the forces on which monarchy traditionally relied: power, fear, loyalty, and ambition (Chapter 14).
It would also be wrong to assume that his life was always easy or enjoyable, despite the luxurious beauty of his court and the extravagant entertainments of Versailles. Far from justifying the many mistakes Louis XIV made during his eventful life, we can acknowledge that he often tried to be a good person and to do what he thought—or wanted to think—was best for his country and people. We can also recognize that some of his mistakes stemmed from factors difficult for him to fully understand or change, and that his delusions of grandeur, combined with anxieties about losing his power, were shaped by the contradictions of his life.
I present details about various aspects of Louis’s life and reign in the sections below.
1. King and His Court
To understand the relationship between Louis XIV and his court, we first need to recognize that a court was essentially an extended royal household. It included thousands of individuals—many of them nobles—who lived near the king and queen, not only to serve them but also to enjoy the power and prestige that came with proximity. Once Versailles became Louis XIV’s primary residence, his court could include up to 10,000 people, depending on the day.
Having a large and beautiful court was considered essential for signaling royal power to the world. But maintaining such a court was enormously expensive. Louis XIV invested vast sums in building and then expanding Versailles, in part to ensure that it could accommodate all those courtiers. Despite the rigid etiquette, courtiers were not mere servants. They were often there as much to advance their own personal and political goals as to serve the monarchy. Courts were full of intrigues and tensions and could become toxic environments that monarchs had to navigate daily. To Louis XIV’s credit, as Mansel notes, he succeeded in turning his court into a relatively cohesive “emotional community”—a stark contrast to the conspiracy-ridden and violent courts of the Stuarts, the Hanovers, the Romanovs, and even his own father’s (Chapter 14).
Louis XIV and his courtiers took part in numerous ceremonies inherited from previous reigns. Over time, the King introduced some changes that made the court less formal. Foreign visitors often remarked that it was more accessible and less hierarchical than others. Louis himself disliked ceremony and once wrote, “if there is a singularity in this monarchy, it is the free and easy access of subjects to the monarch” (Chapter 13). Less formality meant less structure. An Italian observer described the court as “a real confusion of men and women,” while another remarked in 1698 that you could almost “touch the King.” Louis, for all the awe he inspired, was not in total control—even needing his cane at times to keep back the crowd or make space for the Queen and her ladies (Chapter 13).
This mix of ceremony and informality was especially clear in the daily rituals of lever (the King’s awakening) and coucher (his bedtime). Sometimes as many as a hundred men were admitted to the King’s room after he was dressed. Whereas in his youth courtiers stood silent, by adulthood they would continue chatting even while he prayed. John Locke, visiting in 1678, was surprised by “the noise and buzz” in the King’s chamber (Chapter 13). At the coucher, after most guests had left, a more intimate gathering—the petit coucher—began. Here, Louis would sit on his commode [toilet], wearing only his dressing gown, and speak with a select few courtiers. The ritual of brevet d’affaires [chamber pot] gave these men special access to the King and a chance to ask for favors. Like other monarchs of the era, Louis had little privacy, and in some cases—such as these ceremonies—he even chose to reduce it further in the name of accessibility.
As much as Louis XIV wanted to be in control, he could not oversee everything himself—not even within his court. He had to delegate responsibilities and hoped to do so wisely. According to Mansel, the King saw job allocation as one of his core duties. Versailles functioned not just as a royal residence, but also as “a national job centre” for the nobility (Chapter 13). One of Louis’s strategies was to delay decisions, which kept people dependent while allowing time to identify the right candidate. But this also meant he was constantly petitioned. On his daily walk through the palace to attend mass, people would hand him written requests. On June 12, 1702, 103 petitions were submitted—carefully logged by an official—which illustrates his central role in distributing jobs and money (Chapter 13).
Like the broader French public, courtiers could be in awe of the King while also fearing or criticizing him. Louis knew he was constantly under scrutiny. Even in July 1672, at the height of his success, his ministers, generals, and policies were targets of court gossip. By the end of his reign, Madame de Maintenon was complaining that “freedom of speech in our court has been taken to excess”—though she herself criticized his wars and entertainments in private letters (Chapter 13). Louis sometimes ignored these voices but sometimes welcomed dissent. Individuals who openly disagreed with him were sometimes admitted to court if he appreciated their opinions.
The court, by bringing together so many intelligent and ambitious people, fostered not only loyalty but also opposition. Writers like La Fontaine and La Bruyère, who spent time at court, offered pointed critiques in their works. The Duke of Saint-Simon used his years at Versailles to collect stories for his famously hostile memoirs about Louis XIV. Yet even Saint-Simon, despite his criticisms, wrote admiringly of the King’s charm, grace, and kindness. He praised Louis’s “incomparable grace and majesty,” his generosity, and his courtesy—down to the way he would raise his hat to every woman, even maids (Chapter 14).
According to Mansel’s interpretation, supported by many sources, young Louis XIV’s warmth, charm, and joie de vivre helped strengthen the forces on which monarchy traditionally relied: power, fear, loyalty, and ambition (Chapter 14).
Image credit: Louis XIV meets his Spanish bride Maria Teresa on the Island of Pheasants in 1660, a later copy painted by Jacques Laumosnier
2. Hardworking king
It is easy to picture Louis XIV spending most of his time at extravagant parties. These parties, indeed, happened, and they were as lavish as one can imagine. However, they only took a fraction of the King's time. When Louis XIV was not resting or having fun, he could be found diligently working for what he believed to be the good of France. "‘Work is the first object of His Majesty and he prefers it to everything else,’ wrote [the First Minister] Colbert. Colbert was right. Until the end of the reign the King almost never missed a council meeting, every morning from 9 to 11 from Monday to Friday, and held lengthy meetings about finances three times a week in the evening. In addition he worked alone with the secretaries of state: Lionne on Saturday and Sunday; Colbert... on Wednesday and Thursday; Le Tellier, for war, on Tuesday. He also held council meetings in the evening before supper at 10. The King’s hours were said to be as regular as a monk’s" (Chapter 7).
"Louis XIV spent as much time with his ministers as with his family, his court officials or his mistresses" (Chapter 14). It helped that the King was by nature very energetic. "Louis XIV’s enjoyment of his court was heightened by his stupendous vitality. He could work six or seven hours a day, or more, in addition to performing the daily rituals of the lever, mass, public dinner and coucher, and following a strenuous outdoor routine of hunts, shoots and walks" (Chapter 14). Of course, Louis XIV's dedication can be explained by his intention to govern the country by himself, which he expressed in his early twenties. This dedication can be also explained by the fear that, if he had let other people take too much responsibility, he would not have been in control. There was certainly an element of vanity, as Louis XIV wanted to take responsibility as well as credit. But there was also sincere commitment and curiosity, as the King strived to understand different aspects of France and its relationships with other countries by himself, rather than rely on knowledge of intermediaries.
Whether he was indeed able to govern the way he wanted, remains an open question.
"Despite the King’s hard work, and his access to information from non-ministerial sources, many believed that... he could be ‘absolutely governed by his ministers’. Absolutism could be a façade hiding the power of ministers and factions to persuade the King to take the decisions they wanted. He could be their instrument not their master" (Chapter 14). The truth might be hiding somewhere in-between these two extreme views. Louis XIV was probably not absolutely governed by his ministers, but he also did not have absolute power over them.
Louis's addiction to micro-management continued during war time. "On 14 March 1691 Dangeau wrote: ‘the King is never for one moment not working.’ He inspected French trenches around the city for six hours at a time and worked on political affairs in the evening" (Chapter 18). When not on campaign, the King spent hours trying to understand and control what was going on in the field. For example, when war minister Louvois passed away and Louvois's son Barbezieux was appointed to take his place, Louis was happy to take most responsibility for all the war-related decisions in his hands. He "worked with Barbezieux many hours most days, dictating letters for the minister to write in his own name, or writing letters in his own hand. Louis also wrote hundreds of letters about the war to princes, generals, army intendants, directly through his own secretaries, rather than through the Secretary of State for War. Many thought the King had become his own war minister. He drew up plans of campaign, and selected and promoted officers himself" (Chapter 18).
The value of this and other instances of war-related micro-management have been questioned by Louis XIV's contemporaries as well as by historians. "Louis’ critics... said that, as supreme warlord, he hampered generals’ actions in the field by micro-management from his office at Versailles" (Chapter 18). They pointed out that the King's hard work was not always selfless, but rather a way to prove to himself and others that he was in control. For example, after France's victory in one siege, memoirist "Le Peletier... wrote that the siege had been undertaken by Louis XIV for emotional rather than military reasons, to flatter himself: ‘to show all Europe that without the help of [the War Minister] M. de Louvois His Majesty on his own could execute a great design’. Indeed Louis’ own account confirms Le Peletier. He wrote that he was ‘all the more satisfied by his conquest because this great expedition was entirely his own work... he had undertaken it [guided] solely by his own judgement; executed it, so to say, with his own hands’" (Chapter 18).
Although the King's working style was initially well-intentioned, as time went by, this approach created more problems than it solved. In fact, Mansel believes that "[t]he King’s methods of government, and delusions about French power, would contribute to the disasters of the second half of his reign" (Chapter 14). Louis XIV did not learn from his early mistakes. During subsequent wars, "[e]ven more than before, generals were paralysed by micro-management from Versailles. Working late into the night, the King sent frequent couriers to his generals, with demands for the smallest details of news, and counsels of prudence, as is clear from many letters in his hasty, sprawling handwriting" (Chapter 20).
While Louis XIV was not just a partying king, and despite the fact that he worked hard (partially) because he wanted to bring glory to France and its people, the King's actions weakened his country. Ruling France the way he wanted, understanding motivations behind his own decisions, or fully grasping their outcomes was outside of Louis XIV's power. Beyond his vanity and the sincere commitment to the good of France, the King's attempts to micro-manage everything, from wars to the construction of Versailles, reveal his anxieties, his fear of not being in control.
3. King's image
Louis XIV considered maintaining the political and cultural status of France as his essential responsibility. One might note that to achieve this goal, the King conveniently needed to maintain his own status, which let him justify enormous expenses related to food, clothes, and residence, as well as to such entertainments as balls, hunting, and theater. After working hard for several hours and taking part in ceremonies that he did not enjoy, the King could relax at a party while telling himself that its extravagance was required for showing the glory of France to people inside and outside of the country. "His parties, like Versailles itself, were... intended to impress ‘all our subjects in general’ and Europe. The Gazette de France wrote that the [these beautiful entertainments] showed that Louis XIV was the first monarch in the world. Louis wrote in his memoirs – pretending that parties were organized only for the good of his country, rather than also for his pleasure – that such [parties] made ‘a very advantageous impression’, on foreigners as well as Frenchmen, ‘of magnificence, of power, of wealth and grandeur’" (Chapter 13).
Indeed, the impression was powerful. France of the time was a major cultural center in almost everything related to fashion and art. French court's dresses were copied by monarchs and nobility around Europe. French styles were popular among elites even in countries that were at war with France. Although Louis XIV most certainly derived a lot of pleasure from sending these messages of wealth and fashion to the world, maintaining the image of cultural power was not easy, as it required constant work and a lot of money (and money, as we will see in one of the sections below, was an issue).
2. Hardworking king
It is easy to picture Louis XIV spending most of his time at extravagant parties. These parties, indeed, happened, and they were as lavish as one can imagine. However, they only took a fraction of the King's time. When Louis XIV was not resting or having fun, he could be found diligently working for what he believed to be the good of France. "‘Work is the first object of His Majesty and he prefers it to everything else,’ wrote [the First Minister] Colbert. Colbert was right. Until the end of the reign the King almost never missed a council meeting, every morning from 9 to 11 from Monday to Friday, and held lengthy meetings about finances three times a week in the evening. In addition he worked alone with the secretaries of state: Lionne on Saturday and Sunday; Colbert... on Wednesday and Thursday; Le Tellier, for war, on Tuesday. He also held council meetings in the evening before supper at 10. The King’s hours were said to be as regular as a monk’s" (Chapter 7).
"Louis XIV spent as much time with his ministers as with his family, his court officials or his mistresses" (Chapter 14). It helped that the King was by nature very energetic. "Louis XIV’s enjoyment of his court was heightened by his stupendous vitality. He could work six or seven hours a day, or more, in addition to performing the daily rituals of the lever, mass, public dinner and coucher, and following a strenuous outdoor routine of hunts, shoots and walks" (Chapter 14). Of course, Louis XIV's dedication can be explained by his intention to govern the country by himself, which he expressed in his early twenties. This dedication can be also explained by the fear that, if he had let other people take too much responsibility, he would not have been in control. There was certainly an element of vanity, as Louis XIV wanted to take responsibility as well as credit. But there was also sincere commitment and curiosity, as the King strived to understand different aspects of France and its relationships with other countries by himself, rather than rely on knowledge of intermediaries.
Whether he was indeed able to govern the way he wanted, remains an open question.
"Despite the King’s hard work, and his access to information from non-ministerial sources, many believed that... he could be ‘absolutely governed by his ministers’. Absolutism could be a façade hiding the power of ministers and factions to persuade the King to take the decisions they wanted. He could be their instrument not their master" (Chapter 14). The truth might be hiding somewhere in-between these two extreme views. Louis XIV was probably not absolutely governed by his ministers, but he also did not have absolute power over them.
Louis's addiction to micro-management continued during war time. "On 14 March 1691 Dangeau wrote: ‘the King is never for one moment not working.’ He inspected French trenches around the city for six hours at a time and worked on political affairs in the evening" (Chapter 18). When not on campaign, the King spent hours trying to understand and control what was going on in the field. For example, when war minister Louvois passed away and Louvois's son Barbezieux was appointed to take his place, Louis was happy to take most responsibility for all the war-related decisions in his hands. He "worked with Barbezieux many hours most days, dictating letters for the minister to write in his own name, or writing letters in his own hand. Louis also wrote hundreds of letters about the war to princes, generals, army intendants, directly through his own secretaries, rather than through the Secretary of State for War. Many thought the King had become his own war minister. He drew up plans of campaign, and selected and promoted officers himself" (Chapter 18).
The value of this and other instances of war-related micro-management have been questioned by Louis XIV's contemporaries as well as by historians. "Louis’ critics... said that, as supreme warlord, he hampered generals’ actions in the field by micro-management from his office at Versailles" (Chapter 18). They pointed out that the King's hard work was not always selfless, but rather a way to prove to himself and others that he was in control. For example, after France's victory in one siege, memoirist "Le Peletier... wrote that the siege had been undertaken by Louis XIV for emotional rather than military reasons, to flatter himself: ‘to show all Europe that without the help of [the War Minister] M. de Louvois His Majesty on his own could execute a great design’. Indeed Louis’ own account confirms Le Peletier. He wrote that he was ‘all the more satisfied by his conquest because this great expedition was entirely his own work... he had undertaken it [guided] solely by his own judgement; executed it, so to say, with his own hands’" (Chapter 18).
