CHAPTER XVIII. THE MOISSON d'OR
When I arrived at the rendezvous, I found Duchesne already awaiting mewith a carriage, into which we stepped, and drove rapidly away.
"A man of your word, Burke; and, what is scarcely less valuable in thetimes we live in, a man of prudence too."
"As how the latter, may I ask?"
"You have not come in uniform, which is all the better where we aregoing; besides, it gives me the hope of presenting you to my respectedaunt, the Duchesse de Montserrat, who will take your black coat as acompliment to the whole Bourbon dynasty. You must come with me there, ifit only be for half an hour. And now tell me, have you ever dined at the'Moisson d'Or'?"
"Never; not even heard of the house."
"Well, then, you shall to-day. And meanwhile I may tell you, thatalthough in a remote and little-visited quarter of Paris, it standsunrivalled for the excellence of its fare and the rare delicacy of itswines,--a reputation not of yesterday, but of some years' standing.Nor is that the only thing remarkable about it, as I shall explainhereafter. But come! How are your friends at the Hotel Clichy? and howfares your suit with mademoiselle?"
"My suit? It never was such. You know, to the full as well as I do, mypretensions aspired not half so high."
"So much the better, and so much the worse. I mean the former for me,as I hate to have a friend for a rival; the latter for you, who ought tohave learned by this time that a handsome girl and a million offrancs are more easily won than a cross of the Legion or a colonel'sepaulette."
"And are you serious, Duchesne? Have you really intentions in thatquarter?"
"_Morbleu!_ to be sure I have. It is for that I am here in Paris inthe dog days; travelled one hundred and twenty leagues; ay, andmore, too,--have brought with me my most aristocratic aunt, who neverremembers in her life to have seen full-grown leaves in the Tuileriesgardens. I knew what an ally she would be in the negotiation; and so Imanaged, through some friends in the bureau of the minister, to give hera rare fright about an estate of hers, which by some accident escapedconfiscation in the Revolution, and which nothing but the greatestefforts on her part could now rescue from the fangs of the crown. Youmay be sure she is not particularly in love with the present Governmenton this score; but the trick secures her speaking more guardedly thanshe has the habit of doing, besides inducing her to make acquaintancesnothing but such a threat would accomplish."
"You intend, then, she should know Madame de Lacostellerie?"
"Of course. I have already persuaded her that the Hotel Clichy is thepivot of all Paris, and that nothing but consummate tact and managementon her part will succeed there."
"But I scarcely thought you cared for mademoiselle; and never dreamed ofyour proposing to marry her."
"Nor I, till about a week ago. However, my plans require money, andwould not be encumbered by my having a wife. I see nothing better atthe moment, and so my mind is soon made up. But here we are; this is ourresting-place."
The "Moisson d'Or," although not known to me, was then the mostcelebrated place for dining in Paris. The habits of the house--for therewas no _table d'hote_--required that everything should be orderedbeforehand, and the parties all dined separately. The expensive habitsand extravagant prices secured its frequenters from meeting the classwho usually dined at restaurants; and this gave it a vogue among thewealthy and titled, whose equipages now thronged the street, and filledthe _porte cochere_. I had but time to recognize the face of one of themarshals and a minister of state, as we pushed our way through thecourt, and entered a small pavilion beyond it.
"I'll join you in an instant," said Duchesne, as he left the roomhastily after the waiter. In a couple of minutes he was back again."Come along; it's all right," said he. "I wish to show you a corner ofthe old house that only the privileged ever see, and we are fortunate infinding it unoccupied."
We recrossed the court, and mounted a large oak stair to a corridor,which conducted us, by three sides of a quadrangle, to a smaller stair,nearly perpendicular. At the top of this, a strong door, barred andpadlocked, stood, which, being opened, led into a large and lofty_salon_, opening by three spacious windows on a terrace that formedthe roof of the building. Some citron and orange trees were disposedtastefully along this, and filled the room with their fragrance.
"Here, Antoine; let us be served here," said Duchesne to the waiter;"I have already given orders about the dinner. And now, Burke, come outhere. What think you of that view?"
