The day that the deed of gift had been sent to the king, the cardinalcaused himself to be transported to Vincennes. The king and the courtfollowed him thither. The last flashes of this torch still cast splendorenough around to absorb all other lights in its rays. Besides, as ithas been seen, the faithful satellite of his minister, young LouisXIV., marched to the last minute in accordance with his gravitation. Thedisease, as Guenaud had predicted, had become worse; it was no longer anattack of gout, it was an attack of death; then there was another thingwhich made that agony more agonizing still,--and that was the agitationbrought into his mind by the donation he had sent to the king, andwhich, according to Colbert, the king ought to send back unacceptedto the cardinal. The cardinal had, as we have said, great faith in thepredictions of his secretary; but the sum was a large one, and whatevermight be the genius of Colbert, from time to time the cardinal thoughtto himself that the Theatin also might possibly have been mistaken, andthat there was at least as much chance of his not being damned, as therewas of Louis XIV. sending back his millions.
Besides, the longer the donation was in coming back, the more Mazarinthought that forty millions were worth a little risk, particularly ofso hypothetic a thing as the soul. Mazarin, in his character of cardinaland prime minister, was almost an atheist, and quite a materialist.Every time that the door opened, he turned sharply round towards thatdoor, expecting to see the return of his unfortunate donation; then,deceived in his hope, he fell back again with a sigh, and found hispains so much the greater for having forgotten them for an instant.
Anne of Austria had also followed the cardinal; her heart, though agehad made it selfish, could not help evincing towards the dying mana sorrow which she owed him as a wife, according to some; and as asovereign, according to others. She had, in some sort, put on a mourningcountenance beforehand, and all the court wore it as she did.
Louis, in order not to show on his face what was passing at the bottomof his heart, persisted in remaining in his own apartments, where hisnurse alone kept him company; the more he saw the approach of the timewhen all constraint would be at an end, the more humble and patienthe was, falling back upon himself, as all strong men do when they formgreat designs, in order to gain more spring at the decisive moment.Extreme unction had been administered to the cardinal, who, faithfulto his habits of dissimulation, struggled against appearances, and evenagainst reality, receiving company in his bed, as if he only sufferedfrom a temporary complaint.
Guenaud, on his part, preserved profound secrecy; wearied with visitsand questions, he answered nothing but "his eminence is still full ofyouth and strength, but God wills that which He wills, and when He hasdecided that man is to be laid low, he will be laid low." These words,which he scattered with a sort of discretion, reserve, and preference,were commented upon earnestly by two persons,--the king and thecardinal. Mazarin, notwithstanding the prophecy of Guenaud, still luredhimself with a hope, or rather played his part so well, that the mostcunning, when saying that he lured himself, proved that they were hisdupes.
Louis, absent from the cardinal for two days; Louis with his eyes fixedupon that same donation which so constantly preoccupied the cardinal;Louis did not exactly know how to make out Mazarin's conduct. The sonof Louis XIII., following the paternal traditions, had, up to that time,been so little of a king that, whilst ardently desiring royalty, hedesired it with that terror which always accompanies the unknown. Thus,having formed his resolution, which, besides, he communicated to nobody,he determined to have an interview with Mazarin. It was Anne of Austria,who, constant in her attendance upon the cardinal, first heard thisproposition of the king's, and transmitted it to the dying man, whom itgreatly agitated. For what purpose could Louis wish for an interview?Was it to return the deed, as Colbert had said he would? Was it to keepit, after thanking him, as Mazarin thought he would? Nevertheless, asthe dying man felt that the uncertainty increased his torments, he didnot hesitate an instant.
"His majesty will be welcome,--yes, very welcome," cried he, making asign to Colbert, who was seated at the foot of the bed, and which thelatter understood perfectly. "Madame," continued Mazarin, "will yourmajesty be good enough to assure the king yourself of the truth of whatI have just said?"
Anne of Austria rose; she herself was anxious to have the question ofthe forty millions settled--the question which seemed to lie heavy onthe mind of every one. Anne of Austria went out; Mazarin made a greateffort, and, raising himself up towards Colbert: "Well, Colbert," saidhe, "two days have passed away--two mortal days--and, you see, nothinghas been returned from yonder."
