"That, sir, is one of the most assured rogues in Paris," said the
grocer; "he has once been at the galleys for seven years, and will
very soon be there again. How you happened to fall in with such a
fellow, I do not at all understand."
I explained to the shopkeeper the circumstances, and he shook his head
gravely at the name of the inn. "It has not a good reputation," said
he; "and as to its being the best in Paris," he added, with a laugh,
"we Parisians would be very much ashamed of it if it was. However,
sir, as you want to go to the Palais Cardinal, my boy shall conduct
you there; and though I wish to take away no one's character, be upon
your guard at your inn. There are many ways of plundering a stranger
in this good city; and if you need any assistance, send to me--though
I am very bold to say so, for a gentleman of your figure must have
many friends here, doubtless; only I know something of the good people
where you lodge, and, possibly, might manage them better than
another."
I thanked him for his kindness most sincerely; for though, perhaps,
ever too much accustomed to rely upon myself, yet I will own there was
a solitary desolateness of feeling crept about my heart in that great
city, which made it a relief to feel that there was somebody who took
even a transient interest in me, and to whom I could apply for advice
or aid, in case I needed it.
After taking down my new friend's address, I followed his shop-boy out
into the street, and we pursued our way towards the Palais Cardinal,
exactly retreading the steps which my former valiant guide had made me
take. All the way we went the lad chattered with true Parisian
activity of tongue; telling a thousand curious and horrible tales of
the great, but cruel man, that I was about to see, and relating all
the anecdotes of the day concerning his dark and mysterious policy.
"No one knows," said the boy, "why he does anything, or how he does
anything. It was only last week that the strangest thing happened in
the world. You have heard of the great wood of Marly, monsieur? Well,
one of the Cardinal's servants was ordered on Thursday, last week, to
take an ass loaded with pure gold, into that wood, and go on upon the
road till he met a man who asked him, 'If the sun shone at midnight?'
and then give him the ass's bridle and come away. So the servant went
in, and after going a mile or more, he met a tall, fine man--somewhat
dark, however--who asked him, 'Does the sun shine at midnight?' So the
servant said nothing, but gave him the bridle. The stranger was not
satisfied with that, but counted all the bags of gold upon the ass's
back, and then told the servant to take it to the person who had sent
it, and say that he had counted and watched, but the sun did not shine
at midnight yet. So then the servant did as he bade him, and took it
back to the Cardinal, who put two more sacks upon the ass, and sent
the lackey back again; when he met the same man, and every thing
passed as before, except that when he had counted the gold the
stranger shouted, 'Ha! ha! the sun shines at midnight!' and jumping
upon the donkey's back, he gave him a kick with his foot, which made
him gallop as quick as any horse, and the servant never saw them any
more! Lord! Lord! is not that very strange, monsieur?" continued the
boy; and creeping close to me, he added, "They say that the tall
stranger was the devil, and that the Cardinal had made a bargain with
him, that if he would give him all the wit he desired, hell should
have his soul at the end of twenty years. But when the twenty years
were out, he wanted very much a few years more, so that he was obliged
to make a new bargain, and pay a good round sum as interest upon his
bond."
The conclusion of the boy's story brought us to the end of the Rue St.
Honoré; and, shortly after, he pointed out to me the façade of the
Palais Cardinal. Having rewarded him with a crown, and sent him away
well contented, I gazed up at the splendid building before me, whose
grand features, massed together in the darkness, seemed almost as
frowning and gloomy as a prison. The news which I brought, however, I
was sure would be acceptable; and therefore walking on, I was about to
approach the house, when I was challenged by a sentinel. I told him my
business, and requested he would show me my way to any of the offices,
for I perceived no ready means of gaining admission. The soldier
passed me on to another, who again passed me to the corps de garde,
from whence I was taken to a small door and delivered, as a bale of
goods, into the hands of a grim-looking man, who told me at once that
I could not see the minister, who was abroad at the moment.
"Pray what is your business with his Eminence?" demanded the porter.
"It is business," replied I, "with which you, my friend, can have no
concern; and business of such import, that I must stay till I see
him."
"Come with me," said the porter, after thinking a moment; and he then
led me across a court wherein a carriage was standing, with horses
harnessed, and torches burning at the doors.
"Monsieur de Noyers, one of the secretaries of state, is here," he
added, seeing me remark the carriage, "and you can speak with him."
"My business is with his eminence the Cardinal," replied I, "and with
him alone."
"Well, come with me, come with me!" said the porter. "If your business
be really important, you must see some one who is competent to speak
on it; and if it be not important, you had better not have come here."
Thus saying, he led me into a small hall, and thence into a cabinet
beyond, hung with fine tapestry, and lighted by a single silver lamp.