Scarcely had I set foot on the terrace, when I started back in mingledadmiration and amazement. Beneath us lay the great city, in the mellowlight of an evening in September. Close--so close as actually tostartle--was the large dome of the Invalides shining like a ball ofmolten gold, the great courtyard in front dotted with figures; beyond,again, was the Seine, the surface flashing and flickering in thesunlight,--I traced it along to the Pont Neuf; and then my eye rested onNotre-Dame, whose tall, dark towers stood out against the pinkish sky,while the deep-toned bell boomed through the still air. I turned towardsthe Tuileries, and could see the guard of honor in waiting forthe Emperor's appearing. In the gardens, hundreds were passing andrepassing, or standing around the band which played in front of thepavilion. A tide of population poured across the bridges and down thestreets, along which equipages and horsemen dashed impetuously onward.There was all the life and stir of a mighty city, its sounds dulledby distance, but blended into one hoarse din, like the far-off sea atnight.
"You don't know, Burke, that this was a favorite resort of the courtiersof the last reign. The gay young Gardes du Corps, the gallant youths ofthe royal household, constantly dined here. The terrace we now stand ononce held a party who came at the invitation of no less a personage thanhim whom men call Louis the Eighteenth. It was a freak of the time topronounce the Court dinners execrable: and they even go so far as tosay that Marie Antoinette herself once planned a party here; but this Icannot vouch for."
At this moment Duchesne was interrupted by the entrance of the waiterswho came to serve the dinner. I had not a moment left to admire thebeauty and richness of the antique silver dishes which covered thetable, when a gentle tap at the door attracted my attention.
"Ha! Jacotot himself!" said Duchesne, as, rising hastily, he advancedto meet the new arrival. He was a tall, thin old man, much stooped byyears, but with an air and carriage distinctly well bred; his whitehair, brushed rigidly back, fastened into a queue behind, and his lace"jabot" and ruffles, bespoke him as the remnant of a date long past. Hiscoat was blue, of a shade somewhat lighter than is usually worn. He alsowore large buckles in his shoes, whose brilliancy left no doubt of theirreal value. Bowing with great ceremony, he advanced slowly into theroom.
"You are come to dine with us,--is it not so, Jacotot?" said Duchesne,as he still held his hand.
"Excuse me, my dear chevalier; the Comte de Chambord and Edouard deCourcelles are below,--I have promised to join them."
"And is Courcelles here?"
"Yes," said the old man, with a timid glance towards where I sat, and alook as if imploring caution and reserve.
"Oh, fear nothing. And that reminds me I have not presented my friendand brother officer: Captain Burke,--Monsieur Jacotot. You may feelassured, Jacotot, I make no mistake in the friends I introduce here."
The old man gave a smile of pleasure; while, turning to me, he said,--
"He is discretion itself; and I am but too happy to make youracquaintance. And now, Chevalier, one word with you."
He retreated towards the door, holding Duchesne's arm, and whispering ashe went. Duchesne's face, however, expressed his impatience as he spoke;and at last he said,--
"As you please, my worthy friend; I always submit to your wisercounsels. So farewell for the present."
He looked after the old man as he slowly descended the stairs, and thenclosing the door and locking it, he exclaimed,--
"_Parbleu!_I found it very hard to listen to his prosing with even ashow of patience, and was half tempted to tell him
that the Bourbonscould wait, though the soup could not."
"Then Monsieur Jacotot is a Royalist, I presume?"
"Ay, that he is; and so are all they who frequent this house. Don'tstart; the police know it well, and no one is more amused at theirabsurd plottings and conspirings than Fouche himself. Now and then, tobe sure, some fool, more rash and brainless than the others, will comeup from La Vendee and try to knock his head against the walls of theTemple,--like De Courcelles there, who has no other business in Parisexcept to be guillotined, if it were worth the trouble. Then theminister affects to stir himself and be on the alert, just to terrifythem; but he well knows that danger lurks not in this quarter. Believeme, Burke, the present rulers of France have no greater security thanin the contemptible character of all their opponents. There is no coursefor a man of energy and courage to adopt. But I ask your pardon, my dearfriend, for this treasonable talk. What think you of the dinner? TheRoyalists would never have fallen if they had understood government aswell as cuisine. Taste that _supreme_, and say if you don't regret theCapets,--a feeling you can indulge the more freely because you neverknew them."
