CHAPTER III.
THE CHEVALIER.
The Chevalier Raoul d'Harmental, with whom, before going further, it isnecessary that our readers make a better acquaintance, was the last ofone of the best families of Nivernais. Although that family had neverplayed an important part in history, yet it did not want a certainnotoriety, which it had acquired partly alone and partly by itsalliances. Thus the father of the chevalier, the Sire Gastond'Harmental, had come to Paris in 1682, and had proved his genealogicaltree from the year 1399, an heraldic operation which would have givensome trouble to more than one duke and peer. In another direction, hismaternal uncle, Monsieur de Torigny, before being named chevalier of theorder in the promotion of 1694, had confessed, in order to get hissixteen quarterings recognized, that the best part of his scutcheon wasthat of the D'Harmentals, with whom his ancestors had been allied forthree hundred years. Here, then, was enough to satisfy the aristocraticdemands of the age of which we write.
The chevalier was neither poor nor rich--that is to say, his father,when he died, had left him an estate in the environs of Nevers, whichbrought him in from 20,000 to 25,000 livres a year. This was enough tolive well in the country, but the chevalier had received an excellenteducation, and was very ambitious; therefore he had at his majority, in1711, quitted his home for Paris. His first visit was to the Comte deTorigny, on whom he counted to introduce him at court. Unfortunately, atthat time the Comte de Torigny was absent from home; but as heremembered with pleasure the family of D'Harmental, he recommended hisnephew to the Chevalier de Villarceaux, who could refuse nothing to hisfriend the Comte de Torigny, and took the young man to Madame deMaintenon.
Madame de Maintenon had one good quality--she always continued to be thefriend of her old lovers. She received the Chevalier d'Harmentalgraciously, thanks to the old recollections which recommended him toher, and some days afterward, the Marechal de Villars coming to pay hiscourt to her, she spoke a few such pressing words in favor of her youngprotege, that the marechal, delighted to find an opportunity of obligingthis queen "in partibus," replied that from that hour he attached thechevalier to his military establishment and would take care to offerhim every occasion to justify his august protectress's good opinion ofhim.
It was a great joy to the chevalier to see such a door opened to him.The coming campaign was definitive. Louis XIV. had arrived at the lastperiod of his reign--the period of reverses. Tallard and Marsin had beenbeaten at Hochstett, Villeroy at Ramilies, and Villars himself, the heroof Friedlingen, had lost the famous battle of Malplaquet againstMarlborough and Eugene. Europe, kept down for a time by Colbert andLouvois, rose against France, and the situation of affairs wasdesperate.
The king, like a despairing invalid who changes his doctor every hour,changed ministers every day. Each new attempt but revealed a newweakness. France could not sustain war and could not obtain peace.Vainly she offered to abandon Spain, and limit her frontier. This wasnot sufficient humiliation. They exacted that the king should allow thehostile armies to cross France, in order to chase his grandson from thethrone of Spain; and also that he should give up, as pledges, Cambray,Mettray, La Rochelle, and Bayonne, unless he preferred dethroning himhimself, by open force, during the following year.
These were the conditions on which a truce was granted to the conquerorof the plains of Senef, Fleurus, of Steerekirk, and of La Marsalle; tohim who had hitherto held in the folds of his royal mantle peace andwar; to him who called himself the distributer of crowns, the chastiserof nations, the great, the immortal; to him in whose honor, during thelast half century, marbles had been sculptured, bronzes cast, sonnetswritten, and incense poured.
Louis XIV. had wept in the full council. These tears had produced anarmy, which was intrusted to Villars.
Villars marched straight to the enemy, whose camp was at Denain, and whoslept in security while watching the agony of France. Never had greaterresponsibility rested on one head. On one blow of Villars hung thesalvation of France. The allies had established a line offortifications between Denain and Marchiennes, which, in their pride ofanticipation, Albemarle and Eugene called the grand route to Paris.
Villars resolved to take Denain by surprise, and, Albemarle conquered,to conquer Eugene. In order to succeed in this audacious enterprise, itwas necessary to deceive, not only the enemy's army, but also his own,the success of this coup de main being in its impossibility.
Villars proclaimed aloud his intention of forcing the lines ofLandrecies. One night, at an appointed hour, the whole army moves off inthe direction of that town. All at once the order is given to bear tothe left. His genius throws three bridges over the Scheldt. Villarspasses over the river without obstacle, throws himself into the marshesconsidered impracticable, and where the soldier advances with the waterup to his waist; marches straight to the first redoubts; takes themalmost without striking a blow; seizes successively a league offortifications; reaches Denain; crosses the fosse which surrounds it,penetrates into the town, and on arriving at the place, finds his youngprotege, the Chevalier d'Harmental, who presents to him the sword ofAlbemarle, whom he has just taken prisoner.