Although the King's working style was initially well-intentioned, as time went by, this approach created more problems than it solved. In fact, Mansel believes that "[t]he King’s methods of government, and delusions about French power, would contribute to the disasters of the second half of his reign" (Chapter 14). Louis XIV did not learn from his early mistakes. During subsequent wars, "[e]ven more than before, generals were paralysed by micro-management from Versailles. Working late into the night, the King sent frequent couriers to his generals, with demands for the smallest details of news, and counsels of prudence, as is clear from many letters in his hasty, sprawling handwriting" (Chapter 20).
While Louis XIV was not just a partying king, and despite the fact that he worked hard (partially) because he wanted to bring glory to France and its people, the King's actions weakened his country. Ruling France the way he wanted, understanding motivations behind his own decisions, or fully grasping their outcomes was outside of Louis XIV's power. Beyond his vanity and the sincere commitment to the good of France, the King's attempts to micro-manage everything, from wars to the construction of Versailles, reveal his anxieties, his fear of not being in control.
3. King's image
Louis XIV considered maintaining the political and cultural status of France as his essential responsibility. One might note that to achieve this goal, the King conveniently needed to maintain his own status, which let him justify enormous expenses related to food, clothes, and residence, as well as to such entertainments as balls, hunting, and theater. After working hard for several hours and taking part in ceremonies that he did not enjoy, the King could relax at a party while telling himself that its extravagance was required for showing the glory of France to people inside and outside of the country. "His parties, like Versailles itself, were... intended to impress ‘all our subjects in general’ and Europe. The Gazette de France wrote that the [these beautiful entertainments] showed that Louis XIV was the first monarch in the world. Louis wrote in his memoirs – pretending that parties were organized only for the good of his country, rather than also for his pleasure – that such [parties] made ‘a very advantageous impression’, on foreigners as well as Frenchmen, ‘of magnificence, of power, of wealth and grandeur’" (Chapter 13).
Indeed, the impression was powerful. France of the time was a major cultural center in almost everything related to fashion and art. French court's dresses were copied by monarchs and nobility around Europe. French styles were popular among elites even in countries that were at war with France. Although Louis XIV most certainly derived a lot of pleasure from sending these messages of wealth and fashion to the world, maintaining the image of cultural power was not easy, as it required constant work and a lot of money (and money, as we will see in one of the sections below, was an issue).
Image credit: Versailles by Armand Khoury
Finding a justification in the need to uphold France's status, Louis XIV extended his micro-management to everything related to Versailles. There, he "was not merely following fashion or building what he thought a king of France should build. Unlike other monarchs, he decided every aspect of the plan and decoration, and often visited the building site" (Chapter 8). Unlike Parisian attitudes and many other things in France that Louis XIV could not fully control, Versailles as a physical space was where the King felt that he was in charge. As a result of all the work and money put into it, Versailles inevitably left foreign ambassadors and other travelers deeply impressed. But it would be wrong to assume that these outsiders were the only audience allowed to marvel at France's grandeur embodied in the King's majestic residence. Any ordinary French men and women were welcome to visit as well. Thus, apart from the grandeur, accessibility was another aspect of the King's image that he diligently cultivated. (Of course, one might also point out that such accessibility was also useful to assert Louis's power inside France.)
"The public was usually allowed into the gardens and palace of Versailles ‘without distinction of sex, age or condition’. Only the dirty or diseased were stopped by the Gardes du Corps at the entrances. Sometimes, however, the King preferred to be alone when giving orders to the gardeners. The garden was also closed if the King felt ‘overwhelmed’ by the multitude of people, ‘above all from Paris’; ‘la canaille’ [scoundrels], [as one memoirist wrote] damaged the statues and vases. However, Louis XIV’s sense of kingship trumped his love of privacy: the public was always allowed back. Without the public, the gardens would have lost their purpose. In 1704 the King ordered fences to be removed from the bosquets [regular gardens] of Versailles so that the public could enjoy walking inside them (which it cannot now do, except on the few days the fountains are playing). Versailles was built for Europe, as well as for France" (Chapter 12). In another instance of micro-management, Louis XIV wrote his own guidebook titled The Way to Show the Gardens of Versailles, and he subsequently rewrote it six times.
This accessibility extended beyond Versailles. "The public could also wander in and out of the courtyards of the Louvre and its apartments, even in the evening after dinner. As [the King's mother] was dying, for example, Paris workmen came to her guard room in the Louvre to learn the news. A visiting Italian called Sébastien Locatelli (whose description is confirmed by other contemporaries) wrote in 1665: ‘the King wants all his subjects to enter freely so that he can be informed if necessary of very important events like rebellions, treasons and threats of revolt’... Louis XIV’s collections of sculpture and paintings in the Louvre, his furniture in the Garde-meuble, the royal library and the Gobelins factory could be visited by members of the public, if they were well dressed. Thus the court of France inspired and financed creativity, gave artists space in which to work and displayed the results to the public" (Chapter 8).
While we can see how the accessibility cultivated by Louis XIV was meant to contribute to his power, it was not possible without certain sacrifices that marked his powerlessness. Accessibility could sometimes encourage disrespect that the King could not or did not want to do anything about. When during some festivities the public was invited to the gardens of Versailles, the crowd could be hard to control. For example, during a festivity to celebrate the end of a war, "[m]ost ambassadors left early... after they had been jostled by hordes of unruly guests, as they often were at the French court. The Gardes du Corps could not or would not control them. The Queen herself had to wait half an hour before she could enter the theatre, while the King had to ask gentlemen to leave, to ensure that she and other ladies were given seats" (Chapter 13). On another occasion, "[i]n the scramble for supper after the ball, Monsieur [Louis's brother] was knocked to the ground and trampled on. The King too was jostled, and had to use his cane to make space for the ladies. However, the Venetian Ambassador was impressed. ‘At that hour when the glory and grandeur of France were made manifest, one can see how poor, how despicable are the imitations of other nations’" (Chapter 18).
Louis XIV also wanted to be seen as a modern king. Despite his dislike of France's capital city, he spent considerable resources modernizing it, to Parisians' benefit. He "made Paris one of Europe’s most modern cities... with the best shops and post service. Public carriages able to take up to eight passengers began on certain routes in 1662. The city walls were demolished after 1669 and turned into tree-lined boulevards. An English visitor in 1672 called Francis Tallents was impressed by the ‘wondrous clean and handsome’ streets, the ‘great and excellent order’ and the lack of beggars... In 1667 Louis XIV also introduced public lighting to Paris – the first city in Europe to have it, before Amsterdam and London. Lamps, hanging 15 feet above the street, from ropes attached to buildings on each side, made the city safer, encouraging Parisians to go out at night. There were 5,400 such lights by 1702. Louis XIV’s and [his First Minister] Colbert’s most original achievement was the expansion of the Louvre into the ‘palace of the arts’ which it remains to this day" (Chapter 8).
The King's preoccupation with his image certainly had a dark side. "On 19 October 1684 Louis XIV announced at the lever his plan to divert and canalize part of the River Eure, 40 miles to the west, in order to bring more water to the reservoirs and improve water pressure at Versailles… Some 1,500 soldiers died during the operations. More fell ill from the marshy air and bad water, and later spread diseases among other troops. Vauban, the voice of reason, was appalled, criticizing the King in a letter to Louvois on 29 June 1685 for trying to surpass the Romans while ruling only a tenth of their Empire: ‘the King will be accountable to all nations and to posterity.’ As with the construction of Versailles on a bad site, the difficulty of the enterprise was part of its attraction. Louis XIV wanted to demonstrate omnipotence" (Chapter 12). In the following years, many more people would be sacrificed to the Sun King's pursuit of glory and immortality.
The King worked so hard to control his image that he failed to notice how, for lack of better words, his image was controlling him. The fact that many see Louis XIV as a monarch who had absolute power is a result not only of the King's efforts but also of other people's assumptions about him. These assumptions were often expressed through flattery, which royal subjects used not only because they were afraid of the King but also because they wanted something from him. Louis XIV was happy to hear himself described as a monarch with absolute power because these words suggested that he had achieved what, according to his mother, was rightfully his. As a person who, on many occasions, was not in complete control of what was going on in his country, in his court, and even in his personal life, embracing the image of the absolutely powerful King was highly attractive for Louis XIV. He craved flattery so much that over the years this became a sort of addiction that gradually changed his personality and allowed him to justify many cruel decisions in the second half of his reign.
"By 1680, in his own eyes, Louis XIV was master of France and arbiter of Europe. Colbert wrote that year, exaggerating government control, ‘everything reflects total submission . . . the authority of the Parlement reduced to a point where only the shadow of it remains.’ Even ‘the misery and distress of the peoples’ served royal power, since the King could control ‘this proud and inconstant nation with the restraint of extreme necessity’... Versailles was considered the wonder of the world. Royal academies glorified the King, the monarchy and France. Louis XIV had won almost universal admiration as administrator, commander, patron and king. Yet his achievements hid inner weaknesses. As a young man Louis had been considered kind and ‘civil and courteous beyond anything one can imagine’. By the age of forty, blinded by flattery, power, success, a new man had emerged... Narcissism, tactlessness, lack of realism and failure to foresee consequences had become characteristics of Louis XIV" (Chapter 14).
The King was a celebrity of the time, and celebrities are often overwhelmed by attention and misunderstood by people who claim to know them. Royal subjects felt special when they were allowed in his presence. But when not close to the King, they could enjoy gossiping about him and picking apart his flaws. When he died, people cried but also rejoiced, ignoring his suffering. As it happens with celebrities, those who were in awe of the King did not really understand him as a person, with his concerns and joys, heartbreaks and worries. But they certainly expected a lot from him, and different people expected different things. For example, during wars that devastated France financially and made it one of the most hated countries in Europe, ordinary French men and women were understandably outraged by taxes, but many were also proud of their country's victories. Some even wanted the King to reject peace offers and keep fighting for the glory of the country.
King's subjects, as well as Louis XIV himself, were captives of the same illusions associated with absolute monarchy. Ironically, Louis often ignored how his actions aimed to maintain France's glory actually damaged its image. In particular, the wars he waged and his persecution of Protestants (to be discussed below) undermined the glory of France and turned him into the most unpopular monarch of the time.
Finding a justification in the need to uphold France's status, Louis XIV extended his micro-management to everything related to Versailles. There, he "was not merely following fashion or building what he thought a king of France should build. Unlike other monarchs, he decided every aspect of the plan and decoration, and often visited the building site" (Chapter 8). Unlike Parisian attitudes and many other things in France that Louis XIV could not fully control, Versailles as a physical space was where the King felt that he was in charge. As a result of all the work and money put into it, Versailles inevitably left foreign ambassadors and other travelers deeply impressed. But it would be wrong to assume that these outsiders were the only audience allowed to marvel at France's grandeur embodied in the King's majestic residence. Any ordinary French men and women were welcome to visit as well. Thus, apart from the grandeur, accessibility was another aspect of the King's image that he diligently cultivated. (Of course, one might also point out that such accessibility was also useful to assert Louis's power inside France.)
"The public was usually allowed into the gardens and palace of Versailles ‘without distinction of sex, age or condition’. Only the dirty or diseased were stopped by the Gardes du Corps at the entrances. Sometimes, however, the King preferred to be alone when giving orders to the gardeners. The garden was also closed if the King felt ‘overwhelmed’ by the multitude of people, ‘above all from Paris’; ‘la canaille’ [scoundrels], [as one memoirist wrote] damaged the statues and vases. However, Louis XIV’s sense of kingship trumped his love of privacy: the public was always allowed back. Without the public, the gardens would have lost their purpose. In 1704 the King ordered fences to be removed from the bosquets [regular gardens] of Versailles so that the public could enjoy walking inside them (which it cannot now do, except on the few days the fountains are playing). Versailles was built for Europe, as well as for France" (Chapter 12). In another instance of micro-management, Louis XIV wrote his own guidebook titled The Way to Show the Gardens of Versailles, and he subsequently rewrote it six times.
This accessibility extended beyond Versailles. "The public could also wander in and out of the courtyards of the Louvre and its apartments, even in the evening after dinner. As [the King's mother] was dying, for example, Paris workmen came to her guard room in the Louvre to learn the news. A visiting Italian called Sébastien Locatelli (whose description is confirmed by other contemporaries) wrote in 1665: ‘the King wants all his subjects to enter freely so that he can be informed if necessary of very important events like rebellions, treasons and threats of revolt’... Louis XIV’s collections of sculpture and paintings in the Louvre, his furniture in the Garde-meuble, the royal library and the Gobelins factory could be visited by members of the public, if they were well dressed. Thus the court of France inspired and financed creativity, gave artists space in which to work and displayed the results to the public" (Chapter 8).
While we can see how the accessibility cultivated by Louis XIV was meant to contribute to his power, it was not possible without certain sacrifices that marked his powerlessness. Accessibility could sometimes encourage disrespect that the King could not or did not want to do anything about. When during some festivities the public was invited to the gardens of Versailles, the crowd could be hard to control. For example, during a festivity to celebrate the end of a war, "[m]ost ambassadors left early... after they had been jostled by hordes of unruly guests, as they often were at the French court. The Gardes du Corps could not or would not control them. The Queen herself had to wait half an hour before she could enter the theatre, while the King had to ask gentlemen to leave, to ensure that she and other ladies were given seats" (Chapter 13). On another occasion, "[i]n the scramble for supper after the ball, Monsieur [Louis's brother] was knocked to the ground and trampled on. The King too was jostled, and had to use his cane to make space for the ladies. However, the Venetian Ambassador was impressed. ‘At that hour when the glory and grandeur of France were made manifest, one can see how poor, how despicable are the imitations of other nations’" (Chapter 18).
Louis XIV also wanted to be seen as a modern king. Despite his dislike of France's capital city, he spent considerable resources modernizing it, to Parisians' benefit. He "made Paris one of Europe’s most modern cities... with the best shops and post service. Public carriages able to take up to eight passengers began on certain routes in 1662. The city walls were demolished after 1669 and turned into tree-lined boulevards. An English visitor in 1672 called Francis Tallents was impressed by the ‘wondrous clean and handsome’ streets, the ‘great and excellent order’ and the lack of beggars... In 1667 Louis XIV also introduced public lighting to Paris – the first city in Europe to have it, before Amsterdam and London. Lamps, hanging 15 feet above the street, from ropes attached to buildings on each side, made the city safer, encouraging Parisians to go out at night. There were 5,400 such lights by 1702. Louis XIV’s and [his First Minister] Colbert’s most original achievement was the expansion of the Louvre into the ‘palace of the arts’ which it remains to this day" (Chapter 8).
