How King Louis XV. Transacted Business.
THE NEXT DAY there was a great commotion at Versailles. Whenever two courtiers met there, there was nothing but mysterious signs and significant shakes of the hand, or else folded arms, and looks upward, expressive of their grief and surprise.
M. de Richelieu, with a number of his partisans, was in the king’s antechamber at Trianon, about ten o’clock.
The Count Jean, all bedizened with lace and perfectly dazzling, conversed with the old marshal, and conversed gayly, if his joyous face could be taken as testimony of the fact.
About eleven o’clock the king passed quickly through the gallery, and entered the council-chamber without speaking to any one.
At about five minutes past eleven, M. de Choiseul alighted from his carriage and crossed the gallery with his portfolio under his arm.
As he passed through the throng there was a hurried movement among the courtiers, who all turned round as if talking among themselves, in order to avoid bowing to the minister.
The duke paid no attention to this maneuver; he entered the closet where the king was turning over some papers while sipping his chocolate.
“Good-morning, duke,” said the king familiarly; “are we charmingly this morning?”
“Sire, M. de Choiseul is quite well, but the minister is very ill, and comes to request that your majesty, since you have not yet spoken, will accept his resignation. I thank the king for permitting me to take the initiative in this matter; it is a last favor, for which I am deeply grateful.”
“How, duke? Your resignation? what does all that mean?”
“Sire, your majesty yesterday signed for Madame Dubarry an order which deposes me. This news is already spread all over Paris and Versailles. The evil is done; nevertheless, I was unwilling to leave your majesty’s service without receiving a formal order with the permission. For, nominated officially, I can consider myself dismissed only by an official act.”
“What! duke,” exclaimed the king, laughing, for the severe and lofty attitude of M. de Choiseul made him almost tremble, “did you, a man of genius and skilled in official forms, did you believe that?”
“But, sire,” said the surprised minister, “you have signed.”
“What?”
“A letter, in the possession of Madame Dubarry.”
“Ah! duke, have you never felt the want of peace? You are most fortunate! Madame de Choiseul must indeed be a model.”
The duke, offended by the comparison, frowned.
“Your majesty,” said he, “has too much firmness of character, and above all, too much tact and discretion, to mix up affairs of state with what you deign to call household matters.”
“Choiseul, I must tell you how that affair happened; it is very amusing. You are aware that you are very much feared in that quarter.”
“Rather say hated, sire.”
“Hated if you will. Well! this madcap countess left me no alternative but to send her to the Bastille, or to thank you for your services.”—”A Veil, sire?”
“Well, duke, you must confess that it would have been a pity to lose the sight which Versailles presents this morning. I have been amused since yesterday with seeing the courtiers depart in all directions and watching the faces brighten up or lengthen. Since yesterday Cotillon III. is queen of France. It is exceedingly amusing.”
“But the end of all this, sire?”
“The end, my dear duke,” said the king, seriously, “the end will always remain the same. You know me; I always seem to yield, but I never yield in reality. Let the women swallow the honored morsel I throw them now and then, as to another Cerberus; but let us live quietly, uninterruptedly, always together. And since we are on the chapter of explanations, keep this one for yourself. Whatever report you may hear, whatever letter you may receive from me, do not absent yourself from Versailles. As long as I continue to say to you what I now do, duke, we shall be good friends.”
The king extended his hand to his minister, who bowed over it, without gratitude and without anger.
“And now, my dear duke, let us to business.”
“At your majesty’s pleasure,” replied the minister, opening his portfolio.
“Well, tell me something of these fireworks to begin with.”
“Ah, that was a great disaster, sire.”
“Whose fault was it?”
“M. Bignon’s, the provost of the merchants.”
“Did the people cry out very much?”
“Oh! very much.”
“Then, perhaps we had better dismiss this M. Bignon.”
“One of the members of parliament was nearly killed in the melee, and his colleagues therefore took the matter up warmly. But the advocate general, Seguier, made a very eloquent speech to prove that this misfortune was the work of fate alone. His speech was applauded, and so the affair is over for the present.”
