Ten Years Later
by Alexandre Dumas
Transcriber’s Notes:
As you may be aware, Project Gutenberg has been involved with the
writings of both the Alexandre Dumases for some time now, and since we
get a few questions about the order in which the books should be read,
and in which they were published, these following comments should
hopefully help most of our readers.
*****
The Vicomte de Bragelonne is the final volume of D’Artagnan Romances:
it is usually split into three or four parts, and the final portion
is entitled The Man in the Iron Mask. The Man in the Iron Mask we’re
familiar with today is the last volume of the four-volume edition.
[Not all the editions split them in the same manner, hence some of the
confusion...but wait...there’s yet more reason for confusion.]
We intend to do ALL of The Vicomte de Bragelonne, split into four
etexts entitled The Vicomte de Bragelonne, Ten Years Later, Louise de la
Vallière, and The Man in the Iron Mask; you WILL be getting The Man in
the Iron Mask.
One thing that may be causing confusion is that the etext we have now,
entitled Ten Years Later, says it’s the sequel to The Three Musketeers.
While this is technically true, there’s another book, Twenty Years
After, that comes between. The confusion is generated by the two facts
that we published Ten Years Later BEFORE we published Twenty Years
After, and that many people see those titles as meaning Ten and Twenty
Years “After” the original story...however, this is why the different
words “After” and “Later”...the Ten Years “After” is ten years after
the Twenty Years later...as per history. Also, the third book of the
D’Artagnan Romances, while entitled The Vicomte de Bragelonne, has the
subtitle Ten Years Later. These two titles are also given to different
volumes: The Vicomte de Bragelonne can refer to the whole book, or the
first volume of the three or four-volume editions. Ten Years Later
can, similarly, refer to the whole book, or the second volume of the
four-volume edition. To add to the confusion, in the case of our etexts,
it refers to the first 104 chapters of the whole book, covering material
in the first and second etexts in the new series. Here is a guide to the
series which may prove helpful:
The Three Musketeers: Etext 1257--First book of the D’Artagnan Romances.
Covers the years 1625-1628.
Twenty Years After: Etext 1259--Second book of the D’Artagnan Romances.
Covers the years 1648-1649. [Third in the order that we published, but
second in time sequence!!!]
Ten Years Later: Etext 1258--First 104 chapters of the third book of the
D’Artagnan Romances. Covers the years 1660-1661.
The Vicomte de Bragelonne: Etext 2609 (first in the new series)--First
75 chapters of the third book of the D’Artagnan Romances. Covers the
year 1660.
Ten Years Later: Etext 2681 (our new etext)--Chapters 76-140 of that
third book of the D’Artagnan Romances. Covers the years 1660-1661. [In
this particular editing of it]
Louise de la Vallière: forthcoming (our next etext)--Chapters 141-208 of
the third book of the D’Artagnan Romances. Covers the year 1661.
The Man in the Iron Mask: forthcoming (following)--Chapters 209-269 of
the third book of the D’Artagnan Romances. Covers the years 1661-1673.
If we’ve calculated correctly, that fourth text SHOULD correspond to
the modern editions of The Man in the Iron Mask, which is still
widely circulated, and comprises about the last 1/4 of The Vicomte de
Bragelonne.
Many thanks to Dr. David Coward, whose editions of the D’Artagnan
Romances have proved an invaluable source of information.
*****
Introduction:
In the months of March-July in 1844, in the magazine Le Siecle, the
first portion of a story appeared, penned by the celebrated playwright
Alexandre Dumas. It was based, he claimed, on some manuscripts he had
found a year earlier in the Bibliotheque Nationale while researching a
history he planned to write on Louis XIV. They chronicled the adventures
of a young man named D’Artagnan who, upon entering Paris, became almost
immediately embroiled in court intrigues, international politics, and
ill-fated affairs between royal lovers. Over the next six years, readers
would enjoy the adventures of this youth and his three famous friends,
Porthos, Athos, and Aramis, as their exploits unraveled behind the
scenes of some of the most momentous events in French and even English
history.
Eventually these serialized adventures were published in novel form,
and became the three D’Artagnan Romances known today. Here is a brief
summary of the first two novels:
The Three Musketeers (serialized March-July, 1844): The year is 1625.
The young D’Artagnan arrives in Paris at the tender age of 18, and
almost immediately offends three musketeers, Porthos, Aramis, and Athos.
Instead of dueling, the four are attacked by five of the Cardinal’s
guards, and the courage of the youth is made apparent during the battle.
