CHAPTER X
THE BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK
Monsieur le Marquis d'Eglinton, Comptroller-General of Finance,Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis, Peer of England and of France,occupied the west wing of the Chateau of Versailles. His Majesty theKing had frequent and urgent need of him; Mme. de Pompadour couldscarce exist a day without an interview behind closed doors with themost powerful man in France: with him, who at the bidding of thenation, was set up as a bar to the extravagances of her own caprice.
And _le petit lever_ of M. le Controleur was certainly more largelyattended than that of M. le Duc d'Aumont, or even--softly be itwhispered--than that of His Majesty himself. For although every oneknew that M. le Marquis was but a figurehead, and that all graces andfavours emanated direct from the hand of Mme. la Marquise Lydie, yetevery one waited upon his good pleasure, for very much the same reasonthat those who expected or hoped something from the King invariablykissed the hand of Mme. de Pompadour.
M. le Controleur very much enjoyed these _petits levers_ of his, whichwere considered the most important social events in Versailles. He wasvery fond of chocolate in the morning, and M. Achille--that prince ofvalets--brought it to his bedside with such inimitable grace andwithal the beverage itself so aromatic and so hot, that this hourbetween ten and eleven each day had become extremely pleasant.
He had no idea that being Comptroller-General of Finance was quite soeasy and agreeable an occupation, else he had not been so diffident inaccepting the post. But in reality it was very simple. He governedFrance from the depths of his extremely comfortable bed, draped allround with rich satin hangings of a soft azure colour, embroideredwith _motifs_ of dull gold, which were vastly pleasing to the eye.Here he was conscious of naught save fine linen of a remarkably silkentexture, of a lace coverlet priceless in value, of the scent of hissteaming chocolate, and incidentally of a good many pleasant faces,and some unamiable ones, and of a subdued hive-like buzz of talk,which went on at the further end of the room, whilst M. Achilleadministered to his comforts and Mme. de Pompadour or Mme. la Comtessede Stainville told him piquant anecdotes.
Yes, it was all very pleasant, and not at all difficult. A wave of thehand in the direction of Mme. la Marquise, his wife, who usually satin a window embrasure overlooking the park, was all that was neededwhen petitioners were irksome or subjects too abstruse.
Lydie was so clever with all that sort of thing. She had the mind of apolitician and the astuteness of an attorney, and she liked to governFrance in an energetic way of her own which left milor free of allresponsibility if anything happened to go wrong.
But then nothing ever did go wrong. France went on just the same asshe had done before some of her more meddlesome Parliaments insistedon having a Comptroller of Finance at the head of affairs. Mme. dePompadour still spent a great deal of money, and the King stillinvariably paid her debts; whereupon, his pockets being empty, heapplied to M. le Controleur for something with which to replenishthem. M. le Controleur thereupon ordered M. Achille to bring one morecup of aromatic chocolate for Mme. de Pompadour, whilst His Majestythe King spent an uncomfortable quarter of an hour with Mme. laMarquise d'Eglinton.
The usual result of this quarter of an hour was that His Majesty wasexcessively wrathful against Mme. Lydie for quite a fortnight; but noone could be angry with "le petit Anglais," for he was so very amiableand dispensed such exceedingly good chocolate.
Par ma foi! it is remarkably easy to govern a country if one happen tohave a wife--that, at least, had been milor's experience--a wife and aperfect valet-de-chambre.
M. Achille, since his Marquis's elevation to the most importantposition in France, had quite surpassed himself in his demeanour. Hestood on guard beside the azure and gold hangings of his master's bedlike a veritable gorgon, turning the most importunate petitioners tostone at sight of his severe and repressive visage.
Oh! Achille was an invaluable asset in the governing of this kingdomof France. Achille knew the reason of each and every individual'spresence at the _petit lever_ of milor. He knew who was the mostlikely and most worthy person to fill any post in the country thathappened to be vacant, from that of examiner of stars and planets toHis Majesty the King down to that of under-scullion in the kitchen ofVersailles.
Had he not been the means of introducing Baptiste Durand to thespecial notice of M. le Marquis? Durand's daughter beinggirl-in-waiting to M. Joseph, valet-de-chambre to M. le Duc d'Aumont,and personal friend of M. Achille, what more natural than, when milorwanted a secretary to make notes for him, and to--well, to be presentif he happened to be wanted--that the worthy Baptiste should withperfect ease slip into the vacant post?
And Baptiste Durand was remarkably useful.
A small ante-chamber had been allotted for his occupation, throughwhich all those who were on their way to the _petit lever_ held inmilor's own bedchamber had of necessity to pass; and Baptiste knewexactly who should be allowed to pass and who should not. Withoutventuring even to refer to His Majesty, to Mme. de Pompadour, toMonseigneur le Dauphin, or persons of equally exalted rank, thefaithful chroniclers of the time tell us that no gentleman was alloweda private audience with M. le Controleur-General if hisvalet-de-chambre was not a personal friend of Monsieur Durand.