“So much the better! Let us pass to the parliament, duke. Ah! we are reproached for that.”
“I am blamed, sire, for not supporting M. d’Aiguillon against M. de la Chalotais. But who blames me? The very people who carried your majesty’s letter about with all the demonstrations of joy. Remember, sire, that M. d’Aiguillon overstepped the bounds of his authority in Brittany, that the Jesuits were really exiled, and that 1L de la Chalotais was right. Your majesty has publicly acknowledged the innocence of the attorney-general. The king cannot thus be made to stultify himself. To his minister that is nothing, but in presence of his people — !”
“In the meantime the parliament feels itself strong.”
“And it is strong. Hove can it be otherwise? The members are reprimanded, imprisoned, persecuted, and then declared innocent! I do not accuse M. d’Aiguillon of having commenced this affair of La Chalotais, but I can never forgive him for having been in the wrong in it.”
“Oh! come, duke, the evil is done, think of the remedy. How can we bridle these insolent minions?”
“Let the intrigues of the chancellor cease — let M. d’Aiguillon have no more support, and the anger of the parliament will at once subside.”
“But that would be to yield, duke.”
“Then your majesty is represented by M. d’Aiguillon, and not by me?”
This was a home thrust, and the king felt it.
“You know,” said he, “I do not like to affront my servants, even when they have been in the wrong. But no more of this unfortunate business; time will decide who is right. Let us speak of foreign affairs. I am told we shall have a war?”
“Sire, if there be war, it will be a just and necessary war.”
“With the English?”
“Does your majesty fear the English?”
“Oh! upon the sea.”
“Your majesty may rest tranquil. My cousin the Duke de Praslin, your Minister of Marine, will tell you that he has sixty-four men-of-war, not including those which are on the stocks. Besides, there are materials sufficient to construct twelve more in a year. Then there are fifty first-rate frigates — a respectable force with which to meet a naval war. For a continental war we have more than all that, we have the remembrance of Fontenoy.”
“Very well; but why must I fight the English, my dear duke? A much less skillful minister than you, the Abbe Dubois, always avoided a war with England.”
“I dare say, sire. The Abbe Dubois received six hundred pounds sterling per month from the English.”
“Oh, duke!”
“I have the proof, sire.”
“Well, be it so. But where are the grounds for war?”
“England covets all the Indies; I have been obliged to give the most stringent and hostile orders to your officers there. The first collision will call forth demand for redress from England; my official advice is that we do not listen to them. Your majesty’s government must make itself respected by force, as it used to do by corruption.”
“Oh, let us pocket the affront. Who will know what happens in India? It is so far from here!”
The duke bit his lips.
“There is a casus belli nearer home, sire,” said he.
“Another? What is that?”
“The Spaniards claim the Malouine and Falkland islands. The port of Egmont was arbitrarily occupied by the English; the Spaniards drove them from it by main force. The English are enraged; they threaten the Spaniards with instant war if they do not give them satisfaction.”
“Well! but if the Spaniards are in the wrong, let them unravel the knot themselves.”
“And the family compact, sire? Why did you insist on the signing of this compact, which allies so closely all the Bourbons in Europe against English encroachment?”
The king hung his head.
“Do not be uneasy, sire.” continued Choiseul; “you have a formidable army, an imposing fleet, and sufficient money. I can raise enough without making the people cry out. If we have a war, it will be an additional glory to your majesty’s reign, and it will furnish the pretext and excuse for several aggrandizements which I have in project.”
“But in that case, duke, we must have peace in the interior; let there not be war everywhere.”
“But the interior is quiet, sire,” replied the duke, affecting not to understand.
“No! no! you see plainly it is not. You love me and serve me well. Others say they love me, and their conduct does not at all resemble yours. Let there be concord between all shades of opinion; let me live happily, my dear duke.”
“It is not my fault, sire, if your happiness is not complete.”
“That is the way to speak. Well! come, then, and dine with me to-day.”
“At Versailles, sire?”
