PART II.
THE LETTRE DE CACHET.
Headpiece to Chapter I]
THE LETTRE DE CACHET.
CHAPTER I.
The pleasant spring-time had returned once more. Far away in NewFrance the snows that had mantled the ground for months weredisappearing fast. In Old France the flowers already decked themeadows and grassy banks, the blossoms had opened, and the song-birdshad begun to break the dreary silence that had reigned in the hedgerowsand the woods, for in those days Old France could let the littlewarblers sing without at once devoting them to eke out the rustic meal.Perhaps in all the west of France there was no tract of country inwhich this season was more peculiarly attractive, or could present amore charming landscape, than that overlooked from the terrace of theold Chateau de Valricour. It was, however, of the class notappreciated by those who hold that there is no real beauty, properly socalled, except in rugged, wild, and romantic scenery. Here were nodeep ravines, no dark glens, no bold scarped rocky heights or frightfulprecipices. Salvator Rosa would have turned away, whilst Claude wouldhave desired to linger long to catch some new effect of bright lightgradually softening away in clear yet mellowed distance. There was noeminence that could be dignified by the name of a mountain, yet therewere hills in one part of the horizon, and slight undulations in themiddle ground sufficient to prevent any idea of monotony. The fieldswere green, the trees sufficiently abundant, and a not inconsiderablestream winding about, and sometimes losing itself for a while behind arising ground topped by a quaint old windmill, gave to the scenevariety and life. Homesteads and cottages of all sorts and sizesdotted the landscape. One or two edifices there were, moreover, ofmore pretentious dimensions, evidently the residences of the wealthierseigneurs, whilst in the extreme distance, flanked by large patches ofwoodland, the eye rested on a magnificent chateau covering many andmany a rood, the princely abode of the most noble and most respectedMarquis de Beaujardin.
There was one circumstance, however, connected with this landscapewhich, although common to all parts of France in those days, played amore than usually important part in this particular district, and yetit was one which a mere stranger looking down from the terrace wouldnever have suspected. Few of the tenements could claim to be anythingbetter than mere farm-houses. Yet every second building you came uponwas a chateau--yes, a veritable chateau, the actual abode of someseigneur of the old noblesse of France, whose name might be like enoughto call up the memory of some illustrious deed done in the oldchivalric days of France. The country literally swarmed with chateauxand with nobles. Do you see yon rickety, tumble-down building, scarcebig enough for a good-sized family? That is the chateau of Monsieur leComte de Joliment, not one of your new nobles, who have become such invirtue of some one or other of the thousands of royal patent placesthat conferred nobility on their upstart holders as a right. No; theselatter gentry have fine salaries or pensions attached to theirappointments; they are comfortable enough as to means, and profess notto care about pedigree or descent, though the old nobles holdthemselves aloof and look down upon them as _parvenus_. The Count deJoliment would probably prefer starving to giving up even for a fatpension his rights over the miserable remnants of the old familyestates that he can still call his own. Did not one of his ancestorsfight by the side of Charles Martel himself at the battle of Tours?You may almost read something of the kind in the aristocratic bearingof the old noble, though the most liberal old-clothes-man wouldscarcely like to give twenty francs for the whole of the count'swardrobe, including those clod-hopping boots, but excluding, of course,the somewhat antiquated rapier which his rank gives him the privilegeof wearing. "How does he manage to live?" you ask. Well, it is not soeasy to say, as incumbrances in many quarters swallow up every sou ofthe slender rental. But then the count being a noble, is free from allthe heavy taxes that crush his poor and wretched tenants; his tailor'sbills are nominal, and as he exacts to the last ounce the seigneurialrights payable in kind, and enjoys besides the lordly privilege ofkeeping pigeons and rabbits, he manages to hold body and soul together.He does not trouble himself about the muttered curses of the commonersagainst him and his class, or dream of their taking shape some day inthe hideous cry of "Down with the aristocrats! A la lanterne!"
The same picture, with a slight alteration here and there, will doequally well for some of the count's neighbours, such as the Marquis deMarcy, the Sieur de Vallancelles, and even the noble Duke de Hautbois,who is perhaps the most hopelessly impoverished of those who may crossyour path in the course of the day's walk that separates the Chateau deValricour from that of Beaujardin. Yes, but then Madame la Duchessecan claim the privilege of sitting on a tabouret in the royal presence,that is to say she could if there were such a personage, but the Dukeis not married, wisely considering, perhaps, that a dozen young dukes(for all his progeny would have a right to the title) might make thewhole thing look ridiculous, so when he dies there will happily be onepoor noble the less instead of a dozen more for the despised ThirdEstate of the realm to hate and scowl upon.
