Huguenots into revolt. It was a return to the bad days of the Valois; even worse, for now Catholics and Protestants were banding together against the Crown. Fortunately Condé lost his nerve, allowing himself to be bought off once more, in May 1616. He received a million and a half livres—he had already had four and a half million—while a further six million was divided among his followers.
In October 1615 Louis was married at Bordeaux to Anne of Austria, an ash-blonde, pink-faced Infanta of Spain. The new Spanish alliance was doubly cemented by the marriage of Madame Elisabeth, Enfant de France, to the Infante Don Philip (the future Philip IV). The new Queen of France was only thirteen. However, in November Louis consummated the marriage—probably his mother told him that it was his duty. The experience proved disastrous and gave the King a lifelong aversion to physical love.
Marie intended to remain Regent for as long as possible. When Louis was fifteen she slapped his face in front of the entire court; he tried to attend a meeting of the Royal Council, whereupon she took him by the shoulders and threw him out of the chamber. Saint-Simon says that according to his father, a friend of Louis, ‘The Regent wanted a son who was only King in name and who would not interfere with her favourites. He was therefore brought up in a way as harmful as possible for his character. He was left completely idle, receiving no education whatsoever. He frequently complained about it to my father, and in later years often referred to the fact that he had not even been taught to read.’ (Louis may have been indulging in a certain amount of self-pity; not only could he write elegant and economical French, but he spoke excellent Italian and Spanish.)
By now Louis was a very strange boy indeed, nervous and awkward, a King who stammered when he spoke, who was frequently tongue-tied. Yet he was not without kindly impulses. From an early age he disliked any derogatory remarks about his Huguenot subjects. As a boy of eleven he intervened passionately in a case where a girl was unjustly accused of murdering her baby.
His chief delight was falconry. His other favourite diversion was hunting—mainly stag, fox and wolf. He killed his first stag when he was only twelve. If possible he hawked or hunted every day and he is said to have ridden horses to death. He certainly achieved the notable feat of killing six wolves in one day. When it was too wet to go out, he flew hawks at tame finches which he kept in his room, chasing them all over the Louvre. Sometimes the solitary boy made teams of dogs run through the palace dragging cannon. At other times he cooked omelettes and made sweets in the palace kitchens. He had his own smithy. Another amusement was a little carriage—a kind of dog-cart—which he drove himself. He did not have a single friend, until the emergence of Charles d’Albert de Luynes, a rather dim falconer.
Voltaire says that Luynes ingratiated himself by teaching grey shrikes to fly at sparrows. In fact Luynes’s job was to fly falcons at red kites, the most prized of all quarry. He was a big tall man, goodlooking rather than handsome, with curly hair and a pleasant expression. In his late thirties, he was the son of a Provençal hedge squire who farmed with his own hands the family’s manor near Marseilles. A gentle, unselfconfident soul, he was far from aggressive—once when challenged to a duel he sent his brother.
While hunting he frequently found himself alone in the forest with the King. The lonely, stuttering boy began to confide in this big man with the reassuring manner. Luynes was a very limited personality but he had the gift of sympathy. For the first time in his life the young King had met a human being whom he trusted: he became so dependent on his falconer that in his sleep he was heard to mutter ‘Luynes! Luynes!’ Marie, informed, thought of dismissing the man; she decided on bribery instead, making him
In October 1615 Louis was married at Bordeaux to Anne of Austria, an ash-blonde, pink-faced Infanta of Spain. The new Spanish alliance was doubly cemented by the marriage of Madame Elisabeth, Enfant de France, to the Infante Don Philip (the future Philip IV). The new Queen of France was only thirteen. However, in November Louis consummated the marriage—probably his mother told him that it was his duty. The experience proved disastrous and gave the King a lifelong aversion to physical love.
Marie intended to remain Regent for as long as possible. When Louis was fifteen she slapped his face in front of the entire court; he tried to attend a meeting of the Royal Council, whereupon she took him by the shoulders and threw him out of the chamber. Saint-Simon says that according to his father, a friend of Louis, ‘The Regent wanted a son who was only King in name and who would not interfere with her favourites. He was therefore brought up in a way as harmful as possible for his character. He was left completely idle, receiving no education whatsoever. He frequently complained about it to my father, and in later years often referred to the fact that he had not even been taught to read.’ (Louis may have been indulging in a certain amount of self-pity; not only could he write elegant and economical French, but he spoke excellent Italian and Spanish.)
By now Louis was a very strange boy indeed, nervous and awkward, a King who stammered when he spoke, who was frequently tongue-tied. Yet he was not without kindly impulses. From an early age he disliked any derogatory remarks about his Huguenot subjects. As a boy of eleven he intervened passionately in a case where a girl was unjustly accused of murdering her baby.
His chief delight was falconry. His other favourite diversion was hunting—mainly stag, fox and wolf. He killed his first stag when he was only twelve. If possible he hawked or hunted every day and he is said to have ridden horses to death. He certainly achieved the notable feat of killing six wolves in one day. When it was too wet to go out, he flew hawks at tame finches which he kept in his room, chasing them all over the Louvre. Sometimes the solitary boy made teams of dogs run through the palace dragging cannon. At other times he cooked omelettes and made sweets in the palace kitchens. He had his own smithy. Another amusement was a little carriage—a kind of dog-cart—which he drove himself. He did not have a single friend, until the emergence of Charles d’Albert de Luynes, a rather dim falconer.
Voltaire says that Luynes ingratiated himself by teaching grey shrikes to fly at sparrows. In fact Luynes’s job was to fly falcons at red kites, the most prized of all quarry. He was a big tall man, goodlooking rather than handsome, with curly hair and a pleasant expression. In his late thirties, he was the son of a Provençal hedge squire who farmed with his own hands the family’s manor near Marseilles. A gentle, unselfconfident soul, he was far from aggressive—once when challenged to a duel he sent his brother.
While hunting he frequently found himself alone in the forest with the King. The lonely, stuttering boy began to confide in this big man with the reassuring manner. Luynes was a very limited personality but he had the gift of sympathy. For the first time in his life the young King had met a human being whom he trusted: he became so dependent on his falconer that in his sleep he was heard to mutter ‘Luynes! Luynes!’ Marie, informed, thought of dismissing the man; she decided on bribery instead, making him
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