CHAPTER VI.
A COURT, COURTIERS, AND A KING.
I THINK it was the second day after this "feast of reason" that LordBolingbroke deemed it advisable to retire to Lyons till his plans ofconduct were ripened into decision. We took an affectionate leave ofeach other; but before we parted, and after he had discussed his ownprojects of ambition, we talked a little upon mine. Although I was aCatholic and a pupil of Montreuil, although I had fled from Englandand had nothing to expect from the House of Hanover, I was by no meansfavourably disposed towards the Chevalier and his cause. I wonderif this avowal will seem odd to Englishmen of the next century!To Englishmen of the present one, a Roman Catholic and a lover ofpriestcraft and tyranny are two words for the same thing; as if we couldnot murmur at tithes and taxes, insecurity of property or arbitrarylegislation, just as sourly as any other Christian community. No!I never loved the cause of the Stuarts,--unfortunate, and thereforeinteresting, as the Stuarts were; by a very stupid and yet uneffaceableconfusion of ideas, I confounded it with the cause of Montreuil, andI hated the latter enough to dislike the former: I fancy all partyprinciples are formed much in the same manner. I frankly toldBolingbroke my disinclination to the Chevalier.
"Between ourselves be it spoken," said he, "there is but little toinduce a wise man in _your_ circumstances to join James the Third. Iwould advise you rather to take advantage of your father's reputation atthe French court, and enter into the same service he did. Things wear adark face in England for you, and a bright one everywhere else."
"I have already," said I, "in my own mind, perceived and weighed theadvantages of entering into the service of Louis. But he is old: hecannot live long. People now pay court to parties, not to the king.Which party, think you, is the best,--that of Madame de Maintenon?"
"Nay, I think not; she is a cold friend, and never asks favours of Louisfor any of her family. A bold game might be played by attaching yourselfto the Duchesse d'Orleans (the Duke's mother). She is at daggers-drawnwith Maintenon, it is true, and she is a violent, haughty, and coarsewoman; but she has wit, talent, strength of mind, and will zealouslyserve any person of high birth who pays her respect. But she can donothing for you till the king's death, and then only on the chance ofher son's power. But--let me see--you say Fleuri, the Bishop of Frejus,is to introduce you to Madame de Maintenon?"
"Yes; and has appointed the day after to-morrow for that purpose."
"Well, then, make close friends with him: you will not find itdifficult; he has a delightful address, and if you get hold of hisweak points you may win his confidence. Mark me: Fleuri has no_faux-brillant_, no genius, indeed, of very prominent order; but he isone of those soft and smooth minds which, in a crisis like the present,when parties are contending and princes wrangling, always slip silentlyand unobtrusively into one of the best places. Keep in with Frejus: youcannot do wrong by it; although you must remember that at present heis in ill odour with the king, and you need not go with _him twice_ toVersailles. But, above all, when you are introduced to Louis, donot forget that you cannot please him better than by appearingawe-stricken."
Such was Bolingbroke's parting advice. The Bishop of Frejus carriedme with him (on the morning we had appointed) to Versailles. What amagnificent work of royal imagination is that palace! I know not in anyepic a grander idea than terming the avenues which lead to it the roads"to Spain, to Holland," etc. In London, they would have been the roadsto Chelsea and Pentonville!
