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useless-catalanfacts · 1 year

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Portrait of Louis XIV in Coronation Clothes (1701) by Jacint Rigau. Louvre Museum, Paris.

This is the most famous painting by the artist Jacint Rigau, though most of the time you'll see the artist credited as Hyacinthe Rigaud... Do you want to know what happened?

Jacint Rigau was born in Perpinyà (Northern Catalonia) in 1659. Perpinyà was a city like any other in Catalonia, where the population spoke the Catalan language. As was normal, he was named in their mother tongue, the Catalan name "Jacint" with his family's surname Rigau.

However, a few months after his birth, the part of Catalonia north of the Pyrenee mountain range was annexed by France. This part of Catalonia became known as "Northern Catalonia", and it's still part of France nowadays.

In April 1700, the king of France Louis XIV (seen in the portrait above) forbid the use of the Catalan language in public, saying that "the Catalan language [...] its use is repugnant and is in some way contrary to Our Authority, to the honor of the French Nation".

Jacint Rigau moved out of Northern Catalonia to go learn painting in Montpellier and later moved to work Paris for the French nobles. He became one of the most important painters of the time in France and so, as we saw at the beginning of the post, he was even commissioned the King's portrait.

Here's a few examples more of his work:

Self-portrait of the artist (1696), private collection.

Portrait of Marie Cadenne (1684), Musée des Beaux-arts de Caen.

Left: Louis of France, the Great Dauphin (1688), Versailles palace. Right: Louis of France, Duke of Bourgogne (1704), Versailles palace.

With the historical context and the discrimination against the Catalan language, it's no surprise that he had to translate his name to French. What might surprise you if you're not familiar with France's history of language discrimination is that, even now (2022), Northern Catalans aren't allowed to name their children in the Catalan language if it uses a graphy that doesn't exist in French. For example, you can't be called popular names like "Martí", "Víctor" or "Lídia" because of the excuse that "í" doesn't exist in French.

The official prohibition of using the Catalan language in public acts is also still active. Only some months ago, the French government sued the city council of the village Elna (Northern Catalonia) for having used Catalan alongside French in the city hall's meetings.

Now you know!

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lesecretdelamaisondubourbon · 7 months

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Book III/Part IX: ⚜️XIV⚜️

My father had not been dead long before events were set into motion that would change my life forever. I was too young to understand the chaos my father’s death created in court. Maman would say things to Mazarin I did not understand; whenever they spoke of me, I was present. I learned that as I grew up, I was there to remind everyone that I was the King, even as I was still in my minority. To some in the court, I was an obstacle that needed to be removed. It would be a few more years before I discovered what that meant—especially to my uncle Gaston.

The first time I remember leaving the palace as king was to sit on the lit de justice in the Grand Chamber of the Parliament. I did not want to go because we had to leave Philippe behind. I always wanted to have him by my side. As we grew up, I needed to have Philippe close to me—even when he did not wish to be.

That morning, I rose, had a bite to eat, and then was dressed by my valets in the finest clothing. I was led out of my bed chamber and into the hall where Maman was waiting. She took my hand and we made our way through the palace and into the light of day where a carriage awaited us. I did not notice much except the horses. There were so many of them on that day. As I was helped into the carriage by the footman, I noticed Maman speaking to Mazarin. When she was done, she was helped into the carriage, and sat beside me.

“Today is an important day, Louis,” she said to me. “You will preside over Parliament for the first time.”

“What is that, Maman,” I asked.

“Do not worry about that right now,” she said. “You are still young. I shall speak for you.”

As our carriage pulled away, I looked out the window. We were on our way to Paris. This would be the first time I would ride into the city as the King of France. I would not realize until I was older that it had only been 4 days since my father’s death.

On the way to Paris I fell asleep. When I felt the carriage stop, I woke up and looked out of the window to see the stone court of the Palais de la Cité. There were so many people there I was afraid to get out of the carriage. Once Maman had been helped out, she turned around.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “You must not keep the Parliament waiting.”

