LOUIS XIV
Even at this time I remember how nervous I was when I dressed for my
interview with the King. What it was for, or how it might result, I
could form no idea, so I did not trouble myself with vain thinking.
Promptly at ten I presented myself at that famous door which led to the
room where Louis held his morning levee. Already the approaches were
crowded, and the officer on watch was busy examining passes and requests
for admission. Some there were who passed haughtily in without even so
much as a glance at the guard or the crowd which parted obsequiously to
let them through. Most probably favorites of the King, or perchance his
ministers. When he reached me the officer of the guard, noting my
uniform, inquired:
"Captain de Mouret of Louisiana?"
"Yes."
"You are to be admitted, sir," and I found myself ushered immediately
through the opening ranks of Swiss mercenaries into the audience chamber
of the King.
Louis no longer held his levees in the great vaulted chamber into which I
was first shown, but in a smaller and more sombre room, that of de
Maintenon. The character and dress of those present reflected with a
chameleon's fidelity the change in His Majesty's habits. Madame sat near
the King, working upon a piece of tapestry which, when she was interested
in what went on, lay idle in her lap. Behind her chair stood the
sour-visaged Jesuit confessor, Letellier.
Death, which spared not even the Bourbon, had taken away the Dauphin and
his son; leaving as the King's successor an infant yet in his cradle.
This embittered every thought of the King's declining years, made him
gloomy, petulant and querulous. And yet there were many men still about
him capable of upholding the dignity of the throne. I heard announced,
one after the other, Grand Marshal Villars, lately placed in command of
all the armies of France; the Duke of Savoy, a famous soldier, but a
deserter from the English; the brothers de Noailles, one bearing a
Marshal's baton, the other, cold, cynical, austere, robed in churchly
garments, Archbishop of Paris. There were Villeroi, de Tourville, the
admiral; and Marshal Tallard--he who lost the bloody field of Blenheim to
the Englishman Churchill.
I confess I was abashed at the sound of so many great names, and advanced
in hesitating fashion across the floor, to kneel before the King.
"Tut, tut, Captain de Mouret," he said, kindly, "Rise, we would hear
somewhat from you touching matters in our Province of Louisiana, and
particularly of their safety in case of war--say, with Spain."
He then asked a few questions about things familiar to me, which put me
quite at ease. What I said I can scarce at this time recollect, but I
know I spoke with all a soldier's enthusiasm of my beloved commander, of
his diplomacy in peace, of his war-won successes.
It did not pass unnoticed that many a venomous glance was shot towards me
from that little group behind the King, but in the King's presence I
feared nothing, and spoke on, unrestrained.
Once a tall man whom I took to be Chamillard interrupted; the King
motioned me to proceed, and I told him all the strength and resources of
the colonies, their weakness and their needs. When I thought I had
finished, the King's face hardened, and looking me straight in the eye,
he inquired:
"What is this I hear of Bienville's presuming to criticise me--me, Louis,
his King--for contemplating such a disposition of the colonies as suits
my royal pleasure? Can you tell me that as glibly, sir?"
For the moment I was astounded and had no word to say. I could see a
faint smile run round the circle as they exchanged glances of
intelligence. Serigny was right. The spy had already arrived. His
eavesdropping news had reached the King. In my indignation I forgot the
man I addressed was the Imperial Louis. Defending my master I spoke
vigorously the truth, and that right earnestly.
"Your Majesty is a soldier, and will forgive a soldier's blunt speech. I
beg you, Sire, to consider the services and the sorrows of Bienville's
people, the loyal le Moynes. Where rests his father? Where his valiant
brothers, Ste. Helene and Mericourt? Dead, and for the silver lilies!
Where's Iberville, the courteous, the brave; he who ravaged the frozen
ocean and the tropic seas in his royal master's name? Dead, Sire, of the
pestilence in San Domingo. Does the King not remember his good ship
Pelican? Has the King forgotten Iberville? Hast forgotten thine own
white flag cruising on thine enemy's coast, borne down by four vessels of
superior weight? Did the Eagle stretch her wings to escape the Lion?