As we were driving slowly along in the Bishop's carriage, I had ampletime for conversation with that personage, who has since, as theCardinal de Fleuri, risen to so high a pitch of power. He certainly hasin him very little of the great man; nor do I know anywhere so strikingan instance of this truth,--that in that game of honours which is playedat courts, we obtain success less by our talents than our tempers.He laughed, with a graceful turn of _badinage_, at the politicalpeculiarities of Madame de Balzac; and said that it was not for theuppermost party to feel resentment at the chafings of the under one.Sliding from this topic, he then questioned me as to the gayeties I hadwitnessed. I gave him a description of the party at Boulainvilliers'. Heseemed much interested in this, and showed more shrewdness than I shouldhave given him credit for in discussing the various characters of the_literati_ of the day. After some general conversation on works offiction, he artfully glided into treating on those of statistics andpolitics, and I then caught a sudden but thorough insight into thedepths of his policy. I saw that, while he affected to be indifferent tothe difficulties and puzzles of state, he lost no opportunity ofgaining every particle of information respecting them; and that he madeconversation, in which he was skilled, a vehicle for acquiring thatknowledge which he had not the force of mind to create from his ownintellect, or to work out from the written labours of others. If thismade him a superficial statesman, it made him a prompt one; and therewas never so lucky a minister with so little trouble to himself.*
* At his death appeared the following pnnning epigram:--
"_Floruit_ sine fructu; _Defloruit_ sine luctu."
"He flowered without fruit, and faded without regret."--ED.
As we approached the end of our destination, we talked of the King. Onthis subject he was jealously cautious. But I gleaned from him,despite of his sagacity, that it was high time to make all use of one'sacquaintance with Madame de Maintenon that one could be enabled to do;and that it was so difficult to guess the exact places in which powerwould rest after the death of the old King that supineness and silencemade at present the most profound policy.
As we alighted from the carriage and I first set my foot within thepalace, I could not but feel involuntarily yet powerfully impressed withthe sense of the spirit of the place. I was in the precincts of thatmighty court which had gathered into one dazzling focus all the rays ofgenius which half a century had emitted,--the court at which time hadpassed at once from the morn of civilization into its full noonand glory,--the court of Conde and Turenne, of Villars and ofTourville,--the court where, over the wit of Grammont, the profusion ofFouquet, the fatal genius of Louvois (fatal to humanity and to France),Love, real Love, had not disdained to shed its pathos and its truth, andto consecrate the hollow pageantries of royal pomp, with the tenderness,the beauty, and the repentance of La Valliere. Still over that scenehung the spells of a genius which, if artificial and cold, was alsovast, stately, and magnificent,--a genius which had swelled in therich music of Racine, which had raised the nobler spirit and the freerthought of Pierre Corneille,* which had given edge to the polishedweapon of Boileau, which had lavished over the bright page ofMoliere,--Moliere, more wonderful than all--a knowledge of the humoursand the hearts of men, which no dramatist, save Shakspeare, hassurpassed. Within those walls still glowed, though now waxing faint anddim, the fame of that monarch who had enjoyed, at least till his laterday, the fortune of Augustus unsullied by the crimes of Octavius. Ninetimes, since the sun of that monarch rose, had the Papal Chair receiveda new occupant! Six sovereigns had reigned over the Ottoman hordes! Thefourth emperor since the birth of the same era bore sway over Germany!Five czars, from Michael Romanoff to the Great Peter, had held, overtheir enormous territory, the precarious tenure of their iron power!Six kings had borne the painful cincture of the English crown;** two ofthose kings had been fugitives to that court; to the son of the last itwas an asylum at that moment.
* Rigidly speaking, Corneille belongs to a period later than thatof Louis XIV., though he has been included in the era formed by thatreign.--ED.
** Besides Cromwell; namely, Charles I., Charles II., James II., Williamand Mary, Anne, George I.
What wonderful changes had passed over the face of Europe during thatsingle reign! In England only, what a vast leap in the waste of events,from the reign of the first Charles to that of George the First! I stilllingered, I still gazed, as these thoughts, linked to one another inan electric chain, flashed over me! I still paused on the threshold ofthose stately halls which Nature herself had been conquered to rea
r!Where, through the whole earth, could I find so meet a symbol for thecharacter and the name which that sovereign would leave to posterity asthis palace itself afforded? A gorgeous monument of regal state raisedfrom a desert; crowded alike with empty pageantries and illustriousnames; a prodigy of elaborate artifice, grand in its whole effect, pettyin its small details; a solitary oblation to a splendid selfishness, andmost remarkable for the revenues which it exhausted and the poverty bywhich it is surrounded!
