My baptism was one week away. One morning, Philippe and I decided to make our way to the kitchen. I always had a voracious appetite for as long as I could remember. Philippe was a finicky eater. He would only put the finest of delicacies in his mouth. But if the food was good, he could eat as much as I could.
If our mother had known of our near daily sojourns to the kitchen, she would have locked us in our rooms. As royalty, we were fraternizing with commoners too much. How could we not? They were friendly to us. Their children were uninterested in our titles and more into play. On this day, there were few people in the kitchen but there was plenty of food.
Straight away, Philippe headed for the macaroons. I helped myself to the omelettes. While I poked a piece in my mouth, I saw Philippe reaching for his treats. He dropped one and chased it as it rolled under a table. One of the servants noticed him squatting down to reach it.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am Philippe.”
“Who are you talking to,” I asked him.
“A girl,” he said without looking up. I noticed a little hand coming from under the table holding the macaroon he dropped.
A woman gasped and reached under the table and pulled out a little girl. She was as little as Philippe, with a head full of long black curls covering her features.
“Tu es une mauvaise fille,” she said angrily. “Are you stealing food again?”
“No,” she said, tearfully.
“She gave me my macaroon,” Philippe said, his mouth full. He walked over to the girl, and handed her a macaroon. “Here.”
She took it, smiled and ran out of the kitchen. Philippe gave the woman a mean look.
“Come, Philippe,” I said. I could see he was about say something awful.
He slowly turned toward me, still scowling at the woman.
“She is not nice, Louis,” he said, looking at me. I looked at the woman as I took Philippe’s hand. I did not say a word to her but I could see she feared what we might say to our parents. I led my brother away putting the incident out of my mind.
**** **** **** ****
No more than a few days before my baptism, I was playing with Philippe in the hall. Our mother approached us followed by several ladies with 2 girls and boy.
Everyone stopped in front of us and bowed.
“Louis, Philippe,” Mother said sweetly. “This is Gabrielle, Louis and Diane-Françoise. Louis and Diane have come to play with you.”
I did not know what to say but Philippe did.
“Why,” he asked.
Mother seemed a loss for words as several of her ladies tried not to laugh.
“Philippe, be polite to our guests,” she said.
“Why?”
“Yes, Maman,” I said quickly.
She smiled and left us with the little boy and girl as the older girl left with mother and the other ladies.
“I am Louis,” the boy said.
“Me, too,” I said.
“This is my sister,” he said. “Her name is Diane but we call her Françoise because she is named after our mother.”
“She is a girl,” Philippe said.
“I know,” she said. “And you are a boy.”
Philippe stuck his tongue out at her.
“Who is the other girl,” I asked Louis.
“That is my other sister, Gabrielle,” he said. “Papa said Maman is going to have another baby. I hope it is a boy this time.”
“That is a lot of girls,” I said. “Philippe is my only brother.”
“He is little,” Louis said.
Philippe gave him a mean look before pulling Diane’s hair.
“Philippe, stop,” I said. “That was not very nice.”
“No, it was not,” Diane said, hitting Philippe on the arm.
“Françoise,” Louis said. “You cannot hit him. He is a Prince.”
“That is right,” Philippe said, hitting her back.
She hit him again.
“Mine is two,” Louis said, pulling her away.
“So is mine,” I said, holding Philippe back. “They are still babies.”
“I am not a baby,” they said in unison.
“Come,” I said. “We can go play in the garden. We have a puppy out there.”
**** **** **** ****
On the day of my baptism, I entered the chapel with my mother. Philippe was to remain behind in the pew without our governess. As always, Philippe had other ideas. He managed to escape her grasp, and follow me down the aisle to the altar. Our father was waiting for us beside the font. His skin was pallid and his eyes did not seem to have the shine I remembered. He never moved from his position. He smiled at us as we met him and the priest at the altar.
It was intimate ceremony with only important members of the household in attendance. I stood before the altar of the chapel, I knew it was a solemn occasion even as I was too young to understand its meaning. I stood with my parents before the baptismal font as the priest began to speak.
Suddenly, I heard a splash. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I heard it again and again. I looked down to see Philippe reaching into the font. I gently nudged him to get him to stop. I should have known that would entice him to continue more vigorously. I noticed everyone trying to ignore Philippe. It was a feat that was futile to attempt. My father gently pushed my brother’s hand away, and Philippe put it back. Even our father knew it was best to let Philippe have his way. So as long as he kept quiet, there was no harm done other than a slightly damp priest.
Papa did not say a word nor moved through it all. He just smiled and nodded once it was over. He and Maman exchanged glances while the priest and I exchanged words before mother took our hands and us out of the chapel of Château-Vieux.
The next time I would see my father would be 23 days later upon his deathbed.
**** **** **** ****
It was a quiet morning. By I remember I was playing with Philippe in my room when our governess came in. Her face was stoic.
“Your Highnesses,” she began, her voice trembling. “His Majesty wishes to you both.