At this moment the arrival of Eugene is announced. Villars returns,reaches, before him, the bridge over which he must pass, takespossession of it, and awaits him. There the true combat takes place, forthe taking of Denain had been but a short skirmish. Eugene makes attackafter attack, returns seven times to the head of the bridge, his besttroops being destroyed by the artillery which protects it, and thebayonets which defend it. At length, his clothes riddled with balls, andbleeding from two wounds, he mounts his third horse, the conqueror ofHochstett and Malplaquet retreats crying with rage and biting his gloveswith fury. In six hours the aspect of things has changed. France issaved, and Louis XIV. is still Le Grand Roi.
D'Harmental had conducted himself like a man who wished to gain hisspurs at once. Villars, seeing him covered with blood and dust, recalledto his mind by whom he had been recommended to him; made him draw near,while, in the midst of the field of battle, he wrote on a drum theresult of the day.
"Are you wounded?" asked he.
"Yes, Monsieur le Marechal, but so slightly that it is not worthspeaking of."
"Have you the strength to ride sixty leagues, without resting an hour, aminute, a second?"
"I have the strength for anything that will serve the king or you."
"Then set out instantly; go to Madame de Maintenon; tell her from mewhat you have seen, and announce to her the courier who will bring theofficial account."
D'Harmental understood the importance of the mission with which he wascharged, and bleeding and dusty as he was, he mounted a fresh horse andgained the first stage. Twelve hours afterward he was at Versailles.
Villars had foreseen what would happen. At the first words which fellfrom the mouth of the chevalier, Madame de Maintenon took him by thehand, and conducted him to the king. The king was at work with Voisin,but, contrary to his habit, in his room, for he was a little indisposed.
Madame de Maintenon opened the door, pushed D'Harmental to the feet ofthe king, and raising her hands to heaven:
"Sire," said she, "give thanks to God, for your majesty knows we arenothing by ourselves, and it is from Him comes every blessing."
"What has happened, monsieur? Speak," said the king quickly, astonishedto see this young man, whom he did not know, at his feet.
"Sire," replied the chevalier, "the camp at Denain is taken. Albemarleis a prisoner. Prince Eugene has taken flight; and the Marechal deVillars places his victory at your majesty's feet."
Louis XIV. turned pale, in spite of his command over himself. He felthis limbs fail him, and leaned against the table for support.
"What ails you, sire?" said Madame de Maintenon, hastening to him.
"It is, madame, that I owe you everything," said Louis XIV.; "you savethe king, and your friends save the kingdom."
Madame de Maintenon bowed and kissed the king's hand respectfully.
Then Louis XI
V., still pale and much moved, passed behind the greatcurtain which hid the alcove containing his bed, and they heard a prayerof thanksgiving. He then reappeared, grave and calm, as if nothing hadhappened.
"And now, monsieur," said he, "tell me the details."
D'Harmental gave an account of that marvelous battle, which came as by amiracle to save the monarchy; then, when he had finished:
"And have you nothing to tell of yourself?" asked Louis XIV. "If I mayjudge by the blood and dust with which you are yet covered, you did notremain idle."
"Sire, I did my best," said D'Harmental, bowing; "but if there is reallyanything to tell, I will, with your permission, leave it to the Marechalde Villars."
"It is well, young man; and if he forgets you by chance, we shallremember. You must be fatigued. Go and rest. I am pleased with you."
D'Harmental retired joyously, Madame de Maintenon conducting him to thedoor; he kissed her hand again, and hastened to profit by the royalpermission. For twenty hours he had neither eaten, drunk, nor slept. Onhis awaking, they gave him a packet which had been brought from theminister of war. It was his brevet as colonel. Two months afterwardpeace was made. Spain gave up half its monarchy, but France remainedintact. Louis XIV. died. Two distinct and irreconcilable parties were inexistence. That of the bastards, centering in the Duc de Maine, and thatof the legitimate princes, represented by the Duc d'Orleans. If the Ducde Maine had had the will, the perseverance, the courage of his wife,Louise Benedicte de Conde, perhaps, supported as he was by the royalwill, he might have triumphed; but he had to defend himself in broadday, as he was attacked; and the Duc de Maine, weak in mind and heart,dangerous only because he was a coward, was only good at underhanddeeds.
