From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
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Stanley Weyman >> From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
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I looked round the room, but look as I might I could see no one
else, nor anything that explained what we had witnessed and I
accosted the man civilly, wishing him good evening. He made an
answer, but indistinctly, and, this done, went on with his meal
like one who viewed our arrival with little pleasure; while I,
puzzled and astonished by the ordinary look of things and the
stillness of the house, affected to warm my feet at the logs. At
length, espying no signs of disturbance anywhere, I asked him if
he was alone.
"I was, sir," he answered gravely.
I was going on to tell him, though reluctantly, what we had seen
outside, and to question him upon it, when on a sudden, before I
could speak again, he leaned towards me and accosted me with
startling abruptness. "Sir," he said, "I should like to have
your opinion of Louis Eleven."
I stared at him in the most perfect astonishment; and was for a
moment so completely taken aback that I mechanically repeated his
words. For answer, he did so also.
"The Eleventh Louis?" I said.
"Yes," he rejoined, turning his pale visage full upon me. "What
is your opinion of him, sir? He was a man?"
"Well," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "I take that for
granted." I began to think that the traveller was demented.
"And a king?"
"Yes, I suppose so," I answered contemptuously. "I never heard
it doubted."
He leaned towards me, and spoke with the most eager
impressiveness. "A man--and a king!" he said. "Yet neither a
manly king, nor a kingly man! You take me?"
"Yes," I said impatiently. "I see what you mean.
"Neither a kingly man, nor a manly king!" he repeated with
solemn gusto. "You take me clearly, I think?"
I had no stomach for further fooleries, and I was about to answer
him with some sharpness--though I could not for the life of me
tell whether he was mad or an eccentric when a harsh voice
shrieked in my ear, "Bob!" and in a twinkling a red figure
appeared bounding and whirling in the middle of the kitchen; now
springing into the air until its head touched the rafters, now
eddying round and round the floor in the giddiest gyrations. At
the first glance, startled by the voice in my ear, I recoiled;
but a second disclosing what it was, and the secret of our alarm
outside, I masked my movement; and when the man brought his
performance to a sudden stop, and falling on one knee in an
attitude of exaggerated respect held out his cap, I was ready for
him.
"Why, you knave," I said, "you should be whipped, not rewarded.
Who gave you leave to play pranks on travellers?"
He looked at me with a droll smile on his round merry face, which
at its gravest was a thing to laugh at. "Let him whip who is
scared," he said, with roguish impudence. "Or if there is to be
whipping, my lord, whip Louis XI."
Thus reminded, I turned to the solemn traveller; but my eyes had
no sooner met his than he twisted his visage into so wry a smile
--if smile it could be called--that wherever there was a horse
collar he must have won the prize. To hide my amusement, I asked
them what they were. "Mountebanks?" I said curtly.
"Your lordship has pricked the garter offhand," the merry man
answered cheerfully. "You see before you the renowned Pierre
Paladin VOILA!--and Philibert Le Grand! of the Breton fairs,
monsieur."
"But why this foolery--here?" I said.
"We took you for another, monsieur," he answered.
"Whom you intended to frighten?"
"Precisely, your grace."
"Well, you are nice rogues," I said, looking at him.
"So is he," he answered, undaunted.
I left the matter there for a moment, while I summoned La Font
and the servants; whose rage, when, entering a-tiptoe and with
some misgiving, they discovered how they had been deceived, and
by whom, was scarcely to be restrained even by my presence.
However, aided by Philibert's comicalities, I presently secured a
truce, and the two strollers vacating in my honour the table by
the fire--though they had not the slightest notion who I was we
were soon on terms. I had taken the precaution to bring a meal
with me, and while La Trape and his companion unpacked it, and I
dried my riding boots, I asked the players who it was they had
meant to frighten.
They were not very willing to tell me, but at length confessed,
to my astonishment, that it was M. Grabot.
"Grabot--Grabot!" I said, striving to recollect where I had
heard the name. "The Mayor of Bottitort?"
The solemn man made an atrocious grimace. Then, "Yes, monsieur,
the Mayor of Bottitort," he said frankly. "A year ago he put
Philibert in the stocks for a riddle; that is his affair. And
the woman of this house has more than once befriended me, and he
is for turning her out for a debt she does not owe; and that is
my affair. However, your lordship's arrival has saved him for
this time."
"You expected him here this evening, then?"
"He is coming," he answered, with more than his usual gloom. "He
passed this way this morning, and announced that on his return he
should spend the night here. We found the goodwife all of a
tremble when we arrived. He is a hard man, monsieur," the
mountebank continued bitterly. "She cried after him that she
hoped that God would change his heart, but he only answered that
even if St. Brieuc changed his body--you know the legend,
monseigneur, doubtless--he should be here."
