The Fronde (French pronunciation: [fʀɔ̃d]) was a series of civil wars in France between 1648 and 1653, occurring in the midst of the Franco-Spanish War, which had begun in 1635. The king confronted the combined opposition of the princes, the nobility, the law courts (parlements), and most of the French people, and yet won out in the end.
The Fronde was divided into two campaigns, the Fronde of the parlements and the Fronde of the nobles. The timing of the outbreak of the Fronde des parlements, directly after the Peace of Westphalia (1648) that ended the Thirty Years War, was significant. The nuclei of the armed bands that terrorized parts of France under aristocratic leaders during this period had been hardened in a generation of war in Germany, where troops still tended to operate autonomously. Louis XIV, impressed as a young ruler with the experience of the Fronde, came to reorganize French fighting forces under a stricter hierarchy whose leaders ultimately could be made or unmade by the King. A. Lloyd Moote argues that Cardinal Mazarin blundered into the crisis but came out well ahead at the end. The Fronde represented the final attempt of the French nobility to do battle with the king, and they were humiliated. The long-term result was to strengthen Royal authority, but to weaken the economy. The Fronde facilitated the emergence of absolute monarchy.
No cuento más que fronteras
Hacia cualquier dirección.
Mi estrella fue de tercera,
No mi sol.
Mi cuerpo reta mil leyes
Para cambiar de lugar.
Mi sueño, rey entre reyes,
Echa a andar.
Tengo un paraíso de fantasía,
Sin embargo prescindo del mundo en que vivo.
Cada confín es un agravio a mi visión,
Mi verso, mi sangre.
Fronteras de tierra,
Fronteras de mares,
Fronteras de arena,
Fronteras de aire.
Fronteras de sexo,
Fronteras raciales,
Fronteras de sueños
Y de realidades.
Fronteras famosas,
Fronteras quemantes,
Fronteras de fastuosas,
Fronteras de hambre.
Fronteras de oprobio,
Fronteras legales,
Fronteras de odio,
Fronteras infames.
Mi país es pobre, mi piel mejunje,
Mi gobierno proscrito, mis huestes utópicas.
Mi voz no cuenta en las campanas de información,
Por no ser globable.
Fronteras de rejas
Y de libertades,
Fronteras de bienes
Que a veces son males.
Lo mismo perpetuas
Que provisionales,
Me envuelven fronteras