Arthur Machen Ultimate Collection

by Arthur Machen

  I had known Madame Belanger at Paris; she was a widow with one daughter, and seemed to be well off. Now I saw this daughter, pretty enough and well married, and yet in this doleful humour, and I felt embarrassed and yet curious.

  After Calsabigi had placed me in a position to entertain a high opinion of the skill of his cook, he shewed me his horses and carriages, begging me to take a drive with his wife and come back to supper, which, as he said, was his best meal.

  When we were in the carriage together, the necessity of talking about something led me to ask the lady by what happy chain of circumstances she found herself the wife of Calsabigi.

  "His real wife is still alive, so I have not the misfortune of occupying that position, but everyone in Berlin thinks I am his lawful wife. Three years ago I was deprived of my mother and the means of livelihood at one stroke, for my mother had an annuity. None of my relations were rich enough to help me, and wishing to live virtuously above all things I subsisted for two years on the sale of my mother's furniture, boarding with a worthy woman who made her living by embroidery. I learnt her art, and only went out to mass on Sundays. I was a prey to melancholy, and when I had spent all I had I went to M. Brea, a Genoese, on whom I thought I could rely. I begged him to get me a place as a mere waiting-maid, thinking that I was tolerably competent for such a position. He promised to do what he could for me, and five or six days afterwards he made me the following proposal:

  "He read me a letter from Calsabigi, of whom I had never heard, in which he charged him to send a virtuous young lady to Berlin. She must be of good birth, good education, and pleasant appearance, as when his aged and infirm wife died he intended to marry her.

  "As such a person would most probably be badly off, Calsabigi begged M. Brea to give her fifty Louis to buy clothes and linen and fifty Louis to journey to Berlin with a maid. M. Brea was also authorized to promise that the young lady should hold the position of Calsabigi's wife, and be presented in that character to all his friends; that she should have a waiting-maid, a carriage, an allowance of clothes, and a certain monthly amount as pin-money to be spent as she chose. He promised, if the arrangement was not found suitable, to set her free at the end of a year, giving her a hundred Louis, and leaving her in possession of whatever money she might have saved, and such clothes and jewels as he might have given her; in fine, if the lady agreed to live with him till he was able to marry her, Calsabigi promised to execute a deed of gift in her favour to the amount of ten thousand crowns which the public would believe to be her dowry, and if he died before being able to marry her she would have a right to claim the aforesaid sum from his estate.

  "With such fine promises did Brea persuade me to leave my native country to come and dishonour myself here, for though everybody treats me as if I were his wife, it is probably known that I am only his mistress. I have been here for six months, and I have never had an instant's happiness."

  "Has he not kept the conditions you have mentioned?"

  "Conditions! Calsabigi's state of health will kill him long before his wife, and in that case I shall have nothing, for he is loaded with debt, and his creditors would have the first claim on the estate. Besides, I do not like him; and the reason is that he loves me too much. You can understand that; his devotion worries me."

  "At all events, you can return to Paris in six months' time, or, in fact, do anything you like when the term stipulated has expired. You will get your hundred louis, and can lay in a pretty stock of linen."

  "If I go to Paris I shall be dishonoured, and if I remain here I shall be dishonoured. In fact, I am very unhappy, and Brea is the cause of my woe. Nevertheless, I can't blame him, as he could not have been aware that his friend's property only consisted of debts. And now the king has withdrawn his countenance, the lottery will fail, and Calsabigi will inevitably become a bankrupt."

  She had studiously refrained from exaggeration, and I could not help confessing that she was to be pitied. I advised her to try and sell the deed of gift for ten thousand crowns, as it was not likely he would raise any objection.

  "I have thought it over," said she, "but to do that I have need of a friend; of course, I do not expect to dispose of it save at a great loss."

  I promised to see what I could do for her.

  There were four of us at supper. The fourth person was a young man who had helped in the Paris and Brussels Lotteries, and had followed Calsabigi to Berlin. He was evidently in love with Mdlle. Belanger, but I did not think his love was crowned with success.

  At dessert Calsabigi begged me to give him my opinion of a scheme he had drafted, the aim of which was to bring in a sum of two million crowns, so that the credit of the lottery might remain secure.

  The lady left us to talk business at our ease. She was between twenty-four and twenty-five, and without having much wit she possessed a great knowledge of the usages of society, which is better than wit in a woman; in fine, she had all that a man could well desire. The sentiments I felt for her were confined to those of friendship and esteem after the confidence she had placed in me.

  Calsabigi's project was brief, but clear and well imagined. He invited capitalists not to speculate in the lottery, but to guarantee it for a certain sum. In the case of the lottery's losing, each guarantor would have to share in paying according to the sum named, and in like manner they would share in the profits.

  I promised to give him my opinion in writing by the next day, and I substituted the following plan for his:

  A capital of a million, would, I judged, be ample.

  This million should be divided into a hundred shares of ten thousand crowns each.

  Each share must be taken up before a notary, who would answer for the shareholder's solvency.

  All dividends to be paid the third day after the drawing.

