CHAPTER 47
How Anne of Austria gave one Piece of Advice
to Louis XIV., and how M. Fouquet gave him another
The news of the extreme illness of the cardinal had already
spread, and attracted at least as much attention among the
people of the Louvre as the news of the marriage of
Monsieur, the king's brother, which had already been
announced as an official fact. Scarcely had Louis XIV.
returned home, with his thoughts fully occupied with the
various things he had seen and heard in the course of the
evening, when an usher announced that the same crowd of
courtiers who, in the morning, had thronged his lever,
presented themselves again at his coucher, a remarkable
piece of respect which, during the reign of the cardinal,
the court, not very discreet in its preferences, had
accorded to the minister, without caring about displeasing
the king.
But the minister had had, as we have said, an alarming
attack of gout, and the tide of flattery was mounting
towards the throne. Courtiers have a marvelous instinct in
scenting the turn of events; courtiers possess a supreme
kind of science; they are diplomatists in throwing light
upon the unraveling of complicated intrigues, captains in
divining the issue of battles, and physicians in curing the
sick. Louis XIV., to whom his mother had taught this axiom,
together with many others, understood at once that the
cardinal must be very ill.
Scarcely had Anne of Austria conducted the young queen to
her apartments and taken from her brow the head-dress of
ceremony, when she went to see her son in his cabinet,
where, alone, melancholy and depressed, he was indulging, as
if to exercise his will, in one of those terrible inward
passions -- king's passions -- which create events when they
break out, and with Louis XIV., thanks to his astonishing
command over himself, became such benign tempests, that his
most violent, his only passion, that which Saint Simon
mentions with astonishment, was that famous fit of anger
which he exhibited fifty years later, on the occasion of a
little concealment of the Duc de Maine's. and which had for
result a shower of blows inflicted with a cane upon the back
of a poor valet who had stolen a biscuit. The young king
then was, as we have seen, a prey to a double excitement;
and he said to himself as he looked in a glass, "O king! --
king by name, and not in fact; -- phantom, vain phantom art
thou! -- inert statue, which has no other power than that of
provoking salutations from courtiers, when wilt thou be able
to raise thy velvet arm, or clench thy silken hand? when
wilt thou be able to open, for any purpose but to sigh, or
smile, lips condemned to the motionless stupidity of the
marbles in thy gallery?"
Then, passing his hand over his brow, and feeling the want
of air, he approached a window, and looking down, saw below
some horsemen talking together, and groups of timid
observers. These horsemen were a fraction of the watch: the
groups were busy portions of the people, to whom a king is
always a curious thing, the same as a rhinoceros, a
crocodile, or a serpent. He struck his brow with his open
hand, crying, -- "King of France! what title! People of
France! what a heap of creatures! I have just returned to my
Louvre; my horses, just unharnessed, are still smoking, and
I have created interest enough to induce scarcely twenty
persons to look at me as I passed. Twenty! what do I say?
no; there were not twenty anxious to see the king of France.
There are not even ten archers to guard my place of
residence: archers, people, guards, all are at the Palais
Royal! Why, my good God! have not I, the king, the right to
ask of you all that?"
"Because," said a voice, replying to his, and which sounded
from the other side of the door of the cabinet, "because at
the Palais Royal lies all the gold, -- that is to say, all
the power of him who desires to reign."
Louis turned sharply round. The voice which had pronounced
these words was that of Anne of Austria. The king started,
and advanced towards her. "I hope," said he, "your majesty
has paid no attention to the vain declamations which the
solitude and disgust familiar to kings suggest to the
happiest dispositions?"
"I only paid attention to one thing, my son, and that was,
that you were complaining."
"Who! I? Not at all," said Louis XIV.; "no, in truth, you
err, madame."
"What were you doing, then?"
"I thought I was under the ferule of my professor, and
developing a subject of amplification."
"My son," replied Anne of Austria, shaking her head, "you
are wrong not to trust my word; you are wrong not to grant
me your confidence. A day will come, and perhaps quickly,
wherein you will have occasion to remember that axiom: --
`Gold is universal power; and they alone are kings who are
all-powerful.'"
"Your intention," continued the king, "was not, however, to
cast blame upon the rich men of this age, was it?
"No," said the queen, warmly; "no, sire; they who are rich
in this age, under your reign, are rich because you have
been willing they should be so, and I entertain against them
neither malice nor envy; they have, without doubt, served
your majesty sufficiently well for your majesty to have
permitted them to reward themselves. That is what I mean to
say by the words for which you reproach me."
"God forbid, madame, that I should ever reproach my mother
with anything!"
"Besides," continued Anne of Austria, "the Lord never gives
the goods of this world but for a season; the Lord -- as
correctives to honor and riches -- the Lord has placed
sufferings, sickness, and death; and no one," added she,
with a melancholy smile, which proved she made the
application of the funeral precept to herself, "no man can
take his wealth or greatness with him to the grave. It
results, therefore, that the young gather the abundant
harvest prepared for them by the old."