Fleuri, with his usual urbanity--an urbanity that, on a great scale,would have been benevolence--had hitherto indulged me in my emotions: henow laid his hand upon my arm, and recalled me to myself. Before I couldapologize for my abstraction, the Bishop was accosted by an old man ofevident rank, but of a countenance more strikingly demonstrative ofthe little cares of a mere courtier than any I ever beheld. "What news,Monsieur le Marquis?" said Fleuri, smiling.
"Oh! the greatest imaginable! the King talks of receiving the Danishminister on _Thursday_, which, you know, is his day of _domesticbusiness_! What _can_ this portend? Besides," and here the speaker'svoice lowered into a whisper, "I am told by the Duc de la Rochefoucauldthat the king intends, out of all ordinary rule and practice, to takephysic to-morrow: I can't believe it; no, I positively can't; but don'tlet this go further!"
"Heaven forbid!" answered Fleuri, bowing, and the courtier passed on towhisper his intelligence to others. "Who's that gentleman?" I asked.
"The Marquis de Dangeau," answered Fleuri; "a nobleman of great quality,who keeps a diary of all the king says and does. It will perhaps bea posthumous publication, and will show the world of what importancenothings can be made. I dare say, Count, you have already, in England,seen enough of a court to know that there are some people who are ashuman echoes, and have no existence except in the noise occasioned byanother."
I took care that my answer should not be a witticism, lest Fleuri shouldthink I was attempting to rival him; and so we passed on in an excellenthumour with each other.
We mounted the grand staircase, and came to an ante-chamber, which,though costly and rich, was not remarkably conspicuous for splendour.Here the Bishop requested me to wait for a moment. Accordingly, I amusedmyself with looking over some engravings of different saints. Meanwhile,my companion passed through another door, and I was alone.
After an absence of nearly ten minutes, he returned. "Madame deMaintenon," said he in a whisper, "is but poorly to-day. However, shehas eagerly consented to see you; follow me!"
So saying, the ecclesiastical courtier passed on, with myself athis heels. We came to the door of a second chamber, at which Fleuri_scraped_ gently. We were admitted, and found therein three ladies, oneof whom was reading, a second laughing, and a third yawning, and enteredinto another chamber, where, alone and seated by the window in a largechair, with one foot on a stool, in an attitude that rather remindedme of my mother, and which seems to me a favourite position with alldevotees, we found an old woman without _rouge_, plainly dressed, withspectacles on her nose and a large book on a little table before her.With a most profound salutation, Frejus approached, and taking me by thehand, said,--
"Will Madame suffer me to present to her the Count Devereux?"
Madame de Maintenon, with an air of great meekness and humility, boweda return to the salutation. "The son of Madame la Marechale de Devereuxwill always be most welcome to me!" Then, turning towards us, shepointed to two stools, and, while we were seating ourselves, said,--
"And how did you leave my excellent friend?"
"When, Madame, I last saw my mother, which is now nearly a year ago, shewas in health, and consoling herself for the advance of years bythat tendency to wean the thoughts from this world which (in her ownlanguage) is the divinest comfort of old age!"
"Admirable woman!" said Madame de Maintenon, casting down her eyes;"such are indeed the sentiments in which I recognize the Marechale. Andhow does her beauty wear? Those golden locks, and blue eyes, and thatsnowy skin, are not yet, I suppose, wholly changed for an adequatecompensation of the beauties within?"
"Time, Madame, has been gentle with her; and I have often thought,though never perhaps more strongly than at this moment, that there is inthose divine studies, which bring calm and light to the mind, somethingwhich preserves and embalms, as it were, the beauty of the body."
A faint blush passed over the face of the devotee. No, no,--not even ateighty years of age is a compliment to a woman's beauty misplaced! Therewas a slight pause. I thought that respect forbade me to break it.