"And here he is," the other, who had been looking out of one of
the windows, cried. "I see his lanthorn coming down the hill.
And by St. Brieuc, I have it! I have it," the droll continued,
suddenly spinning round in a wild dance of triumph on the floor,
and then as suddenly stopping and falling into an attitude before
us. "Monsieur, if you will help us, I have the richest jest ever
played. Pierre, listen. You, gentlemen all, listen! We will
pretend that he is changed. He is a pompous man; he thinks the
Mayor of Bottitort equal to the Saint Pere. Well, Pierre shall
be M. Grabot, Mayor of Bottitort. You, monsieur, that we may
give him enough of mayors, shall be the Mayor of Gol, and I will
be the Mayor of St. Just. This gentleman shall swear to us, so
shall the servants. For him, he does not exist. Oh, we will
punish him finely."
"But," I said, astounded by the very audacity of the rogue's
proposition, "you do not flatter yourself that you will deceive
him?"
"We shall, monsieur, if you will help," he answered confidently.
"I will be warrant for it we shall."
The thing had little of dignity in it, and I wonder now that I
complied; but I have always shared with the King, my master, a
taste for drolleries of the kind suggested; while nothing that I
had as yet heard of this Grabot was of a nature to induce me to
spare him. Seeing that La Font was tickled with the idea, and
that the servants were a-grin, and the more eager to trick others
as they had just been tricked themselves, I was tempted to
consent.
After this, the preparations took not a minute. Philibert
covered his fool's clothes with a cloak, and their table was
drawn nearer to the fire, so as, with mine, to take up the whole
hearth. La Trape fell into an attitude behind me; and the
Breton, adopting a refinement suggested at the last moment, was
sent out to intercept Grabot before he entered, and tell him that
the inn was full, and that he had better pass on.
The knave did his business so well that Grabot, being just such a
man as the stroller had described to us, the altercation on the
threshold was of itself the most amusing thing in the world.
"Who?" we heard a loud, coarse voice exclaim. "Who d'ye say are
here, man?"
"The Mayor of Bottitort."
"MILLE DIABLES!"
"The Mayor of Bottitort and the Mayors of Gol and St. Just," the
servant repeated as if he noticed nothing amiss.
"That is a lie!" the new comer replied, with a snort of triumph,
"and an impudent one. But you have got the wrong sow by the ear
this time."
"Why, man," a third voice, somewhat nasal and rustical, struck
in, "don't you know the Mayor of Bottitort?"
"I should," my Breton answered bluntly, and making, as we
guessed, a stand before them. "For I am his servant, and he is
this moment at his meat."
"The Mayor of Bottitort?"
"Yes."
"M. Grabot?"
"Yes."
"And you are his servant?"
"I have thought so for some time," the Breton answered
contemptuously.
The Mayor fairly roared in his indignation. "You--his servant!
The Mayor of Bottitort's?" he cried in a voice of thunder.
"I'll tell you what you are; you are a liar!--a liar, man, that
is what you are! Why, you fool, I am the Mayor of Bottitort
myself. Now, do you see how you have wasted yourself? Out of my
way! Jehan, follow me in. I shall look into this. There is
some knavery here, but if Simon Grabot cannot get to the bottom
of it the Mayor of Bottitort will. Follow me, I say. My servant
indeed? Come, come!"
And, still grumbling, he flung open the door, which the Breton
had left ajar, and stalked in upon us, fuming and blowing out his
cheeks for all the world like a bantam cock with its feathers
erect. He was a short, pursy man; with a short nose, a wide
face, and small eyes. But had he been Caesar and Alexander
rolled into one, he could not have crossed the threshold with a
more tremendous assumption of dignity. Once inside, he stood and
glared at us, somewhat taken aback, I think, for the moment by
our numbers; but recovering himself almost immediately, he
strutted towards us, and, without uncovering or saluting us, he
asked in a deep voice who was responsible for the man outside.
"I am, the graver mountebank answered, looking at the stranger
with a sober air of surprise. "He is my servant."
"Ah!" the Mayor exclaimed, with a withering glance. "And who,
may I ask, are you?"
"You may ask, certainly," the player answered drily. "But until
you take off your hat I shall not answer."
The Mayor gasped at this rebuff, and turned, if it were possible,
a shade redder; but he uncovered.
"Now I do not mind telling you," Pierre continued, with a mild
dignity admirably assumed, "that I am Simon Grabot, and have the
honour to be Mayor of Bottitort."
"You!"
"Yes, monsieur, I; though perhaps unworthy."