Louis listened with increased attention to the words which
Anne of Austria, no doubt, pronounced with a view to console
him. "Madame," said he, looking earnestly at his mother,
"one would almost say in truth that you had something else
to announce to me."
"I have absolutely nothing, my son; only you cannot have
failed to remark that his eminence the cardinal is very
ill."
Louis looked at his mother, expecting some emotion in her
voice, some sorrow in her countenance. The face of Anne of
Austria appeared a little changed, but that was from
sufferings of quite a personal character. Perhaps the
alteration was caused by the cancer which had begun to
consume her breast. "Yes, madame," said the king; "yes, M.
de Mazarin is very ill."
"And it would be a great loss to the kingdom if God were to
summon his eminence away. Is not that your opinion as well
as mine, my son?" said the queen.
"Yes, madame; yes, certainly, it would be a great loss for
the kingdom," said Louis, coloring; "but the peril does not
seem to me to be so great; besides, the cardinal is still
young." The king had scarcely ceased speaking when an usher
lifted the tapestry, and stood with a paper in his hand,
waiting for the king to speak to him.
"What have you there?" asked the king.
"A message from M. de Mazarin," replied the usher.
"Give it to me," said the king; and he took the paper. But
at the moment he was about to open it, there was a great
noise in the gallery, the ante-chamber, and the court.
"Ah, ah," said Louis XIV., who doubtless knew the meaning of
that triple noise. "How could I say there was but one king
in France! I was mistaken, there are two."
As he spoke or thought thus, the door opened, and the
superintendent of the finances, Fouquet, appeared before his
nominal master. It was he who made the noise in the
ante-chamber, it was his horses that made the noise in the
courtyard. In addition to all this, a loud murmur was heard
along his passage, which did not die away till some time
after he had passed. It was this murmur which Louis XIV.
regretted so deeply not hearing as he passed, and dying away
behind him.
"He is not precisely a king, as you fancy," said Anne of
Austria to her son; "he is only a man who is much too rich
-- that is all."
Whilst saying these words, a bitter feeling gave to these
words of the queen a most hateful expression; whereas the
brow of the king, calm and self-possessed, on the contrary,
was without the slightest wrinkle. He nodded, therefore,
familiarly to Fouquet, whilst he continued to unfold the
paper given to him by the usher. Fouquet perceived this
movement, and with a politeness at once easy and respectful,
advanced towards the queen, so as not to disturb the king.
Louis had opened the paper, and yet he did not read it. He
listened to Fouquet paying the most charming compliments to
the queen upon her hand and arm. Anne of Austria's frown
relaxed a little, she even almost smiled. Fouquet perceived
that the king, instead of reading, was looking at him; he
turned half round, therefore, and while continuing his
conversation with the queen, faced the king.
"You know, Monsieur Fouquet," said Louis, "how ill M.
Mazarin is?"
"Yes, sire, I know that," said Fouquet; "in fact, he is very
ill. I was at my country-house of Vaux when the news reached
me; and the affair seemed so pressing that I left at once."
"You left Vaux this evening, monsieur?"
"An hour and a half ago, yes, your majesty," said Fouquet,
consulting a watch, richly ornamented with diamonds.
"An hour and a half!" said the king, still able to restrain
his anger, but not to conceal his astonishment.
"I understand you, sire. Your majesty doubts my word, and
you have reason to do so, but I have really come in that
time, though it is wonderful! I received from England three
pairs of very fast horses, as I had been assured. They were
placed at distances of four leagues apart, and I tried them
this evening. They really brought me from Vaux to the Louvre
in an hour and a half, so your majesty sees I have not been
cheated." The queen-mother smiled with something like secret
envy. But Fouquet caught her thought. "Thus, madame," he
promptly said, "such horses are made for kings, not for
subjects; for kings ought never to yield to any one in
anything."
The king looked up.
"And yet," interrupted Anne of Austria, "you are not a king,
that I know of, M. Fouquet."
"Truly not, madame; therefore the horses only await the
orders of his majesty to enter the royal stables; and if I
allowed myself to try them, it was only for fear of offering
to the king anything that was not positively wonderful."
The king became quite red.
"You know, Monsieur Fouquet," said the queen, "that at the
court of France it is not the custom for a subject to offer
anything to his king."
Louis started.
"I hoped, madame," said Fouquet, much agitated, "that my
love for his majesty, my incessant desire to please him,
would serve to compensate the want of etiquette. It was not
so much a present that I permitted myself to offer, as the
tribute I paid."
"Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet," said the king politely, "and
I am gratified by your intention, for I love good horses;
but you know I am not very rich; you, who are my
superintendent of finances, know it better than any one
else. I am not able, then, however willing I may be, to
purchase such a valuable set of horses."