"His Majesty," said the Bishop, in the tone of one who is sensible thathe encroaches a little, and does it with consequent reverence, "hisMajesty, I hope, is well?"
"God be thanked, yes, as well as we can expect. It is now nearly thehour in which his Majesty awaits your personal inquiries."
Fleuri bowed as he answered,--
"The King, then, will receive us to-day? My young companion is verydesirous to see the greatest monarch, and, consequently, the greatestman, of the age."
"The desire is natural," said Madame de Maintenon; and then, turning tome, she asked if I had yet seen King James the Third.
I took care, in my answer, to express that even if I had resolved tomake that stay in Paris which allowed me to pay my respects to him atall, I should have deemed that both duty and inclination led me, in thefirst instance, to offer my homage to one who was both the benefactor ofmy father and the monarch whose realms afforded me protection.
"You have not, then," said Madame de Maintenon, "decided on the lengthof your stay in France?"
"No," said I,--and my answer was regulated by my desire to see how far Imight rely on the services of one who expressed herself so warm a friendof that excellent woman, Madame la Marechale,--"no, Madame. France isthe country of my birth, if England is that of my parentage; and couldI hope for some portion of that royal favour which my father enjoyed,I would rather claim it as the home of my hopes than the refuge of myexile. But"--and I stopped short purposely.
The old lady looked at me very earnestly through her spectacles forone moment, and then, hemming twice with a little embarrassment, againremarked to the Bishop that the time for seeing the King was nearlyarrived. Fleuri, whose policy at that period was very like that of theconcealed Queen, and who was, besides, far from desirous of introducingany new claimants on Madame de Maintenon's official favour, though hemight not object to introduce them to a private friend, was not slow intaking the hint. He rose, and I was forced to follow his example.
Madame de Maintenon thought she might safely indulge in a littlecordiality when I was just on the point of leaving her, and accordinglyblessed me, and gave me her hand, which I kissed very devoutly. Anextremely pretty hand it was, too, notwithstanding the good Queen'sage. We then retired, and, repassing the three ladies, who were now allyawning, repaired to the King's apartments.
"What think you of Madame?" asked Fleuri.
"What can I think of her," said I, cautiously, "but that greatness seemsin her to take its noblest form,--that of simplicity?"
"True," rejoined Fleuri; "never was there so meek a mind joined to solowly a carriage! Do you remark any trace of former beauty?"
"Yes, indeed, there is much that is soft in her countenance, and muchthat is still regular in her features; but what struck me most was thepensive and even sad tranquillity that rests upon her face when she issilent."
"The expression betrays the mind," answered Fleuri; "and the curse ofthe great is _ennui_."
"Of the great in station," said I, "but not necessarily of the great inmind. I have heard that the Bishop of Frejus, notwithstanding hisrank and celebrity, employs every hour to the advantage of others, andconsequently without tedium to himself."
"Aha!" said Fleuri, smiling gently and patting my cheek: "see now ifthe air of palaces is not absolutely prolific of pretty speeches." And,before I could answer, we were in the apartments of the King.
Leaving me a while to cool my heels in a gallery, filled with thebutterflies who
bask in the royal sunshine, Frejus then disappearedamong the crowd; he was scarcely gone when I was agreeably surprised byseeing Count Hamilton approach towards me.
"_Mort diable_!" said he, shaking me by the hand _a l'Anglaise_; "I amreally delighted to see any one here who does not insult my sins withhis superior excellence. Eh, now, look round this apartment for amoment! Whether would you believe yourself at the court of a greatking or the _levee_ of a Roman cardinal! Whom see you chiefly? Gallantsoldiers, with worn brows and glittering weeds? wise statesmen with ruinto Austria and defiance to Rome in every wrinkle? gay nobles in costlyrobes, and with the bearing that so nicely teaches mirth to be dignifiedand dignity to be merry? No! cassock and hat, rosary and gown, deckingsly, demure, hypocritical faces, flit, and stalk, and sadden round us.It seems to me," continued the witty Count, in a lower whisper, "as ifthe old king, having fairly buried his glory at Ramilies and Blenheim,had summoned all these good gentry to sing psalms over it! But are youwaiting for a private audience?"