"Patience, my lord," said Colbert.
"Are you mad, you wretch? You advise me to have patience! Oh, in sadtruth, Colbert, you are laughing at me. I am dying, and you call out tome to wait!"
"My lord," said Colbert, with his habitual coolness, "it is impossiblethat things should not come out as I have said. His majesty is coming tosee you, and no doubt he brings back the deed himself."
"Do you think so? Well, I, on the contrary, am sure that his majesty iscoming to thank me."
At this moment Anne of Austria returned. On her way to the apartments ofher son she had met with a new empiric. This was a powder which was saidto have power to save the cardinal; and she brought a portion of thispowder with her. But this was not what Mazarin expected; therefore hewould not even look at it, declaring that life was not worth thepains that were taken to preserve it. But, whilst professing thisphilosophical axiom, his long-confined secret escaped him at last.
"That, madame," said he, "that is not the interesting part of mysituation. I made, two days ago, a little donation to the king; up tothis time, from delicacy, no doubt, his majesty has not condescendedto say anything about it; but the time for explanation is come, and Iimplore your majesty to tell me if the king has made up his mind on thatmatter."
Anne of Austria was about to reply, when Mazarin stopped her.
"The truth, madame," said he--"in the name of Heaven, the truth! Do notflatter a dying man with a hope that may prove vain." There he stopped,a look from Colbert telling him that he was on a wrong tack.
"I know," said Anne of Austria, taking the cardinal's hand, "I know thatyou have generously made, not a little donation, as you modestly callit, but a magnificent gift. I know how painful it would be to you if theking----"
Mazarin listened, dying as he was, as ten living men could not havelistened.
"If the king----" replied he.
"If the king," continued Anne of Austria, "should not freely accept whatyou offer so nobly."
Mazarin allowed himself to sink back upon his pillow like Pantaloon;that is to say, with all the despair of a man who bows before thetempest; but he still preserved sufficient strength and presence ofmind to cast upon Colbert one of those looks which are well worth tensonnets, which is to say, ten long poems.
"Should you not," added the queen, "have considered the refusal ofthe king as a sort of insult?" Mazarin rolled his head about upon hispillow, without articulating a syllable. The queen was deceived, orfeigned to be deceived, by this demonstration.
"Therefore," resumed she, "I have circumvented him with good counsels;and as certain minds, jealous, no doubt, of the glory you are about toacquire by this generosity, have endeavored to prove to the king that heought not to accept this donation, I have struggled in your favor, andso well have I struggled, that you will not have, I hope, that distressto undergo."
"Ah!" murmured Mazarin, with languishing eyes, "ah! that is a service Ishall never forget for a single minute of the few hours I still have tolive."
"I must admit," continued the queen, "that it was not without trouble Irendered it to your eminence."
"Ah, peste! I believe that. Oh! oh!"
"Good God! what is the matter?"
"I am burning!"
"Do you suffer much?"
"As much as one of the damned."
Colbert would have liked to sink through the floor.
"So, then," resumed Mazarin
, "your majesty thinks that the king----" hestopped several seconds--"that the king is coming here to offer me somesmall thanks?"
"I think so," said the queen. Mazarin annihilated Colbert with his lastlook.
At that moment the ushers announced that the king was in theante-chambers, which were filled with people. This announcement produceda stir of which Colbert took advantage to escape by the door of theruelle. Anne of Austria arose, and awaited her son, standing. Louis XIV.appeared at the threshold of the door, with his eyes fixed upon thedying man, who did not even think it worth while to notice that majestyfrom whom he thought he had nothing more to expect. An usher placedan armchair close to the bed. Louis bowed to his mother, then to thecardinal, and sat down. The queen took a seat in her turn.