Fouquet darted a haughty glance at the queen-mother, who
appeared to triumph at the false position in which the
minister had placed himself, and replied: --
"Luxury is the virtue of kings, sire: it is luxury which
makes them resemble God: it is by luxury they are more than
other men. With luxury a king nourishes his subjects, and
honors them. Under the mild heat of this luxury of kings
springs the luxury of individuals, a source of riches for
the people. His majesty, by accepting the gift of these six
incomparable horses, would stimulate the pride of his own
breeders, of Limousin, Perche, and Normandy, and this
emulation would have been beneficial to all. But the king is
silent, and consequently I am condemned."
During this speech, Louis was, unconsciously, folding and
unfolding Mazarin's paper, upon which he had not cast his
eyes. At length he glanced upon it, and uttered a faint cry
at reading the first line.
"What is the matter, my son?" asked the queen, anxiously,
and going towards the king.
"From the cardinal," replied the king, continuing to read;
"yes, yes, it is really from him."
"Is he worse, then?"
"Read!" said the king, passing the parchment to his mother,
as if he thought that nothing less than reading would
convince Anne of Austria of a thing so astonishing as was
conveyed in that paper.
Anne of Austria read in turn, and as she read, her eyes
sparkled with a joy all the greater from her useless
endeavor to hide it, which attracted the attention of
Fouquet.
"Oh! a regularly drawn up deed of gift," said she.
"A gift?" repeated Fouquet.
"Yes," said the king, replying pointedly to the
superintendent of finances, "yes, at the point of death,
monsieur le cardinal makes me a donation of all his wealth."
"Forty millions," cried the queen. "Oh, my son! this is very
noble on the part of his eminence, and will silence all
malicious rumors; forty millions scraped together slowly,
coming back all in one heap to the treasury! It is the act
of a faithful subject and a good Christian." And having once
more cast her eyes over the act, she restored it to Louis
XIV., whom the announcement of the sum greatly agitated.
Fouquet had taken some steps backwards and remained silent.
The king looked at him, and held the paper out to him, in
turn. The superintendent only bestowed a haughty look of a
second upon it; then bowing, -- "Yes, sire," said he, "a
donation, I see."
"You must reply to it, my son," said Anne of Austria; "you
must reply to it, and immediately."
"But how, madame?"
"By a visit to the cardinal."
"Why, it is but an hour since I left his eminence," said the
king.
"Write, then, sire."
"Write!" said the young king, with evident repugnance.
"Well!" replied Anne of Austria, "it seems to me, my son,
that a man who has just made such a present has a good right
to expect to be thanked for it with some degree of
promptitude." Then turning towards Fouquet: "Is not that
likewise your opinion, monsieur?"
"That the present is worth the trouble? Yes madame," said
Fouquet, with a lofty air that did not escape the king.
"Accept, then, and thank him," insisted Anne of Austria.
"What says M. Fouquet?" asked Louis XIV.
"Does your majesty wish to know my opinion?"
"Yes."
"Thank him, sire ---- "
"Ah!" said the queen.
"But do not accept," continued Fouquet.
"And why not?" asked the queen.
"You have yourself said why, madame," replied Fouquet;
"because kings cannot and ought not to receive presents from
their subjects."
The king remained silent between these two contrary
opinions.
"But forty millions!" said Anne of Austria, in the same tone
as that in which, at a later period, poor Marie Antoinette
replied, "You will tell me as much!"
"I know," said Fouquet, laughing, "forty millions makes a
good round sum, -- such a sum as could almost tempt a royal
conscience."
"But monsieur," said Anne of Austria, "instead of persuading
the king not to receive this present, recall to his
majesty's mind, you, whose duty it is, that these forty
millions are a fortune to him."
"It is precisely, madame, because these forty millions would
be a fortune that I will say to the king, `Sire, if it be
not decent for a king to accept from a subject six horses,
worth twenty thousand livres, it would be disgraceful for
him to owe a fortune to another subject, more or less
scrupulous in the choice of the materials which contributed
to the building up of that fortune.'"
"It ill becomes you, monsieur, to give your king a lesson,"
said Anne of Austria; "better procure for him forty millions
to replace those you make him lose."
"The king shall have them whenever he wishes," said the
superintendent of finances, bowing.
"Yes, by oppressing the people," said the queen.
"And were they not oppressed, madame," replied Fouquet,
"when they were made to sweat the forty millions given by
this deed? Furthermore, his majesty has asked my opinion, I
have given it; if his majesty ask my concurrence, it will be
the same."
"Nonsense! accept, my son, accept," said Anne of Austria.
"You are above reports and interpretations."
"Refuse, sire," said Fouquet. "As long as a king lives, he
has no other measure but his conscience, -- no other judge
than his own desires; but when dead, he has posterity, which
applauds or accuses."
"Thank you, mother," replied Louis, bowing respectfully to
the queen. "Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet," said he,
dismissing the superintendent civilly.
"Do you accept?" asked Anne of Austria, once more.
"I shall consider of it," replied he, looking at Fouquet.
