Memoirs of Louis XIV and His Court and of the Regency — Volume 02 — A Closer Reading

Scandal at La Trappe

Saint-Simon recounts the fall of Francois Gervaise, a monk at La Trappe, whose hypocrisy is exposed in a letter to a nun. The letter is described as "a tissue of filthiness and stark indecency," written in "the boldest language, and with the utmost licence." Gervaise, after resigning his office, attempts to regain favor with Pere la Chaise, but the discovery of the letter stops him. Saint-Simon himself obtains a lettre de cachet to keep Gervaise away from La Trappe and Paris. The episode illustrates the tension between outward piety and hidden corruption, a recurring theme in the memoirs.

Ignorance at Court

Two anecdotes highlight the ignorance of courtiers. Breteuil, who obtained the post of introducer of ambassadors, is tricked into claiming that Moses wrote the Lord's Prayer, leading to lasting ridicule. The Marquis de Gesvres, admiring paintings of the Crucifixion, insists they are all by the same painter because each bears the inscription "INRI," mistaking the acronym for an artist's name. These stories, told with dry humor, reveal the shallowness of courtly pretension and the ease with which the educated mocked the uneducated.

The King's Projects

At the end of the year, Louis XIV resolves to undertake three grand projects: the chapel of Versailles, the Church of the Invalides, and the altar of Notre-Dame de Paris. Saint-Simon notes that these "ought to have been carried out long before," implying the king's delay. The projects reflect the king's desire to leave a monumental legacy, yet the memoirist's tone suggests a critique of priorities—grand buildings over more pressing matters. This section contrasts the king's public piety with the private scandals detailed earlier.

Saint-Simon's memoir offers a view of Louis XIV's court that is neither hagiography nor simple gossip. Readers should attend to the author's placement of anecdotes: the juxtaposition of high ecclesiastical scandal with trivial courtly ignorance reveals a world where power and folly coexist. The king's architectural ambitions, set against the moral failures of his clergy, invite reflection on the gap between public image and private reality.

There’s something almost tender in how Saint-Simon notices the hollow pride of the court, how we cling to titles when the substance fades. It put me in mind of another quiet account, one that traces a different kind of loyalty—The Story of the Guides — Key Ideas to Explore—where duty too becomes its own strange, worn armor. Funny how those old shadows still follow us.