It must by no means be supposed, however, that there is no other sideto this strange picture. There are hosts of noble families whose meansenable them to maintain a proper state, and to keep up the dignity oftheir ancient houses; and this, be it remembered, is in truth theironly calling, for as a class or body the nobles had no influence orpower in the Government of the kingdom. Nay, there is yet another set,so splendidly, so magnificently wealthy that the mind, accustomed tothe more measured and sober scale even of the most princelyestablishments of modern days, can scarcely picture to itself theboundless extravagance which marked those of the age of Louis theFifteenth and his successor, until the Revolution swept them away.Some great nobles there were whose landed revenues were sufficient toenable them to live in almost royal state. Then there were some who,having no landed property to squander, flocked to Paris or Versailles,and sought and found favour at the profligate court of "His MostChristian Majesty" (as the kings of France were styled), no matter bywhat base and scandalous means. These were lavishly rewarded, andobtained large incomes from the enormous grants and pensions given tothem as court favourites and personal attendants on the king, notmerely by thousands but even by millions of francs. These profligatescared not what they spent so long as they could outdo this or thatrival in extravagance, by having fifty more guest chambers in theirchateaux, or fifty more horses in their stables. If a day of reckoningdid thrust itself upon them it was but a question of asking for anotherpension in addition to those they already held, or of obtaining at anominal price a grant of crown domains, to be sold again for hundredsof thousands of francs. Truly there was but one thing that could matchthe flaunting wastefulness of the reigning favourites at court, andthat was the hard condition, the intolerable poverty, of the despisedcommonalty.
Nevertheless, whilst the greater part of the old nobility of Francecame unmistakably under one or other of these extreme descriptions,there were to be found, in the country districts, some who were freealike from such boundless extravagance and such abject poverty. Ofthis small and exceptional class the Marquis de Beaujardin was astriking example. His naturally calm and unexcitable temperament hadbeen still further disciplined by early habits of self-command, firstas a scholar and subsequently as a soldier. Slow to apprehend thebearings of questions, he seldom failed, if he had time forconsideration and reflection, to arrive at a right conclusion, and thenhe could be not only just but generous. Thus he had long since arrivedat a fair judgment of the state of things in France, and keeping alooffrom the court and its intrigues, added as little as might be to theterrible burdens which the laws of the land and the existing state ofsociety inevitably laid upon the poorer classes around him. Had hefollowed his own inclination, he would from choice have kept as smallan establishment at Beaujardin as Madame de Valricour did fromnecessity, but the marchioness was far too frivolous and fond of theworld to give up what she could fairly claim as suitable to theirexalted position. This w
as not unreasonable, and to this, withinlimits, the marquis did not demur; so the establishment at Beaujardinwas kept up in a style fairly befitting their rank, but withoutneedless ostentation.
Perhaps the marchioness, with her childish silliness of character,might not have found it so easy to prevail over her husband's firmnessand good sense in such a matter, had she not been supported andcounselled by the Baroness de Valricour, of whom, to own the truth, themarquis always stood in awe. Nobody knew this better than the cleverand strong-minded lady herself; for the last twenty years, indeed, shehad decided most questions that arose at the Chateau de Beaujardin,although the marquis not unfrequently regretted this when it was toolate for him to recede from an over hasty concurrence. Now, however,the great aim of the baroness' life might be accomplished. Those weredays when the inclinations of the persons really most interested wereheld of small account in family alliances, and if Madame de Valricourcould only obtain a complete ascendancy over her weak sister-in-law,the success of her plan was certain. That ascendancy she had at lastachieved, and the game seemed to be in her hands.
The return of Isidore to France had of course been the great event ofthe autumn, and the chateau had been even more than usually throngedwith visitors during the six months that succeeded his arrival. Madamede Valricour had managed matters with her accustomed dexterity, andalthough she had not yet brought Isidore to the point of formallyavowing himself as a suitor for the hand of Clotilde, she was satisfiedthat all was going right, and was too wary to spoil all byprecipitancy. The baroness fancied she knew Isidore better even thanhe knew himself, and secretly rejoiced to find his visits to Valricourbecome more and more frequent, and his walks in the forest withClotilde, accompanied by Marguerite for propriety's sake, more and moreprolonged. At last she thought the pear was ripe, and she took adecided step in order to bring the affair to an issue. Let us see whatcame of it.
Headpiece to Chapter II]
The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France Page 7
