“MY DEAR SISTER,--Here are fifteen thousand francs. Instead of
taking my life, I have sold it. I am no longer my own; I am only
the secretary of a Spanish diplomatist; I am his creature. A new
and dreadful life is beginning for me. Perhaps I should have done
better to drown myself.
“Good-bye. David will be released, and with the four thousand
francs he can buy a little paper-mill, no doubt, and make his
fortune. Forget me, all of you. This is the wish of your unhappy
brother.
“LUCIEN.”
“It is decreed that my poor boy should be unlucky in everything, and
even when he does well, as he said himself,” said Mme. Chardon, as she
watched the men piling up the bags.
“We have had a narrow escape!” exclaimed the tall Cointet, when he was
once more in the Place du Mûrier. “An hour later the glitter of the
silver would have thrown a new light on the deed of partnership. Our
man would have fought shy of it. We have his promise now, and in three
months’ time we shall know what to do.”
That very evening, at seven o’clock, Cérizet bought the business, and
the money was paid over, the purchaser undertaking to pay rent for
the last quarter. The next day Eve sent forty thousand francs to
the Receiver-General, and bought two thousand five hundred francs of
_rentes_ in her husband’s name. Then she wrote to her father-in-law and
asked him to find a small farm, worth about ten thousand francs, for her
near Marsac. She meant to invest her own fortune in this way.
The tall Cointet’s plot was formidably simple. From the very first
he considered that the plan of sizing the pulp in the vat was
impracticable. The real secret of fortune lay in the composition of the
pulp, in the cheap vegetable fibre as a substitute for rags. He made up
his mind, therefore, to lay immense stress on the secondary problem of
sizing the pulp, and to pass over the discovery of cheap raw material,
and for the following reasons:
The Angoulême paper-mills manufacture paper for stationers. Notepaper,
foolscap, crown, and post-demy are all necessarily sized; and these
papers have been the pride of the Angoulême mills for a long while past,
stationery being the specialty of the Charente. This fact gave color to
the Cointet’s urgency upon the point of sizing in the pulping-trough;
but, as a matter of fact, they cared nothing for this part of David’s
researches. The demand for writing-paper is exceedingly small compared
with the almost unlimited demand for unsized paper for printers. As
Boniface Cointet traveled to Paris to take out the patent in his own
name, he was projecting plans that were like to work a revolution in his
paper-mill. Arrived in Paris, he took up his quarters with Métivier,
and gave his instructions to his agent. Métivier was to call upon the
proprietors of newspapers, and offer to deliver paper at prices below
those quoted by all other houses; he could guarantee in each case that
the paper should be a better color, and in every way superior to the
best kinds hitherto in use. Newspapers are always supplied by contract;
there would be time before the present contracts expired to complete all
the subterranean operations with buyers, and to obtain a monopoly of
the trade. Cointet calculated that he could rid himself of Séchard while
Métivier was taking orders from the principal Paris newspapers, which
even then consumed two hundred reams daily. Cointet naturally offered
Métivier a large commission on the contracts, for he wished to secure a
clever representative on the spot, and to waste no time in traveling to
and fro. And in this manner the fortunes of the firm of Métivier, one
of the largest houses in the paper trade, were founded. The tall Cointet
went back to Angoulême to be present at Petit-Claud’s wedding, with a
mind at rest as to the future.
Petit-Claud had sold his professional connection, and was only waiting
for M. Milaud’s promotion to take the public prosecutor’s place,
which had been promised to him by the Comtesse du Châtelet. The public
prosecutor’s second deputy was appointed first deputy to the Court of
Limoges, the Keeper of the Seals sent a man of his own to Angoulême,
and the post of first deputy was kept vacant for a couple of months. The
interval was Petit-Claud’s honeymoon.
While Boniface Cointet was in Paris, David made a first experimental
batch of unsized paper far superior to that in common use for
newspapers. He followed it up with a second batch of magnificent vellum
paper for fine printing, and this the Cointets used for a new edition of
their diocesan prayer-book. The material had been privately prepared by
David himself; he would have no helpers but Kolb and Marion.
