CHAPTER LXXVII.
WHO MESSIRE JOHN PERCERIN WAS.
The king's tailor, Messire Jean Percerin, occupied a rather large housein the Rue St. Honore, near the Rue de l'Arbre Sec. He was a man ofgreat taste in elegant stuffs, embroideries, and velvet, beinghereditary tailor to the king. The preferment of his house reached asfar back as the time of Charles IX.; from whose reign dated, as we know,fancies in _bravery_ difficult enough to gratify. The Percerin of thatperiod was a Huguenot, like Ambroise Pare, and had been spared by thequeen of Navarre, the beautiful Margot, as they used to write and say,too, in those days; because, in sooth, he was the only one who couldmake for her those wonderful riding-habits which she loved to wear,seeing that they were marvelously well suited to hide certain anatomicaldefects, which the queen of Navarre used very studiously to conceal.Percerin being saved, made, out of gratitude, some beautiful blackbodices, very inexpensive indeed for Queen Catherine, who ended by beingpleased at the preservation of a Huguenot, on whom she had long lookedwith aversion. But Percerin was a very prudent man; and having heard itsaid that there was no more dangerous sign for a Protestant than to besmiled upon by Catherine; and having observed that her smiles were morefrequent than usual, he speedily turned Catholic, with all his family;and having thus become irreproachable, attained the lofty position ofmaster tailor to the crown of France.
Under Henry III., gay king as he was, this position was as good as theheight of one of the loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras. Now Percerin hadbeen a clever man all his life, and by way of keeping up his reputationbeyond the grave, took very good care not to make a bad death of it; andso contrived to die very skillfully; and that at the very moment he felthis powers of invention declining. He left a son and daughter, bothworthy of the name they were called upon to bear; the son, a cutter asunerring and exact as the square rule; the daughter, apt at embroidery,and at designing ornaments. The marriage of Henry IV. and Marie deMedici, and the exquisite court-mourning for the afore-mentioned queen,together with a few words let fall by M. de Bassompierre, king of thebeaux of the period, made the fortune of the second generation ofPercerins. M. Concino Concini, and his wife Galligai, who subsequentlyshone at the French court, sought to Italianize the fashion, andintroduced some Florentine tailors; but Percerin, touched to the quickin his patriotism and his self-esteem, entirely defeated theseforeigners, and that so well, that Concino was the first to give up hiscompatriots, and held the French tailor in such esteem that he wouldnever employ any other; and thus wore a doublet of his on the very daythat Vitry blew out his brains with his pistol at the Pont du Louvre.
And this is the doublet issuing from M. Percerin's workshop, which theParisians rejoiced in hacking into so many pieces with the human fleshit covered. Notwithstanding the favor, Concino Concini had shownPercerin, the king Louis XIII. had the generosity to bear no malice tohis tailor, and to retain him in his service. At the time that Louisthe Just afforded this great example of equity, Percerin had brought uptwo sons, one of whom made his debut at the marriage of Anne of Austria,invented that admirable Spanish costume in which Richelieu danced asaraband, made the costumes for the tragedy of "Mirame," and stitched onto Buckingham's mantle those famous pearls which were destined to bescattered about the pavement of the Louvre. A man becomes easily notablewho has made the dresses of M. de Buckingham, M. de Cinq-Mars,Mademoiselle Ninon, M. de Beaufort, and Marion de Lorine. And thusPercerin the third had attained the summit of his glory when his fatherdied. This same Percerin III., old, famous, and wealthy, yet furtherdressed Louis XIV.; and having no son, which was a great cause of sorrowto him, seeing that with himself his dynasty would end, he had broughtup several hopeful pupils. He possessed a carriage, a country-house,menservants the tallest in Paris; and by special authority from LouisXIV., a pack of hounds. He worked for MM. de Lyonne and Letellier, undera sort of patronage; but, politic man as he was, and versed in statesecrets, he never succeeded in fitting M. Colbert. This is beyondexplanation; it is matter for intuition. Great geniuses of every kindlive upon unseen, intangible ideas; they act without themselves knowingwhy. The great Percerin (for, contrary to the rule of dynasties, it was,above all, the last of the Percerins who deserved the name of Great),the great Percerin was inspired when he cut a robe for the queen, or acoat for the king; he could mount a mantle for Monsieur, the clock of astocking for Madame; but, in spite of his supreme talent, he could neverhit the measure of M. Colbert. "That man," he used often to say, "isbeyond my art; my needle never can hit him off." We need scarcely say,that Percerin was M. Fouquet's tailor, and that the surintendant highlyesteemed him. M. Percerin was nearly eighty years old, nevertheless,still fresh, and at the same time so dry, the courtiers used to say,that he was positively brittle. His renown and his fortune were greatenough for M. le Prince, that king of fops, to take his arm when talkingover the fashions; and for those least eager to pay never to dare toleave their accounts in arrear with him; for Master Percerin would forthe first time make clothes upon credit, but the second never, unlesspaid for the former order.
It is easy to see at once that a tailor of such standing, instead ofrunning after customers, made difficulties about obliging any freshones. And so Percerin declined to fit bourgeois, or those who had butrecently obtained patents of nobility. A story used to circulate thateven M. de Mazarin, in exchange for Percerin supplying him with a fullsuit of ceremonial vestments as cardinal, one fine day slipped lettersof nobility into his pocket.
It was to the house of this great lord of tailors that D'Artagnan tookthe despairing Porthos; who, as they were going along, said to hisfriend, "Take care, my good D'Artagnan, not to compromise the dignity ofa man such as I am with the arrogance of this Percerin, who will, Iexpect, be very impertinent; for I give you notice, my friend, that ifhe is wanting in respect to me, I will chastise him."
