THE DECADENCE OF VERSAILLES
It was nearly noon on the fourth day when I alighted at the Place
d'Armes, the grand court-yard of Versailles, and I fear I cut but a
sorry figure for a governor's messenger. It appeared that my dress at
best was unlike that worn at the court; my fringed leather leggings,
hunting knife and long sword differed much from the wigs and frizzes
worn by the officers of the guard. However, I made bold to seem at
ease and accustomed to court as I addressed the officer of the watch.
"Can you direct me, sir, to M. de Serigny? I have business with him."
The man smiled, I knew not at what, and regarded me curiously. I felt
my face flush, but repeated the question.
"M. de Serigny," he replied, "is with the court. Seek him at his
apartments. Pass through yonder great gate, turn to the left and
inquire of the guard at the door."
I walked on hastily, glad to be quit of his inspection. Such a throng
of fine gentlemen in silks, satins and ribbons I never dreamed of; even
the soldiers seemed dressed more for bridals than for battles. I held
my peace though, walking steadily onward as directed, yet itching to
stick my sword into some of their dainty trappings. At the door I came
upon a great throng of loungers playing at dice, some throwing and
others laying their wagers upon those who threw.
Standing somewhat aloof was a slender young fellow who wore the slashed
silver and blue of the King's own guard:--I knew the colors well from
some of our older officers in the Provincial army. They had told me of
men, soldiers and hard fighters, too, wearing great frizzled wigs
outside their natural hair, with ruffles on their sleeves and perfumed
laces at their throats--but I had generally discredited such tales.
Here was a man dressed more gaily than I had ever seen a woman in my
childhood--and he seemed a fine, likely young fellow, too. I fear I
examined him rather critically and without proper deference to his
uniform, for he turned upon me angrily, catching my glance.
"Well, my good fellow, didst never see the King's colors before? Where
hast thou lived then all these years?"
He seemed quite as much amused at my plain forest garb, leggings and
service cap, as I had been at his silken trumpery. I replied to him as
quietly as might be:
"In our parts beyond the seas we hear often of the King's Guard, but
never have my eyes rested upon their uniform before."
Observing my shoulder straps he unbent somewhat and inquired:
"Thou bearest the rank of captain?"
"Aye, comrade, in the service of the King in his province of Louisiana.
I pray you direct me to the apartments of M. de Serigny, I would have
speech with him."
He was a manly young lad, of soldierly bearing, too, despite his
effeminate dress; he turned and himself guided me through the many
intricate halls and passages until we reached a door which he pointed
out as Serigny's, where, with polite speeches, he left me alone.
Monsieur was out, at what business the servant did not know, but would
return at two of the clock. In the meantime I sought to amuse myself
strolling about the place. I knew I could find my way along the bayou
paths of Louisiana the darkest night God ever sent, for there at least
I would have through the trees the glimmer of a friendly star to guide
me. But here in the King's palace of Versailles, with the winding
passages running hither and yonder, each as like the other as twin
gauntlets, I lost myself hopelessly.
Clanking about alone over the tiles in great deserted corridors I grew
almost frightened at my own noise until I passed out into an immense
gallery, gaily decorated, and thronged with the ladies and gentlemen of
the court. I could not make much sense of it all except it seemed
greatly painted up, especially overhead, and nearly every figure bore
the face of the King.
From the windows I could see a strange forest where every tree grew in
the shape of some odd beast or bird, being set in long rows, and among
them were white images of some substance like unto the Holy Mother at
the shrine in Montreal. Some of these graven stones were in semblance
of men with horns and goats' legs, and some of warrior women with
plumed helms upon their heads. Verily I marveled much at these strange
sights.
The pert little lads who idled about the hall began to make sport of me
concerning my dress, and laughed greatly at their own wit. I paid no
heed to their foolish gibes, there being no man among them. It irked
me more than good sense would admit, and I left the hall, and after
many vain endeavors made my way out into the open air--being right glad
to breathe again without a roof above my head.
I was ill at ease among all these gay gallants who minced and paced
along like so many string-halted nags. It was said the King walked
much in that way, and so, forsooth, must all his lords and ladies go.
Perhaps it was the fashion of the court, but I stuck to the only gait I
knew, a good, honest, swinging stride which could cover fifteen leagues
a day at a pinch.
Off to one side the water kept leaping up into the air as I am told the
spouting springs do in the Dacotah country. I walked that way and was
soon lost in wonderment at the contemplation of a vast bronze basin
filled with curious brazen beasts, half men half fishes, the like of
which I had never seen. Some had horns from which they blew sparkling
streams; others astride of strange sea monsters plunged about and cast
up jets of water. It all made so much noise I scarcely heard a voice
behind me say:
"I'll lay a golden Louis his coat is of as queer a cut as his nether
garment--whatever its outlandish name maybe."