He was threatened openly, and his numerous artifices and wiles were ofno use to him. In one day, and almost without a struggle, he wasprecipitated from that height to which he had been raised by the blindlove of the old king. His fall was heavy, and above all disgraceful; heretired mutilated, abandoning the regency to his rival, and onlypreserving, out of all the favors accumulated upon him, thesuperintendence of the royal education, the command of the artillery,and the precedence over the dukes and peers.
The decree, which had just passed the parliament, struck the old courtand all attached to it. Letellier did not wait to be exiled. Madame deMaintenon took refuge at Saint Cyr, and Monsieur le Duc de Maine shuthimself up in the beautiful town of Sceaux, to finish his translation ofLucrece.
The Chevalier d'Harmental saw, as a passive spectator, these differentintrigues, waiting till they should assume a character which wouldpermit him to take part in them. If there had been an open and armedcontest, he would have taken that side to which gratitude called him.Too young and too chaste, if we may say so, in politics, to turn withthe wind of fortune, he remained faithful to the memory of the old king,and to the ruins of the old court.
His absence from the Palais Royal, round which hovered all those whowished to take a place in the political sky, was interpreted asopposition; and one morning, as he had received the brevet which gavehim a regiment, he received the decree which took it from him.
D'Harmental had the ambition of his age. The only career open to agentleman was that of arms. His debut had been brilliant, and the blowwhich at five-and-twenty took from him his hopes for the future wasprofoundly painful.
He ran to Monsieur de Villars, in whom he had found so warm aprotector. The marshal received him with the coldness of a man who notonly wishes to forget the past, but also to see it forgotten.
D'Harmental understood that the old courtier was about to change hisskin, and retired discreetly. Though the age was essentially that ofegotism, the chevalier's first experience of it was bitter to him; buthe was at that happy time of life when a disappointed ambition is rarelya deep or lasting grief.
Ambition is the passion of those who have no other, and the chevalierhad all those proper to five-and-twenty years of age; besides, thespirit of the times did not tend to melancholy, that is a modernsentiment, springing from the overthrow of fortunes and the weakness ofman. In the eighteenth century it was rare to dream of abstract things,or aspire to the unknown: men went straight to pleasure, glory, orfortune, and all who were handsome, brave or intriguing could attainthem. That was the time when people were not ashamed to be happy. Nowmind governs matter so much that men dare not avow that they are happy.
After the long and somber winter of Louis XIV.'s old age appeared all atonce the joyous and brilliant spring of a young royalty. Every onebasked in this new sun, radiant and benevolent, and went about buzzingand careless, like the bees and butterflies on the first fine day. TheChevalier d'Harmental had retained his sadness for a week; then he mixedagain in the crowd, and was drawn in by the whirlpool which threw him atthe feet of a pretty woman.
For three months he had been the happiest man in the world. He hadforgotten Saint Cyr, the Tuileries, and the Palais Royal. He did notknow whether there was a Madame de Maintenon, a king, or a regent. Heonly knew that it is sweet to live when one is loved, and he did not seewhy he should not live and love forever. He was still in this dream,when, as we have said, supping with his friend, the Baron de Valef, atLa Fillon's, in the Rue Saint Honore, he had been all at once brutallyawakened by Lafare. Lovers are often unpleasantly awakened, and we haveseen that D'Harmental was not more patient under it than others. It wasmore pardonable in the chevalier, because he thought he loved truly, andthat in his juvenile good faith he thought nothing could replace thatlove in his heart.
Thus Madame d'Averne's strange but candid letter, instead of inspiringhim with the admiration which it merited at that time, had at firstoverwhelmed him. It is the property of every sorrow which overtakes usto reawaken past griefs which we believed dead, but which were onlysleeping. The soul has its scars as well as the body, and they areseldom so well healed but a new wound can reopen them.
D'Harmental again began to feel ambitious. The loss of his mistress hadrecalled to him the loss of his regiment. It required nothing less thanthe second letter, so unexpected and mysterious, to divert him from hisgrief. A lover of our days would have thrown it from him with disdain,and would have despised himself if he had not nursed his grief so as tomake himself poetically melancholy for a week; but a lover in theregency was much more accommodating. Suicide was scarcely discovered,and if by chance people fell into the water, they did not drown as longas there was the least little straw to cling to. D'Harmental did notaffect the coxcombry of sadness. He decided, sighing, it is true, thathe would go to the opera ball; and for a lover betrayed in so unforeseenand cruel a manner this was something; but it must be confessed, to theshame of our poor species, that he was chiefly led to this philosophicdetermination by the fact that the letter was written in a female hand.