When Boniface came back the whole affair wore a different aspect; he
looked at the samples, and was fairly satisfied.
“My good friend,” he said, “the whole trade of Angoulême is in crown
paper. We must make the best possible crown paper at half the present
price; that is the first and foremost question for us.”
Then David tried to size the pulp for the desired paper, and the result
was a harsh surface with grains of size distributed all over it. On the
day when the experiment was concluded and David held the sheets in his
hand, he went away to find a spot where he could be alone and swallow
his bitter disappointment. But Boniface Cointet went in search of him
and comforted him. Boniface was delightfully amiable.
“Do not lose heart,” he said; “go on! I am a good fellow, I understand
you; I will stand by you to the end.”
“Really,” David said to his wife at dinner, “we are with good people;
I should not have expected that the tall Cointet would be so generous.”
And he repeated his conversation with his wily partner.
Three months were spent in experiments. David slept at the mill; he
noted the effects of various preparations upon the pulp. At one time
he attributed his non-success to an admixture of rag-pulp with his own
ingredients, and made a batch entirely composed of the new material;
at another, he endeavored to size pulp made exclusively from rags;
persevering in his experiments under the eyes of the tall Cointet, whom
he had ceased to mistrust, until he had tried every possible combination
of pulp and size. David lived in the paper-mill for the first six months
of 1823--if it can be called living, to leave food untasted, and go
in neglect of person and dress. He wrestled so desperately with
the difficulties, that anybody but the Cointets would have seen the
sublimity of the struggle, for the brave fellow was not thinking of his
own interests. The moment had come when he cared for nothing but the
victory. With marvelous sagacity he watched the unaccountable freaks of
the semi-artificial substances called into existence by man for ends of
his own; substances in which nature had been tamed, as it were, and
her tacit resistance overcome; and from these observations drew great
conclusions; finding, as he did, that such creations can only be
obtained by following the laws of the more remote affinities of things,
of “a second nature,” as he called it, in substances.
Towards the end of August he succeeded to some extent in sizing the
paper pulp in the vat; the result being a kind of paper identical with
a make in use for printers’ proofs at the present day--a kind of paper
that cannot be depended upon, for the sizing itself is not always
certain. This was a great result, considering the condition of the paper
trade in 1823, and David hoped to solve the final difficulties of the
problem, but--it had cost ten thousand francs.
Singular rumors were current at this time in Angoulême and L’Houmeau.
It was said that David Séchard was ruining the firm of Cointet Brothers.
Experiments had eaten up twenty thousand francs; and the result, said
gossip, was wretchedly bad paper. Other manufacturers took fright at
this, hugged themselves on their old-fashioned methods, and, being
jealous of the Cointets, spread rumors of the approaching fall of that
ambitious house. As for the tall Cointet, he set up the new machinery
for making lengths of paper in a ribbon, and allowed people to believe
that he was buying plant for David’s experiments. Then the cunning
Cointet used David’s formula for pulp, while urging his partner to give
his whole attention to the sizing process; and thousands of reams of the
new paper were despatched to Métivier in Paris.
When September arrived, the tall Cointet took David aside, and, learning
that the latter meditated a crowning experiment, dissuaded him from
further attempts.
“Go to Marsac, my dear David, see your wife, and take a rest after
your labors; we don’t want to ruin ourselves,” said Cointet in the
friendliest way. “This great triumph of yours, after all, is only a
starting-point. We shall wait now for awhile before trying any new
experiments. To be fair! see what has come of them. We are not merely
paper-makers, we are printers besides and bankers, and people say that
you are ruining us.”
David Séchard’s gesture of protest on behalf of his good faith was
sublime in its simplicity.
“Not that fifty thousand francs thrown into the Charente would ruin
us,” said Cointet, in reply to mute protest, “but we do not wish to be
obliged to pay cash for everything in consequence of slanders that shake
our credit; _that_ would bring us to a standstill. We have reached the
term fixed by our agreement, and we are bound on either side to think
over our position.”