I looked to see an explosion, but the Mayor was too far gone.
"Why, you swindling impostor," he said, with something that was
almost admiration in his tone. "You are the very prince of
cheats! The king of cozeners! But for all that, let me tell
you, you have chosen the wrong ROLE this time. For I--I, sir, am
the Mayor of Bottitort, the very man whose name you have taken!"
Pierre stared at him in composed silence, which his comrade was
the first to break. "Is he mad?" he said in a low voice.
The grave man shook his head.
The Mayor heard and saw; and getting no other answer, began to
tremble between passion and a natural, though ill-defined,
misgiving, which the silent gaze of so large a party--for we all
looked at him compassionately--was well calculated to produce.
"Mad?" he cried. "No, but some one is, Sir," he continued,
turning to La Font with a gesture in which appeal and impatience
were curiously blended, "Do you know this man?"
"M. Grabot? Certainly," he answered, without blushing. "And
have these ten years."
"And you say that he is M. Grabot?" the poor Mayor retorted, his
jaw falling ludicrously.
"Certainly. Who should he be?"
The Mayor looked round him, sudden beads of sweat on his brow.
"MON DIEU!" be cried. "You are all in it. Here, you, do you
know this person?"
La Trape, to whom he addressed himself, shrugged his shoulders.
"I should," he said. "The Mayor is pretty well known about
here."
"The Mayor?"
"Ay."
"But I am the Mayor--I," Grabot answered eagerly, tapping himself
on the breast in the most absurd manner. "Don't you know me, my
friend?"
"I never saw you before, to my knowledge," the rascal answered
contemptuously; "and I know this country pretty well. I should
think that you have been crossing St. Brieuc's brook, and
forgotten to say your--"
"Hush!" the stout player interposed with some sharpness. " Let
him alone. LE BON DIEU knows that such a thing may happen to the
best of us."
The Mayor clapped his hand to his head. "Sir," he said almost
humbly, addressing the last speaker, "I seem to know your voice.
Your name, if you please?"
"Fracasse," he answered pleasantly. "I am Mayor of Gol."
"You--Fracasse, Mayor of Gol?" Grabot exclaimed between rage and
terror. "But Fracasse is a tall man. I know him as well as I
know my brother."
The pseudo-Fracasse smiled, but did not contradict him.
The Mayor wiped the moisture from his brow. He had all the
characteristics of an obstinate man; but if there is one thing
which I have found in a long career more true than another, it is
that no one can resist the statements of his fellows. So much, I
verily believe, is this the case, that if ten men maintain black
to be white, the eleventh will presently be brought into their
opinion. Besides, the Mayor had a currish side. He looked
piteously from one to another of us, his cheeks seemed to grow in
a moment pale and flabby, and he was on the point of whimpering,
when at the last moment he bethought him of his servant, and
turned to him in a spurt of sudden thankfulness. "Why, Jehan,
man, I had forgotten you," he said. "Are these men mad, or am
I?"
But Jehan, a simple rustic, was in a state of ludicrous
bewilderment. "Dol, master, I don't know," he stuttered, rubbing
his head.
"But I am myself," the Mayor cried, in a most ridiculous tone of
remonstrance.
"Dol, and I don't know," the man whimpered. "I do believe that
there is a change in you. I never saw you look the like before.
And I never said any PATER either. Holy saints!" the poor fool
continued piteously, "I wish I were at home. And there, for all
I know, my wife has got another man."
He began to blubber at this; which to us was the most ludicrous
thought, so that it was all we could do to restrain our laughter.
But the Mayor saw things in another light. Shaken by our steady
persistence in our story, and astounded by our want of respect,
the defection of his follower utterly cowed him. After staring
wildly about him for a moment, he fairly turned tail, and sat
down on an old box by the door, where with his hands on his
knees, he looked out before him with such an expression of chap-
fallen bewilderment as nearly discovered our plot by throwing us
into fits of laughter.
Still he was not persuaded; for, from time to time, he roused
himself, and lifting his head cast suspicious glances at our
party. But the two strollers, who were now in their element,
played their parts with so much craft and delicacy, and with such
an infinity of humour besides, that everything he overheard
plunged him deeper in the slough. They knew something of local
affairs, and called one another Mayor very naturally; and
mentioning their wives, let drop other scraps of information
that, catching his ear, made the wretched man every now and then
sit up as if a wasp had stung him. One story in particular which
the false Mayor told--and which, it appeared, was to the
knowledge of all the country round the real Mayor's stock
anecdote--had an absurd effect upon him. He straightened
himself, listened as if his life depended upon it, and when he
heard the well-known ending, uttered, doubtless, in something of
his old tone, he collapsed into himself like a man who had no
longer faith in anything.
