as the most profligate host in all history. Determined to outdo
the fabulous luxury of the feasts of Lucullus in early Roman times, and
to outshine the storied splendor of Oriental princes, he entertained
his Court and guests with lavish liberality, superbly indifferent to
the cost of his boundless extravagance and considering not at all the
day of reckoning that must come later for the Bourbon dynasty in
France. To glow with commanding brilliance, like the Sun, in the
center of his royal firmament, to overwhelm his subjects with his
grandeur, and to dazzle the eyes of other nations--that was the
ambition that Louis cherished and achieved.

CHAPTER VII

THE WOMEN OF VERSAILLES

We have pictured the Sun King and his imposing Court. We have told the
story of the founding and construction of his luxurious palace, and
described the spectacles and entertainments that made Versailles the
most brilliant spot in Europe. We have said nothing of the women of
Versailles and the part they played in the life of the Court and the
influence they exerted in the affairs of France. Some of these women,
though occupying the Queen's apartments and sharing the crown, lived an
existence of bitter disappointment and thwarted affection--Queens in
name only, and serving only as mothers of princes and future monarchs.
Such were Marie Therese, the heart-sick wife of Louis XIV, and Marie
Leczinska, the sad consort of Louis XV. About them were many brilliant
women that graced the palace with their beauty and charm and made
romantic court history that the chroniclers of the time fed on eagerly,
and that the world has devoured eagerly ever since. Rich were those
years in intrigue and adventure, and many and rapid were the changing
fortunes of favorites. No one could tell what a day might bring forth.
The woman of one hour might go the next. Self-interest stimulated the
ambitious seekers of favors to constant endeavor. Grim, determined
strugglers for social preference frequented the salons with smiling
faces that sometimes glowed with pride and satisfaction, but more often
veiled rankling disappointment and carking care.

Even the great Madame de Maintenon, who successfully weathered the
storms of the social struggle for so many years, once exclaimed: "I can
hold out no longer. I wish that I were dead." And a short time before
her demise, she observed bitterly, "One atones in full for youthful
joys and gratification. I can see,