"Presented by me," replied D'Artagnan, "you have nothing to fear, eventhough you were what you are not."
"Ah! 'tis because--"
"What? Have you anything against Percerin, Porthos?"
"I think that I once sent Mouston to a fellow of that name."
"And then?"
"The fellow refused to supply me."
"Oh, a misunderstanding, no doubt, which 'tis pressing to set right.Mouston must have made a mistake."
"Perhaps."
"He has confused the names."
"Possibly. That rascal Mouston never can remember names."
"I will take it all upon myself."
"Very good."
"Stop the carriage, Porthos; here we are."
"Here! how here? We are at the Halles; and you told me the house was atthe corner of the Rue de l'Arbre Sec."
"Tis true--but look."
"Well, I do look, and I see--"
"What?"
"Pardieu! that we are at the Halles!"
"You do not, I suppose, want our horses to clamber up on the top of thecarriage in front of us?"
"No."
"Nor the carriage in front of us to mount on the one in front of it. Northat the second should be driven over the roofs of the thirty or fortyothers which have arrived before us?"
"No, you are right, indeed. What a number of people! And what are theyall about?"
"'Tis very simple--they are waiting their turn."
"Bah! Have the comedians of the Hotel de Bourgogne shifted theirquarters?"
"No; their turn to obtain an entrance to M. Percerin's house."
"And we are going to wait too?"
"Oh, we shall show ourselves more ready and less proud than they."
"What are we to do, then?"
"Get down, pass through the footmen and lackeys, and enter the tailor'shouse, which I will answer for our doing, if you go first."
"Come, then," said Porthos.
They both alighted and made their way on foot toward the establishment.The cause of the confusion was, that M. Percerin's doors were closed,while a servant, standing before them, was explaining to the illustriouscustomers of the illu
strious tailor that just then M. Percerin could notreceive anybody. It was bruited about outside still, on the authority ofwhat the great lackey had told some great noble whom he favored, inconfidence, that M. Percerin was engaged upon five dresses for the king,and that, owing to the urgency of the case, he was meditating in hisoffice on the ornaments, colors, and cut of these five suits. Some,contented with this reason, went away again, happy to repeat it toothers; but others, more tenacious, insisted on having the doorsopened, and among these last three Blue Ribbons, intended to take partsin a ballet, which would inevitably fail unless the said three had theircostumes shaped by the very hand of the great Percerin himself.
D'Artagnan, pushing on Porthos, who scattered the groups of people rightand left, succeeded in gaining the counter, behind which the journeymentailors were doing their best to answer queries. (We forgot to mentionthat at the door they wanted to put off Porthos like the rest, butD'Artagnan, showing himself, pronounced merely these words, "The king'sorder," and was let in with his friend.) The poor fellows had enough todo, and did their best, to reply to the demands of the customers in theabsence of their master, leaving off drawing a stitch to turn asentence; and when wounded pride, or disappointed expectation, broughtdown upon them too cutting rebukes, he who was attacked made a dive anddisappeared under the counter. The line of discontented lords formed avery remarkable picture. Our captain of musketeers, a man of sure andrapid observation, took it all in at a glance; but having run over thegroups, his eye rested on a man in front of him. This man, seated upon astool, scarcely showed his head above the counter, which sheltered him.He was about forty years of age, with a melancholy aspect, pale face,and soft, luminous eyes. He was looking at D'Artagnan and the rest, withhis chin resting upon his hand, like a calm and inquiring amateur. Onlyon perceiving, and doubtless recognizing, our captain, he pulled his hatdown over his eyes. It was this action, perhaps, that attractedD'Artagnan's attention. If so, the gentleman who had pulled down his hatproduced an effect entirely different from what he had desired. In otherrespects his costume was plain, and his hair evenly cut enough forcustomers, who were not close observers, to take him for a mere tailor'sapprentice, perched behind the board, and carefully stitching cloth orvelvet. Nevertheless, this man held up his head too often to be veryproductively employed with his fingers. D'Artagnan was notdeceived--not he; and he saw at once that if this man was working atanything, it certainly was not at velvet.
"Eh!" said he, addressing this man, "and so you have become a tailor'sboy, Monsieur Moliere?"
"Hush, M. d'Artagnan!" replied the man, softly, "you will make themrecognize me."
"Well, and what harm?"
"The fact is, there is no harm, but--"
"You were going to say there is no good in doing it either, is it notso?"
"Alas! no; for I was occupied in looking at some excellent figures."
"Go on--go on, Monsieur Moliere. I quite understand the interest youtake in it--I will not disturb your study."
"Thank you."
"But on one condition--that you tell me where M. Percerin really is."
"Oh! willingly; in his own room. Only--"
"Only that one can't enter it?"
"Unapproachable."
"For everybody?"
"For everybody. He brought me here so that I might be at my ease to makemy observations, and then he went away."
"Well, my dear Monsieur Moliere, but you will go and tell him I amhere."
"I!" exclaimed Moliere, in the tone of a courageous dog, from which yousnatch the bone it has legitimately gained; "I disturb myself! Ah!Monsieur d'Artagnan, how hard you are upon me!"
"If you don't go directly and tell M. Percerin that I am here, my dearMoliere," said D'Artagnan, in a low tone, "I warn you of one thing--thatI won't exhibit to you the friend I have brought with me."
Moliere indicated Porthos by an imperceptible gesture. "This gentleman,is it not?"
"Yes."
Moliere fixed upon Porthos one of those looks which penetrate the mindsand hearts of men. The subject doubtless appeared very promising to him,for he immediately rose and led the way into the adjoining chamber.
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