Then, as the king looked behind him, the usher understood that look andmade a sign to the courtiers who filled up the doorway to go out,which they instantly did. Silence fell upon the chamber with the velvetcurtains. The king, still very young, and very timid in the presence ofhim who had been his master from his birth, still respected him much,particularly now, in the supreme majesty of death. He did not dare,therefore, to begin the conversation, feeling that every word must haveits weight not only upon things of this world, but of the next. As tothe cardinal, at that moment he had but one thought--his donation. Itwas not physical pain which gave him that air of despondency, and thatlugubrious look; it was the expectation of the thanks that were aboutto issue from the king's mouth, and cut off all hope of restitution.Mazarin was the first to break the silence. "Is your majesty come tomake any stay at Vincennes?" said he.
Louis made an affirmative sign with his head.
"That is a gracious favor," continued Mazarin, "granted to a dying man,and which will render death less painful to him."
"I hope," replied the king, "I am come to visit, not a dying man, but asick man, susceptible of cure."
Mazarin replied by a movement of the head.
"Your majesty is very kind; but I know more than you on that subject.The last visit, sire," said he, "the last visit."
"If it were so, monsieur le cardinal," said Louis, "I would come a lasttime to ask the counsels of a guide to whom I owe everything."
Anne of Austria was a woman; she could not restrain her tears. Louisshowed himself much affected, and Mazarin still more than his twoguests, but from very different motives. Here the silence returned. Thequeen wiped her eyes, and the king resumed his firmness.
"I was saying," continued the king, "that I owed much to your eminence."The eyes of the cardinal devoured the king, for he felt the great momenthad come. "And," continued Louis, "the principal object of my visit wasto offer you very sincere thanks for the last evidence of friendship youhave kindly sent me."
The cheeks of the cardinal became sunken, his lips partially opened, andthe most lamentable sigh he had ever uttered was about to issue from hischest.
"Sire," said he, "I shall have despoiled my poor family; I shall haveruined all who belong to me, which may be imputed to me as an error;but, at least, it shall not be said of me that I have refused tosacrifice everything to my king."
Anne of Austria's tears flowed afresh.
"My dear Monsieur Mazarin," said the king, in a more serious tone thanmight have been expected from his youth, "you have misunderstood me,apparently."
Mazarin raised himself upon his elbow.
"I have no purpose to despoil your dear family, nor to ruin yourservants. Oh, no, that must never be!"
"Humph!" thought Mazarin, "he is going to restore me some scraps; let usget the largest piece we can."
"The king is going to be foolishly affected and play the generous,"thought the queen; "he must not be allowed to impoverish himself; suchan opportunity for getting a fortune will never occur again."
"Sire," said the cardinal, aloud, "my family is very numerous, and mynieces will be destitute when I am gone."
"Oh," interrupted the queen, eagerly, "have no uneasiness with respectto your family, dear Monsieur Mazarin; we have no friends dearer thanyour friends; your nieces shall be my children, the sisters of hismajesty; and if a favor be distributed in France, it shall be to thoseyou love."
"Smoke!" thought Mazarin, who knew better than any one the faith thatcan be put in the promises of kings. Louis read the dying man's thoughtin his face.
"Be comforted, my dear Monsieur Mazarin," said he, with a half-smile,sad beneath its irony; "the Mesdemoiselles de Mancini will lose, inlosing you, their most precious good; but they shall none the less bethe richest heiresses of France; and since you have been kind enough togive me their dowry"--the cardinal was panting--"I restore it tothem," continued Louis, drawing from his breast and holding towards thecardinal's bed the parchment which contained the donation that, duringtwo days, had kept alive such tempests in the mind of Mazarin.
"What did I tell you, my lord?" murmured in the alcove a voice whichpassed away like a breath.
"Your majesty returns my donation!" cried Mazarin, so disturbed by joyas to forget his character of a benefactor.
"Your majesty rejects the forty millions!" cried Anne of Austria, sostupefied as to forget her character of an afflicted wife, or queen.
"Yes, my lord cardinal; yes, madame," replied Louis XIV., tearingthe parchment which Mazarin had not yet ventured to clutch; "yes,I annihilate this deed, which despoiled a whole family. The wealthacquired by his eminence in my service is his own wealth and not mine."
"But, sire, does your majesty reflect," said Anne of Austria, "that youhave not ten thousand crowns in your coffers?"