The four become fast friends, and, when asked by D’Artagnan’s landlord
to find his missing wife, embark upon an adventure that takes them
across both France and England in order to thwart the plans of the
Cardinal Richelieu. Along the way, they encounter a beautiful young spy,
named simply Milady, who will stop at nothing to disgrace Queen Anne of
Austria before her husband, Louis XIII, and take her revenge upon the
four friends.
Twenty Years After (serialized January-August, 1845): The year is now
1648, twenty years since the close of the last story. Louis XIII has
died, as has Cardinal Richelieu, and while the crown of France may sit
upon the head of Anne of Austria as Regent for the young Louis XIV,
the real power resides with the Cardinal Mazarin, her secret husband.
D’Artagnan is now a lieutenant of musketeers, and his three friends have
retired to private life. Athos turned out to be a nobleman, the Comte de
la Fere, and has retired to his home with his son, Raoul de Bragelonne.
Aramis, whose real name is D’Herblay, has followed his intention of
shedding the musketeer’s cassock for the priest’s robes, and Porthos has
married a wealthy woman, who left him her fortune upon her death. But
trouble is stirring in both France and England. Cromwell menaces the
institution of royalty itself while marching against Charles I, and at
home the Fronde is threatening to tear France apart. D’Artagnan brings
his friends out of retirement to save the threatened English monarch,
but Mordaunt, the son of Milady, who seeks to avenge his mother’s death
at the musketeers’ hands, thwarts their valiant efforts. Undaunted, our
heroes return to France just in time to help save the young Louis XIV,
quiet the Fronde, and tweak the nose of Cardinal Mazarin.
The third novel, The Vicomte de Bragelonne (serialized October, 1847
--January, 1850), has enjoyed a strange history in its English
translation. It has been split into three, four, or five volumes at
various points in its history. The five-volume edition generally does
not give titles to the smaller portions, but the others do. In the
three-volume edition, the novels are entitled The Vicomte de Bragelonne,
Louise de la Vallière, and The Man in the Iron Mask. For the purposes of
this etext, I have chosen to split the novel as the four-volume edition
does, with these titles: The Vicomte de Bragelonne, Ten Years Later,
Louise de la Vallière, and The Man in the Iron Mask. In the last etext:
The Vicomte de Bragelonne (Etext 2609): It is the year 1660, and
D’Artagnan, after thirty-five years of loyal service, has become
disgusted with serving King Louis XIV while the real power resides with
the Cardinal Mazarin, and has tendered his resignation. He embarks on
his own project, that of restoring Charles II to the throne of England,
and, with the help of Athos, succeeds, earning himself quite a fortune
in the process. D’Artagnan returns to Paris to live the life of a rich
citizen, and Athos, after negotiating the marriage of Philip, the king’s
brother, to Princess Henrietta of England, likewise retires to his own
estate, La Fere. Meanwhile, Mazarin has finally died, and left Louis to
assume the reigns of power, with the assistance of M. Colbert, formerly
Mazarin’s trusted clerk. Colbert has an intense hatred for M. Fouquet,
the king’s superintendent of finances, and has resolved to use any
means necessary to bring about his fall. With the new rank of intendant
bestowed on him by Louis, Colbert succeeds in having two of Fouquet’s
loyal friends tried and executed. He then brings to the king’s attention
that Fouquet is fortifying the island of Belle-Ile-en-Mer, and could
possibly be planning to use it as a base for some military operation
against the king. Louis calls D’Artagnan out of retirement and sends
him to investigate the island, promising him a tremendous salary and his
long-promised promotion to captain of the musketeers upon his return. At
Belle-Isle, D’Artagnan discovers that the engineer of the fortifications
is, in fact, Porthos, now the Baron du Vallon, and that’s not all.
The blueprints for the island, although in Porthos’s handwriting,
show evidence of another script that has been erased, that of Aramis.
D’Artagnan later discovers that Aramis has become the bishop of Vannes,
which is, coincidentally, a parish belonging to M. Fouquet. Suspecting
that D’Artagnan has arrived on the king’s behalf to investigate, Aramis
tricks D’Artagnan into wandering around Vannes in search of Porthos,
and sends Porthos on an heroic ride back to Paris to warn Fouquet of
the danger. Fouquet rushes to the king, and gives him Belle-Isle as a
present, thus allaying any suspicion, and at the same time humiliating
Colbert, just minutes before the usher announces someone else seeking an
audience with the king.
And now, the second etext of The Vicomte de Bragelonne. Enjoy!