Presently, however, an effort of common-sense would again
disperse the fog. He would raise his head, his eye grow bright,
something of his old pugnacity would come back to him. He would
appear--this more than once--to be on the point of rising to
challenge us. But these occasions were as skilfully met as they
were easily detected; and as the rogues had invariably some
stroke in reserve that in a twinkling flung him back into his old
state of dazed bewilderment, while it well-nigh killed us with
stifled mirth, they only gave ever new point to the jest.
This, to be brief, was carried on until I retired; and probably
the two strollers would have kept it up longer if the ludicrous
doubt whether he was himself, which they had lodged in the
Mayor's mind, had not at last spurred him to action. An hour
before midnight, feeling it rankle intolerably, I suppose, he
sprang up on a sudden, dragged the door open, darted out with the
air of a madman, and in a moment was lost in the darkness of the
moor.
When I rose in the morning, therefore, I found him gone, the
strollers looking glum, and the good-wife and her girl between
tears and reproaches. I could not but feel, on my part, that I
had somewhat stooped in the night's diversion; but before I had
time to reflect much on that an unexpected trait in the
strollers' conduct reconciled me to this odd experience. They
proposed to leave when I did; but a little before the start they
came to me, and set before me very ingenuously that the woman of
the house might suffer through our jest; if I would help her
therefore, they would subscribe two crowns so that she might have
a substantial sum to offer on account of her debt. As I took
this to be the greater part of their capital, and judged for
other reasons that the offer was genuine, I received it in the
best part, and found their good-nature no less pleasant than
their foolery. I handed over three crowns for our share, and on
that we parted; they set out with their bundles strapped to their
backs, and I waited somewhat impatiently for La Trape and the
Breton to bring round the horses.
Before these appeared, however, La Font, who was at the door,
cried out that the two players were coming hack; and going to the
window I saw with astonishment a whole troop, some mounted and
some on foot, hurrying down the hill after them. For a moment I
felt some alarm, supposing it to be a scheme of Epernon's to
seize my person; and I cursed the imprudence which had led me to
expose myself in this solitary place. But a second glance
showing me that the Mayor of Bottitort was among the foremost, I
repented almost as seriously of the unlucky trifling that had
landed me in this foolish plight.
I even debated whether I should mount and, if it were possible,
get clear before they arrived; but the rueful faces of the two
players as they appeared breathless in the doorway, and the
liking I had taken for the rascals, decided me to stand my ground
"What is it?" I said.
"The Mayor, monsieur," Philibert answered, while Pierre pursed up
his lips with gloomy gravity. "I fear it will not stop at the
stocks this time," the rogue continued with a grimace.
His comrade muttered something about a rod and a fool's back; but
M. Grabot's entrance cut his witticism short. The Mayor, between
shame and rage, and the gratification of his revenge, was almost
bursting, and the moment he caught sight of us opened fire.
"All, M. de Gol; we have them all!" he cried exultingly. "Now
they shall smart for it! Depend upon it, it is some deep-laid
scheme of that party. I have said so."
But the Mayor of Gol, a stout, big, placid man, looked at us
doubtfully. "Well," he said, "I know these two; they are
strolling mountebanks, honest knaves enough but always in some
mischief."
"What, strolling clowns?" M. Grabot rejoined, his face falling.
"Ay, and you may depend upon it it is some joke of theirs," his
friend answered, his eyes twinkling. "I begin to think that you
would have done better if you had waited a little before bringing
M. le Comte into the matter."
"Ah, but there are these two," M. Grabot cried, as he recovered
from the momentary panic into which the other's words had thrown
him. "Depend upon it they are the chief movers. What else but
treason could they mean by asserting that one of them was Mayor
of Bottitort? By denying my title? By setting up other officers
than those to whom his Gracious Majesty has delegated his
authority?"
"Umph!" his brother Mayor said, "I don't know these gentlemen."
"No!" his companion cried in triumph. "But I intend to know
them; and to know a good deal about them. Guard the window
there," he continued fussily. "Where is my clerk? Is M. de
Laval coming?"
Two or three cried obsequiously that he had crossed the hill; and
would arrive immediately.
Hearing this, and thinking it more becoming not to enter into an
altercation, I kept my seat and the scornful silence I had
hitherto maintained. The two Mayors had brought with them a
posse of busybodies--huissiers, constables, tip-staves, and the
like; and these all gaped upon us as if they saw before them the
most notable traitors of the age. The women of the house wept in
a corner, and the strollers shrugged their shoulders and strove
to appear at their ease. But the only person who felt the
indifference which they assumed was La Font; who, obnoxious to
none of the annoyances which I foresaw, could hardly restrain his
mirth at the DENOUEMENT which he anticipated.