The King's preoccupation with his image certainly had a dark side. "On 19 October 1684 Louis XIV announced at the lever his plan to divert and canalize part of the River Eure, 40 miles to the west, in order to bring more water to the reservoirs and improve water pressure at Versailles… Some 1,500 soldiers died during the operations. More fell ill from the marshy air and bad water, and later spread diseases among other troops. Vauban, the voice of reason, was appalled, criticizing the King in a letter to Louvois on 29 June 1685 for trying to surpass the Romans while ruling only a tenth of their Empire: ‘the King will be accountable to all nations and to posterity.’ As with the construction of Versailles on a bad site, the difficulty of the enterprise was part of its attraction. Louis XIV wanted to demonstrate omnipotence" (Chapter 12). In the following years, many more people would be sacrificed to the Sun King's pursuit of glory and immortality.
The King worked so hard to control his image that he failed to notice how, for lack of better words, his image was controlling him. The fact that many see Louis XIV as a monarch who had absolute power is a result not only of the King's efforts but also of other people's assumptions about him. These assumptions were often expressed through flattery, which royal subjects used not only because they were afraid of the King but also because they wanted something from him. Louis XIV was happy to hear himself described as a monarch with absolute power because these words suggested that he had achieved what, according to his mother, was rightfully his. As a person who, on many occasions, was not in complete control of what was going on in his country, in his court, and even in his personal life, embracing the image of the absolutely powerful King was highly attractive for Louis XIV. He craved flattery so much that over the years this became a sort of addiction that gradually changed his personality and allowed him to justify many cruel decisions in the second half of his reign.
"By 1680, in his own eyes, Louis XIV was master of France and arbiter of Europe. Colbert wrote that year, exaggerating government control, ‘everything reflects total submission . . . the authority of the Parlement reduced to a point where only the shadow of it remains.’ Even ‘the misery and distress of the peoples’ served royal power, since the King could control ‘this proud and inconstant nation with the restraint of extreme necessity’... Versailles was considered the wonder of the world. Royal academies glorified the King, the monarchy and France. Louis XIV had won almost universal admiration as administrator, commander, patron and king. Yet his achievements hid inner weaknesses. As a young man Louis had been considered kind and ‘civil and courteous beyond anything one can imagine’. By the age of forty, blinded by flattery, power, success, a new man had emerged... Narcissism, tactlessness, lack of realism and failure to foresee consequences had become characteristics of Louis XIV" (Chapter 14).
The King was a celebrity of the time, and celebrities are often overwhelmed by attention and misunderstood by people who claim to know them. Royal subjects felt special when they were allowed in his presence. But when not close to the King, they could enjoy gossiping about him and picking apart his flaws. When he died, people cried but also rejoiced, ignoring his suffering. As it happens with celebrities, those who were in awe of the King did not really understand him as a person, with his concerns and joys, heartbreaks and worries. But they certainly expected a lot from him, and different people expected different things. For example, during wars that devastated France financially and made it one of the most hated countries in Europe, ordinary French men and women were understandably outraged by taxes, but many were also proud of their country's victories. Some even wanted the King to reject peace offers and keep fighting for the glory of the country.
King's subjects, as well as Louis XIV himself, were captives of the same illusions associated with absolute monarchy. Ironically, Louis often ignored how his actions aimed to maintain France's glory actually damaged its image. In particular, the wars he waged and his persecution of Protestants (to be discussed below) undermined the glory of France and turned him into the most unpopular monarch of the time.
Image credit: Louis d’or of Louis XIV (1709), National Museum of American History
4. King and money
Louis XIV inherited France on the verge of bankruptcy. The King's favorite mentor Mazarin contributed to this pitiful state: over almost twenty years of being an informal ruler of the country, the Cardinal accumulated significant wealth. Just like Louis XIV himself, it's difficult to describe Mazarin as simply a villain or a hero. While he embezzled significant amounts of money, becoming one the richest people in Europe of the time, the Cardinal also brought several important military and diplomatic victories to France. "Mazarin left France the leading power in Europe, but his accumulation of a vast personal gold reserve, as well as jewels and other treasures, had exacerbated France’s financial problems" (Chapter 5).
As much as Louis XIV loved his mentor and admired Mazarin's political genius, the King was also aware of the Cardinal's flaws. One can argue that Louis XIV's decision to rule France without intermediaries, expressed right after Mazarin's passing, was a result of the King's observation of the Cardinal's rapacity. To counter its effects, freed from Mazarin's influence, Louis began his reign with administrative and fiscal reforms. "Mastering institutional and individual opposition, Louis XIV was able to devote himself to an ambitious reform programme to galvanize the economy and modernize the monarchy" (Chapter 7).
Early in his reign, Louis XIV got rid of Nicolas Fouquet, the Superintendent of Finances. Fouquet's rapacity was similar to Mazarin's, but it was coupled with personal ambition that threatened the King's status and power. The treatment received by Fouquet was harsh. He lost his post and money, and was imprisoned for life. "The former Surintendant des Finances was condemned to solitary confinement in the castle of Pignerol in the Alps. He was not at first permitted to take exercise. Only in 1674, after thirteen years, was he allowed to exchange two letters a year with his wife. She and his family were not allowed to visit him until a year before he died. Louis XIV had shown a streak of cruelty, hitherto unsuspected, from which many thousands more, inside and outside France, would suffer in the future" (Chapter 6).
From then on, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the future First Minister of State, was in charge of finances. Although he helped Louis XIV to strengthen France – in particular, by developing its trade – Colbert's financial indiscretions were not much different than those of Mazarin or Fouquet before him. This contradiction is another example of how, as much as Louis XIV tried, he kept failing to surround himself with people who would strengthen France in important ways without weakening it in others.
Louis XIV also struggled, and was not entirely able, to create an effective system of collecting taxes. It is easy to imagine a greedy and selfish king imposing excessive taxes on the poor while bathing in luxury. While bearing some resemblance with reality, this story is incomplete if we don't take into account some additional details. The poor were, indeed, the ones who had to suffer most of the taxation burden. But the unjust taxes were a result of the financial system that the King could not entirely control. Direct taxes, once collected, passed through many intermediaries. Money that reached the King's treasury was sometimes significantly less than what was initially obtained from taxpayers. Indirect taxes were collected by so-called tax farmers, hired officials who often embezzled money. As a result of these ineffective processes, the state never received all the money that taxpayers paid, and some years the difference was striking. For example, when Fouquet was in power "the King was receiving only 35 or 40 per cent of the value of French taxes" (Chapter 6).
One can rightfully note that placing most of the tax burden on the poor was outrageously unjust. Why didn't the King tax the rich people? The reason was that Louis XIV had a bargain with the nobility, who agreed to support the King if he freed them from the financial burden of taxation. Louis XIV, who had experienced what a nobility's revolt could look like during the Fronde, knew that his own power depended on the actions of the elites. Only towards the end of his reign Louis was able to impose some form of direct tax on nobility, and he did it only when the stress of fighting with them was outweighed by stresses of financially devastating wars. Even then, the new system was still not entirely effective, since some members of the aristocratic class were able to obtain exemptions.
With all its ineffectiveness, the tax system was often not able to support the State's growing needs, especially the expenses associated with the wars. Where did the King get the money? One revenue source was selling jobs to nobility, which then made the whole system further ineffective, feeding into the never-ending vicious circle. Another strategy was taking loans from bankers. "The government avoided bankruptcy by short-term borrowing at disastrous interest rates (far higher than those paid by its enemies) and creating more offices to sell. By 1708 government debt would reach 2 billion livres and servicing it would absorb over 50 per cent of government expenditure: 470 of 756 million livres" (Chapter 20). During the worst times, "revenues were spent four years in advance, and the government was borrowing at 16 per cent interest or more" (Chapter 24).
Versailles' luxury was real, but it was hiding the King's constant struggles to get France out of financial ruin. "Louis’ reign was a glorious façade, masking the continued power of financiers and beginning and ending in semi-bankruptcy" (Chapter 24). Of course, we can rebuke Louis XIV for enjoying the expensive lifestyle he is famous for. We can argue that he could have made choices (related to the cost of his residence, parties, wars, etc.) that would have required less money. But we should also remember about all the expectations of supporting the political, cultural, and personal image that Louis XIV felt the need to respond to. We should also wonder if the King's life experiences equipped him with the ability to understand how to navigate these expectations in a way that would appear more reasonable and less selfish to us today.
4. King and money
Louis XIV inherited France on the verge of bankruptcy. The King's favorite mentor Mazarin contributed to this pitiful state: over almost twenty years of being an informal ruler of the country, the Cardinal accumulated significant wealth. Just like Louis XIV himself, it's difficult to describe Mazarin as simply a villain or a hero. While he embezzled significant amounts of money, becoming one the richest people in Europe of the time, the Cardinal also brought several important military and diplomatic victories to France. "Mazarin left France the leading power in Europe, but his accumulation of a vast personal gold reserve, as well as jewels and other treasures, had exacerbated France’s financial problems" (Chapter 5).
As much as Louis XIV loved his mentor and admired Mazarin's political genius, the King was also aware of the Cardinal's flaws. One can argue that Louis XIV's decision to rule France without intermediaries, expressed right after Mazarin's passing, was a result of the King's observation of the Cardinal's rapacity. To counter its effects, freed from Mazarin's influence, Louis began his reign with administrative and fiscal reforms. "Mastering institutional and individual opposition, Louis XIV was able to devote himself to an ambitious reform programme to galvanize the economy and modernize the monarchy" (Chapter 7).
Early in his reign, Louis XIV got rid of Nicolas Fouquet, the Superintendent of Finances. Fouquet's rapacity was similar to Mazarin's, but it was coupled with personal ambition that threatened the King's status and power. The treatment received by Fouquet was harsh. He lost his post and money, and was imprisoned for life. "The former Surintendant des Finances was condemned to solitary confinement in the castle of Pignerol in the Alps. He was not at first permitted to take exercise. Only in 1674, after thirteen years, was he allowed to exchange two letters a year with his wife. She and his family were not allowed to visit him until a year before he died. Louis XIV had shown a streak of cruelty, hitherto unsuspected, from which many thousands more, inside and outside France, would suffer in the future" (Chapter 6).
From then on, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the future First Minister of State, was in charge of finances. Although he helped Louis XIV to strengthen France – in particular, by developing its trade – Colbert's financial indiscretions were not much different than those of Mazarin or Fouquet before him. This contradiction is another example of how, as much as Louis XIV tried, he kept failing to surround himself with people who would strengthen France in important ways without weakening it in others.
Louis XIV also struggled, and was not entirely able, to create an effective system of collecting taxes. It is easy to imagine a greedy and selfish king imposing excessive taxes on the poor while bathing in luxury. While bearing some resemblance with reality, this story is incomplete if we don't take into account some additional details. The poor were, indeed, the ones who had to suffer most of the taxation burden. But the unjust taxes were a result of the financial system that the King could not entirely control. Direct taxes, once collected, passed through many intermediaries. Money that reached the King's treasury was sometimes significantly less than what was initially obtained from taxpayers. Indirect taxes were collected by so-called tax farmers, hired officials who often embezzled money. As a result of these ineffective processes, the state never received all the money that taxpayers paid, and some years the difference was striking. For example, when Fouquet was in power "the King was receiving only 35 or 40 per cent of the value of French taxes" (Chapter 6).
One can rightfully note that placing most of the tax burden on the poor was outrageously unjust. Why didn't the King tax the rich people? The reason was that Louis XIV had a bargain with the nobility, who agreed to support the King if he freed them from the financial burden of taxation. Louis XIV, who had experienced what a nobility's revolt could look like during the Fronde, knew that his own power depended on the actions of the elites. Only towards the end of his reign Louis was able to impose some form of direct tax on nobility, and he did it only when the stress of fighting with them was outweighed by stresses of financially devastating wars. Even then, the new system was still not entirely effective, since some members of the aristocratic class were able to obtain exemptions.
With all its ineffectiveness, the tax system was often not able to support the State's growing needs, especially the expenses associated with the wars. Where did the King get the money? One revenue source was selling jobs to nobility, which then made the whole system further ineffective, feeding into the never-ending vicious circle. Another strategy was taking loans from bankers. "The government avoided bankruptcy by short-term borrowing at disastrous interest rates (far higher than those paid by its enemies) and creating more offices to sell. By 1708 government debt would reach 2 billion livres and servicing it would absorb over 50 per cent of government expenditure: 470 of 756 million livres" (Chapter 20). During the worst times, "revenues were spent four years in advance, and the government was borrowing at 16 per cent interest or more" (Chapter 24).
Versailles' luxury was real, but it was hiding the King's constant struggles to get France out of financial ruin. "Louis’ reign was a glorious façade, masking the continued power of financiers and beginning and ending in semi-bankruptcy" (Chapter 24). Of course, we can rebuke Louis XIV for enjoying the expensive lifestyle he is famous for. We can argue that he could have made choices (related to the cost of his residence, parties, wars, etc.) that would have required less money. But we should also remember about all the expectations of supporting the political, cultural, and personal image that Louis XIV felt the need to respond to. We should also wonder if the King's life experiences equipped him with the ability to understand how to navigate these expectations in a way that would appear more reasonable and less selfish to us today.
Image: Louis XIV crosses the Rhine at Lobith, June 12, 1672, by Adam Frans van der Meulen.
5. King at war
The worst mistakes of Louis XIV's reign were, arguably, his wars and the treatment of Protestants. Notably, both of these mistakes were made in the second half of the Sun King's reign, when his biases and anxieties were getting the better of him. These mistakes also reflect Louis' delusions of absolute power: he thought he could achieve results that turned out to be outside of his control. Let us first take a look at Louis XIV's military pursuits.
As part of his project to strengthen the country, Louis started his reign by reorganizing the army. Under Marquis de Louvois, the new Secretary of War who worked with Louis XIV to support this important transition, the French army turned into a remarkably modernized, disciplined, and well-trained war machine. "One of Louis’ long-term ambitions, in addition to his drives to modernize and enlarge France, and to become the arbiter of Europe, was to win France a global empire" (Chapter 6). With his new army, he was ready to work towards these goals.
Unfortunately, Louis XIV did not see war as something to be avoided, but as a desirable opportunity to increase France's and his own glory. Arrogance and vanity, worsening with age, played a role in his ill-conceived military decisions. We should also consider what Louis XIV was brought up to believe and how he was taught to act. In the minds of children growing up in noble and royal households of the time, war was normalized and celebrated. The King had learned early on that he was supposed to be a great warrior, victor, and military leader. "From the age of five he... drilled a troop of enfants d’honneur in the art of war. Wearing black velvet trimmed with grey, they were exercised by him in the garden of the Palais Royal, ‘pike in hand and beating drums’, remembered one of them, Henri de Brienne. A miniature fort with bastions, built in the Tuileries garden in 1650, would start the passion for siege warfare which would mark the King’s entire reign" (Chapter 3).
