given him in his lifetime, and which the ages to come must surely
preserve. But here I am writing secret Memoirs, where I set down, as in
a mirror, the most minute traits of the personages whom I bring on the
stage, and I wish to relate in what manner and with what aim this
apotheosis affected the mind of those who flattered the prince in their
own interest.

The painters and sculptors, most artful of courtiers in their calling,
had already represented the King, now with the attributes of Apollo, now
in the costume of the god Mars, of Jupiter Tonans, Neptune, lord of the
waves; now with the formidable and vigorous appearance of the great
Hercules, who strangled serpents even in his cradle.

His Majesty saw all these ingenious allegories, examined them without
vanity, with no enthusiasm, and seemed to regard them as accessories
inherent to the composition, as conventional ornaments, the good and
current small change of art. The adulations of Racine, in his
"Berenice," having all a foundation of truth, please him, but chiefly for
the grace of the poetry; and he sometimes recited them, when he wished to
recall and quote some fine verse.

The praises of Boileau, although well versified, had not, however, the
fortune to please him. He found those verses too methodical for poetry;
and the poet, moreover, seemed to him somewhat a huckster, and in bad
taste. The satirists might do what they liked, they never had his
friendship. Perhaps he feared them.

When Le Brun started preparing the magnificent cradle of the great
gallery, he composed for the ceiling rich designs or cartoons, which in
their entirety should represent the victories and great military or
legislative achievements of the prince. His work being finished, he came
to present it to his Majesty, who on that day was dining with me. In one
of the compartments the painter had depicted his hero in the guise of
Bacchus; the King immediately took up a bottle of clear water and drank a
big glass. I gave a great peal of laughter, and said to M. le Brun, "You
see, monsieur, his Majesty's decision in that libation of pure water."

M. le Brun changed his design, seeing the King had no love for Bacchus,
but he left the Thundering Jove, and all the other mythological
flatteries, in regard to which no opinion had been given.

The Jesuits for a long time past had groaned at seeing, exactly opposite
the Palace,--[In the midst of the semicircle in front of the Palais de