Here he bade me sit down, and left me. In a few minutes a door on the
other side of the room opened, and a cavalier entered, dressed in a
rich suit of black velvet, with a hat and plume. He was tall, thin,
and pale, with a clear bright eye, and fine decided features. His
beard was small and pointed, and his face oval, and somewhat sharp;
and though there was a slight stoop of his neck and shoulders, as if
time or disease had somewhat enfeebled his frame, yet it took nothing
from the dignity of his demeanour. He started, and seemed surprised at
seeing anyone there; but then immediately advanced, and looking at me
for a moment, with a glance which read deeply whatever lines it fell
upon, "Who are you?" demanded he. "What do you want? What paper is
that in your hand?"
"My name," replied I, "is Louis Count de l'Orme; my business is with
the Cardinal de Richelieu, and this paper is one which I am charged to
deliver into his hand."
"Give it to me," said the stranger, holding out his hand. My eye
glanced over his unclerical habiliments, and I replied, "You must
excuse me. This paper, and the farther news I bring, can only be given
to the cardinal himself."
"It shall go safe," he answered in a stern tone. "Give it to me, young
sir."
There was an authority in his tone that almost induced me to comply;
but reflecting that I might be called to a severe account by the
unrelenting minister, even for a mere error in judgment, I persisted
in my original determination. "I must repeat," answered I, "that I can
give this to no one but his eminence himself, without an express order
from his own hand to do so."
"Pshaw!" cried he, with something of a smile; and taking up a pen,
which lay with some sheets of paper on the table, he dipped it in the
ink, and scrawled in a large, bold hand,--
"Deliver your packet to the bearer.
"Richelieu."
I made him a low bow, and placed the letter in his hands. He read it,
with the quick and intelligent glance of one enabled by long habit to
collect and arrange the ideas conveyed to him with that clear rapidity
possessed alone by men of genius. In the meantime I watched his
countenance, seeking to detect, amongst all the lines with which years
and thought had channelled it, any expression of the stern,
vindictive, despotic passions, which the world charged him withal, and
which his own actions sufficiently evinced; it was not there,
however,--all was calm.
Suddenly raising his eyes, his look fell full upon me as I was thus
busily scanning his countenance; and I know not why, but my glance
sunk in the collision.
"Ha!" said he, rather mildly than otherwise, "you were gazing at me
very strictly, sir. Are _you_ a reader of countenances?"
"Not in the least, monseigneur," replied I; "I was but learning a
lesson:--to know a great man when I see one another time."
"That answer, sir, would make many a courtier's fortune," said the
minister; "nor shall it mar yours, though I understand it. Remember,
flattery is never lost at a court! 'Tis the same there as with a
woman. If it be too thick, she may wipe some of it away, as she does
her rouge; but she will take care not to brush off all!"
To be detected in flattery has something in it so degrading, that the
blood rushed up into my cheek with the burning glow of shame. A slight
smile curled the minister's lip. "Come, sir," he continued, "I am
going forth for half an hour, but I may have some questions to ask
you; therefore I will beg you to wait my return. Do not stir from this
spot. There, you will find food for the mind," he proceeded, pointing
out a small case of books; "in other respects, you shall be taken care
of. I need not warn you to discretion. You have proved that you
possess that quality, and I do not forget it."
Thus speaking, he left me, and for a few minutes I remained struggling
with the flood of turbulent thoughts which such an interview pours
upon the mind. This, then, was the great and extraordinary minister,
who at that moment held in his hands the fate of half Europe; the
powers of whose mind, like Niorder, the tempest-god of the ancient
Gauls, raised, guided, and enjoyed the winds and the storms,
triumphing in the thunders of continual war, and the whirlwinds of
political intrigue.
In a short time two servants brought in a small table of lapis lazuli,
on which they proceeded to spread various sorts of rare fruits and
wines; putting on also a china cup and a vase, which I supposed to
contain coffee--a beverage that I had often heard mentioned by my good
preceptor, Father Francis, who had tasted it in the East, but which I
had never before met with. All this was done with the most profound
silence, and with a gliding ghost-like step, which must certainly have
been learned in the prisons of the Inquisition.
At length one of these stealthy attendants desired me, in the name of
his lord, to take some refreshment; and then, with a low reverence,
quitted the cabinet, as if afraid that I should make him any answer.
I could not help thinking, as they left me, what a system of terror
must that be which could drill any two Frenchmen into silence like
this!
However, I approached the table, and indulged myself with a cup of
most exquisite coffee; after which I examined the bookcase, and
glancing my eye over histories and tragedies, and essays and
treatises, I fixed at length upon Ovid, from a sort of instinctive
feeling that the mind, when it wishes to fly from itself and the too
sad realities of human existence, assimilates much more easily with
anything imaginative than with anything true.
