Vingt ans après. English

  45. The Beggar of St. Eustache.

  D'Artagnan had calculated that in not going at once to the Palais Royalhe would give Comminges time to arrive before him, and consequently tomake the cardinal acquainted with the eminent services which he,D'Artagnan, and his friend had rendered to the queen's party in themorning.

  They were indeed admirably received by Mazarin, who paid them numerouscompliments, and announced that they were more than half on their way toobtain what they desired, namely, D'Artagnan his captaincy, Porthos hisbarony.

  D'Artagnan would have preferred money in hand to all that fine talk, forhe knew well that to Mazarin it was easy to promise and hard to perform.But, though he held the cardinal's promises as of little worth, heaffected to be completely satisfied, for he was unwilling to discouragePorthos.

  Whilst the two friends were with the cardinal, the queen sent for him.Mazarin, thinking that it would be the means of increasing the zeal ofhis two defenders if he procured them personal thanks from the queen,motioned them to follow him. D'Artagnan and Porthos pointed to theirdusty and torn dresses, but the cardinal shook his head.

  "Those costumes," he said, "are of more worth than most of those whichyou will see on the backs of the queen's courtiers; they are costumes ofbattle."

  D'Artagnan and Porthos obeyed. The court of Anne of Austria was full ofgayety and animation; for, after having gained a victory over theSpaniard, it had just gained another over the people. Broussel had beenconducted out of Paris without further resistance, and was at this timein the prison of Saint Germain; while Blancmesnil, who was arrested atthe same time, but whose arrest had been made without difficulty ornoise, was safe in the Castle of Vincennes.

  Comminges was near the queen, who was questioning him upon the detailsof his expedition, and every one was listening to his account, whenD'Artagnan and Porthos were perceived at the door, behind the cardinal.

  "Ah, madame," said Comminges, hastening to D'Artagnan, "here is one whocan tell you better than myself, for he was my protector. Without him Ishould probably at this moment be a dead fish in the nets at SaintCloud, for it was a question of nothing less than throwing me into theriver. Speak, D'Artagnan, speak."

  D'Artagnan had been a hundred times in the same room with the queensince he had become lieutenant of the musketeers, but her majesty hadnever once spoken to him.

  "Well, sir," at last said Anne of Austria, "you are silent, afterrendering such a service?"

  "Madame," replied D'Artagnan, "I have nought to say, save that my lifeis ever at your majesty's service, and that I shall only be happy theday I lose it for you."

  "I know that, sir; I have known that," said the queen, "a long time;therefore I am delighted to be able thus publicly to mark my gratitudeand my esteem."

  "Permit me, madame," said D'Artagnan, "to reserve a portion for myfriend; like myself" (he laid an emphasis on these words) "an ancientmusketeer of the company of Treville; he has done wonders."

  "His name?" asked the queen.

  "In the regiment," said D'Artagnan, "he is called Porthos" (the queenstarted), "but his true name is the Chevalier du Vallon."

  "De Bracieux de Pierrefonds," added Porthos.

  "These names are too numerous for me to remember them all, and I willcontent myself with the first," said the queen, graciously. Porthosbowed. At this moment the coadjutor was announced; a cry of surprise ranthrough the royal assemblage. Although the coadjutor had preached thatsame morning it was well known that he leaned much to the side of theFronde; and Mazarin, in requesting the archbishop of Paris to make hisnephew preach, had evidently had the intention of administering toMonsieur de Retz one of those Italian kicks he so much enjoyed giving.

  The fact was, in leaving Notre Dame the coadjutor had learned the eventof the day. Although almost engaged to the leaders of the Fronde he hadnot gone so far but that retreat was possible should the court offer himthe advantages for which he was ambitious and to which the coadjutorshipwas but a stepping-stone. Monsieur de Retz wished to become archbishopin his uncle's place, and cardinal, like Mazarin; and the popular partycould with difficulty accord him favors so entirely royal. He thereforehastened to the palace to congratulate the queen on the battle of Lens,determined beforehand to act with or against the court, as hiscongratulations were well or ill received.

  The coadjutor possessed, perhaps, as much wit as all those put togetherwho were assembled at the court to laugh at him. His speech, therefore,was so well turned, that in spite of the great wish felt by thecourtiers to laugh, they could find no point on which to vent theirridicule. He concluded by saying that he placed his feeble influence ather majesty's command.