“He is right,” thought David. He had forgotten the routine work of the
business, thoroughly absorbed as he had been in experiments on a large
scale.
David went to Marsac. For the past six months he had gone over on
Saturday evening, returning again to L’Houmeau on Tuesday morning. Eve,
after much counsel from her father-in-law, had bought a house called the
Verberie, with three acres of land and a croft planted with vines, which
lay like a wedge in the old man’s vineyard. Here, with her mother and
Marion, she lived a very frugal life, for five thousand francs of the
purchase money still remained unpaid. It was a charming little domain,
the prettiest bit of property in Marsac. The house, with a garden before
it and a yard at the back, was built of white tufa ornamented with
carvings, cut without great expense in that easily wrought stone, and
roofed with slate. The pretty furniture from the house in Angoulême
looked prettier still at Marsac, for there was not the slightest
attempt at comfort or luxury in the country in those days. A row of
orange-trees, pomegranates, and rare plants stood before the house on
the side of the garden, set there by the last owner, an old general who
died under M. Marron’s hands.
David was enjoying his holiday sitting under an orange-tree with his
wife, and father, and little Lucien, when the bailiff from Mansle
appeared. Cointet Brothers gave their partner formal notice to appoint
an arbitrator to settle disputes, in accordance with a clause in the
agreement. The Cointets demanded that the six thousand francs should be
refunded, and the patent surrendered in consideration of the enormous
outlay made to no purpose.
“People say that you are ruining them,” said old Séchard. “Well, well,
of all that you have done, that is the one thing that I am glad to
know.”
At nine o’clock the next morning Eve and David stood in Petit-Claud’s
waiting-room. The little lawyer was the guardian of the widow and orphan
by virtue of his office, and it seemed to them that they could take no
other advice. Petit-Claud was delighted to see his clients, and insisted
that M. and Mme. Séchard should do him the pleasure of breakfasting with
him.
“Do the Cointets want six thousand francs of you?” he asked, smiling.
“How much is still owing of the purchase-money of the Verberie?”
“Five thousand francs, monsieur,” said Eve, “but I have two
thousand----”
“Keep your money,” Petit-Claud broke in. “Let us see: five
thousand--why, you want quite another ten thousand francs to settle
yourselves comfortably down yonder. Very good, in two hours’ time the
Cointets shall bring you fifteen thousand francs----”
Eve started with surprise.
“If you will renounce all claims to the profits under the deed of
partnership, and come to an amicable settlement,” said Petit-Claud.
“Does that suit you?”
“Will it really be lawfully ours?” asked Eve.
“Very much so,” said the lawyer, smiling. “The Cointets have worked
you trouble enough; I should like to make an end of their pretensions.
Listen to me; I am a magistrate now, and it is my duty to tell you the
truth. Very good. The Cointets are playing you false at this moment, but
you are in their hands. If you accept battle, you might possibly gain
the lawsuit which they will bring. Do you wish to be where you are now
after ten years of litigation? Experts’ fees and expenses of arbitration
will be multiplied, the most contradictory opinions will be given, and
you must take your chance. And,” he added, smiling again, “there is no
attorney here that can defend you, so far as I see. My successor has
not much ability. There, a bad compromise is better than a successful
lawsuit.”
“Any arrangement that will give us a quiet life will do for me,” said
David.
Petit-Claud called to his servant.
“Paul! go and ask M. Ségaud, my successor, to come here.--He shall go
to see the Cointets while we breakfast” said Petit-Claud, addressing his
former clients, “and in a few hours’ time you will be on your way home
to Marsac, ruined, but with minds at rest. Ten thousand francs will
bring you in another five hundred francs of income, and you will live
comfortably on your bit of property.”
Two hours later, as Petit-Claud had prophesied, Maître Ségaud came back
with an agreement duly drawn up and signed by the Cointets, and fifteen
notes each for a thousand francs.
“We are much indebted to you,” said Séchard, turning to Petit-Claud.