"Done," said another voice.
I gave no heed, thinking they meant not me, until a dapper little chap,
all plumed and belaced, stepped in front of me with a most lordly air.
"Hey, friend, who is thy tailor?" and behind me rang out the merry
laugh at such a famous jest.
I turned and there being a party of fine ladies at my back full gladly
would I have retired, had not the young braggart swaggered to my front
again and persisted:
"Friend, let us see the cut of thy coat."
We men of the forest accustomed to the rough ways of a camp, and
looking not for insult, are slow to anger, so I only asked as politely
as might be, because of the ladies:
"And wherefore?"
"Because I say so, sir," he replied, most arrogantly and stamping his
foot, "cast off thy cloak that we may see."
I still stood undecided, scarce knowing what to think, and being
ignorant of fashions at court. De Brienne--for that was his
name--mistaking my hesitation, advanced and laying his hand upon my
cloak would have torn it off, had I not brushed him aside so vigorously
he stumbled and fell to the ground.
I had no thought of using strength sufficient to throw him down. He
sprang up instantly, and, furious, drew his sword. I felt my own wrath
rise at sight of cold steel--it was ever a way of mine beyond
control--and asked him hotly:
"How is it affair of thine what manner of coat I wear?"
He made no reply, but, raising his arm, said, menacingly;
"Now, clown, show thy coat, or I'll spit thee like a dog."
I glanced around the circle at the blanched faces of the ladies, seeing
such a serious turn to their jest, and would not even then have drawn,
but the men made no effort to interfere, so I only answered him, "Nay,
I'll wear my cloak," when he made a quick lunge at me. I know not that
he meant me serious injury, but taking no risk my blade came readily,
and catching his slenderer weapon broke it short off, leaving him
raging and defenceless--a simple trick, yet not learned in a day. It
was a dainty little jewel-hilted toy, and I hated to spoil it.
"Now, sir, thank the King's uniform for thy life," my blood was up, and
I ached to teach him a lesson, "I can not turn the King's sword against
one of his servants."
The ladies laughed now, and the hot flush mounted to my cheeks, for I
feared a woman, but their merriment quickly died away at sound of an
imperious voice saying:
"For shame de Brienne, brawler!" "And thou, my young coxcomb of
Orleans," he continued, addressing that dissolute Prince: "How dare
you, sir, lead such a throng of revellers into the King's own gardens?
Is not your own house of debauchery sufficient for Your Grace? Have a
care, young sir, I am yet the King, and thou mayest never be the
Regent."
The Duke simulated his profound regret, but when Louis' back was turned
made a most unprincely and most uncourtly grimace at his royal uncle,
which set them all a-laughing. Whereat all these noble lords and
ladies made great pretense of gravity, and ostentatiously held their
handkerchiefs before their mouths to hide their mirth.
Already these satellites began to desert the sinking to attach their
fortunes to those of the rising sun. I marvelled at this, for the name
of Louis had been held in almost Godlike reverence by us in the
colonies. Meanwhile he had turned to me:
"Well said, young man; thou hast a loyal tongue."
"And a loyal master, sire," for it needed not the mention of his name
to tell me I faced the King. That face, stamped on his every golden
namesake, had been familiar to me since the earliest days of my
childhood.
"Thy name, sir?"
Kingly still, though a little bent, for he was now well past sixty,
Louis stood in his high-heeled shoes tapping the ground impatiently
with a long cane, his flowing coat fluttering in the wind. For a
period I completely lost my tongue, could see nothing but the blazing
cross of the Holy Ghost, the red order of St. Louis, upon the Monarch's
breast, could hear nothing but the grating of his cane against the
gravel. Yet I was not ashamed, for a brave soldier can proudly fear
his God, his conscience and his King.
"Thy name," he sharply demanded, "dost hear?"
"Placide de Mouret, Captain of Bienville's Guards, Province of
Louisiana, may it please you, sire," I stammered out.
"Attend me at the morning hour to-morrow," and he strutted away from
the giggling crowd.
I too would have turned off, had not my late antagonist proven himself
a man at heart. He quickly moved toward me holding out his hand in
reconciliation.
"I ask thy pardon, comrade; I too am a soldier, though but an
indifferent one in these peaceful times. We mistook thee, and I humbly
ask thy pardon."
Of course I could bear no malice against the fellow, and he seeming
sincere, I suffered him to present me to his friends. First among
these, de Brienne presented me to His Royal Highness, the Duke of
Orleans, "First Prince of the Blood, and the coming Regent of France."
