M. DE SUFFREN.
Contrary to the usual habits of a court, the secret had been faithfully
confined to Louis XVI. and the Comte d’Artois. No one knew at what time
or hour M. de Suffren would arrive.
The king had announced his jeu du roi for the evening; and at seven
o’clock he entered, with ten princes and princesses of his family. The
queen came holding the princess royal, now about seven years old, by
the hand. The assembly was numerous and brilliant. The Comte d’Artois
approached the queen, and said, “Look around you, madame.”
“Well?”
“What do you see?”
The queen looked all around, and then said, “I see nothing but happy
and friendly faces.”
“Rather, then, whom do you not see?”
“Oh! I understand; I wonder if he is always going to run away from me.”
“Oh no! only this is a good joke; M. de Provence has gone to wait at
the barrier for M. de Suffren.”
“Well, I do not see why you laugh at that; he has been the most
cunning, after all, and will be the first to receive and pay his
compliments to this gentleman.”
“Come, dear sister,” replied the young prince, laughing, “you have a
very mean opinion of our diplomacy. M. de Provence has gone to meet him
at Fontainebleau; but we have sent some one to meet him at Villejuif,
so that my brother will wait by himself at Fontainebleau, while our
messenger will conduct M. de Suffren straight to Versailles, without
passing through Paris at all.”
“That is excellently imagined.”
“It is not bad, I flatter myself; but it is your turn to play.”
The king had noticed that M. d’Artois was making the queen laugh, and
guessing what it was about, gave them a significant glance, to show
that he shared their amusement.
The saloon where they played was full of persons of the highest rank—M.
de Condé, M. de Penthièvre, M. de Tremouille, etc. The news of the
arrival of M. de Suffren had, as we have said, been kept quiet, but
there had been a kind of vague rumor that some one was expected, and
all were somewhat preoccupied and watchful. Even the king, who was in
the habit of playing six-franc pieces in order to moderate the play of
the court, played gold without thinking of it.
The queen, however, to all appearances entered, as usual, eagerly into
the game.
Philippe, who, with his sister, was admitted to the party, in vain
endeavored to shake from his mind his father’s words. He asked himself
if indeed this old man, who had seen so much of courts, was not right;
and if his own ideas were indeed those of a Puritan, and belonging to
another land. This queen, so charming, so beautiful, and so friendly
towards him, was she indeed only a terrible coquette, anxious to add
one lover more to her list, as the entomologist transfixes a new insect
or butterfly, without thinking of the tortures of the poor creature
whose heart he is piercing? “Coigny, Vaudreuil,” repeated he to
himself, “they loved the queen, and were loved by her. Oh, why does
this calumny haunt me so, or why will not some ray of light discover to
me the heart of this woman?”
Then Philippe turned his eyes to the other end of the table, where, by
a strange chance, these gentlemen were sitting side by side, and both
seemingly equally forgetful of, and insensible to, the queen; and he
thought that it was impossible that these men could have loved and be
so calm, or that they could have been loved and seem so forgetful. From
them he turned to look at Marie Antoinette herself and interrogated
that pure forehead, that haughty mouth, and beautiful face; and the
answer they all seemed to give him was: calumnies, all calumnies, these
rumors, originating only in the hates and jealousies of a court.
While he was coming to these conclusions the clock struck a quarter to
eight, and at that moment a great noise of footsteps and the sound of
many voices were heard on the staircase. The king, hearing it, signed
to the queen, and they both rose and broke up the game. She then passed
into the great reception-hall, and the king followed her.
An aide-de-camp of M. de Castries, Minister of Marine, approached the
king and said something in a low tone, when M. de Castries himself
entered, and said aloud, “Will your majesty receive M. de Suffren, who
has arrived from Toulon?”
At this name a general movement took place in the assembly.
“Yes, sir,” said the king, “with great pleasure;” and M. de Castries
left the room.
To explain this interest for M. de Suffren, and why king, queen,
princes, and ministers contended who should be the first to receive
him, a few words will suffice.
Suffren is a name essentially French, like Turenne or Jean Bart. Since
the last war with England, M. de Suffren had fought seven great naval
battles without sustaining a defeat. He had taken Trincomalee and
Gondeleur, scoured the seas, and taught the Nabob Hyder Ali that France
was the first Power in Europe. He had carried into his profession all
the skill of an able diplomatist, all the bravery and all the tactics
of a soldier, and all the prudence of a wise ruler. Hardy,
indefatigable, and proud when the honor of the French nation was in
question, he had harassed the English, by land and by sea, till even
these fierce islanders were afraid of him.