There sat the worthy Baptiste enthroned behind a secretaire which wasalways littered with papers, petitions, letters, the usualparaphernalia that pertains to a man of influence. His meagre personwas encased in a coat and breeches of fine scarlet cloth, whereon atiny fillet of gold suggested without unduly flaunting the heraldiccolours of the house of Eglinton. He wore silk stockings--always; andshoes with cut-steel buckles, whilst frills of broidered lawnencircled his wrists and cascaded above his waistcoat.
He invariably partook of snuff when an unknown and unrecommendedapplicant presented himself in his sanctum. "My good friend, it isimpossible," he was saying on this very morning of August 13, 1746,with quiet determination to a petitioner who was becoming tooinsistent. "Milor's chamber is overcrowded as it is."
"I'll call again--another day perhaps; my master is anxious for apersonal interview with yours."
Whereupon M. Durand's eyebrows were lifted upward until they almostcame in contact with his perruque; he fetched out a voluminoushandkerchief from his pocket and carefully removed a few grains ofdust from his cravat. Then he said, without raising his voice in theslightest degree or showing impatience in any way at the man'signorance and stupidity--
"My good---- What is your name? I forgot."
"I am Hypolite Francois, confidential valet to M. le Marechal deCoigni and----"
M. Durand's thin and delicately veined hand went up in gentledeprecation.
"Ma foi! my worthy Coigni, 'tis all the same to me if you are amarechal or a simple lieutenant. As for me, young man," he added, withdignified severity, "remember in future that I serve no one. I assistM. le Controleur-General des Finances to--to----"--he paused a second,waving his hand and turning the phrase over in his mouth, whilstseeking for its most appropriate conclusion--"to, in fact, make aworthy selection amidst the hundreds and thousands of petitions whichare presented to him."
And with a vague gesture he indicated the papers which lay in adisordered heap on his secretaire.
"For the rest, my good Coigni," he added, with the same impressivedignity, "let me assure you once again that M. le Marquis's bedchamberis overcrowded, that he is busily engaged at the present moment, andis likely to be so for some considerable time to come. What is it yourmarechal wants?"
"His pension," replied Hypolite curtly, "and the vacant post in theMinistry of War."
"Impossible! We have fourteen likely applicants already."
"M. le Marechal is sure that if he could speak with M. leControleur----"
"M. le Controleur is busy."
"To-morrow, then----"
"To-morrow he will be even more busy than to-day."
"M. Durand!" pleaded Hypolite.
"Impossible! You are wasting my time, my good Coigni; I have hu
ndredsto see to-day."
"Not for your daughter's sake?"
"My daughter?"
"Yes; didn't you know? You remember Henriette, her great friend?"
"Yes, yes--little Henriette Dessy, the milliner," assented M. Durandwith vast condescension. "A pretty wench; she was at the Ursulinesconvent school with my daughter; they have remained great friends eversince. What about little Henriette?"
"Mlle. Henriette is my _fiancee_," quoth the other eagerly, "and Ithought----"
"Your _fiancee_? Little Henriette Dessy?" said M. Durand gaily."Pardieu my good Coigni, why did you not tell me so before? Mydaughter is very fond of Henriette--a pretty minx, par ma foi! He!he!"
"You are very kind, M. Durand."
"Mais non, mais non," said the great man, with much affability; "oneis always ready to oblige a friend. He, now! give me your hand, friendCoigni. Shoot your rubbish along--quoi!--your Marechal; he may passthis way. Anything one can do to oblige a friend."
With the affairs of M. le Marechal de Coigni the present chroniclehath no further concern; but we know that some ten minutes later onthis same August 13, 1746, he succeeded in being present at the _petitlever_ of M. le Controleur-General des Finances. Once within thesecret precincts of the bedchamber he, like so many other petitionersand courtiers, was duly confronted by the stony stare of M. Achille,and found himself face to face with an enormous bedstead of delicatelypainted satinwood and ormulu mounts, draped with heavy azure silkcurtains which hung down from a gilded baldachin, the whole amasterpiece of the furniture-maker's art.
The scent of chocolate filled his nostrils, and he vaguely saw agood-looking young man reclining under a coverlet of magnificentVenetian lace, and listening placidly to what was obviously a veryamusing tale related to him by well-rouged lips. From the billowysatins and laces of the couch a delicate hand was waved toward him ashe attempted to pay his respects to the most powerful man in France;the next moment the same stony-faced gorgon clad in scarlet and goldbeckoned to him to follow, and he found himself being led through thebrilliantly dressed crowd toward a compact group of backs, whichformed a sort of living wall, painted in delicate colours of green andmauve and gray, and duly filled up the approach to the main windowembrasure.
It is interesting to note from the memoirs of M. le Comte d'Argensonthat the Marechal de Coigni duly filled the post of State Secretary tothe Minister of War from the year 1746 onward. We may, therefore,presume that he succeeded in piercing that wall of respectful backsand in reaching sufficiently far within the charmed circle to attractthe personal attention of Mme. la Marquise Lydie d'Eglinton _nee_d'Aumont.
He had, therefore, cause to bless the day when his valet-de-chambrebecame the _fiance_ of Mlle. Henriette Dessy, the intimate friend ofM. Baptiste Durand's dearly beloved daughter.