“Louis XIV. and his palace not only afforded conversation for Europe, but their fame penetrated the remote corners of Asia. The emperor of Siam sent him an embassy. Three o’pras, high dignitaries of the empire, eight mandarins, and a crowd of servitors landed at Brest, charged with magnificent presents and a letter from the emperor. Arrived at Versailles, they were fêted with unheard-of splendor. The day of their public audience, the fountains played in the gardens; flowers were strewn in the paths; the sumptuous Gobelin carpets were paraded, as well as the richest works of the goldsmith. The _cortège_ of ambassadors was received with the most refined forms of etiquette, and led through apartments filled with the court, glittering in diamonds and embroidery, and at length reached the end of the grand gallery, where Louis XIV., clad in a costume that cost twelve millions, stood on a throne of silver placed on an estrade elevated nine steps above the floor, and covered with Gobelin carpets and costly vases. There the Siamese prostrated themselves three times, with hands clasped, before the Majesty of the West, and then lifted their eyes to him.” Louis spent millions on Versailles, millions on his pleasures, millions on his pomps, millions in his wars; he lavished gold on his favorites, his generals, and his lackeys. And all ended in national bankruptcy. Let us, then, in imagination look upon the grand _gallerie_ of Louis XIV. during one of those gorgeous fêtes which attracted the attention of all Europe. Before us is the grand _salon_, with its glittering candelabra and thousand brilliant lights, reflected in prismatic rays from the costly mirrors which line the walls. Under foot, a pavement of variegated marble, shining and polished as a floor of glass; and overhead the gorgeous frescoes of Le Brun, setting forth in glowing colors the great achievements of the _Grand Monarque_. The highest nobility of the realm, the _grande noblesse_ of France, throng this splendid gallery. The costly costumes of the cavaliers and the gorgeous robes of the _Grande Dames_, the waving plumes and flashing jewels, all conspire to render the scene of marvellous magnificence. And now, as the impatient throng turn their gaze in the direction of the Salon of War, in expectation of the approach of royalty, the folding-doors are thrown back, and the stentorian voice of the usher resounds throughout the gallery: “His Majesty the King!” and upon the threshold, in a costume resplendent with sparkling gems, stands Louis XIV., the _Grand Monarque_. As a _parterre_ of blooming flowers bends low before a rushing gust of wind, so bow these titled lords and ladies before his piercing glance; while Louis, full conscious of his kingly majesty, walks slowly, and with measured step, all down the long and glittering lines, pausing ever and anon to address those whose rank entitles them to this inestimable boon.