“Why, I have just this moment ruined you,” said Petit-Claud, looking at
his astonished former clients. “I tell you again, I have ruined you, as
you will see as time goes on; but I know you, you would rather be ruined
than wait for a fortune which perhaps might come too late.”
“We are not mercenary, monsieur,” said Madame Eve. “We thank you for
giving us the means of happiness; we shall always feel grateful to you.”
“Great heavens! don’t call down blessings on _me_!” cried Petit-Claud.
“It fills me with remorse; but to-day, I think, I have made full
reparation. If I am a magistrate, it is entirely owing to you; and if
anybody is to feel grateful, it is I. Good-bye.”
As time went on, Kolb changed his opinion of Séchard senior; and as for
the old man, he took a liking to Kolb when he found that, like himself,
the Alsacien could neither write nor read a word, and that it was easy
to make him tipsy. The old “bear” imparted his ideas on vine culture and
the sale of a vintage to the ex-cuirassier, and trained him with a view
to leaving a man with a head on his shoulders to look after his children
when he should be gone; for he grew childish at the last, and great were
his fears as to the fate of his property. He had chosen Courtois the
miller as his confidant. “You will see how things will go with my
children when I am under ground. Lord! it makes me shudder to think of
it.”
Old Séchard died in the month of March, 1929, leaving about two hundred
thousand francs in land. His acres added to the Verberie made a fine
property, which Kolb had managed to admiration for some two years.
David and his wife found nearly a hundred thousand crowns in gold in the
house. The department of the Charente had valued old Séchard’s money at
a million; rumor, as usual, exaggerating the amount of a hoard. Eve and
David had barely thirty thousand francs of income when they added their
little fortune to the inheritance; they waited awhile, and so it fell
out that they invested their capital in Government securities at the
time of the Revolution of July.
Then, and not until then, could the department of the Charente and David
Séchard form some idea of the wealth of the tall Cointet. Rich to the
extent of several millions of francs, the elder Cointet became a deputy,
and is at this day a peer of France. It is said that he will be Minister
of Commerce in the next Government; for in 1842 he married Mlle.
Popinot, daughter of M. Anselme Popinot, one of the most influential
statesmen of the dynasty, deputy and mayor of an arrondissement in
Paris.
David Séchard’s discovery has been assimilated by the French
manufacturing world, as food is assimilated by a living body. Thanks to
the introduction of materials other than rags, France can produce paper
more cheaply than any other European country. Dutch paper, as David
foresaw, no longer exists. Sooner or later it will be necessary, no
doubt, to establish a Royal Paper Manufactory; like the Gobelins, the
Sèvres porcelain works, the Savonnerie, and the Imprimerie royale, which
so far have escaped the destruction threatened by _bourgeois_ vandalism.
David Séchard, beloved by his wife, father of two boys and a girl, has
the good taste to make no allusion to his past efforts. Eve had the
sense to dissuade him from following his terrible vocation; for the
inventor like Moses on Mount Horeb, is consumed by the burning bush. He
cultivates literature by way of recreation, and leads a comfortable life
of leisure, befitting the landowner who lives on his own estate. He has
bidden farewell for ever to glory, and bravely taken his place in the
class of dreamers and collectors; for he dabbles in entomology, and is
at present investigating the transformations of insects which science
only knows in the final stage.
Everybody has heard of Petit-Claud’s success as attorney-general; he is
the rival of the great Vinet of Provins, and it is his ambition to be
President of the Court-Royal of Poitiers.
Cérizet has been in trouble so frequently for political offences that
he has been a good deal talked about; and as one of the boldest _enfants
perdus_ of the Liberal party he was nicknamed the “Brave Cérizet.” When
Petit-Claud’s successor compelled him to sell his business in Angoulême,
he found a fresh career on the provincial stage, where his talents as
an actor were like to be turned to brilliant account. The chief stage
heroine, however, obliged him to go to Paris to find a cure for love
among the resources of science, and there he tried to curry favor with
the Liberal party.
As for Lucien, the story of his return to Paris belongs to the _Scenes
of Parisian_ life.