  During the whole time he was speaking, the queen appeared to be wellpleased with the coadjutor's harangue; but terminating as it did withsuch a phrase, the only one which could be caught at by the jokers, Anneturned around and directed a glance toward her favorites, whichannounced that she delivered up the coadjutor to their tender mercies.Immediately the wits of the court plunged into satire. Nogent-Beautin,the fool of the court, exclaimed that "the queen was very happy to havethe succor of religion at such a moment." This caused a universal burstof laughter. The Count de Villeroy said that "he did not know how anyfear could be entertained for a moment, when the court had, to defenditself against the parliament and the citizens of Paris, his holinessthe coadjutor, who by a signal could raise an army of curates, churchporters and vergers."

  The Marechal de la Meilleraie added that in case the coadjutor shouldappear on the field of battle it would be a pity that he should not bedistinguished in the melee by wearing a red hat, as Henry IV. had beendistinguished by his white plume at the battle of Ivry.

  During this storm, Gondy, who had it in his power to make it mostunpleasant for the jesters, remained calm and stern. The queen at lastasked him if he had anything to add to the fine discourse he had justmade to her.

  "Yes, madame," replied the coadjutor; "I have to beg you to reflecttwice ere you cause a civil war in the kingdom."

  The queen turned her back and the laughing recommenced.

  The coadjutor bowed and left the palace, casting upon the cardinal sucha glance as is best understood by mortal foes. That glance was so sharpthat it penetrated the heart of Mazarin, who, reading in it adeclaration of war, seized D'Artagnan by the arm and said:

  "If occasion requires, monsieur, you will remember that man who has justgone out, will you not?"

  "Yes, my lord," he replied. Then, turning toward Porthos, "The devil!"said he, "this has a bad look. I dislike these quarrels among men of thechurch."

  Gondy withdrew, distributing benedictions on his way, and finding amalicious satisfaction in causing the adherents of his foes to prostratethemselves at his feet.

  "Oh!" he murmured, as he left the threshold of the palace: "ungratefulcourt! faithless court! cowardly court! I will teach you how to laughto-morrow--but in another manner."

  But whilst they were indulging in extravagant joy at the Palais Royal,to increase the hilarity of the queen, Mazarin, a man of sense, andwhose fear, moreover, gave him foresight, lost no time in making idleand dangerous jokes; he went out after the coadjutor, settled hisaccount, locked up his gold, and had confidential workmen to contrivehiding places in his walls.

  On his return home the coadjutor was informed that a young man had comein after his departure and was waiting for him; he started with delightwhen, on demanding the name of this young man, he learned that it wasLouvieres. He hastened to his cabinet. Broussel's son was there, stillfurious, and still bearing bloody marks of his struggle with the king'sofficers. The only precaution he had taken in coming to thearchbishopric was to leave his arquebuse in the hands of a friend.

  The coadjutor went to him and held out his hand. The young man gazed athim as if he would have read the secret of his heart.

  "My dear Monsieur Louvieres," said the coadjutor, "believe me, I amtruly concerned for the misfortune which has happened to you."

  "Is that true, and do you spea
k seriously?" asked Louvieres.

  "From the depth of my heart," said Gondy.

  "In that case, my lord, the time for words has passed and the hour foraction is at hand; my lord, in three days, if you wish it, my fatherwill be out of prison and in six months you may be cardinal."

  The coadjutor started.

  "Oh! let us speak frankly," continued Louvieres, "and act in astraightforward manner. Thirty thousand crowns in alms is not given, asyou have done for the last six months, out of pure Christian charity;that would be too grand. You are ambitious--it is natural; you are a manof genius and you know your worth. As for me, I hate the court and havebut one desire at this moment--vengeance. Give us the clergy and thepeople, of whom you can dispose, and I will bring you the citizens andthe parliament; with these four elements Paris is ours in a week; andbelieve me, monsieur coadjutor, the court will give from fear what itwill not give from good-will."

  It was now the coadjutor's turn to fix his piercing eyes on Louvieres.

  "But, Monsieur Louvieres, are you aware that it is simply civil war youare proposing to me?"

  "You have been preparing long enough, my lord, for it to be welcome toyou now."

  "Never mind," said the coadjutor; "you must be well aware that thisrequires reflection."

  "And how many hours of reflection do you ask?"

  "Twelve hours, sir; is it too long?"

  "It is now noon; at midnight I will be at your house."

  "If I should not be in, wait for me."

  "Good! at midnight, my lord."

  "At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvieres."

