CHAPTER 44
Colbert
Colbert was not far off. During the whole evening he had
remained in one of the corridors, chatting with Bernouin and
Brienne, and commenting, with the ordinary skill of people
of a court, upon the news which developed like air-bubbles
upon the water, on the surface of each event. It is
doubtless time to trace, in a few words, one of the most
interesting portraits of the age, and to trace it with as
much truth, perhaps, as contemporary painters have been able
to do. Colbert was a man in whom the historian and the
moralist have an equal right.
He was thirteen years older than Louis XIV., his future
master. Of middle height, rather lean than otherwise, he had
deep-set eyes, a mean appearance, his hair was coarse, black
and thin, which, say the biographers of his time, made him
take early to the skull-cap. A look of severity, or
harshness even, a sort of stiffness, which, with inferiors,
was pride, with superiors an affectation of superior virtue;
a surly cast of countenance upon all occasions, even when
looking at himself in a glass alone -- such is the exterior
of this personage. As to the moral part of his character,
the depth of his talent for accounts, and his ingenuity in
making sterility itself productive, were much boasted of.
Colbert had formed the idea of forcing governors of frontier
places to feed the garrisons without pay, with what they
drew from contributions. Such a valuable quality made
Mazarin think of replacing Joubert, his intendant, who had
recently died, by M. Colbert, who had such skill in nibbling
down allowances. Colbert by degrees crept into court,
notwithstanding his lowly birth, for he was the son of a man
who sold wine as his father had done, but who afterwards
sold cloth, and then silk stuffs. Colbert, destined for
trade, had been clerk in Lyons to a merchant, whom he had
quitted to come to Paris in the office of a Chatelet
procureur named Biterne. It was here he learned the art of
drawing up an account, and the much more valuable one of
complicating it.
This stiffness of manner in Colbert had been of great
service to him; it is so true that Fortune, when she has a
caprice, resembles those women of antiquity, who, when they
had a fancy, were disgusted by no physical or moral defects
in either men or things. Colbert, placed with Michel
Letellier, secretary of state in 1648, by his cousin
Colbert, Seigneur de Saint-Penange, who protected him,
received one day from the minister a commission for Cardinal
Mazarin. His eminence was then in the enjoyment of
flourishing health, and the bad years of the Fronde had not
yet counted triple and quadruple for him. He was at Sedan,
very much annoyed at a court intrigue in which Anne of
Austria seemed inclined to desert his cause.
Of this intrigue Letellier held the thread. He had just
received a letter from Anne of Austria, a letter very
valuable to him, and strongly compromising Mazarin; but, as
he already played the double part which served him so well,
and by which he always managed two enemies so as to draw
advantage from both, either by embroiling them more and more
or by reconciling them, Michel Letellier wished to send Anne
of Austria's letter to Mazarin, in order that he might be
acquainted with it, and consequently pleased with his having
so willingly rendered him a service. To send the letter was
an easy matter; to recover it again, after having
communicated it, that was the difficulty. Letellier cast his
eyes around him, and seeing the black and meager clerk with
the scowling brow, scribbling away in his office, he
preferred him to the best gendarme for the execution of this
design.
Colbert was commanded to set out for Sedan, with positive
orders to carry the letter to Mazarin, and bring it back to
Letellier. He listened to his orders with scrupulous
attention, required the instructions to be repeated twice,
and was particular in learning whether the bringing back was
as necessary as the communicating, and Letellier replied
sternly, "More necessary." Then he set out, traveled like a
courier, without any care for his body, and placed in the
hands of Mazarin, first a letter from Letellier, which
announced to the cardinal the sending of the precious
letter, and then that letter itself. Mazarin colored greatly
whilst reading Anne of Austria's letter, gave Colbert a
gracious smile and dismissed him.
"When shall I have the answer, monseigneur?"
"To-morrow."
"To-morrow morning?"
"Yes, monsieur."
The clerk turned upon his heel, after making his very best
bow. The next day he was at his post at seven o'clock.
Mazarin made him wait till ten. He remained patiently in the
ante-chamber; his turn having come, he entered; Mazarin gave
him a sealed packet. On the envelope of this packet were
these words: -- Monsieur Michel Letellier, etc. Colbert
looked at the packet with much attention; the cardinal put
on a pleasant countenance and pushed him towards the door.