This latter speech was given with decided emphasis, and a malicious
glance toward a pale, studious looking man, a cripple, who, the center
of a more sedate group, was well within hearing. The deformed Duke of
Maine, I thought, rival of Orleans for the Regency. The ladies I would
have willingly escaped, but they would not hear of it, and soon I was
surrounded by a chattering group, asking a thousand questions about the
fabled land of gold and glory beyond the seas. Right glad was I when
one of the gallants pointed out a thoughtful looking gentleman who
walked slowly through the eastern gate.
"There is M. de Serigny, a brother of Bienville, your Governor."
"That de Serigny?" I repeated, "then I must leave you, for I would
speak with him," and I bowed myself off with what grace I could muster,
knowing naught of such matters. A brisk walk fetched me to Serigny's
side. In a few words I communicated my mission. His quick, incisive
glance took in every detail of my dress and appearance, but his
features never changed.
"Wait, my dear Captain," he drawled out, with a polite wave of his
perfumed handkerchief, "time for business after a while. Let us enjoy
the beauties of the garden."
My spirits fell. Could this be a brother of the stern Bienville, this
the man upon whom my governor's fortunes now so largely depended? His
foppish manner impressed me very disagreeably, and, in no pleasant
frame of mind, I stalked along by his side listening to the senseless
gossip of the court. We soon passed out of the gardens into the great
hall, and reached his own apartments.
No sooner was the valet dismissed and the key turned in the lock than
his face showed the keenest interest. After satisfying himself of my
identity and glancing through the packet which I now handed him, he
gave vent to an exclamation of intense relief.
"Not a day too soon, my dear Captain, not a day, not a day, not a day,"
he kept repeating over and over, looking at the different documents.
"The King promises to act on this matter in a few days, to-morrow,
probably. Chamillard is against us; he seems all powerful now; the
King loves him for his truculence. But these will help, yes, these
will help." And again he ran through the various papers with
business-like swiftness. His fashionable air and the perfumed
handkerchief were alike laid aside. Now I could see the resemblance
between him and his sturdy brother.
"To-morrow, yes, to-morrow, my lad--pardon me the familiarity, Captain
de Mouret," he apologized, waiving aside my hand raised in protest.
"To-morrow we must act. We must gain the King's own ear. These must
not go through the department of war. Chamillard will poison the
King's mind against us. Most likely they would never reach the King at
all. Louis will hardly listen to me even now."
"Then let me speak to the King," I blurted out before I thought.
"You?" he repeated in unconcealed astonishment.
"Yes, I," I replied, for I was now well into it, and determined to wade
through; besides I loved my old commander, and would venture much in
his service.
Then I told Serigny of the occurrence in the garden, or enough to let
him understand why I was summoned to the morning audience.
"Thou art lucky, lad; here half a day and already have an appointment
with the King." "Yes," he roused half aloud, "Louis likes such things.
He grows suspicious with age, and doubts even his ministers. It is
quite possible he may question you of affairs in the colonies. If so,
speak out, and freely, too, my lad; Louis loves the plain truth when it
touches not his princely person or his vanities. God grant that we may
win."
Serigny then told me much of the petty trickery of the court in order
that I might understand how the land lay.
"It may be of service to you to know something of the many webs which
ambition, cupidity and malice have woven about us here in this great
government of France," he went on, speaking bitterly. "We never dare
speak our thoughts, for blindness, silence, flattery and fawning seem
surer passports to favor than are gallant deeds and honest service.
The King grows old, and it is feared his end is near. Of this, men
scarcely whisper. His death, as you know, would leave all France to
the frail little Duke of Anjou. Looking to this, the court here is
already divided in interest between the rivals for the regency, Philip
of Orleans, and the Duke of Maine. The Orleans party is the stronger,
though the Duke stands accused in the vulgar mind of poisoning all who
may come between himself and the throne, save this Anjou child, who
will probably die of sheer weakness. The King has recently had his de
Montespan children legitimated and rendered capable of inheriting the
crown, though the legality of this action is bitterly contested by the
Orleanists. He has also, it is said, left a will in favor of the Duke
of Maine, giving him all real power, while nominally making Orleans the
Regent. And strange as it may seem, it is said this will was made at
the persistent request of de Maintenon, so viciously hated by the proud
de Montespan. But you know she was the teacher of this little Duke,
and they are very much attached to each other. Were the Duke of Maine
a more vigorous man, there would be no doubt of his success. If 'that
little wasp of Sceaux,' as Madame Orleans calls the wife of the Duke of
Maine, were the man of the family, she would surely be the Regent.