"I cannot comprehend, Duchesne, what are the grievances you chargeagainst the present Government of France. Had you been an old courtierof the last reign,--a hanger-on of Versailles or the Tuileries,--thething were intelligible; but you, a soldier, a man of daring andenterprise--"
"Let me interrupt you. I am so only because it is the taste of the day;but I despise the parade of military glory we have got into the habitof. I prefer the period when a _mot_ did as much and more than adischarge of _mitraille_, and men's _esprit_ and talent succeeded betterthan a strong sword-arm or a seat on horseback. There were gentlemenin France once, my dear Burke. Ay, _parbleu!_ and ladies too,--notmarchionesses of the drum-head nor countesses of the bivouac, but womenin whom birth heightened beauty, whose loveliness had the added charm ofhigh descent beaming from their bright eyes and sitting throned on theirlofty brows; before whom our mustached marshals had stood trembling andashamed,--these men who lounge so much at ease in the _salons_ of theTuileries! Let me help you to this _salmi_; it is _a la Louis Quinze_,and worthy of the Regency itself. Well, then, a glass of Burgundy."
"Your friend Monsieur Jacotot seems somewhat of an original," said I,half desirous to change a topic which I always felt an unpleasant one.
"You are not wrong; he is so. Jacotot is a thorough Frenchman; atleast, he has had the fortune to mix up in his destiny those extremes ofelevated sentiment and absurdity which go very far to compose the lifeof my good countrymen. I must tell you a short anecdote--Butshall we adjourn to the terrace? for, to prevent the interruption ofservants, I have ordered our dessert there."
This was a most agreeable proposal; and so, having seated ourselves ina little arbor of orange-shrubs, with a view of the river and the Palacegardens beneath us, Duchesne thus began:--
"I am going somewhat far back in history; but have no fears on thathead, Burke,--my story is a very brief one. There was, once upon a time,in France, a monarch of some repute, called Louis the Fourteenth; a man,if fame be not unjust, who possessed the most kingly qualities of whichwe have any record in books. He was brave, munificent, high-minded,ardent, selfish, cruel, and ungrateful, beyond any other man in his owndominions; and, like people with such gifts, he had the good fortune toattach men to him just as firmly and devotedly as though he was not inhis heart devoid of every principle of friendship and affection. I neednot tell you what the ladies of his reign thought of him; my presentbusiness is with the ruder sex.
"Among the courtiers of the day was a certain Vicomte Arnoud de Gency,a young man who, at the age of eighteen, won his grade of colonel at thesiege of Besancon by an act of coolness and courage worthy recording. Hedeliberately advanced into one of the breaches, and made a sketch of theinterior works of the fortification while the enemy's shot was tearingup the ground around him. When the deed was reported to the king, heinterrupted the relation, saying, 'Don't tell me who did this, for Ihave made De Gency a colonel for it;' so rapidly did Louis guess theauthor of so daring a feat.
"From that hour, the young colonel's fortune was made. He was appointedone of the gentlemen of the chamber to his Majesty, and distinguished byalmost daily marks of royal intimacy. His qualities eminently fitted himfor the tone of the society he lived in; he was a most witty converser,a good musician, and had, moreover, a very handsome person,--gifts notundervalued at Saint-Germain.
"Such were his social qualities; and so thoroughly did he understandthe king's humor, that even La Valliere herself saw the necessity ofretaining him at the Court, and, in fact, made a confidant of himon several occasions of difficulty. Still, with all these favorsof fortune, when the object of envy to almost all the rest of thehousehold, Arnoud de Gency was suffering in his heart one of the mosttrying afflictions that can befall a proud man so placed; he was inactual poverty,--in want so pressing that all the efforts he couldmake, all the contrivances he could practise, were barely sufficientto prevent his misery being public. The taste for splendor in dress andequipage which characterized the period had greatly injured his privatefortune, while the habit of high play, which Louis encouraged and likedto see about him, completed his ruin. The salary of his appointments wasmerely enough to maintain his daily expenditure; and thus was he, witha breaking heart, obliged not only to mix in all the reckless gayety andfrivolity of that voluptuous Court, but, still more, tax his talents andhis energies for new themes of pleasure, fresh sources of amusement.
"Worn out at length by the long struggle between his secret sorrow andhis pride, he resolved to appeal to the king, and in a few wordstell his Majesty the straits to which he was reduced, and implore hisprotection. To this he was impelled not solely on his own account, buton that also of his only child, a boy of eight or nine years old, whosemother died in giving him birth.
"An occasion soon presented itself. The king had given orders for ahunting-party at St. Cloud; and at an early hour of the morning De Gencyin his hunting-dress took up his position in one of the ante-chambersthrough which the king must pass: not alone, however; at his side therestood a lovely boy, also dressed in the costume of the chase. He worea velvet doublet of green, slashed with gold, and ornamented by abroad belt, from which hung his _couteau de chasse_; even to the falconfeather in his cap, nothing was forgotten.
