“Great men, far more than any Alps or coliseums, are the true world-wonders, which it concerns us to behold clearly, and imprint forever on our remembrance. Great men are the fire-pillars in this dark pilgrimage of mankind; they stand as heavenly signs, ever-living witnesses of what has been,—prophetic witnesses of what may still be; the revealed embodied possibilities of human nature, which greatness he who has never with his whole heart passionately loved and reverenced, is himself forever doomed to be little.” LOUIS XIV. OF FRANCE. 1638-1715 A.D. “To do what one pleases with impunity, That is to be King.”—SALLUST. THE reign of Louis XIV., whether regarded politically, socially, or morally, was undoubtedly the most striking which France has ever known. The splendor of his court, the successes of his armies, and the illustrious names that embellished the century over which he ruled, drew the attention of all Europe to the person of the monarch who, every inch a king, assumed the authority and power of regality as well as its mere visible attributes. All Europe looked to France, all France to Paris, all Paris to Versailles, all Versailles to Louis XIV. [Illustration: LOUIS XIV.] The centre of all attraction, he, like the eagle, embraced the whole glory of the orb upon which he gazed; and seated firmly upon the throne of France, ruling by the “right divine,” he ushered in the golden age of literature, himself the theme and gaze and wonder of a dazzled world. The morning of the 5th of September, 1638, dawned bright and clear. In the forest of St. Germain, the birds sang merrily in the trees, and the timid deer sought shelter in the deepest shade, all unconscious that ere the setting of the sun a royal prince would look upon it for the first time. The park and palace were filled with an eager and excited throng; earls, princes, dukes, and bishops anxiously awaited the announcement that an heir was born to the crown of France. In the grand salon of Henry IV., King Louis XIII., the Duke d’Orleans, the bishops of Lisieux, Meaux, and Beauvais, impatiently awaited the long-expected tidings. And now the folding-doors are thrown back, and the king is greeted with the welcome intelligence that he is the father of a _dauphin_. Tenderly he takes the child, and stepping upon the balcony, exhibits him to the crowd, exclaiming joyfully, “A son, gentlemen! a son!” and park and palace re-echo with the shouts of “_Vive le Roi!_” “_Vive le Dauphin!_”