"And the letter of the queen-mother, my lord?" asked
Colbert.
"It is with the rest, in the packet," said Mazarin.
"Oh! very well," replied Colbert, and placing his hat
between his knees, he began to unseal the packet.
Mazarin uttered a cry. "What are you doing?" said he,
angrily.
"I am unsealing the packet, my lord."
"You mistrust me, then, master pedant, do you? Did any one
ever see such impertinence?"
"Oh! my lord, do not be angry with me! It is certainly not
your eminence's word I place in doubt, God forbid!"
"What then?"
"It is the carefulness of your chancery, my lord. What is a
letter? A rag. May not a rag be forgotten? And look, my
lord, look if I was not right. Your clerks have forgotten
the rag; the letter is not in the packet."
"You are an insolent fellow, and you have not looked," cried
Mazarin, very angrily, "begone and wait my pleasure." Whilst
saying these words, with perfectly Italian subtlety he
snatched the packet from the hands of Colbert, and
re-entered his apartments.
But this anger could not last so long as not to be replaced
in time by reason. Mazarin, every morning, on opening his
closet door, found the figure of Colbert like a sentinel
behind the bench, and this disagreeable figure never failed
to ask him humbly, but with tenacity, for the queen-mother's
letter. Mazarin could hold out no longer, and was obliged to
give it up. He accompanied this restitution with a most
severe reprimand, during which Colbert contented himself
with examining, feeling, even smelling, as it were, the
paper, the characters, and the signature, neither more nor
less than if he had to deal with the greatest forger in the
kingdom. Mazarin behaved still more rudely to him, but
Colbert, still impassible, having obtained a certainty that
the letter was the true one, went off as if he had been
deaf. This conduct obtained for him afterwards the post of
Joubert; for Mazarin, instead of bearing malice, admired
him, and was desirous of attaching so much fidelity to
himself.
It may be judged by this single anecdote, what the character
of Colbert was. Events, developing themselves, by degrees
allowed all the powers of his mind to act freely. Colbert
was not long in insinuating himself into the good graces of
the cardinal: he became even indispensable to him. The clerk
was acquainted with all his accounts without the cardinal's
ever having spoken to him about them. This secret between
them was a powerful tie, and this was why, when about to
appear before the Master of another world, Mazarin was
desirous of taking good counsel in disposing of the wealth
he was so unwillingly obliged to leave in this world. After
the visit of Guenaud, he therefore sent for Colbert, desired
him to sit down. and said to him: "Let us converse, Monsieur
Colbert, and seriously, for I am very ill, and I may chance
to die."
"Man is mortal," replied Colbert.
"I have always remembered that, M. Colbert, and I have
worked with that end in view. You know that I have amassed a
little wealth."
"I know you have, monseigneur."
"At how much do you estimate, as near as you can, the amount
of this wealth, M. Colbert?"
"At forty millions, five hundred and sixty thousand, two
hundred livres, nine cents, eight farthings," replied
Colbert.
The cardinal heaved a deep sigh, and looked at Colbert with
wonder, but he allowed a smile to steal across his lips.
"Known money," added Colbert, in reply to that smile.
The cardinal gave quite a start in bed. "What do you mean by
that?" said he.
"I mean," said Colbert, "that besides those forty millions,
five hundred and sixty thousand, two hundred livres, nine
cents, eight farthings, there are thirteen millions that are
not known."
"Ouf!" sighed Mazarin, "what a man!"
At this moment the head of Bernouin appeared through the
embrasure of the door.
"What is it?" asked Mazarin, "and why do you disturb me?"
"The Theatin father, your eminence's director, was sent for
this evening; and he cannot come again to my lord till after
to-morrow."
Mazarin looked at Colbert, who rose and took his hat saying:
"I shall come again, my lord."
Mazarin hesitated. "No, no," said he; "I have as much
business to transact with you as with him. Besides, you are
my other confessor -- and what I have to say to one the
other may hear. Remain where you are, Colbert."
"But, my lord, if there be no secret of penitence, will the
director consent to my being here?"
"Do not trouble yourself about that; come into the ruelle."
"I can wait outside, monseigneur."
"No, no, it will do you good to hear the confession of a
rich man."
Colbert bowed and went into the ruelle.
"Introduce the Theatin father," said Mazarin, closing the
curtains.