"Madame, I have just performed my first royal action, and I hope it willworthily inaugurate my reign."
"Ah! sire, you are right!" cried Mazarin; "that is truly great--that istruly generous which you have just done." And he looked, one after theother, at the pieces of the act spread over his bed, to assure himselfthat it was the original and not a copy that had been torn. Atlength his eyes fell upon the fragment which bore his signature, andrecognizing it, he sunk back on his bolster in a swoon. Anne of Austria,without strength to conceal her regret, raised her hands and eyes towardheaven.
"Oh! sire," cried Mazarin, "may you be blessed! My God! May you bebeloved by all my family. Per Baccho! If ever any of those belonging tome should cause your displeasure, sire, only frown, and I will rise frommy tomb!"
This pantalonnade did not produce all the effect Mazarin had countedupon. Louis had already passed to considerations of a higher nature, andas to Anne of Austria, unable to bear, without abandoning herself to theanger she felt burning within her, the magnanimity of her son and thehypocrisy of the cardinal, she arose and left the chamber, heedlessof thus betraying the extent of her grief. Mazarin saw all this, andfearing that Louis XIV. might repent his decision, in order to drawattention another way he began to cry out, as, at a later period, Scapinwas to cry out, in that sublime piece of pleasantry with which themorose and grumbling Boileau dared to reproach Moliere. His cries,however, by degrees, became fainter; and when Anne of Austria left theapartment, they ceased altogether.
"Monsieur le cardinal," said the king, "have you any recommendations tomake to me?"
"Sire," replied Mazarin, "you are already wisdom itself, prudencepersonified; of your generosity I shall not venture to speak; that whichyou have just done exceeds all that the most generous men of antiquityor of modern times have ever done."
The king received this praise coldly.
"So you confine yourself," said he, "to your thanks--and yourexperience, much more extensive than my wisdom, my prudence, or mygenerosity, does not furnish you with a single piece of friendly adviceto guide my future."
Mazarin reflected for a moment. "You have just done much for me, sire,"said he, "that is, for my family."
"Say no more about that," said the king.
"Well!" continued Mazarin, "I shall give you something in exchange forthese forty millions you have refused so royally."
Louis XIV. indicated by a movement that these flatter
ies weredispleasing to him. "I shall give you a piece of advice," continuedMazarin; "yes, a piece of advice--advice more precious than the fortymillions."
"My lord cardinal!" interrupted Louis.
"Sire, listen to this advice."
"I am listening."
"Come nearer, sire, for I am weak!--nearer, sire, nearer!"
The king bent over the dying man. "Sire," said Mazarin, in so low a tonethat the breath of his words arrived only like a recommendation fromthe tomb in the attentive ears of the king--"Sire, never have a primeminister."
Louis drew back astonished. The advice was a confession--a treasure, infact, was that sincere confession of Mazarin. The legacy of the cardinalto the young king was composed of six words only, but those six words,as Mazarin had said, were worth forty millions. Louis remained foran instant bewildered. As for Mazarin, he appeared only to have saidsomething quite natural. A little scratching was heard along thecurtains of the alcove. Mazarin understood: "Yes, yes!" cried he warmly,"yes, sire, I recommend to you a wise man, an honest man, and a cleverman."
"Tell me his name, my lord."
"His name is yet almost unknown, sire; it is M. Colbert, my attendant.Oh! try him," added Mazarin, in an earnest voice; "all that he haspredicted has come to pass, he has a safe glance, he is never mistakeneither in things or in men--which is more surprising still. Sire, I oweyou much, but I think I acquit myself of all towards you in giving youM. Colbert."
"So be it," said Louis, faintly, for, as Mazarin had said, the name ofColbert was quite unknown to him, and he thought the enthusiasm of thecardinal partook of the delirium of a dying man. The cardinal sank backon his pillows.
"For the present, adieu, sire! adieu," murmured Mazarin. "I am tired,and I have yet a rough journey to take before I present myself to my newMaster. Adieu, sire!"
The young king felt the tears rise to his eyes; he bent over the dyingman, already half a corpse, and then hastily retired.
CHAPTER 49. The First Appearance of Colbert