It is not possible to tell the story of tapestry without telling the
story of the times, for the lesser acts are but the result of the
greater. There are matters in the life of Louis XIV that are
inseparable from our account. These are the associating of his life
with that of the three women whom he exalted far higher than his
queen, Marie Therese, the well-known, much-vaunted mesdames, de la
Valliere, de Montespan and de Maintenon.

Even before the death of Colbert, Louvois, with his army, had
encouraged the religious persecutions and wars of the king, and
shortly after, the widow of the poet Scarron became the royal spouse.
Relentless, indeed, were the persecutions then. It was in the same
year of the marriage that Louis revoked the Edict of Nantes, through
the hand of the weak Le Tellier, an action which gave Louvois ample
excuse for depleting the state coffers. Making military expense an
excuse, he turned his blighting hand toward the Gobelins and
restricted the director, Lebrun, even to denying him the golden
threads so necessary for the production of the sumptuous tapestries.

And so for a time the productions of the looms lacked their accustomed
elegance. Under Madame de Maintenon, the spirit of a morose religion
pervaded the court. All France was suffering under it, and in its name
unbelievable horrors were perpetrated in every province. Paris was not
too well informed of these to interfere with bourgeois life, but at
court the hypocritical soul of Madame de Maintenon made
self-righteousness a virtue.

An almost laughable result of this pious rectitude was a certain order
given at the Gobelins. Madame de Maintenon had thrust her leading nose
between the doors of the factory and had scented outraged modesty in
the reproduction there of the tapestries woven from models of Raphael,
Giulio Romano and the classicists, cartoons in great favour after the
hampering of Lebrun's imagination. The naked gods from Olympus must
be clothed, said this pious and modest lady.

This was very well for her role, as her influence over the king lay
deep-rooted in her pose of heavy virtue; but at the Gobelins, the
tapestry-makers must have laughed long and loud at the prudery which
they were set to further by actually weaving pictured garments and
setting them into the hangings where the lithe limbs of Apollo, and
Venus' lovely curves, had been cut away. The hanging called _The
Judgment of Paris_ is one of those altered to suit