  When once more alone Gondy sent to summon all the curates with whom hehad any connection to his house. Two hours later, thirty officiatingministers from the most populous, and consequently the most disturbedparishes of Paris had assembled there. Gondy related to them the insultshe had received at the Palais Royal and retailed the jests of Beautin,the Count de Villeroy and Marechal de la Meilleraie. The curates askedhim what was to be done.

  "Simply this," said the coadjutor. "You are the directors of allconsciences. Well, undermine in them the miserable prejudice of respectand fear of kings; teach your flocks that the queen is a tyrant; andrepeat often and loudly, so that all may know it, that the misfortunesof France are caused by Mazarin, her lover and her destroyer; begin thiswork to-day, this instant even, and in three days I shall expect theresult. For the rest, if any one of you have further or better counselto expound, I will listen to him with the greatest pleasure."

  Three curates remained--those of St. Merri, St. Sulpice and St.Eustache. The others withdrew.

  "You think, then, that you can help me more efficaciously than yourbrothers?" said Gondy.

  "We hope so," answered the curates.

  "Let us hear. Monsieur de St. Merri, you begin."

  "My lord, I have in my parish a man who might be of the greatest use toyou."

  "Who and what is this man?"

  "A shopkeeper in the Rue des Lombards, who has great influence upon thecommerce of his quarter."

  "What is his name?"

  "He is named Planchet, who himself also caused a rising about six weeksago; but as he was searched for after this emeute he disappeared."

  "And can you find him?"

  "I hope so. I think he has not been arrested, and as I am his wife'sconfessor, if she knows where he is I shall know it too."

  "Very well, sir, find this man, and when you have found him bring him tome."

  "We will be with you at six o'clock, my lord."

  "Go, my dear curate, and may God assist you!"

  "And you, sir?" continued Gondy, turning to the curate of St. Sulpice.

  "I, my lord," said the latter, "I know a man who has rendered greatservices to a very popular prince and who would make an excellent leaderof revolt. Him I can place at your disposal; it is Count de Rochefort."

  "I know him also, but unfortunately he is not in Paris."

  "My lord, he has been for three days at the Rue Cassette."

  "And wherefore has he not been to see me?"

  "He was told--my lord will pardon me----"

  "Certainly, speak."

  "That your lordship was about to treat with the court."

  Gondy bit his lips.

  "They are mistaken; bring him here at eight o'clock, sir, and may Heavenbless you as I bless you!"

  "And now 'tis your turn," said the coadjutor, turning to the last thatremained; "have you anything as good to offer me as the two gentlemenwho have left us?"

  "Better, my lord."

  "Diable! think what a solemn engagement you are making; one has offereda wealthy shopkeeper, the other a count; you are going, then, to offer aprince, are you?"

  "I offer you a beggar, my lord."

  "Ah! ah!" said Gondy, reflecting, "you are right, sir; some one whocould raise the legion of paupers who choke up the crossings of Paris;some one who would know how to cry aloud to them, that all France mighthear it, that it is Mazarin who has reduced them to poverty."

  "Exactly your man."

  "Bravo! and the man?"

  "A plain and simple beggar, as I have said, my lord, who asks for alms,as he gives holy water; a practice he has carried on for six years onthe steps of St. Eustache."

  "And you say that he has a great influence over his compeers?"

  "Are you aware, my lord, that mendacity is an organized body, a kind ofassociation of those who have nothing against those who have everything;an association in which every one takes his share; one that elects aleader?"

  "Yes, I have heard it said," replied the coadjutor.

  "Well, the man whom I offer you is a general syndic."

  "And what do you know of him?"

  "Nothing, my lord, except that he is tormented with remorse."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "On the twenty-eighth of every month he makes me say a mass for therepose of the soul of one who died a violent death; yesterday I saidthis mass again."

  "And his name?"

  "Maillard; but I do not think it is his right one."

  "And think you that we should find him at this hour at his post?"

  "Certainly."

  "Let us go and see your beggar, sir, and if he is such as you describehim, you are right--it will be you who have discovered the truetreasure."

  Gondy dressed himself as an officer, put on a felt cap with a redfeather, hung on a long sword, buckled spurs to his boots, wrappedhimself in an ample cloak and followed the curate.

  The coadjutor and his companion passed through all the streets lyingbetween the archbishopric and the St. Eustache Church, watchingcarefully to ascertain the popular feeling. The people were in anexcited mood, but, like a swarm of frightened bees, seemed not to knowat what point to concentrate; and it was very evident that if leaders ofthe people were not provided all this agitation would pass off in idlebuzzing.

