Post by Médecin Mabusé on Oct 9, 2016 17:38:44 GMT
Le Grand Roi found himself sat alone before a fire in his dimly-lit quarters at Versailles; dejected, introspective and in deep thought. His private temperament had in recent years repudiated the self-importance and spirited bravado he personified earlier in life and which he still attempted to cultivate at court, though with growing difficulty. Often now, he found himself seeking solace in the evenings desiring to be left alone with his thoughts and memories. His health was failing of late and his lined and deflated features betrayed his advancing years. About him there swayed heavy red velvet covers and awnings, whisking in the breeze of the evening air from the open window to his side. Above him hung a portrait of Mazarin in sagacious regalia. Louis momentarily looked at the picture before giving a sad half smile while gripping the silk handkerchief held tight to his breast.
HM Louis XIV was supposedly the embodiment of the purest monarchy in Europe, the most perfect form of absolutism; the architect and inspiration of a model and uniform system of government; the moving spirit of economic and colonial enterprise, the dictator of artistic and intellectual taste, the "Most Christian King" of a Catholic nation that brooked no religious deviation, the doyen of European diplomacy, the commander of the Continent's most formidable armies.
Yet tonight, he was tired. He mused that Phillip II of Spain must have spent evenings in similar mood and spirit from his palace at the Escorial over a century ago. Louis recalled wistfully the heady days of his youth under the tutelage of Cardinal Mazarin and the dreams and vision he had for what France would become. Tonight dwelt the king, the fruition of those dreams and vision which he had spent his life attempting to realize hung on the outcome of a battle at some miserable little village in Bavaria he couldn't remember the name of. Still, he whispered vacantly, "... Est la plus digne et la plus agréable occupation des souveraigns."
HM Louis XIV was supposedly the embodiment of the purest monarchy in Europe, the most perfect form of absolutism; the architect and inspiration of a model and uniform system of government; the moving spirit of economic and colonial enterprise, the dictator of artistic and intellectual taste, the "Most Christian King" of a Catholic nation that brooked no religious deviation, the doyen of European diplomacy, the commander of the Continent's most formidable armies.
Yet tonight, he was tired. He mused that Phillip II of Spain must have spent evenings in similar mood and spirit from his palace at the Escorial over a century ago. Louis recalled wistfully the heady days of his youth under the tutelage of Cardinal Mazarin and the dreams and vision he had for what France would become. Tonight dwelt the king, the fruition of those dreams and vision which he had spent his life attempting to realize hung on the outcome of a battle at some miserable little village in Bavaria he couldn't remember the name of. Still, he whispered vacantly, "... Est la plus digne et la plus agréable occupation des souveraigns."