John Bursey Mordaunt@aol.com June, 2000
*****
There is one French custom that may cause confusion. The Duc d’Orleans
is traditionally called “Monsieur” and his wife “Madame.” Gaston, the
king’s uncle, currently holds that title. Upon the event of his death,
it will be conferred upon the king’s brother, Philip, who is currently
the Duc d’Anjou. The customary title of “Monsieur” will go to him as
well, and upon his future wife, Henrietta of England, that of “Madame.”
Gaston’s widow will be referred to as the “Dowager Madame.”--JB
*****
Chapter I. In which D’Artagnan finishes by at Length placing his Hand
upon his Captain’s Commission.
The reader guesses beforehand whom the usher preceded in announcing
the courier from Bretagne. This messenger was easily recognized. It was
D’Artagnan, his clothes dusty, his face inflamed, his hair dripping with
sweat, his legs stiff; he lifted his feet painfully at every step, on
which resounded the clink of his blood-stained spurs. He perceived
in the doorway he was passing through, the superintendent coming out.
Fouquet bowed with a smile to him who, an hour before, was bringing him
ruin and death. D’Artagnan found in his goodness of heart, and in his
inexhaustible vigor of body, enough presence of mind to remember
the kind reception of this man; he bowed then, also, much more from
benevolence and compassion, than from respect. He felt upon his lips the
word which had so many times been repeated to the Duc de Guise: “Fly.”
But to pronounce that word would have been to betray his cause; to speak
that word in the cabinet of the king, and before an usher, would have
been to ruin himself gratuitously, and could save nobody. D’Artagnan
then, contented himself with bowing to Fouquet and entered. At this
moment the king floated between the joy the last words of Fouquet had
given him, and his pleasure at the return of D’Artagnan. Without being a
courtier, D’Artagnan had a glance as sure and as rapid as if he had been
one. He read, on his entrance, devouring humiliation on the countenance
of Colbert. He even heard the king say these words to him:--
“Ah! Monsieur Colbert; you have then nine hundred thousand livres at
the intendance?” Colbert, suffocated, bowed but made no reply. All this
scene entered into the mind of D’Artagnan, by the eyes and ears, at
once.
The first word of Louis to his musketeer, as if he wished it to contrast
with what he was saying at the moment, was a kind “good day.” His second
was to send away Colbert. The latter left the king’s cabinet, pallid and
tottering, whilst D’Artagnan twisted up the ends of his mustache.
“I love to see one of my servants in this disorder,” said the king,
admiring the martial stains upon the clothes of his envoy.
“I thought, sire, my presence at the Louvre was sufficiently urgent to
excuse my presenting myself thus before you.”
“You bring me great news, then, monsieur?”
“Sire, the thing is this, in two words: Belle-Isle is fortified,
admirably fortified; Belle-Isle has a double _enceinte_, a citadel, two
detached forts; its ports contain three corsairs; and the side batteries
only await their cannon.”
“I know all that, monsieur,” replied the king.
“What! your majesty knows all that?” replied the musketeer, stupefied.
“I have the plan of the fortifications of Belle-Isle,” said the king.
“Your majesty has the plan?”
“Here it is.”
“It is really correct, sire: I saw a similar one on the spot.”
D’Artagnan’s brow became clouded.
“Ah! I understand all. Your majesty did not trust to me alone, but sent
some other person,” said he in a reproachful tone.
“Of what importance is the manner, monsieur, in which I have learnt what
I know, so that I know it?”
“Sire, sire,” said the musketeer, without seeking even to conceal his
dissatisfaction; “but I must be permitted to say to your majesty, that
it is not worth while to make me use such speed, to risk twenty
times the breaking of my neck, to salute me on my arrival with
such intelligence. Sire, when people are not trusted, or are deemed
insufficient, they should scarcely be employed.” And D’Artagnan, with
a movement perfectly military, stamped with his foot, and left upon the
floor dust stained with blood. The king looked at him, inwardly enjoying
his first triumph.
“Monsieur,” said he, at the expiration of a minute, “not only is
Belle-Isle known to me, but, still further, Belle-Isle is mine.”
“That is well! that is well, sire, I ask but one thing more,” replied
D’Artagnan.--“My discharge.”
“What! your discharge?”
“Without doubt I am too proud to eat the bread of the king without
earning it, or rather by gaining it badly.--My discharge, sire!”
“Oh, oh!”
“I ask for my discharge, or I will take it.”
“You are angry, monsieur?”
“I have reason, _mordioux!_ Thirty-two hours in the saddle, I ride day
and night, I perform prodigies of speed, I arrive stiff as the corpse of
a man who has been hung--and another arrives before me! Come, sire, I am
a fool!--My discharge, sire!”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Louis, leaning his white hand upon the dusty
arm of the musketeer, “what I tell you will not at all affect that which
I promised you. A king’s word given must be kept.” And the king going
straight to his table, opened a drawer, and took out a folded paper.