"Yes, under the auspices of the Bishop of Frejus."
"You might have chosen a better guide: the King has been too much teasedabout him," rejoined Hamilton; "and now that we are talking of him, Iwill show you a singular instance of what good manners can do at courtin preference to good abilities. You observe yon quiet, modest-lookingman, with a sensible countenance and a clerical garb; you observe howhe edges away when any one approaches to accost him; and how, from hisextreme disesteem of himself, he seems to inspire every one with thesame sentiment. Well, that man is a namesake of Fleuri, the Priorof Argenteuil; he has come here, I suppose, for some particular andtemporary purpose, since, in reality, he has left the court. Well,that worthy priest--do remark his bow; did you ever see anything soawkward?--is one of the most learned divines that the Church can boastof; he is as immeasurably superior to the smooth-faced Bishop of Frejusas Louis the Fourteenth is to my old friend Charles the Second. He hashad equal opportunities with the said Bishop; been preceptor to theprinces of Conti and the Count de Vermandois; and yet I will wagerthat he lives and dies a tutor, a bookworm--and a prior; while t' otherFleuri, without a particle of merit but of the most superficial order,governs already kings through their mistresses, kingdoms through thekings, and may, for aught I know, expand into a prime minister and ripeninto a cardinal."
"Nay," said I, smiling, "there is little chance of so exalted a lot forthe worthy Bishop."
"Pardon me," interrupted Hamilton, "I am an old courtier, and looksteadily on the game I no longer play. Suppleness, united with art, maydo anything in a court like this; and the smooth and unelevated craftof a Fleuri may win even to the same height as the deep wiles of theglittering Mazarin, or the superb genius of the imperious Richelieu."
"Hist!" said I, "the Bishop has reappeared. Who is that old priest witha fine countenance and an address that will, at least, please you betterthan that of the Prior of Argenteuil, who has just stopped our episcopalcourtier?"
"What! do you not know? It is the most celebrated preacher of theday,--the great Massillon. It is said that that handsome person goesa great way towards winning converts among the court ladies; it iscertain, at least, that when Massillon first entered the profession hewas to the soul something like the spear of Achilles to the body; and,though very efficacious in healing the wounds of conscience, was equallyready in the first instance to inflict them."
"Ah," said I, "see the malice of wit; and see, above all, how muchmore ready one is to mention a man's frailties than to enlarge upon hisvirtues."
"To be sure," answered Hamilton, coolly, and patting his snuff-box, "tobe sure, we old people like history better than fiction; and frailty iscertain, while virtue is always doubtful."
"Don't judge of all people," said I, "by your experience among thecourtiers of Charles the Second."
"Right," said Hamilton. "Providence never assembled so many rascalstogether before without hanging them. And he would indeed be a bad judgeof human nature who estimated the characters of men in general by theheroes of Newgate and the victims of Tyburn. But your Bishop approaches.Adieu!"
"What!" said Fleuri, joining me and saluting Hamilton, who had justturned to depart, "what, Count Antoine! Does anything but whim bring youhere to-day?"
"No," answered Hamilton; "I am only here for the same purpose as thepoor go to the temples of Caitan,--_to inhale the steam of those goodthings which I see the priests devour_."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the good-natured Bishop, not in the leastdisconcerted; and Count Hamilton, congratulating himself on his _bonmot_, turned away.
"I have spoken to his Most Christian Majesty," said the Bishop; "he iswilling, as he before ordained, to admit you to his presence. The Duc deMaine is with the King, as also some other members of the royal family;but you will consider this a private audience."
I expressed my gratitude: we moved on; the doors of an apartment werethrown open; and I saw myself in the presence of Louis XIV.