"He had not waited long when the folding-doors were thrown wide, anda moment after Louis appeared, accompanied by a single attendant,the Marquis de Verneuil, unhappily one of the very few enemies Arnoudpossessed in the world.
"'Ah, De Gency! you here?' said the king, gayly. 'They told me "brelan"had been unfavorable lately, and that we should not see you.'
"'It is true, Sire,' said he, with a sad effort at a smile; 'it is onlyon your Majesty fortune always smiles.'
"'_Pardieu!_ you must not say so; I lost a rouleau last night. But whomhave we here?'
"'My son; so please you, Sire, my only son, who desires, at an earlierage than even his father did, to serve your Majesty.'
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"'How like his mother!' said the king, pushing back the fair ringletsfrom the boy's forehead, and gazing almost fondly on his handsomefeatures,--'how like her! She was a Courcelles?'
"'She was, Sire,' said Arnoud, as the tears fell on his cheek andcoursed slowly along his face.
"'And you want something for him?' said the king, resuming his wontedtone, while he busied himself with his sword-knot; 'is it not so?'
"'If I might dare to ask--'
"'Assuredly you may. The thing is, what can we do? Eh, Verneuil, whatsay you? He is but an infant.'
"'True, Sire,' replied the marquis, with a look of respect, in whichthe most subtle could not discover a trait of his sarcastic nature; 'butthere is a place vacant.'
"'Ah, indeed,' said the king, quickly. 'What is it? He shall have it.'
"'Monsieur Jacotot, your Majesty's head cook, stands in need of aturnspit,' said he, in a low whisper, only audible to the king.
/>
"'A turnspit!' said the king. And scarcely was the word uttered when,as if the irony was his own, he burst into a most immoderate fit oflaughter,--an emotion that seemed to increase as he endeavored torepress it; when at the instant the _cor de chasse_, then heardwithout, gave a new turn to his thoughts, and he hurried forward withDe Yerneuil, leaving De Gency and his son rooted to the spot,--indignantpassion in that heart which despair and sorrow had almost renderedcallous.
"His Majesty was still laughing as he mounted his barb in the courtyard;and the courtiers, like well-bred gentlemen, laughed as became them,with that low, quiet laugh which is the meet chorus of a sovereign'smirth, when suddenly two loud reports, so rapidly following on eachother as almost to seem one, startled the glittering cortege, and evenmade the Arab courser of the king plunge madly in the air.
"'_Par Saint Denis!_Messieurs,' said Louis, passionately, 'thispleasantry of yours is ill thought of. Who has dared to do this?'
"But none spoke. A terrified look around the circle was the only replyto the king's question, when a page rushed forward, his dress spottedand blood-stained, his face pale with horror,--
"'Your Majesty,--ah, Sire!' said he, kneeling. But sobs choked him, andhe could not utter more.
"'What is this? Will no one tell?' cried the king, as a frown of darkomen shadowed his angry features.
"'Your Majesty has lost a brave, an honest, and a faithful follower,Sire,' said Monsieur de Coulanges. 'Arnoud de Gency is no more.'
"'Why, I saw him this instant,' said the king. 'He asked me some favorfor his boy.'
"'True, Sire,' replied De Coulanges, mournfully. But he checked himselfin time, for already the well-known and dreaded expression of passionhad mounted to the king's face.
"'Dismiss the _chasse_, gentlemen,' said he, in a low thick voice. 'Anddo you, Monsieur de Verneuil, attend me.'
"The cortege was soon scattered; and the Marquis de Verneuil followedthe king with an expression where fear and dread were not to bemistaken.
"Monsieur de Verneuil did indeed seem an altered man when he appearedamong his friends that evening. Whatever the king had said to himassuredly had worked its due effect; for all his raillery was gone, andeven the veriest trifler of the party might have dared an encounter withwits which then were subdued and broken.
"Next morning, however, the sun shone out brilliantly. The king wasin high spirits; the game abounded; and his Majesty with his own handbrought down eight pheasants. The Marquis de Verneuil could hit nothing;for although the best marksman of the day, his hand shook and his sightfailed him, and the king won fifty louis from him before they reachedSaint-Germain.
"Never was there a happier day nor followed by a pleasanter evening.The king supped in Madame de la Valliere's apartment; the private bandplayed the most delicious airs during the repast; and when at length theparty retired to rest, not one bright dream was clouded by the memory ofArnoud de Gency.
