I EDUCATE MYSELF FOR CONTINGENCIES.
Next day I laid up for myself a course of study—physical and
intellectual. In the morning I read and studied my books; during the
day I worked at my carpentry; towards evening I indulged in shooting,
in gymnastics, and sports of that nature; and at night I again
returned to my books. I improved every day.
About a week after the events of the last chapter, M. Drouet, and two
friends came to my uncle’s.
M. Drouet and his friends shook me by the hand. He asked me how I was
getting on, and I told him all, regretting at the same time that I
had no money to buy books, or get instruction in Latin.
“No money!” said Jean Baptiste. “Who hinders you from making it?”
“Making it?” I answered. “But how?”
“With your plane, of course.”
“But, Monsieur Drouet, I have no customers.”
“I will find them for you.”
“Where?”
“To begin with, the postmaster of St. Menehould, Jean Baptiste Drouet
by name. The fact is, I require a quantity of carpentry work done in
my house, and you must undertake it.”
“I am not good enough workman for that, Monsieur Drouet.”
“But if I find you good enough?”
“Then I would not like to take your money.”
“Nonsense! I must get somebody to do it, so that is settled. Now,
about the Latin. I will find you a teacher—Monsieur Fortin, the Curé
of Islettes.”
“How will I pay him?”
“I don’t think that he would take your money.”
“But I take yours, Monsieur Drouet.”
“Ah, that is different. Government does not pay me to make
wash-hand-stands, but it does pay Abbé Fortin to instruct his flock
morally and intellectually.”
“I should like to offer him something.”
“Exactly—not as a right, but as a graceful act of courtesy; and as I
know the Father Fortin does not despise the good things of this life,
you can shoot him a hare occasionally, or knock him up a cupboard, to
keep his preserves in.”
“A thousand thanks, Monsieur Jean!”
“Listen! I have it in my mind’s eye that you will be a soldier—at all
events, the education necessary for an officer will not be thrown
away. For six francs a month, Bertrand, of Islettes, the old soldier,
will teach you fencing; and, for a trifle more, Mathieu, the land
surveyor, at Clermont, will show you how to draw a plan. As for
horsemanship, I will give you the run of my stable; so, there you
are, with your life-time all mapped out. Now, let us to the forest.”
At dinner that day, the conversation turned upon politics, and
particularly on the unpopularity of Marie Antoinette, the Queen. All
this was Greek to me, till M. Jean Baptiste explained the situation
of affairs.
Marie Antoinette, it appeared, daughter of the Austrian, Marie
Therèse, and ancient enemy of France, had been accepted by the French
people as a harbinger of union and of peace. Very different, however,
had been her influence.
In a word, Marie Therèse hoped that Louis XVI would some day aid her
to get back the provinces wrested from her by Prussia.
Until 1778, Marie Antoinette did not meddle with affairs of state.
Up to that time, Turgot was the ruling spirit; but, at last, he had
to succumb to that famous De Calone, who used to reply thus to the
demands of the Queen: “Madame, if it is possible, it is already done;
if it is impossible, it will be done.”
Misrule went on. The King, despite his impoverished treasury, bought
St. Cloud; the Queen, whilst her people were starving, purchased
Rambouillet, and lavished millions of francs which were not her own
upon her immediate favorites. Scandal arose; and when scandal gets
into everybody’s mouth, it is worse than truth.
M. de Calone resigned. He could not make both ends meet.
The next Prime Minister was Brienne, a Queen’s favorite; and, when
he fell, Paris was illuminated from the Bastille to the Cour de la
Reine.
M. de Necker reigned in his stead. He was a Genevese banker, and a
financier of the first force; but even he failed to see a way out of
the royal bankruptcy; and it was whispered that he was going to ask
the nation what it thought of matters—France was to speak.
This was the great news at my uncle’s dinner-table that day, and our
three guests were very merry over it, and pledged fidelity to each
other however these events might turn out.
And they kept their word.