“Papa,” Philippe exclaimed excitedly. “I want to see Papa.”
I knew something was wrong. Everyone in the room seemed disheartened. She picked up Philippe and offered her hand to me. I cautiously took it and she led me away to my father’s room.
It was the last moments of his life.
In his room, I could smell the scent of death and feel the burden that was about to put upon me. Though I was only four years old, I knew my presence in the moment gave everyone a feeling of helplessness and hope. When I saw my father, I was frightened at how sallow he was. Maman, Mazarin and Bontemps held vigil by his bedside as we approached.
“Louis,” he said, weakly. “Philippe.”
Our governess put my brother down beside me. I did not dare move closer to my father. I was afraid; he looked like the corpse he was to become.
“Papa,” Philippe said. “You look sleepy.”
“I am,” he whispered, with a faint smile. “I am going to sleep, Philippe. For a very long time. Louis, remember what I say to you. You will make a fine king. I know you will.”
I nodded. I did not know what else to do. I was passed a torch I was not yet able to carry. Suddenly, Papa said something I could not hear, took two labored breaths, then fell silent. Mother gasped as others in the room weeped softly.
“It is a quarter past two,” Bontemps said softly.
With everyone around him, my father slipped away peacefully.
“Why is Papa sleeping, Louis,” Philippe whispered.
“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered softly.
I knew our father was gone forever, but I did not believe it. Even I thought he was sleeping. It would be a while before I realized he had said his dying words to me months earlier at the château. Watch after your brother for me. Take care of Philippe. Looking at my father’s corpse, I said to myself, But who will take care of me, Papa?
Soon after, everyone turned and looked at me.
“Le roi est mort,” Mazarin said. “Vive le roi.”
I was the King of France.
“You are the king now,” Maman said to me.
“I do not want to be king,” I said.
“Your father is dead,” she said. “You must take his place now, Louis.”
“I do not want to,” I said loudly. “I do not want to be king!”
“Louis,” she began.
“No!”
I ran out of the room and down the hall crying. I did not want to be king. I did not know what it meant to be king, much less what it was. When I reached my room, I expected to see my governess, but there was another woman in her place.
“Who are you,” I yelled.
“I am your new governess, Your Majesty,” she said.
“No,” I yelled, pushing her. “Go away!”
I threw myself on my bed and started to cry into the pillows. I cried myself to sleep. I remembered hearing soft whimpering next to me. When I opened my eyes, it was evening and I was dressed in my nightgown. Philippe was lying next to me, his eyes red from crying.
“You scared me,” he said.
“I did not mean to,” I said.
“Why are you sad, Louis,” he asked.
“I do not want to be king but Maman said I am,” I answered.
“You are too short to be king,” he said. “You have to be tall like Papa.”
“I think he is gone, Philippe,” I said.
“When he comes back, you do not have to be king,” he said yawning.
He fell asleep, leaving me to my thoughts. I did not think Papa was coming back to us this time.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 5-07-2022
I’m back it has been quite a journey. One of the longest journeys. One of these days I will talk about it when people actually care. Until then, read.
It would be a few more days before we got see Papa again. I had never seen Philippe so excited. I will admit, I was anxious to be with our father again. As much as I loved our mother, her demeanor had become indiscernible since father had gotten ill.
After our morning routine, we were taken outside to the gardens where father was sitting upright in a long chair with a blanket covering him from the waist down. Our governess led us to him. When he saw us, he smiled.
“See, Philippe,” he said. “I told you would take you and your brother into the gardens. “Thank you, Françoise.”
She bowed and left us together.
“But Papa,” I began. “You are still not well, and Philippe has not behaved as you wished him to.”
Philippe sneered at me, then kicked me.
“Now, Philippe,” Papa said. “That was not nice.”
“Louis is not nice,” he said. “I have, too, been good, Papa. I did not drop my porridge on the floor today.”
“Well,” Papa said. “I am very proud of you, Philippe.”
“See, Louis,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me. “Papa is proud of me.”
He climbed up on Papa’s lap.
“Are you still ill,” I asked. “Why are you not in bed?”
“I wanted some fresh air and to see my sons,” he answered. “I am feeling better, but I still need some rest, Louis. Do not worry. I will be fine.”
Somehow, even then, I found that hard to believe.
“If you cannot walk,” Philippe began. “Then I will stay with you.”
He curled up on Papa’s lap, with his arms around his chest. I put my head on Papa’s shoulder. We remained quiet together for some time. It was a moment I never wanted to end. After that day, Papa would try to be with us as much as he could, even as his sickness started to take him from us.
**** **** **** ****
One morning, as our governess was taking us to our father’s apartments, we heard a familiar voice coming from his room. When the door opened, we our mother speaking with Papa.
“I do care what the doctors say, Anne,” we heard him say. “I will not miss my son’s baptism.”
“You can hardly stand up as it is, Louis,” she said. “You do not need to exert yourself unnecessarily. There will be other things in his life you will get to see providing you follow your doctors’ orders.”