During this reign, France took part in three major wars and two lesser conflicts. As a result, the country "was at war for thirty-three of the fifty-four years of his personal rule after 1661. The army was by far the largest item in the French budget, usually consuming over 50 per cent of revenues, and in war years over 80 per cent" (Chapter 18). Same as with other areas of Louis' life, his military pursuits showcase the combination of his power with powerlessness. He was able to wage wars that he desired, and he did achieve many important victories. At the height of France's glory under the Sun King, the country outshone the rest of Europe in terms of population size, wealth, and cultural influence. But this glorious state of affairs did not last. France started to lose its international prestige, while its population was ravaged by poverty, which was then exacerbated by famines. Louis's calculations were wrong, and his plans backfired. "Even at its height... Louis XIV’s influence had limits. He never enjoyed hegemony in Europe" (Chapter 5). On the contrary, the King's carefully crafted (as he thought) military strategies eventually became national and international disasters.
Almost till the end of his life, Louis XIV remained blinded by his military ambitions and delusions of grandeur. As his modernized army showed itself capable of effectively expanding France's territory, the praise that Louis XIV received within France proved to him that he chose the correct strategy for strengthening and maintaining his status as an absolute monarch. The fact that the international status of France started to suffer did not bother him too much. "For the King and many of his subjects, the number of his enemies revealed his strength, rather than his unpopularity and lack of diplomatic skills" (Chapter 18). We can assume that many of his war decisions were dictated by the fear of not being the absolute monarch that he felt he was supposed to be. "Desire to win praise, and to outshine both his rivals and his ministers, could be as important to Louis XIV as winning territory. He preferred sieges to battles, as the outcome was more certain, while the glory, in his eyes, was the same. The King’s need for admiration was well known (Chapter 14).
In his blindness, the King preferred to listen to advisors (like Louvois) who recommended bold military moves and actions meant to intimidate adversaries at the cost of human suffering. Louis did not pay attention to warnings coming from generals who did not approve of the harsh methods of warfare and from diplomats who thought that arrogant phrasings of French political declarations were inappropriate. In the past, "[h]e had once been a gentle youth who cried easily, and called mercy ‘the most royal of all the virtues’... By 1672, however, he had changed. In the Dutch countryside, on Louvois’ orders, French troops unleashed a reign of terror. ‘I dare not tell you what excesses pillaging has reached,’ wrote their commander the Maréchal de Luxembourg to Louvois on 12 August. Some soldiers were hanged for their crimes. But the policy was repeated in following years, in order to terrorize the inhabitants into paying ‘contributions’. Louvois wrote to an army intendant to have everything possible burnt, and to the Comte de Calvo: ‘you must burn entire villages’" (Chapter 10).
The King's power lay in the ability to make decisions that many (though not all) of his contemporaries decried. His powerlessness, however, consisted in the inability to see how his actions were destroying his own image and the status of his country, which he had worked so hard to establish. "In the words of Herbert Rowen... the King chose ‘brutal methods which repeatedly led precisely to the result he was seeking to avert’... Even Condé, famous for his ruthlessness, warned Louis XIV of ‘the cruel aversion we have attracted to ourselves’ through the behaviour of French troops; ‘I do not know if it is in the interest of France to continue.’ The Marquis de La Fare would complain that France, by its own efforts, had lost ‘the domination of Europe’ in exchange for its hatred" (Chapter 10). International alliances that would cause France's financial ruin were forged because of the fear and hatred that this country started to inspire thanks to Louis XIV's military and political choices.
At the beginning of Louis XIV's reign, war was for him a source of excitement, possibly due to his lack of experience and youthful naivete. Dominating his mind, there was the image of war as a fun strategic game of his youth, when, as a child brandishing a miniature sword, he was always allowed to win. Over the years, the war became important for the King's self-confidence when he won, but it also caused plenty of frustration and pain. Towards the end of his reign, during the Nine Years' War (1688 to 1697) and then the War of the Spanish Succession (1701 to 1714), it was hard not to see the definitive decline in Louis XIV's military fortune. Although both wars on many occasions demonstrated French power, they also revealed Louis's powerlessness to fully control something that he had set in motion.
Louis XIV's decisions during the Nine Years' War were partially shaped by his relationships with the Ottoman Empire, a major political force of the time that France chose to ally itself with (possibly because most European countries had been already alienated by France's actions). Mansel believes that "the Ottoman government... blackmailed Louis, threatening to make peace with Austria even under the most unfavourable conditions unless he made war in Europe. It accused him of staying on the Rhine, ‘with his arms folded’, when he could win great advantages over Austria. On 10 September Louis replied by promising to march his troops towards the Rhine and Italy" (Chapter 17); this was the beginning of the war that served to further decrease France's popularity. Even though the conflict brought some new territories to France, it exacerbated its economic crisis. It also revealed how "Louis XIV’s army had become a machine for destruction" (Chapter 18) that acquired the life of its own.
At some point, "Louis urged, without success, that Catholic churches be spared. He was not in full control of his war machine. From Düsseldorf in the north to Freiburg 200 miles to the south, Louis turned the valley of the Rhine into a vale of desolation. Cities, villages and farms in the Rhineland were burnt or blown up, their inhabitants expelled, their cattle, grain and wine seized" (Chapter 18). Even some French generals who were fighting in this war were horrified. They warned Louis XIV and his war minister Louvois "of the ‘terrible feelings of aversion’ sweeping Europe" (Chapter 18). But those did not want to or could not hear the warnings. Ironically, the King's actions were eventually less beneficial for France than for the Ottoman Empire, which had encouraged Louis XIV to start this war to begin with. "The King and Louvois had failed in their aim to make the Rhineland a buffer zone protecting France. Nevertheless their action on the Rhine, by drawing away Imperial forces from attacking the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans, helped to preserve the latter, until it made peace with the Holy Roman Empire, two years after Louis, in 1699" (Chapter 18).
Military strategies that seemed smart in the short term, ended up hurting France. "The ‘wasting’ of the Rhineland, following the persecution of the Huguenots [the other major mistake to be discussed in the next section], confirmed Europeans’ view of Louis XIV as a ‘new Attila’" (Chapter 18). As a result, Europe became even more unified against France as it was before. Former supporters were ready to join the anti-French coalition that was going to play a major role in Louis XIV's last war, the War of Spanish succession. (The King died in 1715, a year after it was over.)
Louis's haters could rejoice. Towards the end of the last major military conflict of his reign, the Sun King was wishing for peace, but he could not take it because of the corner that his own decisions had put him into. As part of the treaty, the allied forces demanded that Louis attack his own grandson in order to force him off the throne of Spain. An alternative to this humiliating act was to continue with the war that had devastated France to the point that its previously enviable army was falling apart under the burden of poverty and corruption (which Louis could not fully exterminate). Louis XIV was able to get out of this dead-end when Great Britain and the Dutch Republic suddenly withdrew their demand to him to fight his grandson (due to changes that had nothing to do with Louis' actions). The King was saved not by his military genius but by a stroke of luck. But his status and his country were in ruin. Within France, "[m]any were reluctant to support official peace celebrations… It was a peace which dishonoured ‘the king and the whole nation’. Europe had beaten France" (Chapter 18). Once again, absolute power proved to be an unreachable horizon.
One can, of course, doubt words of repentance uttered on deathbed, when a religious person feels the need to unburden themselves before entering the kingdom of their god. I find it is still worth mentioning what Louis XIV said a few days before his passing to his five-year-old great-grandson: "Do not imitate me in my wars; try always to maintain peace with your neighbours, to relieve your people as much as you will be able to, which I have had the misfortune to be unable to do, due to necessities of State’ (Chapter 23). As it appears at least, the Sun King was finally openly admitting his powerlessness. But even if Louis XIV truly meant these words, it was too late for him and for the French monarchy, which he had been so anxious to preserve.
5. King at war
The worst mistakes of Louis XIV's reign were, arguably, his wars and the treatment of Protestants. Notably, both of these mistakes were made in the second half of the Sun King's reign, when his biases and anxieties were getting the better of him. These mistakes also reflect Louis' delusions of absolute power: he thought he could achieve results that turned out to be outside of his control. Let us first take a look at Louis XIV's military pursuits.
As part of his project to strengthen the country, Louis started his reign by reorganizing the army. Under Marquis de Louvois, the new Secretary of War who worked with Louis XIV to support this important transition, the French army turned into a remarkably modernized, disciplined, and well-trained war machine. "One of Louis’ long-term ambitions, in addition to his drives to modernize and enlarge France, and to become the arbiter of Europe, was to win France a global empire" (Chapter 6). With his new army, he was ready to work towards these goals.
Unfortunately, Louis XIV did not see war as something to be avoided, but as a desirable opportunity to increase France's and his own glory. Arrogance and vanity, worsening with age, played a role in his ill-conceived military decisions. We should also consider what Louis XIV was brought up to believe and how he was taught to act. In the minds of children growing up in noble and royal households of the time, war was normalized and celebrated. The King had learned early on that he was supposed to be a great warrior, victor, and military leader. "From the age of five he... drilled a troop of enfants d’honneur in the art of war. Wearing black velvet trimmed with grey, they were exercised by him in the garden of the Palais Royal, ‘pike in hand and beating drums’, remembered one of them, Henri de Brienne. A miniature fort with bastions, built in the Tuileries garden in 1650, would start the passion for siege warfare which would mark the King’s entire reign" (Chapter 3).
During this reign, France took part in three major wars and two lesser conflicts. As a result, the country "was at war for thirty-three of the fifty-four years of his personal rule after 1661. The army was by far the largest item in the French budget, usually consuming over 50 per cent of revenues, and in war years over 80 per cent" (Chapter 18). Same as with other areas of Louis' life, his military pursuits showcase the combination of his power with powerlessness. He was able to wage wars that he desired, and he did achieve many important victories. At the height of France's glory under the Sun King, the country outshone the rest of Europe in terms of population size, wealth, and cultural influence. But this glorious state of affairs did not last. France started to lose its international prestige, while its population was ravaged by poverty, which was then exacerbated by famines. Louis's calculations were wrong, and his plans backfired. "Even at its height... Louis XIV’s influence had limits. He never enjoyed hegemony in Europe" (Chapter 5). On the contrary, the King's carefully crafted (as he thought) military strategies eventually became national and international disasters.
Almost till the end of his life, Louis XIV remained blinded by his military ambitions and delusions of grandeur. As his modernized army showed itself capable of effectively expanding France's territory, the praise that Louis XIV received within France proved to him that he chose the correct strategy for strengthening and maintaining his status as an absolute monarch. The fact that the international status of France started to suffer did not bother him too much. "For the King and many of his subjects, the number of his enemies revealed his strength, rather than his unpopularity and lack of diplomatic skills" (Chapter 18). We can assume that many of his war decisions were dictated by the fear of not being the absolute monarch that he felt he was supposed to be. "Desire to win praise, and to outshine both his rivals and his ministers, could be as important to Louis XIV as winning territory. He preferred sieges to battles, as the outcome was more certain, while the glory, in his eyes, was the same. The King’s need for admiration was well known (Chapter 14).
In his blindness, the King preferred to listen to advisors (like Louvois) who recommended bold military moves and actions meant to intimidate adversaries at the cost of human suffering. Louis did not pay attention to warnings coming from generals who did not approve of the harsh methods of warfare and from diplomats who thought that arrogant phrasings of French political declarations were inappropriate. In the past, "[h]e had once been a gentle youth who cried easily, and called mercy ‘the most royal of all the virtues’... By 1672, however, he had changed. In the Dutch countryside, on Louvois’ orders, French troops unleashed a reign of terror. ‘I dare not tell you what excesses pillaging has reached,’ wrote their commander the Maréchal de Luxembourg to Louvois on 12 August. Some soldiers were hanged for their crimes. But the policy was repeated in following years, in order to terrorize the inhabitants into paying ‘contributions’. Louvois wrote to an army intendant to have everything possible burnt, and to the Comte de Calvo: ‘you must burn entire villages’" (Chapter 10).
The King's power lay in the ability to make decisions that many (though not all) of his contemporaries decried. His powerlessness, however, consisted in the inability to see how his actions were destroying his own image and the status of his country, which he had worked so hard to establish. "In the words of Herbert Rowen... the King chose ‘brutal methods which repeatedly led precisely to the result he was seeking to avert’... Even Condé, famous for his ruthlessness, warned Louis XIV of ‘the cruel aversion we have attracted to ourselves’ through the behaviour of French troops; ‘I do not know if it is in the interest of France to continue.’ The Marquis de La Fare would complain that France, by its own efforts, had lost ‘the domination of Europe’ in exchange for its hatred" (Chapter 10). International alliances that would cause France's financial ruin were forged because of the fear and hatred that this country started to inspire thanks to Louis XIV's military and political choices.
At the beginning of Louis XIV's reign, war was for him a source of excitement, possibly due to his lack of experience and youthful naivete. Dominating his mind, there was the image of war as a fun strategic game of his youth, when, as a child brandishing a miniature sword, he was always allowed to win. Over the years, the war became important for the King's self-confidence when he won, but it also caused plenty of frustration and pain. Towards the end of his reign, during the Nine Years' War (1688 to 1697) and then the War of the Spanish Succession (1701 to 1714), it was hard not to see the definitive decline in Louis XIV's military fortune. Although both wars on many occasions demonstrated French power, they also revealed Louis's powerlessness to fully control something that he had set in motion.
Louis XIV's decisions during the Nine Years' War were partially shaped by his relationships with the Ottoman Empire, a major political force of the time that France chose to ally itself with (possibly because most European countries had been already alienated by France's actions). Mansel believes that "the Ottoman government... blackmailed Louis, threatening to make peace with Austria even under the most unfavourable conditions unless he made war in Europe. It accused him of staying on the Rhine, ‘with his arms folded’, when he could win great advantages over Austria. On 10 September Louis replied by promising to march his troops towards the Rhine and Italy" (Chapter 17); this was the beginning of the war that served to further decrease France's popularity. Even though the conflict brought some new territories to France, it exacerbated its economic crisis. It also revealed how "Louis XIV’s army had become a machine for destruction" (Chapter 18) that acquired the life of its own.
At some point, "Louis urged, without success, that Catholic churches be spared. He was not in full control of his war machine. From Düsseldorf in the north to Freiburg 200 miles to the south, Louis turned the valley of the Rhine into a vale of desolation. Cities, villages and farms in the Rhineland were burnt or blown up, their inhabitants expelled, their cattle, grain and wine seized" (Chapter 18). Even some French generals who were fighting in this war were horrified. They warned Louis XIV and his war minister Louvois "of the ‘terrible feelings of aversion’ sweeping Europe" (Chapter 18). But those did not want to or could not hear the warnings. Ironically, the King's actions were eventually less beneficial for France than for the Ottoman Empire, which had encouraged Louis XIV to start this war to begin with. "The King and Louvois had failed in their aim to make the Rhineland a buffer zone protecting France. Nevertheless their action on the Rhine, by drawing away Imperial forces from attacking the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans, helped to preserve the latter, until it made peace with the Holy Roman Empire, two years after Louis, in 1699" (Chapter 18).