But after the battle, in which he risked his life like the meanest
sailor, he ever showed himself humane, generous, and compassionate. He
was now about fifty-six years of age, stout and short, but with an eye
of fire and a noble carriage, and, like a man accustomed to surmount
all difficulties, he had dressed in his traveling-carriage.
He wore a blue coat embroidered with gold, a red waistcoat, and blue
trousers.
All the guards through whom he had passed, when he was named to them by
M. de Castries, had saluted him as they would have done a king.
“M. de Suffren,” said the king when he entered, “welcome to Versailles;
you bring glory with you.”
M. de Suffren bent his knee to the king, who, however, raised him and
embraced him cordially; then, turning to the queen, “Madame,” said he,
“here is M. de Suffren, the victor of Trincomalee and Gondeleur, and
the terror of the English.”
“Monsieur,” said the queen, “I wish you to know that you have not fired
a shot for the glory of France but my heart has beaten with admiration
and gratitude.”
When she ceased, the Comte d’Artois approached with his son, the Duc
d’Angoulême.
“My son,” said he, “you see a hero; look at him well, for it is a rare
sight.”
“Monseigneur,” replied the young prince, “I have read about the great
men in Plutarch, but I could not see them; I thank you for showing me
M. de Suffren.”
The king now took the arm of M. de Suffren, in order to lead him to his
study, and talk to him of his travels; but he made a respectful
resistance.
“Sire,” said he, “will your majesty permit me——”
“Oh! whatever you wish, sir.”
“Then, sire, one of my officers has committed so grave a fault against
discipline, that I thought your majesty ought to be sole judge of the
offense.”
“Oh, M. de Suffren, I had hoped your first request would have been a
favor, and not a punishment.”
“Your majesty, as I have had the honor to say, shall judge what ought
to be done. In the last battle the officer of whom I speak was on board
_La Sévère_.”
“Oh, the ship that struck her flag!” cried the king, frowning.
“Yes, sire. The captain of _La Sévère_ had indeed struck his flag, and
already Sir Hugh, the English admiral, had despatched a boat to take
possession of his prize, when the lieutenant in command of the guns of
the middle deck, perceiving that the firing above had ceased, and
having received orders to stop his own fire, went on deck, saw the flag
lowered, and the captain ready to surrender. At this sight, sir, all
his French blood revolted, he took the flag which lay there, and,
seizing a hammer, ordered the men to recommence the fire, while he
nailed it to the mast. It was by this action, sire, that _La Sévère_
was preserved to your majesty.”
“A splendid action!” cried the king and queen simultaneously.
“Yes, sire—yes, madame, but a grave fault against discipline. The order
had been given by the captain, and the lieutenant ought to have obeyed.
I, however, ask for the pardon of the officer, and the more so as he is
my own nephew.”
“Your nephew!” cried the king; “and you have never mentioned him!”
“Not to you, sire; but I made my report to the ministers, begging them
to say nothing about it until I had obtained his pardon from your
majesty.”
“It is granted,” said the king. “I promise beforehand my protection to
all who may violate discipline in such a cause. You must present this
officer to me, M. de Suffren.”
M. de Suffren turned. “Approach, M. de Charny,” he said.
The queen started at the sound of this name, which she had so recently
heard. A young officer advanced from the crowd, and presented himself
before the king.
The queen and Andrée looked anxiously at each other; but M. de Charny
bowed before the king almost without raising his eyes, and, after
kissing his hand, retired again, without seeming to have observed the
queen.
“Come now, M. de Suffren,” said the king, “and let us converse; I am
impatient to hear all your adventures.” But before leaving the room he
turned to the queen and said. “Apropos, madame, I am going to have
built, as you know, a ship of one hundred guns, and I think of changing
the name we had destined for it, and of calling it instead——”
“Oh yes!” cried Marie Antoinette, catching his thought, “we will call
it _Le Suffren_, and I will still stand sponsor.”
“Vive le roi! vive la reine!” cried all.
“And vive M. de Suffren!” added the king, and then left the room with
him.