Vaux-Le-Vicomte, the Fatal House-Warming
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Vaux-le-Vicomte, The Fatal House-Warming It was supposed to be the grandest housewarming the world had ever seen, and, from the moment the first gilded coaches and beribboned horsemen came thundering up the road from Fontainebleau to the great wrought-iron gates, the host knew that his plan would succeed beyond even his soaring hopes. The host was Nicolas Fouquet, Superintendent of the Finances of France, the richest and most powerful subject of the young King Louis XIV. With his new chateau, he was going to offer the king and the world a supreme example of what riches and power and refinement and taste could do in the realms of beauty and well-tempered magnificence. Originally, there had been an old feudal castle called Vaux-le-Vicomte on this spot where two valleys (vaux) meet, together with a couple of peasant villages, some wheat fields, pastures, swamps and woods, and a river. Then an army of 18,000 men was brought here, furnished with barracks, workshops and a hospital. They were the best craftsmen to be found in the world: masons, carpenters, painters, carvers, gardeners, cabinetmakers, tapestry weavers, bricklayers, hydraulic engineers. All the material they asked for was handed over to them without stint: tons of marble for mantel- pieces and pedestals and busts; tons of lead for the water pipes; acres of slate for the roofs; the finest woods; the finest textiles. For four and a half years, they were steadily at work. They tore down the old buildings, leveled the hills, diverted the river and built a great new chateau with three-foot-thick stone walls and spacious brick outbuildings, the whole set in an immense terraced garden. In the late afternoon of August 17,1661, the work was as good as done. Vaux was ready to be shown off. Nicolas Fouquet was ready to scale the heights of glory. Opening the door of the king's carriage and escorting him up the monumental steps to the front entrance, he could hear the chorus of admiration and envy rising behind him. The king, the queen mother, the king's mistress, the dukes and duchesses and bishops, the hundreds of nobles and hangers- on who made up the court, all had to agree that they had never seen a building like this. France's older chateaus were generally built around central courtyards for defensive purposes. Over the centuries, those castles were expanded in helter-skelter fashion, with each generation of occupants adding different features, to strengthen the old walls or to modernize and beautify them.. Vaux, on the other hand, was built all of a piece from a unified design conceived by the noted architect Louis Le Vau. It was not a warlike fortification but a huge country mansion, open and inviting, designed for entertainment on the largest possible scale. The surrounding moat reflected the golden ochre tones which had been applied in a light patina over the walls. As the ladies in their brocaded gowns and the gentle men with their swords at their sides eagerly passed from room to room - including a spectacularly ornate bedroom designed specifically for the king - they were presented with an unending series of dazzling delights. The interior had been designed and executed by Charles Le Brun, a painter fresh from years in Italy, and he left a touch of sparkling luxurious elegance on everything: the 250 tapestries, the painted wall panels and gilded moldings, the carved and embroidered furniture, the chandeliers, the busts of Roman emperors. All through the decorations a keen eye could see prancing a pack of little painted and carved squirrels: fouquet was the word for squirrel in the patois of the superintendent's native province. And weaving among the squirrels were scrolls carrying his motto, Quo non ascendet? How high will he not climb? From the windows and the terrace on the far side of the building, the south side, the guests saw stretched out before them as far as the eye could see a splendid garden of a new design. Traditional French gardens had been little cooped-up lots, surrounded by walls or hedges. This one was a man-made landscape in 1 which everything, including the chateau, was integrated. It was an adventure to walk among its variegated banks of flowers, and in the trees around it there were tastefully shaded nooks for amorous trysts. The king when he inspected it told its designer, André Le Nôtre, that he knew "how to domesticate nature." All of the senses were meant to be surfeited. The scent of orange trees in wooden tubs filled the grounds. Servants kept up a steady flow of pheasants, ortolans, patés, bisques, pastries, all prepared under the supervision of Vatel, greatest maitre d'hotel of the age. (He would later commit suicide when a fresh fish he had promised to the Prince of Condé did not arrive in time; but at Vaux everything went swimmingly.) Violinists played airs specially written for the occasion by Jean Baptiste Lully, the most fashionable composer of the day. There was a play specially written for the occasion by Molière, with Molière himself to act in it. There was a lottery in which every guest won a prize of some sort -jewels, horses, swords, paintings. The guests could not tear themselves away till two in the morning. As they were preparing to go, a last dazzling burst of fireworks lit up the whole chateau in a gigantic blaze. With that, two horses harnessed to the carriage of Queen Mother Anne of Austria reared in terror, plunged into the moat and drowned. "La Fête de Vaux," as the celebration was called, was meant not only to inspire superlatives; it had a political purpose as well. Fouquet was a man of infinite energy, charm, resources, wit and ambition. For years, at first under the wily eye of Cardinal Mazarin, the chief minister, and for the last five months on his own, he had been in effective charge of the nation's finances. The nation was hard pressed after years of anarchy and war, and it took an almost miraculous skill in juggling figures, wheedling investors, speculating and peculating, to produce the daily supplies of cash needed to pay the army and the civil servants, and keep the king and court living in suitable luxury, as well as fill the capacious pockets of the cardinal, one of the greediest men who ever lived, and of Fouquet himself, the aspiring squirrel. Thanks to his skill, and Mazarin's, France had been able to survive the years of calamity and was now at peace, aspiring to become the mightiest of European nations. King Louis had announced, after the death of Mazarin, that he intended to take over personal direction of his government, but no one took him seriously. His mother shrugged her shoulders when she heard of it. Fouquet was certain that His Majesty, a hot- blooded boy whose main interests seemed to be chasing stags and skirts, would tire of business in a few weeks and leave the running of the country to him. The festivities at Vaux were intended to show the king just how well qualified Fouquet was to lead. Rarely has a brilliant man made a more foolish error in judgment. Louis was deeply serious about how he was going to reign (and as he did indeed reign for the next 50 years). He intended to perform his "king job" in as conscientious a way as he expected his subjects to perform theirs. He spent endless hours in his office, he studied and annotated the thousands of documents which crossed his desk with the same calm rigor and assiduity that he applied to every detail of the laws of etiquette which governed every step and every breath of life at his court. He was an absolute monarch, and he was pleased to be one, it made him happy he said once to know that between Je veux, I want, and J'aurai, I shall have, the distance was so small as not to be worth talking about.: He was very impressed by the fête at Vaux, as its creator had intended, but not at all in the way the creator counted on. Beneath the majestically smiling exterior he knew how to maintain on all 2 occasions, he was boiling with rage, a rage that only grew with each new marvel that was revealed to him.. For some time he had been poring over the account books of the state, and Jean Baptiste Colbert, the clerk who had only recently risen to become Fouquet's second- in-command, had been guiding him down the columns of figures to show him in detail how enormous streams of public money -- his money - were pouring into the superintendent's hands. He himself (the King of France!) was always running short of cash when he wanted to add a wing to his palace in Paris, the Louvre, and here was his servant, his creature, giving him lessons in luxury and extravagance.. He took his leave of Fouquet at Vaux with the same exquisite courtesy with which he had accepted the invitation to come there. Three weeks later, he summoned Fouquet to the Louvre to discuss some details of the loan of 88,000 livres the superintendent had made to him to meet the payroll of his navy. They shuffled through a few papers, quickly settled the details, and Fouquet took his leave. As he was getting into his carriage a few minutes later, Chevalier d'Artagnan, lieutenant of the musketeers, came up to him to announce that he was under arrest, and carried off to the first of the dungeons in which he was to spend the rest of his life.