She's a wonderful woman. Madame du Maine hates Bienville because she
can not use him in her dealings with Spain. She has duped the Bretons
by the promise of an independent provincial government, but Bienville
stands true to his King. So they seek by every means to discredit him.
You may surmise from this how unfortunately our affairs here are
complicated in the affairs of great personages, where lesser men lose
their lives at the first breath of suspicion."
After a little I had ample opportunity to observe the man more closely,
for he kept his seat to examine at leisure the dispatches I had
brought. He was evidently not entirely pleased with this inspection,
giving vent at times to low expressions of annoyance.
"Always the same trouble, la Salle and de la Vente, spies in
Biloxi--Ah, here is the fine hand of Madame du Maine, currying favor
with the Spaniard in aid of her cripple husband. If we could only make
this plain to Louis; this stirring up of strife. Fancy a son of de
Montespan on the throne of France. Yes, yes, yes, here is the awkward
work of our old friend Crozat, the tradesman, who would purchase an
empire of the King. See how clumsily he throws out his golden bait."
I could but listen and observe. Now, more than ever, in the sternness
and decision of his countenance he resembled his famous brothers,
Iberville, Sauvolle and Bienville--and yet beyond them all he possessed
the faculties of a courtier.
"Captain, are you acquainted with the nature of these dispatches?" he
asked directly.
"No, sire, only in general, and from my knowledge of affairs at Biloxi."
"My brother tells me I may trust you." My face flushed hotly with the
blood of anger.
"Oh, my dear Captain, I meant no offense; I speak plainly, and there
are few men about this court whom you can trust. There is an adventure
of grave importance upon which I wish to employ you. Your being
unknown in Paris may assist us greatly."
I signified my attention.
"It is supposed we are on the eve of war with Spain, and it is my
belief the colonies will be the first objects of attack. Some person,
and one who is in our confidence, is now carrying on a secret
correspondence with the Spanish agent at Paris. Cellamare, the Spanish
Ambassador, is concerned in the intrigue. This much we know from
letters which have fallen into my hands, and I have permitted them to
be delivered rather than interrupt a correspondence which will
eventually lead to a discovery of the traitor. We have now good reason
to believe that dispatches of a very serious nature are expected daily
by Yvard--Yvard is the Spanish spy--"
"Yvard, Yvard," I mentally repeated, where had I heard that name?
"These papers are to give our exact strength at Biloxi, the plans of
our fortifications, and a chart of all the navigable waters of
Louisiana. We can not afford to let the Spaniards have this
information, even if thereby we should capture their agent."
I maintained a strict silence.
"You understand le Dauphin is the last vessel over, and no other is
expected for months, so we think all this information came over with
you."
When he began I instinctively thought of Levert, who set out alone for
Paris just behind me. As he proceeded, the name "Yvard" again fixed my
attention. The very name I had heard mentioned by one of the men the
morning I left Biloxi. Serigny was right in his surmise, but I let him
go on without interruption.
"If I am correct, these plans will be perfected in Paris before le
Dauphin sails again. The spy, whoever he may be, will perhaps want to
return in her. Now you can see what I want. You can understand what a
help you may possibly be in this matter. You doubtless know every
person who came over in le Dauphin, yet you must avoid notice yourself,
for they would suspect you instantly."
I still said nothing to him of the conversation I had overheard, or of
my own suspicions, childishly thinking I would gain the greater credit
by unearthing the whole affair and divulging it at one time.
"We have some reliable fellows in Paris, and I will send such letters
as will put you in possession of all the information they have. You
and they, I trust, can do the work satisfactorily, but in no event
shall my name, or that of Bienville, be connected with the enterprise.
If the matter should come to the King, we would lose what little hold
we now have upon him. It is not an easy or an agreeable task. The
Spanish spy bears the name of Carne Yvard, a man of good birth, but a
gambler and a profligate. He is known throughout Paris as a reckless
gamester, but no man dare question him, because of his marvellous skill
with the sword. He spends much of his time at Bertrand's wine and card
rooms, though he has the _entree_ at some of the most fashionable
houses in the city, even at Madame du Maine's exclusive Villa of
Sceaux. But thereby hangs his employment; we do not know how far
Madame is involved in this intrigue with Spain and the Bretons."
Verily I felt encouraged as Serigny unfolded his charming plans for my
entertainment. In a strange city to hunt up and dispossess a man like
this of papers which would hang him. A delightful undertaking forsooth!
"But we plan in advance, my dear Captain. We must wait the pleasure of
the King concerning you. We will renew this subject to-morrow."
That night I lodged with Serigny.