I knew she said those words loud enough so the crowd could hear. I hesitated but stood in the frame of the open door. The multitude fell silent. The footman helped me down. Maman took my hand, and we walked to the grand staircase. With each step, the people would bow to us. As we ascended the stairs, we were met by several men. The only one I recognized was my uncle Gaston. He bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “It is good to see you.”

I nodded at him.

“You know why we are here, Gaston,” Maman said. “Louis is king now, and I will become regent on this day. It is only fitting, of course.”

“I was not aware this was something Louis would have allowed,” he whispered. “I can only imagine what you did to convince Mazarin of such a spectacle. My brother has not yet been laid to rest.”

Before mother could answer, we were greeted by several dressed in long red robes and peculiar hats. As they bowed, mother led me into the ancient halls of the old chateau. There were men and a few ladies lining the halls as Maman led me toward the Grand Chamber. Once inside, we met with shouts from the gallery.

“Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!”

I was led to a special chair by two bailiffs on their knees bearing maces of gold. It was the lit de justice—a chair that was raised above the main floor. Draped in the royal colors covered with the fleur-de-lis, I was placed there beneath the baldachin. Mother sat beside me, yet she had to remain lower than the king. Soon, the room was filled with elaborately dressed nobles. When everyone was assembled, everyone looked at me. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. Thankfully, once the meeting was called to order, everyone’s eyes were on Maman.

I was too young to understand what was said among the counselors. On that day, my name was His Majesty. I had only been king for four days, yet they spoke of me as if I had ruled for generations. They must have known I was a child. I had not yet been breeched. Every now and then, one of the men would look at me and nod in obeisance as if to seek my approval. I was too afraid to move. I could only look at them with my eyes as wide as saucers.

After what seemed hours, Maman looked at me. She smiled and nodded to me. I knew then it was time to leave. I rose from my seat and everyone in the room bowed to me. On their knees, the two bailiffs from before helped me down and led Maman and I out of the chamber. In the hall, there was chaos that turned to whispers as we made our way back to the carriage. All I wanted to do was to return home and play in the gardens with Philippe.

“The power behind the throne can never belong to a woman,” someone said from within the crowd.

“Silence, fool,” a voice shouted. It was my uncle Gaston “You have forgotten that my mother, Queen Marie, did the same for the late king?”

We began walking faster as several men began shouting from behind. Our guards led all three of us quickly down the hall and into the light of day. When I was seen by the crowd, they bowed. Gaston escorted us to our carriage. Not since that day had I ever been so glad to be inside a carriage.

“I am moved by your kindness, Gaston,” Maman said from the window. “I will remember it.”

“I hope that you will, Madam,” he said, as he looked at me. “Your Majesty.”

I waved at him. I felt our carriage pull away and begin its journey home—which I learned was to the nearby Palais-Royal. When we were safe behind its gates, I stepped out. The servants were there to greet us. I saw Mazarin walking toward us. Before he reached us, I heard the familiar sound little feet running in my direction.

“Louis,” Philippe shouted as he ran toward me nearly knocking Mazarin over. He embraced me excitedly.

“Philippe,” Maman said, as she stepped out. “Behave.”

“You’re Majesties,” Mazarin said calmly. “It is good to see you.”

“Go inside,” Mother said to me.

Without a word, I took Philippe’s hand and led him toward the palace doors.

“Where did you go,” Philippe asked.

“I tell you later,” I whispered. I wanted nothing more than to forget. For the first time, I realized my father was dead and his death ended my childhood.

**** **** **** ****

After supper, I was bathed then dressed for bed. I noticed more valets in my chambers than usual. They occupied themselves with my clothing. I knew that new clothing had been made for me before my father died, but few pieces were befitting a king. As they busied themselves, went to the window. Darkness had fallen and all I could see were the shadows of people flitting around the gardens. I did not know what they were doing or if they were real. I imagined them as dark angels that had lost their way to heaven.

“Your Majesty,” a voice called to me. I looked to see Mazarin bowing into me.

“I do not like that word,” I said. “I am tired of hearing it.”

