The Launching of Roger Brook

by Dennis Wheatley

  Towards the end of the month there were a number of high-power conferences held in the Marquis’s sanctum at the Hôtel de Rochambeau. De Breteuil, De Castries, De Polignac, De Ségur, and the Marquis d’Adhémar, who was said to be the Duchess de Polignac’s lover, and was shortly leaving to take up a new appointment as Ambassador to the Court of St. James, were all present. After much deliberation it was decided, on the Marquis’s recommendation, that the Comte de Montmorin should be recommended to the King to succeed M. de Vergennes. M. de Montmorin had served as Ambassador to Spain and later held the office of Royal Governor of Brittany, and it was in the latter capacity that the Marquis had come to know him as an able but pliant man who, lacking powerful family connections, had the wisdom to accept advice from those whose good will could maintain him in office. On the 13th of February, M. de Vergennes, the friend of all peaceful policies, died; on the 14th the King nominated M. de Montmorin to succeed him.

  The change meant nothing to the public; from the beginning of the year its whole interest had been centred on the rumour that the King intended to call an Assembly of Notables and hand over to them the direction of the ship of state. After many postponements the vacillating monarch at last brought himself to convene the Assembly on the 22nd of February, but the manner in which he addressed it, when assembled, was a grievous disappointment to the nation. Instead of asking this representative body to consider the desperate state of the country and advise him as to what measures could be taken for its salvation, he simply indicated that his Comptroller-General of Finance had already devised the measures and that their province was to place their weight behind them by an unanimous vote of confidence in the Minister.

  M. de Calonne then made a most brilliant hour and a quarter’s speech; but, to the amazement of everyone who listened to him, he performed a complete volte-face from every principle that he had followed throughout his three years of office. He now proposed, almost in their entirety, the reforms that Turgot had advocated a decade earlier. His revolutionary programme included: The removal of internal customs barriers; the erection of provincial, district and parochial Assemblies; that the hated forced labour of the corvées should be commuted for a monetary payment; that a remission of ten millions should be made in the Gabelle, and that this loss of income from salt be recovered by a stamp tax on paper; that all producers of grain should be given a free hand to market it where they would without hindrance; that the nobility and clergy should no longer be exempt from taxation, and that a Land Tax should be instituted to which all property owners, irrespective of class, would be subject.

  The next day, the better to deliberate on these matters, the Assembly was divided into seven committees, each of twenty-two members and each having a Prince of the Blood for its chairman. So urgent were the passage of these reforms now considered that all the committees sat every day, except Sundays; but it soon became apparent that opposition to the Royal will was rising in every quarter.

  Both the clergy and nobles showed extreme resentment at the proposal to tax their lands, and the Archbishop of Narbonne led a heated attack upon the measure. The representatives of the ancient provincial Parliaments fiercely opposed the proposals for establishing provincial Assemblies, as they feared that these would usurp their own functions. The trade guilds and entire commercial community of the country raised an outcry about the proposed tax on paper, saying that it would bring ruin to their business. In fact, every class represented in the Assembly had some reason to obstruct the new programme and all united in demanding that a full account should be given of how the national revenues were expended before further taxation was imposed.

  M. de Calonne was compelled to admit that the deficit for the current year amounted to one hundred and thirteen millions, but he would give no details. The Princes of the Blood were forced to represent the rebellious attitude of their committees to the King, and one of them, the Prince de Conti, was so impressed by their arguments that he refused to continue his work until forced to do so by a direct order from the Monarch. Another of them, M. de Duc de Orleans, the most bitter enemy of the Court, skilfully slid out of his chairmanship on the plea that he could not be expected to give an impartial judgment on the reduction of the Gabelle as it would reduce his income by £30,000 a year. The King’s brothers, M. le Comte de Provence and M. le Comte d’Artois, despite their normal preoccupations, the one with learning, and the other with women, worked hard with their committees. Both offered to reduce the cost of their stables by half a million francs a year, but this belated gesture was almost overlooked in the general alarm at the appalling state into which the finances had fallen.