I was still reading; and, though sometimes falling into long lapses of
thought, I was nevertheless highly enjoying the beautiful fictions of
the poet, when the door was again opened, and the minister
re-appeared. I instantly laid down the book and rose; but, pointing to
a chair, he bade me be seated, and taking up my book, turned over the
pages for a few moments, while a servant brought him a cup of fresh
coffee and a biscuit.
"Are you fond of Ovid?" demanded he, at length; and then, without
allowing me time to reply, he added, "He is my favourite author; I
read him more than any other book."
The tone which he took was that of easy, common conversation, which
two persons, perfectly equal in every respect, might be supposed to
hold upon any indifferent subject; and I, of course, answered in the
same.
"Ovid," I said, "is certainly one of my favourite poets, but I am
afraid of reading him so often as I should wish; for there is an
enervating tendency in all his writings, which I should fear would
greatly relax the mind."
"It is for that very reason that I read him," replied the minister.
"It is alone when I wish for relaxation that I read, and then--after
every thought having been in activity for a whole long day--Ovid is
like a bed of roses to the mind, where it can repose itself, and
recruit its powers of action for the business of another."
This was certainly not the conversation which I expected, and I paused
without making any reply, thinking that the minister would soon enter
upon those important subjects on which I could give the best and
latest information; but, on the contrary, he proceeded with Ovid.
"There is a constant struggle," continued he, "between feeling and
reason in the human breast. In youth, it is wisely ordained that
feeling should have the ascendancy; and she rules like a monarch, with
imagination for her minister;--though, by the way," he added, with a
passing smile, so slight that it scarcely curled his lip,--"though, by
the way, the minister is often much more active than the monarch. In
after years, when feeling has done for man all that feeling was
intended to do, and carried him into a thousand follies, eventually
very beneficial to himself, and to the human race, reason succeeds to
the throne, to finish what feeling left undone, and to remedy what she
did wrong. Now, you are in the age of feeling, and I am in the age of
reason; and the consequence is, that even in reading such a book as
Ovid, what we cull is as different as the wax and the honey which a
bee gathers from the same flower. What touches you is the wit and
brilliancy of the thought, the sweetness of the poetry, the bright and
luxurious pictures which are presented to your imagination: while all
that affects me little; and, shadowed through a thousand splendid
allegories, I see great and sublime truths, robed, as it were, by the
verse and the poetry in a radiant garment of light. What can be a
truer picture of an ambitious and a daring minister, than Ixion
embracing a cloud?" and he looked me full in the face, with a smile of
melancholy meaning, to which I did not well know how to reply.
"I have certainly never considered Ovid in that light," replied I;
"and I have to thank your eminence for the pleasure I shall doubtless
enjoy in tracing the allegories throughout."
"The thanks are not my due," replied the minister; "an English
statesman, near a century ago, wrote a book upon the subject; and
showed his own wisdom, while he pointed out that of the ancients. In
England, the reign of reason is much stronger than it is with us in
France, though they may be considered as a younger people."
"Then does your Eminence consider," demanded I, "that the change from
feeling to reason proceeds apace with the age of nations, as well as
with men?"
"In general, I think it does," replied he: "nations set out bold,
generous, hasty, carried away by impulse rather than by thought;
easily led, but not easily governed. Gradually, however, they grow
politic, careful, anxious to increase their wealth, somewhat indolent,
till at length they creep into their dotage, even like men. But," he
added, after a pause, "the world is too young for us to talk about the
history of nations. All we know is, that they have their different
characters like different men, and of course some will preserve their
vigour longer than others; some will die violent deaths; some end by
sudden diseases; some by slow decay. A hundred thousand years hence,
men may know what nations are, and judge what they will be. It
suffices, at present, to know our contemporaries, and to rule them by
that knowledge. And now, Monsieur le Comte de l'Orme, I thank you for
a pleasant hour, and I wish you good night. Of course, you are still
at an inn; when you have fixed your lodging, leave your address here,
and you shall hear from me. In the meanwhile, farewell!"
Of course I rose, and, taking leave, quitted the Palais Cardinal.
What!--it may be asked,--without one word on the important business
which had brought you there?--Without a word! The name of Catalonia
was never mentioned; and yet, the very next day, large bodies of men
marched upon Rousillon. More were instantly directed thither from
every part of the country. The fleet in the Mediterranean sailed for
Barcelona; and, in a space of time inconceivably brief, Catalonia was
furnished with every supply necessary to carry on a long and an active
war.