"Here, now, were I merely recounting an anecdote, I should stop,"said the chevalier; "but must continue a little longer, though all theromance of my story is over. The Marquis de Verneuil was a good hater:even poor De Gency's fate did not move him, and he actually did do whathe had only threatened in mockery,--he sent the orphan child to be aturnspit in the royal kitchen. Of course he changed his name,--the titleof an old and honored family would soon have betrayed the fouldeed,--and the boy was called Jacotot, after the _chef_ himself. Theking inquired no further on the subject; Arnoud's name recalled toounpleasant a topic for the lips of a courtier ever to mention; and thewhole circumstance was soon entirely forgotten.
"This same Jacotot was the grandfather of my old friend, whom you saw afew minutes since. Fate, that seems to jest with men's destinies, madethem as successful at the fire of the kitchen as ever their ancestorswere at that of a battery; and Monsieur Jacotot, our present host, hasnot his equal in Paris. Here for years the younger members of the royalfamily used to sup; this room was their favorite apartment; and oneevening, when at a later sitting than usual the ruler of the feast wascarried beyond himself in the praise of an admirable plat, he sent forJacotot, and told him, whatever favor he should ask, he himself wouldseek for him at the hands of the king.
"This was the long-wished-for moment of the poor fellow's life. He drewfrom his bosom the title-deeds of his ancient name and fortune, andplaced them in the prince's hand without uttering a word.
"'What! and are you a De Gency?' said the prince.
"'Alas! I shame to say it, I am.'
"'Come, gentlemen,' said the gay young prince, 'a bumper to our worthyfriend, whom, with God's blessing, I shall see restored right soon tohis fitting rank and station. Yes, De Gency! my word upon it, the nextevening I sup here I shall bring with me his Majesty's own signature tothese title-deeds. Make place, gentlemen, and let him sit down!'
"But poor Jacotot was too much excited by his feelings of joy andgratitude, and he rushed from the room in a torrent of tears.
"The evening the prince spoke of never came. Soon after that commencedthe troubles to the royal family; the dreadful events of Versailles; theflight to Varennes; the 10th August,--a horrible catalogue I cannot bearto trace. There, yonder, where now the groups are loitering, or sittingaround in happy knots, there died Louis the Sixteenth. The prince Ispoke of is an exile: they call him Louis the Eighteenth; but he is aking without a kingdom.
"But Jacotot lives on in hope. He has waded through all the terrors ofthe Revolution; he has seen the guillotine erected almost before hisdoor and beheld his former friends led one by one to the slaughter.Twice was he himself brought forth, and twice was his life spared bysome admirer of his cuisine. But perhaps all his trials were inferiorto the heart-burning with which he saw the places once occupied by theblood of Saint Louis now occupied by the _canaille_ of the Revolution.Marat and Robespierre frequented his house; and Barras seldom passeda week without dining there. This, I verily believe, was a heavieraffliction than any of his personal sufferings; and I have often heardhim recount, with no feigned horror, the scenes which took place amongthe _incroyables_, as they called themselves, whose orgies he contrastedso unfavorably with the more polished excesses of his regal visitors.Through all the anarchy of that fearful period; through the scarce lesssanguinary time of the Directory; through the long, dreary oppression ofthe consulate; and now, in the more grinding tyranny of the Empire, hehopes, ay, still hopes on, that the day will come when from the hands ofthe king himself he shall receive his long-buried rank, and stand fortha De Gency. Poor fellow! there is something noble and manly in the longstruggle with fortune,--in that long-sustained contest in which he wouldnever admit defeat.
"Such are the followers of the Bourbons: their best traits, theirhighest daring, their most long-suffering endurance, only elicited inthe pursuit of some paltry object of personal ambition. They have tastedthe cup of adversity, ay, drained it to the very dregs; they have seencarnage and bloodshed such as no war ever surpassed: and all theyhave learned by experience is, to wish for the long past days ofroyal tyranny and frivolity back again; to see a glittering swarmof debauchees fluttering around a sensualist king; and to watch thefamished faces of the multitude, without a thought that the tiger isonly waiting for his spring. As to a thought of true liberty, one singlehigh and noble aspiration after freedom, they never dreamed of it.
"You see, my friend, I have no desire to win you over to the Bourboncause; neither, if I could, would I make you a Jacobin. But how isthis? Can it really be so late? Come, we have no time to lose: it is notaccounted good breeding to be late in a visit at the Faubourg."
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume II Page 18