  In mid-March the Comte de Mirabeau published a broadside openly attacking the administration and, on the 20th a Lettre de Cachet was issued for his arrest; but he was warned of it and succeeded in escaping to England. By early April the popular fury against M. de Calonne had risen to such a height that the King could no longer support him and, on the 9th, he was dismissed from office. On the 19th, M. Necker, the ex-Finance Minister, issued a pamphlet, stigmatising M. de Calonne for his three years of mismanagement, and the King ordered the Swiss banker into exile. On the 25th of May the King at last dissolved the Assembly of Notables, which, instead of supporting the Royal Authority, had gone against it on every measure and given vent to the discontent of the whole nation. He was said to have sworn that during his lifetime he would never call another, and he now placed his affairs in the hands of his new Minister, Loménie de Brienne, the Archbishop of Toulouse.

  In the meantime, M. de Rochambeau continued to occupy himself with affairs in the United Provinces. The Stadtholder’s situation was an extremely difficult one, as the Dutch possessed a very liberal Constitution which rendered him little more than hereditary Chief Magistrate. On the advice of the British Minister, Sir James Harris, he had now formed a bodyguard for his own protection, but he controlled so few troops that it was quite impossible for him to enforce his authority. On the other hand, the States-General were busy secretly recruiting a free-corps throughout the whole country for the maintenance of their independence.

  The three Ambassadors, Görtz, Harris and de Rayneval continued their mediation and appeared to be holding the two parties back from an open clash; but all through the spring and early summer the United Provinces remained a powder barrel which, if it went off, was liable to ignite half Europe.

  Roger followed every move with the keenest interest but, puzzle his wits as he would, he could still not make out what deep game M. de Rochambeau was playing. It seemed to him beyond belief that the Marquis could be seeking to bring about a war while the finances of France were in such a desperate situation, yet he knew that from the beginning of the year many warlike preparations had been undertaken.

  The British Control Commission having evacuated Dunkirk, on the ratification of the Treaty of Versailles, the French had at once begun to refortify the port, and they were now committed to a programme of works there almost as formidable as that for Cherbourg. It had also been decided that a camp of eighty thousand troops should be assembled in the summer for ‘manœuvres’ at Givet, in Flanders. The Navy too, was gradually being got into a state of readiness and the Marshal de Castries had mentioned to the Marquis in Roger’s hearing that he had sixty-four ships-of-the-line which could now be made ready for action at short notice.

  Having become the repository of such secrets, Roger felt it his duty to pass them on to Mr. Gilbert Maxwell and from early in 1787 a regular correspondence ensued. The information that he sent would actually have been of considerably greater value if he had given with it the attitude and opinions on foreign policy of the many important people with whom he now came in contact; but not being aware of that, he confined his reports to bare statements of fact which he considered had military significance.

  Mr. Maxwell’s replies were little more than appreciative acknowledgements, although he occasionally asked in guarded terms if Roger could give him other specific pieces of information. Onc
e he suggested that if Roger could, without endangering his position, get in touch with Mr. Daniel Hailes, the Chargé d’Affaires at the British Embassy in Paris, this might prove useful; and added that Mr. Hailes had been instructed to supply him with funds if he should be in need of them.

  Roger still had qualms enough about betraying his employer and, while he was prepared to do so for his country’s sake, the idea of selling information for money was highly repulsive to him. So he replied briefly that he was not in need of funds and that he thought it would be most ill-advised for him to have any dealings with the British Embassy.

  From Athénaïs’s first appearance at Versailles, she became unavoidably involved in the series of endless entertainments that still occupied most of the energies of the feckless Court, but she managed to get back to Paris for a night once every ten days or so. Now and then, to Roger’s fury, his work prevented him from taking advantage of her presence to keep their tryst, but the very difficulties that beset their coming together while still preserving their secret, made them all the more eager for these stolen meetings.

  Most of the hours they spent in the old playroom were devoted to kisses, sighs, embraces and mutual vows of devotion, but occasionally they found time to talk for a little of her doings at Versailles. In mid-May she told him that she had now become quite intimate with the Royal circle as she had recently seen them with less formality.