Military strategies that seemed smart in the short term, ended up hurting France. "The ‘wasting’ of the Rhineland, following the persecution of the Huguenots [the other major mistake to be discussed in the next section], confirmed Europeans’ view of Louis XIV as a ‘new Attila’" (Chapter 18). As a result, Europe became even more unified against France as it was before. Former supporters were ready to join the anti-French coalition that was going to play a major role in Louis XIV's last war, the War of Spanish succession. (The King died in 1715, a year after it was over.)
Louis's haters could rejoice. Towards the end of the last major military conflict of his reign, the Sun King was wishing for peace, but he could not take it because of the corner that his own decisions had put him into. As part of the treaty, the allied forces demanded that Louis attack his own grandson in order to force him off the throne of Spain. An alternative to this humiliating act was to continue with the war that had devastated France to the point that its previously enviable army was falling apart under the burden of poverty and corruption (which Louis could not fully exterminate). Louis XIV was able to get out of this dead-end when Great Britain and the Dutch Republic suddenly withdrew their demand to him to fight his grandson (due to changes that had nothing to do with Louis' actions). The King was saved not by his military genius but by a stroke of luck. But his status and his country were in ruin. Within France, "[m]any were reluctant to support official peace celebrations… It was a peace which dishonoured ‘the king and the whole nation’. Europe had beaten France" (Chapter 18). Once again, absolute power proved to be an unreachable horizon.
One can, of course, doubt words of repentance uttered on deathbed, when a religious person feels the need to unburden themselves before entering the kingdom of their god. I find it is still worth mentioning what Louis XIV said a few days before his passing to his five-year-old great-grandson: "Do not imitate me in my wars; try always to maintain peace with your neighbours, to relieve your people as much as you will be able to, which I have had the misfortune to be unable to do, due to necessities of State’ (Chapter 23). As it appears at least, the Sun King was finally openly admitting his powerlessness. But even if Louis XIV truly meant these words, it was too late for him and for the French monarchy, which he had been so anxious to preserve.
Image credit: Protestant engraving representing the dragonnades against the French Huguenots under Louis XIV, after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Godfrey Engelmann from a drawing of 1686
6. King and religion
"Fun" fact: thanks to Louis XIV's treatment of Protestants, the word "refugee" entered the world's vocabulary. How did it come to this? First, we need to recall that France of the time was a thoroughly Catholic country, where the cults of religion and monarchy depended on and supported each other. Wherever French leaders turned in their ambition for a global empire, they brought their religion with them. "Catholicism was presented overseas, as in Europe, as a buttress of monarchy" (Chapter 15). Same as Louis XIV's belief in absolute monarchy, instilled from an early age by people he loved and trusted above all (especially by his mother and Mazarin), so was his passion for Catholicism. Religion was associated with certainty, meant to maintain his right to wield absolute power that was supposedly given to him by God.
Not surprisingly, Louis XIV's "Catholicism reflected both his belief in God and his belief in monarchy. He wrote to his son that Catholicism taught obedience to kings as lieutenants of God. Therefore, for reasons of prudence and common sense as well as faith, Catholicism should be ‘the first and most important part of our policy’" (Chapter 14). Louis XIV was honest in his piety and took very seriously his status of a leader of France appointed by God. For instance, "[t]hroughout his reign, from his coronation in 1654 to his death in 1715, even when he was ill, Louis (after taking communion)... performed the ritual of touching for the King’s Evil (scrofula), usually in Versailles’ ground-floor galleries, sometimes more than a thousand people in one day…. On 1 November 1685, for example, although barely able to stand from gout, he touched 300: a triumph of duty over ill-health" (Chapter 14).
His piety did not mean that he had no tensions with other representatives of his faith. "The French Catholic or Gallican church was more powerful and more courageous in the seventeenth century than in the twentieth. It could challenge Louis XIV through its hold on his subjects’ hearts and minds, and through the independently elected Assembly of Clergy, on whose ‘free gift’, voted every five years, the crown relied for revenue. At times the Gallican church acted as an unofficial opposition to Louis XIV. However pious the King showed himself to be, however often he visited churches and followed processions, the Gallican church or the Papacy occasionally thwarted his desires. The King was unable to restrict the number and size of the monasteries which owned so much land and in Colbert’s opinion weakened the economy" (Chapter 9).
Individual Catholic priests enjoyed the King's respect even when they chose to point out his flaws (for example, his luxurious lifestyle or his love affairs). "The King fasted during Lent, and encouraged courtiers to do likewise, and he listened to Lent and Advent sermons, by a variety of preachers... some of whom criticized his private life with a frankness which few modern heads of state would tolerate" (Chapter 14). Representatives of another branch of Christianity – Protestantism – were less lucky, no matter how much respect and obedience they displayed.
Although some Protestants, known in France of the time as Huguenots, occupied high social and political positions, all members of this religious group were aware of their status as a marginalized minority. Fresh was the memory of French Wars of Religion, which had ended less than one hundred years before the Sun King's reign. These wars were known for their bloodshed, especially the infamous St. Bartholomew's Day massacre of 1572, when thousands of Huguenots were brutally murdered over a period of several weeks. The French Wars of Religion ended in 1598, as King Henry IV (grandfather of Louis XIV) guaranteed substantial rights to Huguenots in a document that became known as the Edict of Nantes. In 1685, it was this edict that Louis XIV decided to revoke.
The persecution of Huguenots under Louis XIV did not begin with this revocation, however. Several years prior, the King started introducing changes that dramatically intensified religious discrimination (for example, closing many Protestant churches and schools). The goal was to make French Protestants convert to Catholicism, which some did, at least on paper. Many Huguenots continued to resist; so in 1681, an infamous measure was taken that became known as dragonnades. Dragoons (cavalry soldiers) were told to stay in Huguenots' homes in-between war campaigns. This created a significant financial strain on homeowners forced to welcome such "guests", and often caused abuses by soldiers who were led to believe that they were allowed to do to their hosts anything they wanted. Protestants were not even allowed to leave France anymore. As a result of these measures, the number of conversions went up. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes was, then, presented as a next logical step. Since not too many Huguenots were officially left in the country, their privileges were declared to be redundant.
Dragonnades seem to be horrible enough, but what happened after the revocation was even worse. "All remaining Protestant churches and schools were destroyed, beginning with the Temple at Charenton a few miles east of Paris, and its surrounding graveyard. All Protestant assemblies and forms of worship were forbidden, all priests expelled. The possessions of all French Protestants abroad were confiscated. All Protestant children had henceforth to receive Catholic baptism and instruction or their parents would be fined. Even the graveyard for foreign Protestants outside Paris, to the horror of the Danish envoy, was destroyed" (Chapter 16).
Mansel believes that the revocation of the Edict of Nantes revocation was Louis' greatest single mistake. One can think of a variety of reasons behind the King's fateful decision. Some of these reasons reveal the Sun King's powerlessness rather than his power. Mansel notes that "[a]lmost since its promulgation, the Edict of Nantes had been under attack. The clergy, the one group in France with its own national assembly, agents and income, a portion of which it offered the King as ‘free gifts’ in lieu of taxes, had been urging the proscription of Protestantism since 1614… Louis XIV also needed the support of the French clergy, since he was in conflict with his personal enemy Pope Innocent XI, over the régale (income from vacant sees), the perennial problem of French diplomatic immunities in Rome, and what the King considered the Pope’s pro-Austrian bias. Perhaps there was an unwritten bargain between the King and the clergy: he would eliminate the Protestants; they would support him against the Pope" (Chapter 16).
Another reason “may have been [the King's] desire for a grand gesture to impress Catholic Europe and minimize his Ottoman alliance… To remove the shame of his alliance with the Ottoman Empire, Louis XIV needed to prove himself to be more Catholic than the Emperor [ruler or the Holy Roman Empire]“ (Chapter 16). Rivalry with other major political forces of the time (e.g., the House of Austria) for the leadership of Catholic Europe was probably also a factor. "In addition to his desire to outshine Leopold I, and please the Assembly of Clergy, Louis was corrupted by piety. He believed that he was doing God’s work, and that revocation would save Protestants’ souls: ‘I am persuaded that God will devote to his glory the deed which he has inspired in me,’ he wrote to the Archbishop of Paris" (Chapter 16). We could, of course, also consider this decision as yet another manifestation of the Sun King's megalomania that was only increasing with time. He did not like the fact that not all people in his kingdom practiced his own preferred faith (the faith that guaranteed his divine rights) and he thought he could do anything to change that.
Support that this religious persecution garnered in France further contributed to Louis's misguided conviction in his own righteousness. Some Catholics were horrified. However, "[f]ew others in France expressed... revulsion. The potential popularity of the Revocation may have hastened it. Like other persecutions of minorities, it gave part of the population the pleasure of joining in or watching what they considered patriotic acts, as well as opportunities to acquire, at low prices, the possessions of the persecuted… As Pierre Bayle wrote from Rotterdam, ‘you have thus all been complicit, in these crimes.’ Unlike many of the King’s other policies, including his wars, his taxes, his treatment of the Parlements and the Jansenists, his persecution of Protestants aroused little criticism in France" (Chapter 16). In fact, during that exact time "[m]any Frenchmen believed that they had entered a golden age. Panegyrics praised the King’s immortal, divine or supernatural powers. Frenchmen’s love for the King was compared to a second religion" (Chapter 16).
As with many other Sun King's attempts to prove his absolute power to himself and to the world, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes backfired spectacularly. First, it contributed to undermining France's image, which was already suffering as a result of inhumane military practices. Second, although Huguenots were not allowed to leave France, many in fact did, effectively turning into refugees (that's when the term was coined) and settling down in countries that welcomed protestants. Many of these refugees were highly skilled professionals; others were rich, and their flight drained the French economy, which was at the time already in a pitiful state. "By the Revocation, Louis XIV not only helped to unite Europe against France, but also transferred French cultural, commercial and technical leads to its rivals. The impact of even a small number of Huguenots outside France shows how advanced its culture and economy were, in comparison to other countries’ – and that for some exile can lead to success as well as suffering" (Chapter 16).
Louis XIV's persecution of Protestants weakened France while increasing the number of its adversaries and strengthening them. After the revocation "Louis faced not only enemy rulers like Leopold I and William III, but the wrath of a Protestant diaspora. By driving Huguenots into exile, Louis XIV turned them from obedient subjects, who had been hoping their King’s persecution would abate, into dangerous adversaries. From the safety of exile, they preached, wrote and fought back against their persecutor. Thousands of soldiers and officers and perhaps 15 to 20 per cent of the manpower of the French navy left, usually to fight for Louis XIV’s enemies" (Chapter 16).
Louis XIV's persecution of Protestants might lead us to doubt whether he truly understood what he was doing. It is possible that some combination of megalomania and anxiety – both outside of his conscious control – determined that the King let himself be persuaded by advisors who advocated for tough measures (like Louvois) instead of those who pointed out potential problems (e.g., reminding the King that "in nearly all trades the most able workers and richest businessmen were Protestants" (Chapter 16)). Louis XIV let his worst impulses guide his decisions, contradicting himself. The King "was allied to the Ottoman Sultan, curious about Confucianism and tolerant of Lutherans and Calvinists in Alsace. Yet in France he became a fanatic" (Chapter 16).
Notably, "Huguenot refugees spread not only religious scepticism, but also hostility to the French monarchy. A violent attack on the Bastille was written by a Huguenot officer who had been imprisoned there for eleven years, Constantin de Renneville. L’Inquisition française ou Histoire de la Bastille, listing Louis XIV’s prisoners in the Bastille and their sufferings, first published in 1715, was republished in six volumes in Amsterdam in 1724. It helped confirm the Bastille’s reputation as a symbol of royal tyranny" (Chapter 16). Louis XIV was powerful enough to take actions that affected and hurt numerous people. But he was powerless to see how these actions were damaging what he valued so much: his country, his image, and the Bourbon Dynasty.
6. King and religion
"Fun" fact: thanks to Louis XIV's treatment of Protestants, the word "refugee" entered the world's vocabulary. How did it come to this? First, we need to recall that France of the time was a thoroughly Catholic country, where the cults of religion and monarchy depended on and supported each other. Wherever French leaders turned in their ambition for a global empire, they brought their religion with them. "Catholicism was presented overseas, as in Europe, as a buttress of monarchy" (Chapter 15). Same as Louis XIV's belief in absolute monarchy, instilled from an early age by people he loved and trusted above all (especially by his mother and Mazarin), so was his passion for Catholicism. Religion was associated with certainty, meant to maintain his right to wield absolute power that was supposedly given to him by God.
Not surprisingly, Louis XIV's "Catholicism reflected both his belief in God and his belief in monarchy. He wrote to his son that Catholicism taught obedience to kings as lieutenants of God. Therefore, for reasons of prudence and common sense as well as faith, Catholicism should be ‘the first and most important part of our policy’" (Chapter 14). Louis XIV was honest in his piety and took very seriously his status of a leader of France appointed by God. For instance, "[t]hroughout his reign, from his coronation in 1654 to his death in 1715, even when he was ill, Louis (after taking communion)... performed the ritual of touching for the King’s Evil (scrofula), usually in Versailles’ ground-floor galleries, sometimes more than a thousand people in one day…. On 1 November 1685, for example, although barely able to stand from gout, he touched 300: a triumph of duty over ill-health" (Chapter 14).
His piety did not mean that he had no tensions with other representatives of his faith. "The French Catholic or Gallican church was more powerful and more courageous in the seventeenth century than in the twentieth. It could challenge Louis XIV through its hold on his subjects’ hearts and minds, and through the independently elected Assembly of Clergy, on whose ‘free gift’, voted every five years, the crown relied for revenue. At times the Gallican church acted as an unofficial opposition to Louis XIV. However pious the King showed himself to be, however often he visited churches and followed processions, the Gallican church or the Papacy occasionally thwarted his desires. The King was unable to restrict the number and size of the monasteries which owned so much land and in Colbert’s opinion weakened the economy" (Chapter 9).
Individual Catholic priests enjoyed the King's respect even when they chose to point out his flaws (for example, his luxurious lifestyle or his love affairs). "The King fasted during Lent, and encouraged courtiers to do likewise, and he listened to Lent and Advent sermons, by a variety of preachers... some of whom criticized his private life with a frankness which few modern heads of state would tolerate" (Chapter 14). Representatives of another branch of Christianity – Protestantism – were less lucky, no matter how much respect and obedience they displayed.
Although some Protestants, known in France of the time as Huguenots, occupied high social and political positions, all members of this religious group were aware of their status as a marginalized minority. Fresh was the memory of French Wars of Religion, which had ended less than one hundred years before the Sun King's reign. These wars were known for their bloodshed, especially the infamous St. Bartholomew's Day massacre of 1572, when thousands of Huguenots were brutally murdered over a period of several weeks. The French Wars of Religion ended in 1598, as King Henry IV (grandfather of Louis XIV) guaranteed substantial rights to Huguenots in a document that became known as the Edict of Nantes. In 1685, it was this edict that Louis XIV decided to revoke.
