When Louis XIV. gave up the ghost, Versailles also seemed to die. No one ventured to dwell in the palace of the Sun King. During seven years it was abandoned. September 9, 1715, at the very moment when Louis XV., then five and a half years old, was returning to Vincennes, the body of him who had been Louis XIV. was carried to its last abode, at Saint-Denis. The people danced, sang, drank, and gave themselves up to a scandalous joy. The following epigram got into circulation:-- “Non, Louis n’était pas si dur qu’il le parut, Et son trépas le justifie, Puisque, aussi bien que le Messie, Il est mort pour notre salut.”[2] Such is the gratitude of peoples! This is what remains of so many flatteries, so much incense! _Sic transit gloria mundi._ France, which insulted the memory of the heroic old man, was on its knees before a child. September 12, an enormous crowd was surging around the palace of the Parliament in Paris. Little Louis XV. alighted from his carriage amidst acclamations, and formally entered the palace. He took off his hat, and then, replacing it on his head, said graciously: “Gentlemen, I have come here to assure you of my affection. Monsieur the Chancellor will acquaint you with my will.” And the first president responded: “We are all eager to contemplate you upon your bed of justice like the image of God on earth.” “Princes are badly brought up,” says the Marquis d’Argenson. “Nothing flatters and nothing corrects them.” Ought not one to be indulgent toward a prince to whom his governor, Marshal Villeray, kept repeating on the balcony of the Tuileries: “Look, master, look at these people; well! they are all yours, they all belong to you.” The regent said to the little monarch: “I am here only to render you my accounts, to offer matters for your consideration, to receive and execute your orders.” The child thought himself a man already.