  With the coming of summer the Queen had reopened her Swiss Châlet dairy farm beside the lake near the Petit Trianon. Once or twice a week the Royal family went out there for a picnic meal, with a favoured few of whom Athénaïs was now one. They all wore simple clothes, played at milking the cows, made butter, and cooked their own supper.

  Marie-Antoinette loved to throw off the dignity of Queen for a few hours and she was gay and charming with everybody. Athénaïs said that it was a joy to see her acting the farmer’s wife and romping with her children, the young Dauphin and the little Princess Royale. Even the heavy-featured, tongue-tied King came out of his shell a little and joined in a game of blind man’s buff, when he was not too tired from hunting and fell asleep in his chair.

  Athénaïs declared that he was very far from being the fool that many people thought him. He was, she said, a clever geographer, an expert locksmith, and spoke German and English well. It was his misfortune that he would much rather have been a bourgeois family-man than a King, and had it not been for his very simple tastes, gentleness and diffidence, he would have made an excellent Sovereign.

  Roger could not question such a first-hand portrait but all the same he accepted it with reservation. He had heard M. de Rochambeau say more than once that the King was so bored by affairs of State that during the meetings of the Royal Council he often drew pictures of locks on his blotting-pad, instead of listening to what his ministers were saying to him; and that on other occasions he returned so exhausted from his favourite pastime of the chase that he slept solidly, snoring his way through discussions of the utmost importance.

  Every time Roger saw Athénaïs he asked her if any decision had yet been taken about her marriage, dreading to hear that something definite had been decided which would soon put a period to their meetings; but each time she said that her father seemed in no hurry to dispose of her and, as summer approached, she sought to comfort Roger by saying that, even when her engagement was announced, a further two or three months must elapse while she got her trousseau together, so it was most unlikely that they would have to face separation until the autumn.

  M. de la Tour d’Auvergne continued to show the greatest devotion to her, and she freely confessed that, of her suitors whom she had met personally, she favoured him far above the rest; but, as all negotiations for her hand were conducted through her father, there were several that she had not seen and, perhaps, others that she did not even know about.

  Roger had helped the Vicomte to find comfortable lodgings in the Rue de Richelieu, soon after Athénaïs had taken up her residence at Versailles, and he had since spent most of his time getting himself invited to every party at which he learned she was to appear; but he often looked in on Roger, or invited him to his apartment for a quiet talk about the object of their mutual devotion, and two or three times a week they fenced together.

  It was on the 4th of June that M. de Rochambeau said to Roger: ‘On the 30th of this month I intend to give a ball. It is Mademoiselle Athénaïs’s eighteenth birthday, and on that night I propose to present her to her future husband. Their Majesties have promised to honour me with their presence on this occasion, so I desire that no expense should be spared to give them pleasure. I wish you to go into the matter with my major-domo and make all the necessary arrangements. Everybody of any importance should be invited so I should also like you to get me out a list of guests. I will submit it to the Sovereigns for their approval and when they have made any amendments they may wish, you can employ your assistant on sending out the invitations.’

  Roger could feel the blood draining from his face, and he prayed that the Marquis would not notice the tremor in his voice as he asked: ‘E—is it your desire, Monseigneur, that the name of Mademoiselle’s future husband should be given out as yet?’

  ‘No,’ replied the Marquis, quietly. The match that I have arranged for Mademoiselle is extremely suitable and she could hardly hope for a better; but ’tis my secret, and I intend to keep it as a pleasant surprise for her on the night of the ball.’

  At that, Roger had to leave it and, much as he hated the thought of Athénaïs marrying anyone, he could only pray that the pleasant surprise her father planned for her was his consent to the suit of M. de la Tour d’Auvergne.

  When he saw her next he found that she was no wiser than himself and, although she knew all about the ball, she had not succeeded in securing even a hint as to whom she was to be affianced. Her own belief was that her father favoured the young Prince de la Roche-Aymon, who was eighteen months her junior, but now that the day of her committal was fast approaching she hoped more than ever that his choice would be her devoted and charming Vicomte.