The persecution of Huguenots under Louis XIV did not begin with this revocation, however. Several years prior, the King started introducing changes that dramatically intensified religious discrimination (for example, closing many Protestant churches and schools). The goal was to make French Protestants convert to Catholicism, which some did, at least on paper. Many Huguenots continued to resist; so in 1681, an infamous measure was taken that became known as dragonnades. Dragoons (cavalry soldiers) were told to stay in Huguenots' homes in-between war campaigns. This created a significant financial strain on homeowners forced to welcome such "guests", and often caused abuses by soldiers who were led to believe that they were allowed to do to their hosts anything they wanted. Protestants were not even allowed to leave France anymore. As a result of these measures, the number of conversions went up. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes was, then, presented as a next logical step. Since not too many Huguenots were officially left in the country, their privileges were declared to be redundant.
Dragonnades seem to be horrible enough, but what happened after the revocation was even worse. "All remaining Protestant churches and schools were destroyed, beginning with the Temple at Charenton a few miles east of Paris, and its surrounding graveyard. All Protestant assemblies and forms of worship were forbidden, all priests expelled. The possessions of all French Protestants abroad were confiscated. All Protestant children had henceforth to receive Catholic baptism and instruction or their parents would be fined. Even the graveyard for foreign Protestants outside Paris, to the horror of the Danish envoy, was destroyed" (Chapter 16).
Mansel believes that the revocation of the Edict of Nantes revocation was Louis' greatest single mistake. One can think of a variety of reasons behind the King's fateful decision. Some of these reasons reveal the Sun King's powerlessness rather than his power. Mansel notes that "[a]lmost since its promulgation, the Edict of Nantes had been under attack. The clergy, the one group in France with its own national assembly, agents and income, a portion of which it offered the King as ‘free gifts’ in lieu of taxes, had been urging the proscription of Protestantism since 1614… Louis XIV also needed the support of the French clergy, since he was in conflict with his personal enemy Pope Innocent XI, over the régale (income from vacant sees), the perennial problem of French diplomatic immunities in Rome, and what the King considered the Pope’s pro-Austrian bias. Perhaps there was an unwritten bargain between the King and the clergy: he would eliminate the Protestants; they would support him against the Pope" (Chapter 16).
Another reason “may have been [the King's] desire for a grand gesture to impress Catholic Europe and minimize his Ottoman alliance… To remove the shame of his alliance with the Ottoman Empire, Louis XIV needed to prove himself to be more Catholic than the Emperor [ruler or the Holy Roman Empire]“ (Chapter 16). Rivalry with other major political forces of the time (e.g., the House of Austria) for the leadership of Catholic Europe was probably also a factor. "In addition to his desire to outshine Leopold I, and please the Assembly of Clergy, Louis was corrupted by piety. He believed that he was doing God’s work, and that revocation would save Protestants’ souls: ‘I am persuaded that God will devote to his glory the deed which he has inspired in me,’ he wrote to the Archbishop of Paris" (Chapter 16). We could, of course, also consider this decision as yet another manifestation of the Sun King's megalomania that was only increasing with time. He did not like the fact that not all people in his kingdom practiced his own preferred faith (the faith that guaranteed his divine rights) and he thought he could do anything to change that.
Support that this religious persecution garnered in France further contributed to Louis's misguided conviction in his own righteousness. Some Catholics were horrified. However, "[f]ew others in France expressed... revulsion. The potential popularity of the Revocation may have hastened it. Like other persecutions of minorities, it gave part of the population the pleasure of joining in or watching what they considered patriotic acts, as well as opportunities to acquire, at low prices, the possessions of the persecuted… As Pierre Bayle wrote from Rotterdam, ‘you have thus all been complicit, in these crimes.’ Unlike many of the King’s other policies, including his wars, his taxes, his treatment of the Parlements and the Jansenists, his persecution of Protestants aroused little criticism in France" (Chapter 16). In fact, during that exact time "[m]any Frenchmen believed that they had entered a golden age. Panegyrics praised the King’s immortal, divine or supernatural powers. Frenchmen’s love for the King was compared to a second religion" (Chapter 16).
As with many other Sun King's attempts to prove his absolute power to himself and to the world, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes backfired spectacularly. First, it contributed to undermining France's image, which was already suffering as a result of inhumane military practices. Second, although Huguenots were not allowed to leave France, many in fact did, effectively turning into refugees (that's when the term was coined) and settling down in countries that welcomed protestants. Many of these refugees were highly skilled professionals; others were rich, and their flight drained the French economy, which was at the time already in a pitiful state. "By the Revocation, Louis XIV not only helped to unite Europe against France, but also transferred French cultural, commercial and technical leads to its rivals. The impact of even a small number of Huguenots outside France shows how advanced its culture and economy were, in comparison to other countries’ – and that for some exile can lead to success as well as suffering" (Chapter 16).
Louis XIV's persecution of Protestants weakened France while increasing the number of its adversaries and strengthening them. After the revocation "Louis faced not only enemy rulers like Leopold I and William III, but the wrath of a Protestant diaspora. By driving Huguenots into exile, Louis XIV turned them from obedient subjects, who had been hoping their King’s persecution would abate, into dangerous adversaries. From the safety of exile, they preached, wrote and fought back against their persecutor. Thousands of soldiers and officers and perhaps 15 to 20 per cent of the manpower of the French navy left, usually to fight for Louis XIV’s enemies" (Chapter 16).
Louis XIV's persecution of Protestants might lead us to doubt whether he truly understood what he was doing. It is possible that some combination of megalomania and anxiety – both outside of his conscious control – determined that the King let himself be persuaded by advisors who advocated for tough measures (like Louvois) instead of those who pointed out potential problems (e.g., reminding the King that "in nearly all trades the most able workers and richest businessmen were Protestants" (Chapter 16)). Louis XIV let his worst impulses guide his decisions, contradicting himself. The King "was allied to the Ottoman Sultan, curious about Confucianism and tolerant of Lutherans and Calvinists in Alsace. Yet in France he became a fanatic" (Chapter 16).
Notably, "Huguenot refugees spread not only religious scepticism, but also hostility to the French monarchy. A violent attack on the Bastille was written by a Huguenot officer who had been imprisoned there for eleven years, Constantin de Renneville. L’Inquisition française ou Histoire de la Bastille, listing Louis XIV’s prisoners in the Bastille and their sufferings, first published in 1715, was republished in six volumes in Amsterdam in 1724. It helped confirm the Bastille’s reputation as a symbol of royal tyranny" (Chapter 16). Louis XIV was powerful enough to take actions that affected and hurt numerous people. But he was powerless to see how these actions were damaging what he valued so much: his country, his image, and the Bourbon Dynasty.
Image credit: Versailles by Diane Picchiottino
Flawed Legacy
The Sun King was most certainly not powerless. But how powerful was he really? Mansel reminds us that "Louis XIV was able to play a global role because of the power of the kingdom of France. His reign and personality were conditioned by the geography, history, demography and traditions of the country he ruled" (Introduction). The King's power had been given to him by circumstances and by other people. His power, therefore, depended on factors that, paradoxically, he had no power over. And when circumstances were not in his favor (or when certain people were against him), luck often turned away from the King.
No matter how hard Louis XIV tried to be in control, no matter how hard he tried to persuade himself and others that he was in control, his power clearly had its limits.
"Even hard work, and the vast theoretical authority of his crown... did not guarantee Louis XIV total control of France. Keen to show that they are not deceived by royal propaganda, or by the inflated view of royal power enshrined in Louis XIV’s memoirs written for the instruction of the Dauphin, many historians emphasize the constraints placed on the crown by the social and economic structures, the traditional institutions (especially the Church) and the conservatism of France. Even at the height of his power, as Fouquet’s trial showed, individuals and law courts could challenge or criticize the King. In 1662 the Chancellor and the Parlement of Paris would defeat his attempts to modify the composition of the royal family by adding the House of Lorraine to the French order of succession. The monarchy could be stronger than the King. Christianity, as well as conservatism, could encourage disobedience to Louis XIV – as he would find after 1680, when despite bribes and threats many Protestants would refuse to convert to Catholicism. There were also individual examples of disobedience..." (Chapter 7).
Most importantly, Louis XIV clearly did not have the power to see how his actions were undermining the very goals he was trying to achieve. The extent of his mistakes, as summarized by Mansel in the last chapter of his book, is mind-boggling.
"After the death of Mazarin in 1661, having inherited the strongest country and army in Europe, Louis XIV had been expected to become the greatest monarch in history. By the end of his reign, however, France was no longer the supreme power in Europe. His own character [something outside of his control – E.F.] was one reason. Power, leadership and hard work did not compensate for Louis XIV’s love of war and lack of judgement. He overestimated French resources and underestimated European reactions. In 1661 France had been protected by treaties with almost all the powers of Europe, except Austria – with Sweden, Denmark, Poland, Brandenburg, Bavaria, the Netherlands, England, Portugal and Spain – and by the long-standing alliance with the Ottoman Empire. As guarantor of the Treaty of Oliva in the north and the League of the Rhine in the Empire, France also had many pretexts for intervention abroad. By his wars and persecutions, however, Louis XIV had helped unite Europe against France. At his death in 1715, France had no allies but Spain, Sweden, Bavaria and the Ottoman Empire. Louis’ lack of judgement led him to pick losers. His alliance with the exiled Stuarts benefited neither them nor France" (Chapter 24).
The King depended on others for help and advice. When his advisors themselves were blinded by their own biases (which was not uncommon), multiple failures were sure to follow. "The number and gravity of Louis’ mistakes increased after Colbert’s death in 1683, showing both the power of his ministers and that the famous inscription in the Galerie des Glaces ‘le roi gouverne par lui-meme’ was in part an illusion. The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, the invasion of the Rhineland in 1688 (thereby helping to ensure the success of William III’s invasion of England), the dispersion of French forces on different fronts in 1690–93 and the commitment to the restoration of the Stuarts were self-inflicted disasters. The bombardments of Genoa and Brussels, the persecution of the Huguenots and the devastation of the Palatinate showed the cruelty which helped turn much of Europe against France" (Chapter 24).
Again and again, Louis's actions led to results that he was trying hard to avoid. "The transformations of its rivals England, Austria, Prussia and Savoy from second-rank into major powers (including England’s conquest of Gibraltar and union with Scotland) were helped by Louis’ wars, and in the case of England and Prussia by Huguenots fleeing his persecutions. Compared to Louis’ alternations between dynasticism and nationalism, expansion and retrocession, Gallicanism and Papalism, his fellow monarchs Leopold I, William III, Victor Amadeus II and his own grandson Philip V, none of whom had Louis’ initial advantages, proved more consistent and more successful. Finance was another of Louis’ weaknesses. In 1661 he had promised that ‘the relief of my people is my strongest passion.’ But, as he lamented on his deathbed, and as some of his subjects complained in their songs during his funeral procession, he failed in the task" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's bad judgments were something that he could not properly evaluate. They shaped his decisions related to numerous aspects of his reign and personal life, from military to health, and everything in-between. "His habit of conducting some of his wars by micromanagement from Versailles, and dividing commands between rival generals, helped lead to French defeats. Louis XIV did not even choose good doctors. The attentions of his doctors led to the premature deaths of his wife, son, eldest grandson, granddaughter-in-law, two great-grandsons and, in the opinion of some courtiers, the King himself" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's power and his powerlessness cannot be clearly separated from each other. After all, as Mansel reminds us, the Sun King "proved better at incorporating French conquests, and defending France, than his republican and Bonapartist successors. He helped make Frenchmen out of Flemish, Alsatians and Burgundians and gave France its present shape. He also provided many Frenchmen with immense emotional satisfaction, as he still does. Many were proud, like the King himself, of his wars, conquests and palaces, proud of his imposition of religious uniformity, of his hospitality to James II and of the fact that, as the lawyer M. Borelly of Nîmes wrote in his diary, ‘all Europe is against our great king.’ In 1698 Matthew Prior noted that ‘the common people of this nation have a strange veneration for their king’" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's mistakes, inherited by his successors, eventually led to the French Revolution, which was the Sun King's worst nightmare. "Partly because of the legacy of Louis XIV, and the economic and social disparities he had aggravated, the French social order had been the first in Europe to be overthrown" (Chapter 24). Mansel believes that "[t]he trigger for the revolution... was not famine, the unpopularity of the Austrian Queen Marie Antoinette or social tensions, but the financial system inherited from Louis XIV" (Chapter 24). Notably, the French Revolution only became possible when "[t]he great institutions which had served Louis XIV’s monarchy [ – ] the nobility, the church, the army, the Parlements [ – ] began to withdraw support or demand change" (Chapter 24). The Revolution could have happened during the Sun King's reign, but it did not – due to a combination of cultural, political, and personal factors rather than because of how powerful Louis XIV was. If anything, we can see that he was eventually powerless to stop the French monarchy from hurtling towards the precipice.
Even after all these blunders, Louis XIV was not universally detested in France, as one might expect. When he was dying a painful death from a gangrene in his leg, "[t]he churches of Paris filled with people praying for the King’s recovery – as the crowds at Versailles also showed, he was not as detested as critics would later claim" (Chapter 23). Meanwhile, in Versailles, "[c]ourtiers filled the gallery, and those with the right entrées the council chamber. Such was the magnetism of the King and the monarchy that both soon became impenetrable. Crowds filled the palace courtyards and the surrounding streets" (Chapter 23).
But power is a paradox after all, and the change of the mood after the King's death serves as a good reminder. "In contrast to the funeral procession’s outward dignity... ‘on all sides’ along the route from Versailles to Saint-Denis, people had been drinking, laughing, singing and playing music – as the young writer François Arouet, later known as Voltaire... remembered. Resentment of his wars and taxes, and oppression, was increased by the prospect of change in a new reign. Even the Master of Ceremonies Desgranges in his official register admitted, ‘the people regarded it as a fête and, full of joy at having seen the living king, did not feel all the sorrow which the death of such a great King should cause.’ Pierre Narbonne adds: ‘many people rejoiced at the death of this prince and on all sides you could hear the sound of violins.’ Perhaps for fear of popular reactions, the funeral procession, unlike that of the Duc and Duchesse de Bourgogne three years earlier, did not pass through Paris" (Chapter 23).
Soon after Louis XIV's death, he was being laughed at with glee. "[P]oems provided a mocking counterblast to the official narrative:
Here in the same tomb
Lie the great Louis and the finances.
. . our invincible king . . . died as he lived,
Without leaving us the
Quarter of an écu . . .
In Saint-Denis as at Versailles,
He is without heart and without entrails.
‘Our immortal king’ was attacked for his taxes even more than for his wars or his absolutism. Only financiers, wrote the curé of Saint-Sulpice near Blois in his parish register, had benefited from his reign, since they acquired all the money in the kingdom. Other poems called him ‘the slave of an unworthy woman’, the enemy of peace. ‘Do not pray God for his soul. Such a monster never had one.’ One called him Louis le Petit [Louis the Small, as opposed to Louis the Great]" (Chapter 23).