The room was partially darkened. In the centre of it, on a large sofa,reclined the King; he was dressed (though this, if I may so speak,I rather remembered than noted) in a coat of black velvet, slightlyembroidered; his vest was of white satin; he wore no jewels nor orders,for it was only on grand or gala days that he displayed personal pomp.At some little distance from him stood three members of the royalfamily; them I never regarded: all my attention was bent upon the King.My temperament is not that on which greatness, or indeed any externalcircumstances, make much impression; but as, following at a littledistance the Bishop of Frejus, I approached the royal person, I mustconfess that Bolingbroke had scarcely need to have cautioned me not toappear too self-possessed. Perhaps, had I seen that great monarch in his_beaux jours_; in the plenitude of his power, his glory, the dazzlingand meridian splendour of his person, his court, and his renown,--pridemight have made me more on my guard against too deep, or at least tooapparent, an impression; but the many reverses of that magnificentsovereign,--reverses in which he had shown himself more great than inall his previous triumphs and early successes; his age, his infirmities,the very clouds round the setting sun, the very howls of joy at theexpiring lion,--all were calculated, in my mind, to deepen respect intoreverence, and tincture reverence itself with awe. I saw before me notonly the majesty of Louis le Grand, but that of misfortune, of weakness,of infirmity, and of age; and I forgot at once, in that reflection, whatotherwise would have blunted my sentiments of deference, namely, thecrimes of his ministers and the exactions of his reign. Endeavouring tocollect my mind from an embarrassment which surprised myself, I liftedmy eyes towards the King, and saw a countenance where the trace of thesuperb beauty for which his manhood had been celebrated still lingered,broken, not destroyed, and borrowing a dignity even more imposingfrom the marks of encroaching years and from the evident exhaustion ofsuffering and disease.
Fleuri said, in a low tone, something which my ear did not catch. Therewas a pause,--only a moment's pause; and then, in a voice, the musicof which I had hitherto deemed exaggerated, the King spoke; and in thatvoice there was something so kind and encouraging that I felt reassuredat once. Perhaps its tone was not the less conciliating from the evidenteffect which the royal presence had produced upon me.
"You have given us, Count Devereux," said the King, "a pleasure whichwe are glad, in person, to acknowledge to you. And it has seemed to usfitting that the country in which your brave father acquired his fameshould also be the asylum of his son."
"Sire," answered I, "Sire, it shall not be my fault if that country isnot henceforth my own; and in inheriting my father's name, I inheritalso his gratitude and his ambition."
"It is well said, Sir," said the King; and I once more raised my eyes,and perceived that his were bent upon me. "It is well said," he repeatedafter a short pause; "and in granting to you this audience, we werenot unwilling to hope that you were desirous to attach yourself to ourcourt. The times do not require" (here I thought the old King's voicewas not so firm as before) "the manifestation of your zeal in t
he samecareer as that in which your father gained laurels to France and tohimself. But we will not neglect to find employment for your abilities,if not for your sword."
"That sword which was given to me, Sire," said I, "by your Majesty,shall be ever drawn (against all nations but one) at your command; and,in being your Majesty's petitioner for future favours, I only seek somechannel through which to evince my gratitude for the past."
"We do not doubt," said Louis, "that whatever be the number of theungrateful we may make by testifying our good pleasure on your behalf,_you_ will not be among the number." The King here made a slight butcourteous inclination and turned round. The observant Bishop of Frejus,who had retired to a little distance and who knew that the King neverliked talking more than he could help it, gave me a signal. I obeyed,and backed, with all due deference, out of the royal presence.
So closed my interview with Louis XIV. Although his Majesty did notindulge in prolixity, I spoke of him for a long time afterwards as themost eloquent of men. Believe me, there is no orator like a king; oneword from a royal mouth stirs the heart more than Demosthenes could havedone. There was a deep moral in that custom of the ancients, by whichthe Goddess of Persuasion was always represented _with a diadem on herhead_.