Meanwhile the Mayor, foreseeing a very different issue, stood
blowing out his cheeks and fixing us with his little eyes with an
expression of dignity that would have pleased me vastly if I had
been free to enjoy it. But the reflection that Laval's presence,
which would cut the knot of our difficulties, would also place me
at the mercy of his wit, did not enable me to contemplate it with
entire indifference.
By-and-by we heard him dismount, and a moment later he came in
with a gentleman and two or three armed servants. He did not at
once see me, but as the crowd made way for him he addressed
himself sharply to M. Grabot. "Well, have you got them?" he
said.
"Certainly, M. le Comte."
"Oh! very well. Now for the particulars, then. You must state
your charge quickly, for I have to be in Vitre to-day."
"He alleged that he had been appointed Mayor of Bottitort,"
Grabot answered pompously.
"Umph! I don't know?" M. de Laval muttered, looking round with
a frown of discontent. "I hope that you have not brought me
hither on a fool's errand. Which one?"
"That one," the Mayor said, pointing to the solemn man, whose
gravity and depression were now something preternatural.
"Oh!" M. de Laval grumbled. "But that is not all, I suppose.
What of the others?"
M. Grabot pointed to me. "That one," he said--
He got no farther; for M. de Laval, springing forward, seized my
hand and saluted me warmly. "Why, your excellency," he cried, in
a tone of boundless surprise, "what are you doing in this GALERE!
All last evening I waited for you, at my house, and now--"
"Here I am," I answered jocularly, "in charge it seems, M. le
Comte!"
"MON DIEU!" he cried. "I don't understand it!"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Don't ask me," I said. "Perhaps your
friend the Mayor call tell you."
"But, Monsieur, I do not understand," the Mayor answered
piteously, his mouth agape with horror, his fat cheeks turning in
a moment all colours. "This gentleman, whom you seem to know,
Monsieur le Comte--"
"Is the Marquis de Rosny, President of the Council, blockhead!"
Laval cried irately. "You madman! you idiot!" he continued, as
light broke in upon him, and he saw that it was indeed on a
fool's errand that he had been roused so early. "Is this your
conspiracy? Have you dared to bring me here--"
But I thought that it was time to interfere. "The truth is," I
said, "that M. Grabot here is not so much to blame. He was the
victim of a trick which these rascals played on him; and in an
idle moment I let it go on. That is the whole secret. However,
I forgive him for his officiousness since it brings us together,
and I shall now have the pleasure of your company to Vitre."
Laval assented heartily to this, and I did not think fit to tell
him more, nor did he inquire; the Mayor's stupidity passing
current for all. For M. Grabot himself, I think that I never saw
a man more completely confounded. He stood staring with his
mouth open; and, as much deserted as the statesman who has fallen
from office, had not the least credit even with his own
sycophants, who to a man deserted him and flocked about the Mayor
of Gol. Though I had no reason to pity him, and, indeed, thought
him well punished, I took the opportunity of saying a word to him
before I mounted; which, though it was only a hint that he should
deal gently with the woman of the house, was received with
servility equal to the arrogance he had before displayed; and I
doubt not it had all the effect I desired. For the strollers, I
did not forget them, but bade them hasten to Vitre, where I would
see a performance. They did so, and hitting the fancy of Zamet,
who chanced to be still there, and who thought that he saw profit
in them, they came on his invitation to Paris, where they took
the Court by storm. So that an episode trifling in itself, and
such as on my part requires some apology, had for them
consequences of no little importance.
IV. LA TOUSSAINT.
Towards the autumn of 1601, when the affair of M. de Biron, which
was so soon to fill the mouths of the vulgar, was already much in
the minds of those whom the King honoured with his confidence, I
was one day leaving the hall at the Arsenal, after giving
audience to such as wished to see me, when Maignan came after me
and detained me; reporting that a gentleman who had attended
early, but had later gone into the garden, was still in waiting.
While Maignan was still speaking the stranger himself came up,
with some show of haste but none of embarrassment; and, in answer
to my salutation and inquiry what I could do for him, handed me a
letter. He had the air of a man not twenty, his dress was a
trifle rustic; but his strong and handsome figure set off a face
that would have been pleasing but for a something fierce in the
aspect of his eyes. Assured that I did not know him, I broke the
seal of his letter and found that it was from my old flame Madame
de Bray, who, as Mademoiselle de St. Mesmin, had come so near to
being my wife; as will be remembered by those who have read the
early part of these memoirs.
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