“Here is your commission of captain of musketeers; you have won it,
Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
D’Artagnan opened the paper eagerly, and scanned it twice. He could
scarcely believe his eyes.
“And this commission is given you,” continued the king, “not only on
account of your journey to Belle-Isle but, moreover, for your brave
intervention at the Place de Greve. There, likewise, you served me
valiantly.”
“Ah, ah!” said D’Artagnan, without his self-command being able to
prevent a blush from mounting to his eyes--“you know that also, sire?”
“Yes, I know it.”
The king possessed a piercing glance and an infallible judgment when it
was his object to read men’s minds. “You have something to say,” said
he to the musketeer, “something to say which you do not say. Come, speak
freely, monsieur; you know that I told you, once and for all, that you
are to be always quite frank with me.”
“Well, sire! what I have to say is this, that I would prefer being made
captain of the musketeers for having charged a battery at the head of my
company, or taken a city, than for causing two wretches to be hung.”
“Is this quite true you tell me?”
“And why should your majesty suspect me of dissimulation, I ask?”
“Because I have known you well, monsieur; you cannot repent of having
drawn your sword for me.”
“Well, in that your majesty is deceived, and greatly; yes, I do repent
of having drawn my sword on account of the results that action produced;
the poor men who were hung, sire, were neither your enemies nor mine;
and they could not defend themselves.”
The king preserved silence for a moment. “And your companion, M.
d’Artagnan, does he partake of your repentance?”
“My companion?”
“Yes, you were not alone, I have been told.”
“Alone, where?”
“At the Place de Greve.”
“No, sire, no,” said D’Artagnan, blushing at the idea that the king
might have a suspicion that he, D’Artagnan, had wished to engross to
himself all the glory that belonged to Raoul; “no, _mordioux!_ and as
your majesty says, I had a companion, and a good companion, too.”
“A young man?”
“Yes, sire; a young man. Oh! your majesty must accept my compliments,
you are as well informed of things out of doors as things within. It is
M. Colbert who makes all these fine reports to the king.”
“M. Colbert has said nothing but good of you, M. d’Artagnan, and he
would have met with a bad reception if he had come to tell me anything
else.”
“That is fortunate!”
“But he also said much good of that young man.”
“And with justice,” said the musketeer.
“In short, it appears that this young man is a fire-eater,” said Louis,
in order to sharpen the sentiment which he mistook for envy.
“A fire-eater! Yes, sire,” repeated D’Artagnan, delighted on his part to
direct the king’s attention to Raoul.
“Do you not know his name?”
“Well, I think--”
“You know him then?”
“I have known him nearly five-and-twenty years, sire.”
“Why, he is scarcely twenty-five years old!” cried the king.
“Well, sire! I have known him ever since he was born, that is all.”
“Do you affirm that?”
“Sire,” said D’Artagnan, “your majesty questions me with a mistrust in
which I recognize another character than your own. M. Colbert, who has
so well informed you, has he not forgotten to tell you that this young
man is the son of my most intimate friend?”
“The Vicomte de Bragelonne?”
“Certainly, sire. The father of the Vicomte de Bragelonne is M. le
Comte de la Fere, who so powerfully assisted in the restoration of King
Charles II. Bragelonne comes of a valiant race, sire.”
“Then he is the son of that nobleman who came to me, or rather to M.
Mazarin, on the part of King Charles II., to offer me his alliance?”
“Exactly, sire.”
“And the Comte de la Fere is a great soldier, say you?”
“Sire, he is a man who has drawn his sword more times for the king, your
father, than there are, at present, months in the happy life of your
majesty.”
It was Louis XIV. who now bit his lip.
“That is well, M. d’Artagnan, very well! And M. le Comte de la Fere is
your friend, say you?”
“For about forty years; yes, sire. Your majesty may see that I do not
speak to you of yesterday.”
“Should you be glad to see this young man, M. d’Artagnan?”
“Delighted, sire.”
The king touched his bell, and an usher appeared. “Call M. de
Bragelonne,” said the king.
“Ah! ah! he is here?” said D’Artagnan.
“He is on guard to-day, at the Louvre, with the company of the gentlemen
of monsieur le prince.”
The king had scarcely ceased speaking, when Raoul presented himself,
and, on seeing D’Artagnan, smiled on him with that charming smile which
is only found upon the lips of youth.