“You are king, Your Majesty,” he began. “From now until your death, everyone must address you as such.”

“Even Philippe,” I asked.

“When in court,” he answered. “And whenever you are performing your duties as king in the presence of your subjects.”

I stared at him as if he had spoken gibberish. How could I be a king when I could barely read or write? What little I had learned came from my governess. My wet-nurse had only left me less than two years prior. I was not ready to rule a kingdom.

“I want Papa,” I said.

“I know, Your Majesty,” he said walking over to me. He kneeled down and looked at me. “Your father was a king, and so must you be. He is in Heaven now but he will always be with you.”

“I am only a child,” I said, trying not to cry. “How can I be a king like Papa was?”

Mazarin smiled tenderly. I could tell he was trying to comfort me as a father would a son.

“Kings are not born, Your Majesty,” he said. “They are made over time. No king that ever ruled knew everything upon ascension. Child or Man, you will learn. I will make sure of it. But, it is late, and you must get some sleep. You must rise early.”

“I know,” I answered softly. “We are going to lay Papa to rest.”

He nodded. As he rose, he did something unexpected. He picked me up and carried me to bed. He pulled the covers over me.

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Good night,” I answered.

He smiled then saw his way out. Not long after, I fell asleep. An hour later, I felt the familiar warmth of Philippe lying next to me. He was beginning to become a comfort to me. I drifted back to sleep.

“Louis,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was dreaming. It was the voice of a man, but there were no men that called me by that name since my father died. Philippe’s voice was juvenile; he had only recently learned how to pronounce my name properly.

“Louis,” the voice said again. I sat straight up. I looked across the dark room to see a shadow slip out into the antechamber. Philippe was sound asleep. I decided to follow. I quietly climbed out of bed and into the next room. I followed it into the hall. There were no guards at my door.

“Louis,” the voice whispered in my ear. I jumped as I turned to see my father.

“Papa,” I squealed, throwing my arms around him. I was too happy to notice he was cold to the touch. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“I came to see you before I go,” he said as he knelt before me.

“Where are you going,” I asked.

“You will find out one day,” he said. “But for now, you need not worry. You have your whole life ahead of you, Louis.”

“Papa,” I started. “I do not want to be king. I do not like it. No one calls me Louis anymore.”

He laughed.

“No one called you Louis except for me and your mother. And Philippe, of course.”

“Philippe! He would want to see you.”

“No,” Papa answered. “He needs his rest. Tomorrow will be hard for him.”

“I do not understand, Papa.”

“Remember what I said to you at Versailles,” he asked.

“You told me to watch over Philippe for you,” I answered.

“He will need you more than ever, Louis,” he began. “There will be times when all you will have is each other. Let nothing come between you and Philippe. Promise me.”

“I promise, Papa,” I whispered.

He smiled and stood up. I realized that I could see the hall through him.

“I was a king first, but a father forever,” he said. His voice began to fade. “The last of which brought me the greatest joy I had ever known. Be well, my son. Until we meet again.”

With those words, he was gone. I turned to see the guards holding one of my chamber doors open as Philippe slipped out.

“Louis,” he said. “Why are you awake?”

“Do not worry, Philippe,” I said as I took his hand. “Let us go back to bed now.”

“I had a dream, Louis,” he began as we headed into my chambers. “I saw Papa. He is not coming back.”

As the guards closed the doors, I stopped and looked my brother.

“No, Philippe,” I said. “He is not coming back. He is in Heaven.”

“I want to go there,” he said.

“One day, you will,” I said. “But not yet. I need you here.”

“Why?”

“Who will play with me in the garden if you go away,” I asked.

“You can play with Joujou,” he said.

“I would rather play with you than a puppy,” I said. “Besides, I would miss you.”

“I would miss you, too, Louis,” he said. “But Papa might be lonely.”

“He is there with the angels,” I said. “He is not lonely, I promise.”

Philippe yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I will stay,” he said. “Papa said I had to.”

I smiled at him. I did not know whether to believe him or not. We went back to bed and slept peacefully until dawn.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2023

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