“No; at Luciennes.”
“I regret exceedingly, sire, that I cannot, but my family is in great alarm on account of the reports which were spread yesterday. They think I am in disgrace with your majesty, and I cannot let so many loving hearts suffer.”
“And do those of whom I speak not suffer, duke? Remember how happily we three used to live together in the time of the poor marchioness.”
The duke drooped his head, his eyes dimmed, and he uttered a half-suppressed sigh.
“Madame de Pompadour was extremely jealous of your majesty’s glory, and had lofty political ideas, sire. I confess that her character sympathized strongly with my own. I often emulated and strove along with her in the great enterprises she undertook; yes, we understood each other.”
“But she meddled with politics, duke, and every one blamed her for it.”
“True!”
“The present one, on the contrary, is mild as a lamb; she has never yet asked me for a single lettre-de-cachet, even against the pamphleteers and sonnet writers. Well, they reproach her as if she followed in the other’s footsteps. Oh, duke! it is enough to disgust one with progress. — Come, will you make your peace at Luciennes?”
“Sire, deign to assure the Countess Dubarry that I esteem her as a charming woman, and well worthy of the king’s love, but—”
“Ah! a but, duke —
“But,” continued M. de Choiseul, “that my conviction is, that if your majesty is necessary for the welfare of France, a good minister is of more importance to your majesty in the present juncture than a charming mistress.”
“Let us speak no more of it, duke, and let us remain good friends. But calm Madame de Grammont, and let her not lay any more plots against the countess; the women will embroil us.”
“Madame de Grammont, sire, is too anxious to please your majesty; that is her failing.”
“But she displeases me by annoying the countess, duke.”
“Well, Madame de Grammont is going, sire; we shall see her no more. That will be an enemy the less.”
“I did not mean that; you go too far. But my head burns, duke; we have worked this morning like Louis XIV. and Colbert — quite in the style of the Grand Siecle, as the philosophers say. Apropos, duke, are you a philosopher?”
“I am your majesty’s humble servant,” replied M. de Choiseul.
“You charm me; you are an invaluable man. Give me your arm, I am quite giddy.”
The duke hastened to offer his arm to his majesty.
He guessed that the folding doors would be thrown open, that the whole court was in the gallery, and that he should be seen in this triumphant position. After having suffered so much, he was not sorry to make his enemies suffer in their turn.
The usher, in fact, now opened the doors, and announced the king in the gallery.
Louis XV. crossed the gallery, leaning heavily on M. de Choiseul’s arm, talking and smiling, without remarking, or seeming to remark, how pale Jean Dubarry was and how red M. de Richelieu.
But M. de Choiseul saw these shades of expression very well. With elastic step, lofty head, and sparkling eyes, he passed before the courtiers, who now approached as eagerly as they had before kept away.
“There,” said the king, at the end of the gallery, “wait for me, I will take you with me to Trianon. Remember what I have told you.”
“I have treasured it up in my heart,” replied the minister, well knowing what a sting this cutting sentence would inflict on his enemies.
The king once more entered his apartments.
M. de Richelieu broke the file, and hastened to press the minister’s hand between his meager fingers, exclaiming; “It is long since I knew that a Choiseul bears a charmed life.”
“Thank you,” said the duke, who knew how the land lay.
“But this absurd report?” continued the marshal.
“The report made his majesty laugh very heartily,” said Choiseul.
“I heard something of a letter—”
“A little mystification of the king’s,” replied the minister, glancing while he spoke at Jean, who lost countenance.
“Wonderful! wonderful!” repeated the marshal, turning to the viscount as soon as the Duke de Choiseul was out of sight.
The king ascended the staircase, calling the duke, who eagerly followed him.
“We have been played upon.” said the marshal to Jean.
“Where are they going?”
“To the Little Trianon, to amuse themselves at our expense.”
“Hell and furies!” exclaimed Jean.—”Ah! excuse me, marshal.”
“It is now my turn,” said the latter. “We shall see if my plans are more successful than those of the countess.”