“Come, come,” said D’Artagnan, familiarly, to Raoul, “the king will
allow you to embrace me; only tell his majesty you thank him.”
Raoul bowed so gracefully, that Louis, to whom all superior qualities
were pleasing when they did not overshadow his own, admired his beauty,
strength, and modesty.
“Monsieur,” said the king, addressing Raoul, “I have asked monsieur
le prince to be kind enough to give you up to me; I have received his
reply, and you belong to me from this morning. Monsieur le prince was a
good master, but I hope you will not lose by the exchange.”
“Yes, yes, Raoul, be satisfied; the king has some good in him,” said
D’Artagnan, who had fathomed the character of Louis, and who played
with his self-love, within certain limits; always observing, be it
understood, the proprieties and flattering, even when he appeared to be
bantering.
“Sire,” said Bragelonne, with voice soft and musical, and with the
natural and easy elocution he inherited from his father; “Sire, it is
not from to-day that I belong to your majesty.”
“Oh! no, I know,” said the king, “you mean your enterprise of the Greve.
That day, you were truly mine, monsieur.”
“Sire, it is not of that day I would speak; it would not become me
to refer to so paltry a service in the presence of such a man as M.
d’Artagnan. I would speak of a circumstance which created an epoch in my
life, and which consecrated me, from the age of sixteen, to the devoted
service of your majesty.”
“Ah! ah!” said the king, “what was that circumstance? Tell me,
monsieur.”
“This is it, sire.--When I was setting out on my first campaign, that is
to say, to join the army of monsieur le prince, M. le Comte de la Fere
came to conduct me as far as Saint-Denis, where the remains of King
Louis XIII. wait, upon the lowest steps of the funeral _basilique_, a
successor, whom God will not send him, I hope, for many years. Then
he made me swear upon the ashes of our masters, to serve royalty,
represented by you--incarnate in you, sire--to serve it in word, in
thought, and in action. I swore, and God and the dead were witnesses to
my oath. During ten years, sire, I have not so often as I desired had
occasion to keep it. I am a soldier of your majesty, and nothing else;
and, on calling me nearer to you, I do not change my master, I only
change my garrison.”
Raoul was silent and bowed. Louis still listened after he had done
speaking.
“_Mordioux!_” cried D’Artagnan, “that was well spoken! was it not, your
majesty? A good race! a noble race!”
“Yes,” murmured the king, without, however daring to manifest
his emotion, for it had no other cause than contact with a nature
intrinsically noble. “Yes, monsieur, you say truly:--wherever you were,
you were the king’s. But in changing your garrison, believe me you will
find an advancement of which you are worthy.”
Raoul saw that this ended what the king had to say to him. And with
the perfect tact which characterized his refined nature, he bowed and
retired.
“Is there anything else, monsieur, of which you have to inform me?” said
the king, when he found himself again alone with D’Artagnan.
“Yes, sire, and I kept that news for the last, for it is sad, and will
clothe European royalty in mourning.”
“What do you tell me?”
“Sire, in passing through Blois, a word, a sad word, echoed from the
palace, struck my ear.”
“In truth, you terrify me, M. d’Artagnan.”
“Sire, this word was pronounced to me by a _piqueur_, who wore crape on
his arm.”
“My uncle, Gaston of Orleans, perhaps.”
“Sire, he has rendered his last sigh.”
“And I was not warned of it!” cried the king, whose royal susceptibility
saw an insult in the absence of this intelligence.
“Oh! do not be angry, sire,” said D’Artagnan; “neither the couriers
of Paris, nor the couriers of the whole world, can travel with your
servant; the courier from Blois will not be here these two hours, and he
rides well, I assure you, seeing that I only passed him on the thither
side of Orleans.”
“My uncle Gaston,” murmured Louis, pressing his hand to his brow, and
comprising in those three words all that his memory recalled of that
symbol of opposing sentiments.
“Eh! yes, sire, it is thus,” said D’Artagnan, philosophically replying
to the royal thought, “it is thus the past flies away.”
“That is true, monsieur, that is true; but there remains for us, thank
God! the future; and we will try to make it not too dark.”
“I feel confidence in your majesty on that head,” said D’Artagnan,
bowing, “and now--”
“You are right, monsieur; I had forgotten the hundred leagues you have
just ridden. Go, monsieur, take care of one of the best of soldiers, and
when you have reposed a little, come and place yourself at my disposal.”
“Sire, absent or present, I am always yours.”
D’Artagnan bowed and retired. Then, as if he had only come from
Fontainebleau, he quickly traversed the Louvre to rejoin Bragelonne.