"Did the Silver Lilies flee before St. George's Cross? No, by the
deathless glory of the Bourbon, no! And who was he that dared--following
the example of his King, the Conqueror of the Rhine--who was he that
dared meet such enemies and engage such odds? Whose was that boyish face
of thirty, waving his curls upon the quarter deck, with the noble front
of a very God of War? Iberville! Who is he that brushes away a tear to
gaze upon his stripling brother beside the guns, soon to be exposed by
his command to such a fearful danger? Iberville, again! Who is that
fiery soldier, recking nothing save his duty, who seeth without a tremor
that beloved brother lying mangled at his post, where the storms of hell
do rage, and flames consume the dead? Who, when the enemy lay
dismantled, their hulks afire, their colors struck, their best ships
sunk, when the glorious standard of France triumphant dallied with the
breeze--who is that dauntless gentleman who kneels upon his battle-riven
but victorious deck and sobs aloud in agony above his writhing brother?
Who is this stricken gentleman, who, having won that most heroic fight
for his King, now prints a kiss, as a tender maiden might, upon the pale
lips of a dying lad? Ah, Sire, it was Iberville, it was Iberville, my
King, Iberville the gentle, Iberville the true! Hast thou forgotten that
wounded lad who lived to serve his King so well on other fields? Dost
remember his name? Let me remind you, Sire, that lad was Bienville de la
Chaise, your loyal governor of Louisiana. Did the King but know the
trials and sufferings of my master in upholding the royal authority, he
would forgive him much. Nor do I fear to say it even here, that those
men who seek his downfall would as lief line their wallets with Spanish
doubloons as with honest Louis d'or. De la Vente, the renegade priest,
the center of strife and discontent in the colonies, traffics with the
Indians and brings opprobrium upon your Majesty's name. It is he or la
Salle who sends this idle tale--la Salle, who, from your Majesty's
commissary, supplies this de la Vente with his merchandise. Who their
friends are here to tell your Majesty these tales, I care not. Saving
the royal presence, I would be pleased to discuss the matter with them
elsewhere."
"Thou art a bold lad," observed the King.
I had noted his eyes flash, and the thin nostrils dilate at mention of
the passage of the Rhine; so, emboldened by the surety of success, I kept
my own courage up.
"Aye, Sire, truth need have no fear from the greatest of all the
Bourbons. Bienville is a soldier, not a courtier, and stung beyond
endurance by the threat of his enemies that they would yet beguile your
Majesty to sell your fair Province of Louisiana, and turn the royal
barracks into a peddler's shop--mayhap he did use some such hot and
thoughtless expressions to me. These, some spy may have overheard and
forwarded here to his hurt. If it please you to hear the words, I will
repeat them upon the oath of an officer."
"Go on," he commanded drily.
"Bienville did say it was a matter of shame to forego such abroad domain
wherein lay so much wealth, because of present troubles. It is his
ambition to found there a new empire in the west, to add a brighter glory
to the name of Bourbon, to plant the silver lilies upon the remotest
boundaries of the earth, calling it all Louisiana, a mighty continent,
without a rival and without a frontier. Ah! Your Majesty has in
Bienville a strong heart and a firm hand, a man who prefers to devote his
life to your service, rather than live at ease in France; a man who
carries more scars for his King than your Majesty has fingers--poorer
to-day than when he entered your service, though others about him have
grown rich."
I told him, too, without reserve, of the contemplated Indian attack in
the spring, of my own haste to return. His face lighted up with the fire
of his thought:
"Then, by my faith," he broke in, "you need a bold, ambitious soldier for
your Governor. What think you, Villars, Chamillard--gentlemen?"
None dared oppose the King.
"I overheard you, Captain, in the gardens yesterday, and think the master
who has taught you such sentiments is a man the King of France can trust.
Convey to the trusty and well beloved Governor of our Province of
Louisiana our renewed confidence, with our assurance he is not to be
disturbed. We make you our royal messenger for the purpose."
Then he gravely inclined his head to signify the interview was done.