Balancing between mockery and veneration, some people pointed out Louis XIV's numerous mistakes while not taking away his dignity. "At a solemn memorial service... in the spiritual heart of the French monarchy... one of the most respected preachers of the day, Jean-Baptiste Massillon, praised ‘the father of kings, greater than all his ancestors, more magnificent than Solomon in all his glory’. However, he also mourned what he called ‘an entire century of horror and carnage, the elite of the French nobility precipitated into the grave, so many ancient lines extinguished, so many inconsolable mothers who still weep for their children, our countryside deserted . . . our towns laid waste; our peoples exhausted . . . trade languishing . . . burning, bloodshed, blasphemy, abomination and all the horrors of which war is the father.’ He described the glory of establishing Philip V on the throne of Spain as ‘triste et amère’ (‘sad and bitter’); lamented that the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes had weakened the monarchy as a result of ‘the escape of so many citizens’ (one of the few public criticisms of their persecution); quoted the King’s deathbed advice to his great-grandson to avoid wars; and deplored ‘our crimes’" (Chapter 23).
Yes, power is a paradox. Today, same as in the past, Louis XIV is both criticized and respected. And although his actions undermined the Bourbon Dynasty, they also strengthened it, although not in France itself. "The Bourbon dynasty in Spain would outlast both its cousins in France and British control of North America; and, as Louis XIV would have been proud to observe, reigns again today" (Chapter 24). The Sun King was at least partially successful. According to Mansel, "Louis XIV... is now more admired than a hundred years ago" (Chapter 24). His "role as Apollo, the dazzling patron who inspired so many musicians, dancers, writers, sculptors, painters, architects and gardeners, overshadows his crimes and failures as Mars" (Chapter 24). Louis XIV would probably be especially proud to learn about the fate of his beloved Versailles. "The palace is not only a unique asset for French diplomacy and tourism but also a valued show room for modern French businesses, as well as the traditional luxury trades which Louis did so much to encourage. Books and films and television have turned Louis XIV and Versailles into an international industry... Three hundred years after his death, Versailles keeps Louis XIV’s glory alive."
The question, however, remains: If Louis XIV could see what has transpired since he died, if he could visit Earth as a spirit freed from the blindness of his biases and see the full extent of his accomplishments and failures, would pride be his main emotion? Or would he be overwhelmed with painful embarrassment upon realizing how much suffering his decisions caused? Yes, he is remembered and admired (by some). But at the same time his worst vices and blunders are being meticulously picked apart by numerous historians, on display for anybody who would like to learn about them. He, who cared so much about his image, would be devastated to find out how much this image was tainted by actions that could have been avoided if he only truly understood what he was doing and why. The emotional person that he was underneath the crust of the hardened heart, if the spirit of Louis now perceived all the damage he caused, he would probably weep in despair. No matter all the power, the Sun King has never been able to escape powerlessness, either in his life or after death.
No matter how hard Louis XIV tried to be in control, no matter how hard he tried to persuade himself and others that he was in control, his power clearly had its limits.
"Even hard work, and the vast theoretical authority of his crown... did not guarantee Louis XIV total control of France. Keen to show that they are not deceived by royal propaganda, or by the inflated view of royal power enshrined in Louis XIV’s memoirs written for the instruction of the Dauphin, many historians emphasize the constraints placed on the crown by the social and economic structures, the traditional institutions (especially the Church) and the conservatism of France. Even at the height of his power, as Fouquet’s trial showed, individuals and law courts could challenge or criticize the King. In 1662 the Chancellor and the Parlement of Paris would defeat his attempts to modify the composition of the royal family by adding the House of Lorraine to the French order of succession. The monarchy could be stronger than the King. Christianity, as well as conservatism, could encourage disobedience to Louis XIV – as he would find after 1680, when despite bribes and threats many Protestants would refuse to convert to Catholicism. There were also individual examples of disobedience..." (Chapter 7).
Most importantly, Louis XIV clearly did not have the power to see how his actions were undermining the very goals he was trying to achieve. The extent of his mistakes, as summarized by Mansel in the last chapter of his book, is mind-boggling.
"After the death of Mazarin in 1661, having inherited the strongest country and army in Europe, Louis XIV had been expected to become the greatest monarch in history. By the end of his reign, however, France was no longer the supreme power in Europe. His own character [something outside of his control – E.F.] was one reason. Power, leadership and hard work did not compensate for Louis XIV’s love of war and lack of judgement. He overestimated French resources and underestimated European reactions. In 1661 France had been protected by treaties with almost all the powers of Europe, except Austria – with Sweden, Denmark, Poland, Brandenburg, Bavaria, the Netherlands, England, Portugal and Spain – and by the long-standing alliance with the Ottoman Empire. As guarantor of the Treaty of Oliva in the north and the League of the Rhine in the Empire, France also had many pretexts for intervention abroad. By his wars and persecutions, however, Louis XIV had helped unite Europe against France. At his death in 1715, France had no allies but Spain, Sweden, Bavaria and the Ottoman Empire. Louis’ lack of judgement led him to pick losers. His alliance with the exiled Stuarts benefited neither them nor France" (Chapter 24).
The King depended on others for help and advice. When his advisors themselves were blinded by their own biases (which was not uncommon), multiple failures were sure to follow. "The number and gravity of Louis’ mistakes increased after Colbert’s death in 1683, showing both the power of his ministers and that the famous inscription in the Galerie des Glaces ‘le roi gouverne par lui-meme’ was in part an illusion. The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, the invasion of the Rhineland in 1688 (thereby helping to ensure the success of William III’s invasion of England), the dispersion of French forces on different fronts in 1690–93 and the commitment to the restoration of the Stuarts were self-inflicted disasters. The bombardments of Genoa and Brussels, the persecution of the Huguenots and the devastation of the Palatinate showed the cruelty which helped turn much of Europe against France" (Chapter 24).
Again and again, Louis's actions led to results that he was trying hard to avoid. "The transformations of its rivals England, Austria, Prussia and Savoy from second-rank into major powers (including England’s conquest of Gibraltar and union with Scotland) were helped by Louis’ wars, and in the case of England and Prussia by Huguenots fleeing his persecutions. Compared to Louis’ alternations between dynasticism and nationalism, expansion and retrocession, Gallicanism and Papalism, his fellow monarchs Leopold I, William III, Victor Amadeus II and his own grandson Philip V, none of whom had Louis’ initial advantages, proved more consistent and more successful. Finance was another of Louis’ weaknesses. In 1661 he had promised that ‘the relief of my people is my strongest passion.’ But, as he lamented on his deathbed, and as some of his subjects complained in their songs during his funeral procession, he failed in the task" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's bad judgments were something that he could not properly evaluate. They shaped his decisions related to numerous aspects of his reign and personal life, from military to health, and everything in-between. "His habit of conducting some of his wars by micromanagement from Versailles, and dividing commands between rival generals, helped lead to French defeats. Louis XIV did not even choose good doctors. The attentions of his doctors led to the premature deaths of his wife, son, eldest grandson, granddaughter-in-law, two great-grandsons and, in the opinion of some courtiers, the King himself" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's power and his powerlessness cannot be clearly separated from each other. After all, as Mansel reminds us, the Sun King "proved better at incorporating French conquests, and defending France, than his republican and Bonapartist successors. He helped make Frenchmen out of Flemish, Alsatians and Burgundians and gave France its present shape. He also provided many Frenchmen with immense emotional satisfaction, as he still does. Many were proud, like the King himself, of his wars, conquests and palaces, proud of his imposition of religious uniformity, of his hospitality to James II and of the fact that, as the lawyer M. Borelly of Nîmes wrote in his diary, ‘all Europe is against our great king.’ In 1698 Matthew Prior noted that ‘the common people of this nation have a strange veneration for their king’" (Chapter 24).
Louis XIV's mistakes, inherited by his successors, eventually led to the French Revolution, which was the Sun King's worst nightmare. "Partly because of the legacy of Louis XIV, and the economic and social disparities he had aggravated, the French social order had been the first in Europe to be overthrown" (Chapter 24). Mansel believes that "[t]he trigger for the revolution... was not famine, the unpopularity of the Austrian Queen Marie Antoinette or social tensions, but the financial system inherited from Louis XIV" (Chapter 24). Notably, the French Revolution only became possible when "[t]he great institutions which had served Louis XIV’s monarchy [ – ] the nobility, the church, the army, the Parlements [ – ] began to withdraw support or demand change" (Chapter 24). The Revolution could have happened during the Sun King's reign, but it did not – due to a combination of cultural, political, and personal factors rather than because of how powerful Louis XIV was. If anything, we can see that he was eventually powerless to stop the French monarchy from hurtling towards the precipice.
Even after all these blunders, Louis XIV was not universally detested in France, as one might expect. When he was dying a painful death from a gangrene in his leg, "[t]he churches of Paris filled with people praying for the King’s recovery – as the crowds at Versailles also showed, he was not as detested as critics would later claim" (Chapter 23). Meanwhile, in Versailles, "[c]ourtiers filled the gallery, and those with the right entrées the council chamber. Such was the magnetism of the King and the monarchy that both soon became impenetrable. Crowds filled the palace courtyards and the surrounding streets" (Chapter 23).
But power is a paradox after all, and the change of the mood after the King's death serves as a good reminder. "In contrast to the funeral procession’s outward dignity... ‘on all sides’ along the route from Versailles to Saint-Denis, people had been drinking, laughing, singing and playing music – as the young writer François Arouet, later known as Voltaire... remembered. Resentment of his wars and taxes, and oppression, was increased by the prospect of change in a new reign. Even the Master of Ceremonies Desgranges in his official register admitted, ‘the people regarded it as a fête and, full of joy at having seen the living king, did not feel all the sorrow which the death of such a great King should cause.’ Pierre Narbonne adds: ‘many people rejoiced at the death of this prince and on all sides you could hear the sound of violins.’ Perhaps for fear of popular reactions, the funeral procession, unlike that of the Duc and Duchesse de Bourgogne three years earlier, did not pass through Paris" (Chapter 23).
Soon after Louis XIV's death, he was being laughed at with glee. "[P]oems provided a mocking counterblast to the official narrative:
Here in the same tomb
Lie the great Louis and the finances.
. . our invincible king . . . died as he lived,
Without leaving us the
Quarter of an écu . . .
In Saint-Denis as at Versailles,
He is without heart and without entrails.
‘Our immortal king’ was attacked for his taxes even more than for his wars or his absolutism. Only financiers, wrote the curé of Saint-Sulpice near Blois in his parish register, had benefited from his reign, since they acquired all the money in the kingdom. Other poems called him ‘the slave of an unworthy woman’, the enemy of peace. ‘Do not pray God for his soul. Such a monster never had one.’ One called him Louis le Petit [Louis the Small, as opposed to Louis the Great]" (Chapter 23).
Balancing between mockery and veneration, some people pointed out Louis XIV's numerous mistakes while not taking away his dignity. "At a solemn memorial service... in the spiritual heart of the French monarchy... one of the most respected preachers of the day, Jean-Baptiste Massillon, praised ‘the father of kings, greater than all his ancestors, more magnificent than Solomon in all his glory’. However, he also mourned what he called ‘an entire century of horror and carnage, the elite of the French nobility precipitated into the grave, so many ancient lines extinguished, so many inconsolable mothers who still weep for their children, our countryside deserted . . . our towns laid waste; our peoples exhausted . . . trade languishing . . . burning, bloodshed, blasphemy, abomination and all the horrors of which war is the father.’ He described the glory of establishing Philip V on the throne of Spain as ‘triste et amère’ (‘sad and bitter’); lamented that the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes had weakened the monarchy as a result of ‘the escape of so many citizens’ (one of the few public criticisms of their persecution); quoted the King’s deathbed advice to his great-grandson to avoid wars; and deplored ‘our crimes’" (Chapter 23).
Yes, power is a paradox. Today, same as in the past, Louis XIV is both criticized and respected. And although his actions undermined the Bourbon Dynasty, they also strengthened it, although not in France itself. "The Bourbon dynasty in Spain would outlast both its cousins in France and British control of North America; and, as Louis XIV would have been proud to observe, reigns again today" (Chapter 24). The Sun King was at least partially successful. According to Mansel, "Louis XIV... is now more admired than a hundred years ago" (Chapter 24). His "role as Apollo, the dazzling patron who inspired so many musicians, dancers, writers, sculptors, painters, architects and gardeners, overshadows his crimes and failures as Mars" (Chapter 24). Louis XIV would probably be especially proud to learn about the fate of his beloved Versailles. "The palace is not only a unique asset for French diplomacy and tourism but also a valued show room for modern French businesses, as well as the traditional luxury trades which Louis did so much to encourage. Books and films and television have turned Louis XIV and Versailles into an international industry... Three hundred years after his death, Versailles keeps Louis XIV’s glory alive."
The question, however, remains: If Louis XIV could see what has transpired since he died, if he could visit Earth as a spirit freed from the blindness of his biases and see the full extent of his accomplishments and failures, would pride be his main emotion? Or would he be overwhelmed with painful embarrassment upon realizing how much suffering his decisions caused? Yes, he is remembered and admired (by some). But at the same time his worst vices and blunders are being meticulously picked apart by numerous historians, on display for anybody who would like to learn about them. He, who cared so much about his image, would be devastated to find out how much this image was tainted by actions that could have been avoided if he only truly understood what he was doing and why. The emotional person that he was underneath the crust of the hardened heart, if the spirit of Louis now perceived all the damage he caused, he would probably weep in despair. No matter all the power, the Sun King has never been able to escape powerlessness, either in his life or after death.
Image credit: Versailles by Stephanie LeBlanc
***
My goal in writing this essay was not to present a sanitized version of Louis XIV's life, focusing on his accomplishments while downplaying the extent of damage that his decisions caused. I am by no means trying to say that his actions were okay. But my readers will undoubtedly note that my interpretation of Louis XIV is rather sympathetic. I describe him as person with many flaws who made serious mistakes that had impact on numerous people – but I do not present him as a bad person. Moreover, throughout this essay I am offering explanations for why he had those flaws and made those mistakes. I know that some readers will find my attempts to find such explanations misguided or even insulting. However, I hope that others will appreciate the nuance between justifying an action (as in, showing that an action was right or reasonable) and explaining an action by referring to complexity of human psychology and social context.
Louis XVI made plenty of blunders as he was navigating life's pressures, complicated networks of personal and political relationships, his own needs, and what he saw as his responsibilities as a representative of the Bourbon Dynasty and the ruler of France. From our advantageous position as outside observers, we can theorize how some of these mistakes could have been avoided. But considering the complexity of cultural, political, and personal factors at play, avoiding them was not as easy for Louis as it might seem to us now. I am not arguing that there was no way to make different decisions. But I believe that we should be careful with an urge to claim that he could have made different choices if he really wanted to, because he had all the power he is known for. As a person who puts big emphasis on empathy, I believe that we should not get carried away by the conviction that "if only I had been in his place, I would have done so much better [because I am a good person and he was a bad person]." For what would it truly mean to be in Louis XIV's place?