  In the weeks that followed Roger and Monsieur Roland consulted together with great frequency and gave countless orders to ensure the success of the entertainment. The Hôtel was turned upside down and an army of workmen brought in to take down partitions, broaden doorways and erect canopies. The principal salons of the mansion were all earmarked as supper or card rooms; the great courtyard was entirely floored over and tented above, to form a ballroom that would accommodate a thousand dancers. The stables were evacuated, cleaned and converted into a mess for the troops of guards without which the King and his brothers never left their palaces. A hundred new liveries in the de Rochambeau colours were ordered so that every footman might have a brand-new one, and those hired for the evening not appear dissimilar to the permanent staff. Scores of additional candelabra were affixed to light the huge marquee and forty of the best fiddlers in Paris engaged to form the band. The Chef took on fifty additional scullions who worked for days to prepare a superb collation, and the wine butler got up over two thousand bottles of the Marquis’s finest wines from the cellars.

  The list of proposed guests had been returned from Versailles and the invitations sent out. They included all the Princes of the Blood, except His Royal Highness the Duc d’Orleans, the twenty members of the Royal Council and, excepting the de Rohans, with their kinsmen, the Soubises. Guises and Lorraines, practically every great name that had figured in the history of France for the past three hundred years; Aiguillion, Beaufort, Biron, Bouillon, Bourbon-Condé, Châtillion, Choiseul, Crillon, Epernon, Estrées, Gramont, Guéménée, Lambesq, Longueville, Luynes, Montmorency, Montpensier, Nemours, Nesle, Noailles, Richelieu, Rochefoucault, Soissons, Sully, Trémouille, Villeroy, Vendôme, together with a host of others, and the whole Corps Diplomatique as at that date accredited to the Court of Versailles. Monsieur Roland was to be responsible for the service of the guests, and Roger was to be at hand from start to finish, in case dur
ing the evening the Marquis wished him to execute any special commission.

  On the great night, Athénaïs, her powdered hair ornamented with ostrich feathers and little garlands of fresh flowers, and wearing a dress of cream satin sewn with pearls, took her place beside her father at the top of the grand staircase, to receive her guests. By eight o’clock they were arriving in a constant stream, and soon Cardinals, Duchesses, Ambassadors and Marshals of France were mingling together in a dazzling concourse. At a quarter to nine the Captain of the King’s guards arrived to take possession of the house in the name of His Majesty.

  At nine o’clock there sounded a loud fanfare of trumpets, announcing the approach of the Sovereigns, and Athénaïs and her father went down to receive them. Bowing or curtseying at every third step, the de Rochambeaus walked backwards before their royal guests right across the parquet floor of the great marquee until they reached the two high thrones, covered in blue velvet spangled with gold fleur-de-lys, that had been prepared upon a daïs. When the King and Queen were seated their host and hostess personally offered them refreshments, and they formally broke little cakes on the gold platters and sipped wine from the crystal goblets.

  For the entrance of their Majesties the other guests had formed ten deep on each side of the room into a glittering lane, and sunk in a flurry of silks and ribbons, like corn before a gust of wind, in deep obeisance as the Royal couple advanced. Now they formed in a great half-circle, leaving an empty space before the thrones, to the right and left of which the Princes of the Blood and their ladies had seated themselves on brocaded tabourets.

  The King signed to one of his gentlemen, who handed him a jewelled casket, which he gave to Athénaïs with his good wishes for her birthday. It contained a pair of beautiful emerald drop-shaped ear-rings. One of the Queen’s ladies gave her a long, carved ivory box. Beckoning Athénaïs to her she kissed her lightly on the forehead and laid the box in her arms. On opening it a feather fan was disclosed made with infinite labour from thousands of woodcock points. ‘Monsieur’ the King’s eldest brother gave her a pair of diamond buckles; the little son of the Emperor of Cochinchina, then on a mission to the French Court, a beautiful lacquer box; Monsieur Simolin, the Russian Ambassador, a cape of sables; King George’s emissary, the Duke of Dorset, a fine pair of Chelsea figures; the Comte de Mercy, a case of Imperial Tokay; and so for an hour it continued, while the splendidly clad denizens of the ancien régime paid homage to birth and beauty, laying at her feet enough treasure to keep a thousand poor families from want for a twelvemonth.