  On arriving at the Rue des Prouvaires, the curate pointed toward thesquare before the church.

  "Stop!" he said, "there he is at his post."

  Gondy looked at the spot indicated and perceived a beggar seated in achair and leaning against one of the moldings; a little basin was nearhim and he held a holy water brush in his hand.

  "Is it by permission that he remains there?" asked Gondy.

  "No, my lord; these places are bought. I believe this man paid hispredecessor a hundred pistoles for his."

  "The rascal is rich, then?"

  "Some of those men sometimes die worth twenty thousand and twenty-fiveand thirty thousand francs and sometimes more."

  "Hum!" said Gondy, laughing; "I was not aware my alms were so wellinvested."

  In the meantime they were advancing toward the square, and the momentthe coadjutor and the curate put their feet on the first church step themendicant arose and proffered his brush.

  He was a man between sixty-six and sixty-eight years of age, little,rather stout, with gray hair and light eyes. His countenance denoted thestruggle between two opposit
e principles--a wicked nature, subdued bydetermination, perhaps by repentance.

  He started on seeing the cavalier with the curate. The latter and thecoadjutor touched the brush with the tips of their fingers and made thesign of the cross; the coadjutor threw a piece of money into the hat,which was on the ground.

  "Maillard," began the curate, "this gentleman and I have come to talkwith you a little."

  "With me!" said the mendicant; "it is a great honor for a poordistributor of holy water."

  There was an ironical tone in his voice which he could not quitedisguise and which astonished the coadjutor.

  "Yes," continued the curate, apparently accustomed to this tone, "yes,we wish to know your opinion of the events of to-day and what you haveheard said by people going in and out of the church."

  The mendicant shook his head.

  "These are melancholy doings, your reverence, which always fall againupon the poor. As to what is said, everybody is discontented, everybodycomplains, but 'everybody' means 'nobody.'"

  "Explain yourself, my good friend," said the coadjutor.

  "I mean that all these cries, all these complaints, these curses,produce nothing but storms and flashes and that is all; but thelightning will not strike until there is a hand to guide it."

  "My friend," said Gondy, "you seem to be a clever and a thoughtful man;are you disposed to take a part in a little civil war, should we haveone, and put at the command of the leader, should we find one, yourpersonal influence and the influence you have acquired over yourcomrades?"

  "Yes, sir, provided this war were approved of by the church and wouldadvance the end I wish to attain--I mean, the remission of my sins."

  "The war will not only be approved of, but directed by the church. Asfor the remission of your sins, we have the archbishop of Paris, who hasthe very greatest power at the court of Rome, and even the coadjutor,who possesses some plenary indulgences; we will recommend you to him."

  "Consider, Maillard," said the curate, "that I have recommended you tothis gentleman, who is a powerful lord, and that I have made myselfresponsible for you."

  "I know, monsieur le cure," said the beggar, "that you have always beenvery kind to me, and therefore I, in my turn, will be serviceable toyou."

  "And do you think your power as great with the fraternity as monsieur lecure told me it was just now?"

  "I think they have some esteem for me," said the mendicant with pride,"and that not only will they obey me, but wherever I go they will followme."

  "And could you count on fifty resolute men, good, unemployed, but activesouls, brawlers, capable of bringing down the walls of the Palais Royalby crying, 'Down with Mazarin,' as fell those at Jericho?"

  "I think," said the beggar, "I can undertake things more difficult andmore important than that."

  "Ah, ah," said Gondy, "you will undertake, then, some night, to throw upsome ten barricades?"

  "I will undertake to throw up fifty, and when the day comes, to defendthem."

  "I'faith!" exclaimed Gondy, "you speak with a certainty that gives mepleasure; and since monsieur le cure can answer for you----"

  "I answer for him," said the curate.

  "Here is a bag containing five hundred pistoles in gold; make all yourarrangements, and tell me where I shall be able to find you this eveningat ten o'clock."

  "It must be on some elevated place, whence a given signal may be seen inevery part of Paris."

  "Shall I give you a line for the vicar of St. Jacques de la Boucherie?he will let you into the rooms in his tower," said the curate.

  "Capital," answered the mendicant.

  "Then," said the coadjutor, "this evening, at ten o'clock, and if I ampleased with you another bag of five hundred pistoles will be at yourdisposal."

  The eyes of the mendicant dashed with cupidity, but he quicklysuppressed his emotion.

  "This evening, sir," he replied, "all will be ready."