It would mean not having a kind of childhood that many people today imagine and hope for their children. Instead, being Louis XIV would mean being born into a world of strange rigid rules, endless ceremonies, complicated and sometimes even toxic relationships, filled with serious responsibilities and pressures but without appropriate psychological support. Being Louis XIV would mean trying to navigate this world with the help of conflicting ideas provided by those he respected and loved: "you have special rights and power granted to you by God" but "you must ignore your needs if they do not benefit your dynasty and your country."
Being Louis XIV would mean to be a celebrity from the day you are born, and to gradually realize that you are at the same time feared and loved, hated and used by people around you. It would mean developing strategies of coping with those confusing circumstances without fully understanding how these strategies benefit you and how they can hurt you – or those around you. (Developing coping strategies that can later backfire is, actually, not uncommon. This happens to many people who have to navigate complicated circumstances. But not everybody has the power of a king – the power that would make downside of these coping strategies so visible and widely known).
Being Louis XIV would mean feeling the constant pressure to show and prove your power to the world. It would mean dealing with intrigues of the court and of your own family. It would mean realizing at some point that you cannot manage your country the way you think it needs to be managed, no matter how much hard work you put into it. Being Louis XIV would also mean realizing that in order to achieve your goals you often need to negotiate and give other people what they want from you (which might not always be in your best interests). It would mean having to admit that, despite all the power you supposedly have, you often cannot make people and institutions do what you want them to do.
Today, we have access to rich research on human psychology which can help us understand our own reactions and actions. We have therapists and meditation teachers to help us find peace with ourselves. (Even then, not everybody has access to these resources or knows how to use them.) But Louis XIV did not have any of that, so he was unable to understand what was going on in his heart and mind. He was given power by people around him, but nobody could explain to him how having this kind of power can impact one's personality. So, even though Louis had power to make decisions that had visible effect on numerous people, he did not have power to fully comprehend why he was making these decisions. Just as he did not quite understand himself, he also did not understand other people, despite all his knowledge about internal and international politics. This lack of understanding explains, in particular, why he miscalculated effects of his decisions related to wars and religion.
The goal of this essay was not to deny that Louis XIV had power but to acknowledge how this power coexisted with powerlessness. I also wanted to show different aspects of his powerlessness: not being able to control institutions or to make anybody do what he wanted them to do; not fully understanding reasons behind his own actions and reactions; not knowing how to predict or shape outcomes of his decisions. In each instance when Louis XIV did something what he seemingly wanted, it was because some other people wanted it as well. I believe that, in all his great mistakes and accomplishments, there was no instance where he would have been one against everybody, yet still being able to achieve his odds against all odds. He was able to do many things as a French monarch; but the monarchy, with all its privileges, rules, and responsibilities, was something he was born into, not single-handedly created. Monarchy depended on ideas and ideologies that Louis and most of his subjects did not know how to properly question.
As the name of my website suggests, I am especially interested in meanings – ideas and associations that our mind attaches to aspects of the world we live in. Meanings exist in our heads, and as human history suggests, they change over time due to people's interactions. Supposedly, people have power over these ideas: meanings do not change themselves, people change them. But meanings have also significant power over us. Nobody can escape their effect, including seemingly most powerful people we can think of. Louis XIV was certainly affected by meanings that he did not create, especially all the ideas about absolute monarchy that permeated his life. We cannot underestimate the role of meanings of monarchy in the way the Sun King chose to act, in the way he wanted to be seen by others, and in the way he was indeed seen. Meanings of monarchy was a source of his power, the reason why he was feared and admired. At the same time, not being in control of these meanings was a major aspect of his powerlessness.
Monarchy of the past – with its veneration of the King by his subjects and the King's attempts to craft his image according to certain standards – might seems almost barbaric to us today. We must realize that in the times of Louis XIV, "shared belief in monarchy and hierarchy... [was] as common... as enthusiasm for human rights today" (Chapter 15). It is easy to question these ideas now not because we are smarter than people of the past. These people lived in the world where ideas associated with monarchy were part of everyday life – not only of kings but also of all their subjects. People who supported monarchy might seem to have been blind in their fear and adoration, and monarchs of the past themselves might seem to have been the main cause of the persistence of veneration directed towards them. But their relationship with meanings was as paradoxical as our relationship with meanings today.
Louis XIV did not create the idea of monarchy, and he did not have much more control over it than his subjects. Part of his powerlessness was his inability to see how much not in charge of these meanings he was. It is known that, during the everyday evening ceremony of coucher, the Sun King would tell "his Premier Valet de Chambre to pass the bougeoir – a candle on a plate – to whomever he wished to favour that evening. As the King boasted in his memoirs, one of the most visible effects of his power was to give ‘an infinite value’ to something which in itself was nothing" (Chapter 13). The irony is that Louis thought he used his power by turning an ordinary candle into something special, a symbol of royal favor, which so many people craved. In fact, he was only able to do that because of the meanings of monarchy that, unbeknownst to the King, shaped his own existence.
After reading my essay, you might say that when one tries to see somebody as "not a bad person," there is a danger of starting to like them and then to diminish the harm that they have done. To that I can say, first of all, that one does not have to like somebody in order to acknowledge limits of their power. I can think of a few people who are far more controversial than Louis XIV and whom I do not quite like, and I do not need to force myself to like them in order to entertain an idea that there was a significant amount of powerlessness in their lives that could at least partially account for their decisions. If anything, if we insist on explaining society's problems by claiming that they are mainly caused by bad people, this might prevent us from properly understanding causes behind these problems and finding better solutions for them.
Now, after analyzing the life of one such clearly powerful person as Louis XIV in order to show his powerlessness, the next logical step would seem to do the opposite: to find an example of somebody powerless and to show how they did have certain power after all. This is something I need to consider, but I have my fears and reservations. It might seem acceptable (at least to some people) to take a famous figure like Louis XIV and push it off the pedestal . This might even feel like an entertaining and curious exercise in cognitive empathy. Going in the other direction, however, might be akin to taking a walk through a minefield. If I choose somebody who was extremely disadvantaged, even abused, and try to argue that they had some power after all, this will probably not be entertaining at all. In fact, some might find this exercise heartless and offensive. I probably will find it heartless myself. Luckily (for me), I would not be able to really do that for a simple reason that the most powerless people do not have historians writing heavy tomes about them. We just don't really known these people (actually, we don't know many details about most of the people who have lived on the Earth). For the purpose of continuing my exploration of power, I will need to find a solution for this conundrum. Stay tuned!
SOURCES:
Chateau de Versailles [official website]. (n.d.). Courtiers: The nobility surrounding the king.
Clarke, J. (2023). Cognitive empathy vs. emotional empathy. VerywellMind.
Dowding, K. (2011). Absolutism. In K. Dowding, ed., Encyclopedia of Power. Sage.
Mansel, P. (2020). King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV. University of Chicago Press.
Medscape. (2023). Scrofula.
Philip Mansel [official website]. (n.d.). About Philip Mansel.
Louis XVI made plenty of blunders as he was navigating life's pressures, complicated networks of personal and political relationships, his own needs, and what he saw as his responsibilities as a representative of the Bourbon Dynasty and the ruler of France. From our advantageous position as outside observers, we can theorize how some of these mistakes could have been avoided. But considering the complexity of cultural, political, and personal factors at play, avoiding them was not as easy for Louis as it might seem to us now. I am not arguing that there was no way to make different decisions. But I believe that we should be careful with an urge to claim that he could have made different choices if he really wanted to, because he had all the power he is known for. As a person who puts big emphasis on empathy, I believe that we should not get carried away by the conviction that "if only I had been in his place, I would have done so much better [because I am a good person and he was a bad person]." For what would it truly mean to be in Louis XIV's place?
It would mean not having a kind of childhood that many people today imagine and hope for their children. Instead, being Louis XIV would mean being born into a world of strange rigid rules, endless ceremonies, complicated and sometimes even toxic relationships, filled with serious responsibilities and pressures but without appropriate psychological support. Being Louis XIV would mean trying to navigate this world with the help of conflicting ideas provided by those he respected and loved: "you have special rights and power granted to you by God" but "you must ignore your needs if they do not benefit your dynasty and your country."
Being Louis XIV would mean to be a celebrity from the day you are born, and to gradually realize that you are at the same time feared and loved, hated and used by people around you. It would mean developing strategies of coping with those confusing circumstances without fully understanding how these strategies benefit you and how they can hurt you – or those around you. (Developing coping strategies that can later backfire is, actually, not uncommon. This happens to many people who have to navigate complicated circumstances. But not everybody has the power of a king – the power that would make downside of these coping strategies so visible and widely known).
Being Louis XIV would mean feeling the constant pressure to show and prove your power to the world. It would mean dealing with intrigues of the court and of your own family. It would mean realizing at some point that you cannot manage your country the way you think it needs to be managed, no matter how much hard work you put into it. Being Louis XIV would also mean realizing that in order to achieve your goals you often need to negotiate and give other people what they want from you (which might not always be in your best interests). It would mean having to admit that, despite all the power you supposedly have, you often cannot make people and institutions do what you want them to do.
Today, we have access to rich research on human psychology which can help us understand our own reactions and actions. We have therapists and meditation teachers to help us find peace with ourselves. (Even then, not everybody has access to these resources or knows how to use them.) But Louis XIV did not have any of that, so he was unable to understand what was going on in his heart and mind. He was given power by people around him, but nobody could explain to him how having this kind of power can impact one's personality. So, even though Louis had power to make decisions that had visible effect on numerous people, he did not have power to fully comprehend why he was making these decisions. Just as he did not quite understand himself, he also did not understand other people, despite all his knowledge about internal and international politics. This lack of understanding explains, in particular, why he miscalculated effects of his decisions related to wars and religion.
The goal of this essay was not to deny that Louis XIV had power but to acknowledge how this power coexisted with powerlessness. I also wanted to show different aspects of his powerlessness: not being able to control institutions or to make anybody do what he wanted them to do; not fully understanding reasons behind his own actions and reactions; not knowing how to predict or shape outcomes of his decisions. In each instance when Louis XIV did something what he seemingly wanted, it was because some other people wanted it as well. I believe that, in all his great mistakes and accomplishments, there was no instance where he would have been one against everybody, yet still being able to achieve his odds against all odds. He was able to do many things as a French monarch; but the monarchy, with all its privileges, rules, and responsibilities, was something he was born into, not single-handedly created. Monarchy depended on ideas and ideologies that Louis and most of his subjects did not know how to properly question.
As the name of my website suggests, I am especially interested in meanings – ideas and associations that our mind attaches to aspects of the world we live in. Meanings exist in our heads, and as human history suggests, they change over time due to people's interactions. Supposedly, people have power over these ideas: meanings do not change themselves, people change them. But meanings have also significant power over us. Nobody can escape their effect, including seemingly most powerful people we can think of. Louis XIV was certainly affected by meanings that he did not create, especially all the ideas about absolute monarchy that permeated his life. We cannot underestimate the role of meanings of monarchy in the way the Sun King chose to act, in the way he wanted to be seen by others, and in the way he was indeed seen. Meanings of monarchy was a source of his power, the reason why he was feared and admired. At the same time, not being in control of these meanings was a major aspect of his powerlessness.
Monarchy of the past – with its veneration of the King by his subjects and the King's attempts to craft his image according to certain standards – might seems almost barbaric to us today. We must realize that in the times of Louis XIV, "shared belief in monarchy and hierarchy... [was] as common... as enthusiasm for human rights today" (Chapter 15). It is easy to question these ideas now not because we are smarter than people of the past. These people lived in the world where ideas associated with monarchy were part of everyday life – not only of kings but also of all their subjects. People who supported monarchy might seem to have been blind in their fear and adoration, and monarchs of the past themselves might seem to have been the main cause of the persistence of veneration directed towards them. But their relationship with meanings was as paradoxical as our relationship with meanings today.
Louis XIV did not create the idea of monarchy, and he did not have much more control over it than his subjects. Part of his powerlessness was his inability to see how much not in charge of these meanings he was. It is known that, during the everyday evening ceremony of coucher, the Sun King would tell "his Premier Valet de Chambre to pass the bougeoir – a candle on a plate – to whomever he wished to favour that evening. As the King boasted in his memoirs, one of the most visible effects of his power was to give ‘an infinite value’ to something which in itself was nothing" (Chapter 13). The irony is that Louis thought he used his power by turning an ordinary candle into something special, a symbol of royal favor, which so many people craved. In fact, he was only able to do that because of the meanings of monarchy that, unbeknownst to the King, shaped his own existence.
After reading my essay, you might say that when one tries to see somebody as "not a bad person," there is a danger of starting to like them and then to diminish the harm that they have done. To that I can say, first of all, that one does not have to like somebody in order to acknowledge limits of their power. I can think of a few people who are far more controversial than Louis XIV and whom I do not quite like, and I do not need to force myself to like them in order to entertain an idea that there was a significant amount of powerlessness in their lives that could at least partially account for their decisions. If anything, if we insist on explaining society's problems by claiming that they are mainly caused by bad people, this might prevent us from properly understanding causes behind these problems and finding better solutions for them.
Now, after analyzing the life of one such clearly powerful person as Louis XIV in order to show his powerlessness, the next logical step would seem to do the opposite: to find an example of somebody powerless and to show how they did have certain power after all. This is something I need to consider, but I have my fears and reservations. It might seem acceptable (at least to some people) to take a famous figure like Louis XIV and push it off the pedestal . This might even feel like an entertaining and curious exercise in cognitive empathy. Going in the other direction, however, might be akin to taking a walk through a minefield. If I choose somebody who was extremely disadvantaged, even abused, and try to argue that they had some power after all, this will probably not be entertaining at all. In fact, some might find this exercise heartless and offensive. I probably will find it heartless myself. Luckily (for me), I would not be able to really do that for a simple reason that the most powerless people do not have historians writing heavy tomes about them. We just don't really known these people (actually, we don't know many details about most of the people who have lived on the Earth). For the purpose of continuing my exploration of power, I will need to find a solution for this conundrum. Stay tuned!
SOURCES:
Chateau de Versailles [official website]. (n.d.). Courtiers: The nobility surrounding the king.
Clarke, J. (2023). Cognitive empathy vs. emotional empathy. VerywellMind.
Dowding, K. (2011). Absolutism. In K. Dowding, ed., Encyclopedia of Power. Sage.
Mansel, P. (2020). King of the World: The Life of Louis XIV. University of Chicago Press.
Medscape. (2023). Scrofula.
Philip Mansel [official website]. (n.d.). About Philip Mansel.