Papa looked at us standing in the middle of the room with our governess. I felt Philippe take my hand. The room was uncomfortably silent. I could see our parents trying to create an explanation for what we had just heard.
“Louis,” Papa said.
I knew what they were talking about. I did not understand it entirely, but I knew something was wrong. I wanted to run out of the room, but I could not leave Philippe. I did the only thing I could do—I took him with me.
I turned swiftly and led Philippe out the door we had just entered. Once outside we both began to run as fast as we could. We had not idea where we were going. We found a dark corner under behind a statue. We could hear our governess and several others calling for us. I put my fingers to my lips. Philippe nodded. When everyone had gone, I sighed deeply.
“Louis,” Philippe whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why are we hiding,” he asked.
“Philippe, listen to me,” I began. “I think Papa is very ill.”
“Why?”
“I do not know,” I answered. “I wish I knew why.”
“Louis,” he said. “What is ill?”
“That is when you do not feel well,” I said.
“I do not feel well, Louis,” he said.
“Are you ill?”
“I do not know.”
“Come, Philippe,” I said, as we crawled out from behind the statue.
“Your Highnesses,” a voice said. We looked up to see our governess looking down at us. We stood up. Immediately, she picked up Philippe. “Why did you run away?”
“Papa is very ill,” I said. “I am afraid for him.”
“People get ill,” she said. “They also get better.”
“I am ill,” Philippe said.
“No, you are not, Monsieur,” she said.
“Yes, I am,” he replied. “I do not feel well.”
“What is the matter,” she asked.
“I do not know,” he said. “Louis said I do not feel well.”
“I did not,” I said loudly.
“You Highness, I know you are worried about your father, but you should not.”
“I am ill like Papa,” Philippe said.
“No, you are not,” I said.
“But you said I do not feel well, Louis.”
“Monsieur, you need a nap.”
“Because I am ill,” he answered.
“Because you are annoying,” I said.
“Come, Your Highness,” she said taking my hand. “I think you both need a nap.”
She took us to our room and put us in bed.
“Now, Your Highnesses, do not move,” she said. “Rest for a while. I promise you will feel better. I am going to see your father to tell him you are safe.”
We nodded. Once she closed the door, Philippe climbed out of bed and went to the door.
“Philippe, she said not to move,” I scolded.
He looked at me for a moment then continued to try to reach for the door handle. I got out of bed and grabbed him.
“Where are you going,” I asked.
“I want to see Papa,” he said tearing up. “I am ill, too.”
“No, you are not, Philippe,” I said. “You are fine.”
“I do not want to be, Louis,” he said, starting to cry. “I want to be like Papa.”
“Philippe, Papa would not want you to be ill,” I said. “He would want you to be well.”
“If I am well,” he began. “Will Papa be happy.”
“Yes,” I answered. “He would be very happy.”
He wiped his tears away then smiled. As soon as I let him go, he tried to open the door again.
“Philippe, what are you doing?”
“I want to tell Papa I am well.”
I knew I was going to regret what I was about to do but I did it anyway.
“I am going with you,” I said. “You are too young to go alone.”
I slowly opened the door and looked out. There was no one in the connecting room leading to the hallway. I put my finger to my lips to keep Philippe quiet. He nodded as he looked around. We ran to the door. I know there had to be a guard somewhere. I slowly opened the door and looked out. Two guards were there but they were occupied with several ladies. Quietly, we slipped out the door and tiptoed in the opposite direction. When we were far enough away, we began running. Needless to say, we got lost. I had no idea where we were. We went around another corner to another long corridor. I could not tell doors from the walls. When we heard footsteps, we looked around for a place to hide.
“Where do you two think you are going,” a voice asked. We turned around to see Papa in the hall.
“Papa,” Philippe yelled excitedly running toward him. I followed him. Papa must have felt better because he scooped Philippe up.
“Why are two out of your apartments,” he asked.
“Philippe and I were looking for you, Papa,” I said.
“Yes,” Philippe said. “I want to tell you something.”
“What,” he asked.
“I am not ill,” Philippe answered.
Papa started to laugh.
“Well, I am glad, Philippe,” he said.
“We heard you and Maman,” I said. “Philippe wanted to be like you.”
Papa sighed and put Philippe down. Kneeling down, he embraced both of us.
“My sons,” he said. “I love you both so much. I am glad for your good health. I do not wish either of you to be ill, Philippe. Please, Louis, do not worry about me. You are far too young to worry about such things. I will be fine.”
“Are you happy,” Philippe said, yawning.
“I am as happy as you are sleepy.”
“I am not sleepy.”
Papa picked him up. Philippe put his arms around his neck and fell asleep.
“You must be very happy, Papa,” I said.
“Yes, I am, Louis,” he said. “Let us go put your brother to bed. Do not tell your mother about this. Promise me.”
“Yes, Papa,” I said, taking his hand.
He returned us to our apartments. That was the last time I would see my father walking again.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 1-15-2022
It will not be long before little Louis becomes king of France.