  In case of loss the shareholder to renew his share.

  A cashier, chosen by a majority of four-fifths of the shareholders, to have the control of all moneys.

  Winning tickets to be paid the day after the drawing.

  On the eve of a drawing the shareholders' cashier to have an account of receipts from the lottery cashier, and the former to lock the safe with three keys, one of which to remain in his hands, one in the hands of the lottery cashier, and one in the hands of the manager of the lottery.

  Only the simple drawing, the ambe and the terne to be retained; the quarterne and the quine to be abolished.

  On the three combinations a shilling to be the minimum, and a crown the maximum stake; the offices to be closed twenty-four hours before the drawing.

  Ten per cent. to go to Calsabigi, the manager; all expenses of farming to be paid by him.

  Calsabigi to be entitled to the possession of two shares, without a guarantee being required.

  I saw by Calsabigi's face that the plan did not please him, but I told him that he would not get shareholders save on these terms, or on terms even less favourable to himself.

  He had degraded the lottery to the level of biribi; his luxury and extravagance caused him to be distrusted; it was known that he was head over ears in debt, and the king could not banish the fear that he would be cheated in spite of the keenness of his comptroller-general.

  The last drawing under the king's sanction made everyone in good spirits, for the lottery lost twenty thousand crowns. The king sent the money immediately by a privy councillor, but it was said, when he heard the result of the drawing, that he burst out laughing, observing,—

  "I knew it would be so, and I am only too happy to have got quit of it so cheaply."

  I thought it my duty to go and sup with the director to console him, and I found him in a state of great depression. He could not help thinking that his unhappy drawing would make the task of getting shareholders more difficult than ever. Hitherto the lottery had always been a gainer, but its late loss could not have come at a worse time.

  Nevertheless, he did not lose heart, and the next morning the public were informed by printed bills that the offi
ce would remain closed till a sufficient number of guarantors were found.

  Chapter XVIII

  Table of Contents

  Lord Keith—My Appointment to Meet the King in the Garden of Sans-Souci—My Conversation with Frederick the Great—Madame Denis The Pomeranian Cadets—Lambert—I Go to Mitau My Welcome at the Court, and My Administrative Journey

  The fifth day after my arrival at Berlin I presented myself to the lord-marshal, who since the death of his brother had been styled Lord Keith. I had seen him in London after his return from Scotland, where he had been reinstated in the family estates, which had been confiscated for Jacobinism. Frederick the Great was supposed to have brought this about. Lord Keith lived at Berlin, resting on his laurels, and enjoying the blessings of peace.

  With his old simplicity of manner he told me he was glad to see me again, and asked if I proposed making any stay at Berlin. I replied that I would willingly do so if the king would give me a suitable office. I asked him if he would speak a word in my favour; but he replied that the king liked to judge men's characters for himself, and would often discover merit where no one had suspected its presence, and vice versa.

  He advised me to intimate to the king in writing that I desired to have the honour of an interview. "When you speak to him," the good old man added, "you may say that you know me, and the king will doubtless address me on the subject, and you may be sure what I say shall not be to your disadvantage."

  "But, my lord, how can I write to a monarch of whom I know nothing, and who knows nothing of me? I should not have thought of such a step."

  "I daresay, but don't you wish to speak to him?"

  "Certainly."

  "That is enough. Your letter will make him aware of your desire and nothing more."

  "But will he reply?"

  "Undoubtedly; he replies to everybody. He will tell you when and where he will see you. His Majesty is now at Sans-Souci. I am curious to know the nature of your interview with the monarch who, as you can see, is not afraid of being imposed on."

  When I got home I wrote a plain but respectful letter to the king, asking where and at what time I could introduce myself to him.

  In two days I received a letter signed "Frederick," in which the receipt of my letter was acknowledged, and I was told that I should find his majesty in the garden of Sans-Souci at four o'clock.

  As may be imagined I was punctual to my appointment. I was at Sans-Souci at three, clad in a simple black dress. When I got into the court-yard there was not so much as a sentinel to stop me, so I went on mounted a stair, and opened a door in front of me. I found myself in a picture-gallery, and the curator came up to me and offered to shew me over it.

  "I have not come to admire these masterpieces," I replied, "but to see the king, who informed me in writing that I should find him in the garden."

  "He is now at a concert playing the flute; he does so every day after dinner. Did he name any time?"

  "Yes, four o'clock, but he will have forgotten that."

  "The king never forgets anything; he will keep the appointment, and you will do well to go into the garden and await him."

  I had been in the garden for some minutes when I saw him appear, followed by his reader and a pretty spaniel. As soon as he saw me he accosted me, taking off his old hat, and pronouncing my name. Then he asked in a terrible voice what I wanted of him. This greeting surprised me, and my voice stuck in my throat.

  "Well, speak out. Are you not the person who wrote to me?"

  "Yes, sire, but I have forgotten everything now. I thought that I should not be awed by the majesty of a king, but I was mistaken. My lord-marshal should have warned me."

  "Then he knows you? Let us walk. What is it that you want? What do you think of my garden?"