As soon as I decently could I left the royal presence and repaired at
once to Serigny. I found him still in his apartments waiting me with
every appearance of intense impatience. Almost as I rapped he had opened
the door himself. The valet had been dismissed. My face--for I was yet
flushed with excitement--told of our victory. He grasped my hand in both
his own and asked:
"We have won? Tell me, how was it?"
"Aye, sir, and nobly. I have the King's own warrant that our Governor is
not to be disturbed."
Every shade of anxiety vanished, and he laughed as unaffectedly as a girl.
"Thou art a clever lad; but tell me of it, tell me of it!"
I told him then of the audience, neglecting not the minutest detail, not
even the black looks of those who thronged about the King.
"Chamillard's doing, and Crozat. Crozat the parvenu--Marquis du Chatel,
forsooth, with his scissors and yardstick for device."
He questioned me closely concerning the personages present, and what they
said. After having heard on to the end he was quite composed and
broached again the subject of the previous night.
"Well, Captain," he commenced, half banteringly, "if thou hast done thy
conferences with the King, we will talk of your next adventure. Time
presses, and you see from what Louis said, our enemies are already at
work."
I hearkened with many misgivings, for I felt of a truth uncertain of
myself in this new character--and shall I confess it--a trifle ill at
ease concerning this bravo, Carne Yvard, the duelist of the iron hand,
and the gamester with the luck of the devil. However, I put upon myself
a steadfast front and listened.
"We have a fine lad at Paris in our service," said Serigny, "and with him
four as staunch fellows as ever dodged a halter. De Greville--Jerome de
Greville--has his lodgings in Rue St. Denis, at the sign of the Austrian
Arms. The host is a surly, close-mouthed churl who will give you little
information until he knows you well. Then you may rely upon him. Jerome
has been watching our quarry these many weeks; we hold him in easy reach,
as a bait to catch his accomplice. Then we will put them both where they
can spy upon us no longer. I desire them to be taken alive if possible,
and by all the gods, they shall hang."
Verily, this was a pleasant adventure for me to contemplate, taking alive
such a desperado, who handled his sword like a hell-born imp.
"I would not expose you to this," continued Serigny, "but for the stern
necessity that those papers should reach me unopened. They are to be
delivered to you, and I hold you responsible. You understand?"
I bowed my acquiescence.
Then he went on, talking more at ease, though I was far from placid at
the prospect. He told me of the different streets, the lay of the town,
and the various men with whom I would be thrown.
"Beyond all," and in this I afterward acknowledged his foresight, "do not
neglect the women, for their hands now wield the real power in France."
I must own I thought more on the nature of my new errand than on what he
was saying. I felt no small degree of distrust, yet, for my honor's
sake, kept it to myself.
"And when shall I set out for Paris?" I asked.
"To-day; at once. Le Dauphin has already lain four days at anchorage,
and we know for a surety that the expected spy has come. We can not act
too promptly."
And so it came about that I left within the hour.
A carriage had been made ready, and I bade Serigny good-bye in his own
rooms. He feared our being seen together too frequently about the palace.
"But one other thing, my lad," he stopped me as I would go, "you must
need have other garb than that. Your harness of the wilderness but ill
befits a gay gallant in Paris--for such you must now appear. You visit
the capital to see the sights, understand; a country gentleman--Greville
will instruct you, the rascal has naturally a turn for intrigue and
masquerading. A dress like yours would mark you apart from the throng
and perchance draw upon you the scathe of idle tongue. Here is gold to
array yourself as becomes a well-to-do gentleman, and gold to spend at
wine and on the games withal--for, thank Providence, the ancient House of
Lemoyne is not yet bankrupt."
I fain would not take his proffered coins, but he urged them upon me with
such insistency that I, seeing the good sense of doing as I was bid,
placed them in my meager purse, and with a light heart I set out upon my
doubtful journey.
The fear of which I spoke died away, for since our success with the King,
my spirits rose, and I deemed all things possible. Besides, was I not in
the personal service of my beloved commander who never knew a fear?
* * * * * *
The postilion whipped up his horses, and we turned towards the old city
of Paris, that treasure-house of varied fortunes whence every man might
draw his lot--of poverty or riches, of fame or obscurity, of happiness or
misery--as chance and strength directs.