  His enquiries after my needs and of his garden were simultaneous. To any other person I should have answered that I did not know anything about gardening, but this would have been equivalent to refusing to answer the question; and no monarch, even if he be a philosopher, could endure that. I therefore replied that I thought the garden superb.

  "But," he said, "the gardens of Versailles are much finer."

  "Yes, sire, but that is chiefly on account of the fountains."

  "True, but it is not my fault; there is no water here. I have spent more than three hundred thousand crowns to get water, but unsuccessfully."

  "Three hundred thousand crowns, sire! If your majesty had spent them all at once, the fountains should be here."

  "Oh, oh! I see you are acquainted with hydraulics."

  I could not say that he was mistaken, for fear of offending him, so I simply bent my head, which might mean either yes or no. Thank God the king did not trouble to test my knowledge of the science of hydraulics, with which I was totally unacquainted.

  He kept on the move all the time, and as he turned his head from one side to the other hurriedly asked me what forces Venice could put into the field in war time.

  "Twenty men-of-war, sire, and a number of galleys."

  "What are the land forces?"

  "Seventy thousand men, sire; all of whom are subjects of the Republic, and assessing each village at one man."

  "That is not true; no doubt you wish to amuse me by telling me these fables. Give me your opinions on taxation."

  This was the first conversation I had ever had with a monarch. I made a rapid review of the situation, and found myself much in the same position as an actor of the improvised comedy of the Italians, who is greeted by the hisses of the gods if he stops short a moment. I therefore replied with all the airs of a doctor of finance that I could say something about the theory of taxation.

  "That's what I want," he replied, "for the practice is no business of yours."

  "There are three kinds of taxes, considered as to their effects. The first is ruinous, the second a necessary evil, and the third invariably beneficial."

  "Good! Go on."

  "The ruinous impost is the royal tax, the necessary is the military, and the beneficial is the popular."

  As I had not given the subject any thought I was in a disagreeable position, for I was obliged to go on speaking, and yet not to talk nonsense.

  "The royal tax, sire, is that which deplenishes the purses of the subject to fill the coffers of the king."

  "And that kind of tax is always ruinous, you think."

  "Always, sire; it prevents the circulation of money—the soul of commerce and the mainstay of the state."

  "But if the tax be levied to keep up the strength of the army, you say it is a necessary evil."

  "Yes, it is necessary and yet evil, for war is an evil."

  "Quite so; and now about the popular tax."

  "This is always a benefit, for the monarch takes with one hand and gives with the other; he improves towns and roads, founds schools, protects the sciences, cherishes the arts; in fine, he directs this tax towards improving the condition and increasing the happiness of his people."

  "There is a good deal of truth in that. I suppose you know Calsabigi?"

  "I ought to, your majesty, as he and I established the Genoa Lottery at Paris seven years ago."

  "In what class would you put this taxation, for you will agree that it is taxation of a kind?"

  "Certainly, sire, and not the least important. It is beneficial when the monarch spends his profits for the good of the people."

  "But the monarch may lose?"

  "Once in fifty."

  "Is that conclusion the result of a mathematical calculation?"

  "Yes, sire."

  "Such calculations often prove deceptive."

  "Not so, may it please your majesty, when God remains neutral."

  "What has God got to do with it?"

  "Well, sire, we will call it destiny or chance."

  "Good! I may possibly be of your opinion as to the calculation, but I don't like your Genoese Lottery. It seems to me an elaborate swindle, and I would have nothing more to do with it, even if it were positively ce
rtain that I should never lose."

  "Your majesty is right, for the confidence which makes the people risk their money in a lottery is perfectly fallacious."

  This was the end of our strange dialogue, and stopping before a building he looked me over, and then, after a short silence, observed,—

  "Do you know that you are a fine man?"

  "Is it possible that, after the scientific conversation we have had, your majesty should select the least of the qualities which adorn your life guardsmen for remark?"

  The king smiled kindly, and said,—

  "As you know Marshal Keith, I will speak to him of you."

  With that he took off his hat, and bade me farewell. I retired with a profound bow.

  Three or four days after the marshal gave me the agreeable news that I had found favour in the king's eyes, and that his majesty thought of employing me.

  I was curious to learn the nature of this employment, and being in no kind of hurry I resolved to await events in Berlin. The time passed pleasantly enough, for I was either with Calsabigi, Baron Treidel, or my landlady, and when these resources failed me, I used to walk in the park, musing over the events of my life.

  Calsabigi had no difficulty in obtaining permission to continue the lottery on his own account, and he boldly announced that henceforward he would conduct the lottery on his own risk. His audacity was crowned with success, and he obtained a profit of a hundred thousand crowns. With this he paid most of his debts, and gave his mistress ten thousand crowns, she returning the document entitling her to that amount. After this lucky drawing it was easy to find guarantors, and the lottery went on successfully for two or three years.

  Nevertheless Calsabigi ended by becoming bankrupt and died poor enough in Italy. He might be compared to the Danaides; the more he got the more he spent. His mistress eventually made a respectable marriage and returned to Paris, where she lived in comfort.