CHAPTER 79
Malicorne and Manicamp
The introduction of these two new personages into this
history and that mysterious affinity of names and
sentiments, merit some attention on the part of both
historian and reader. We will then enter into some details
concerning Messieurs Malicorne and Manicamp. Malicorne we
know, had made the journey to Orleans in search of the
brevet destined for Mademoiselle de Montalais, the arrival
of which had produced such a strong feeling at the castle of
Blois. At that moment, M. de Manicamp was at Orleans. A
singular person was this M. de Manicamp; a very intelligent
young fellow, always poor, always needy, although he dipped
his hand freely into the purse of M. le Comte de Guiche, one
of the best furnished purses of the period. M. le Comte de
Guiche had had, as the companion of his boyhood, this De
Manicamp, a poor gentleman, vassal-born, of the house of
Grammont. M. de Manicamp, with his tact and talent, had
created himself a revenue in the opulent family of the
celebrated marechal. From his infancy he had, with
calculation beyond his age, lent his name and complaisance
to the follies of the Comte de Guiche. If his noble
companion had stolen some fruit destined for Madame la
Marechale, if he had broken a mirror, or put out a dog's
eye, Manicamp declared himself guilty of the crime
committed, and received the punishment, which was not made
the milder for falling on the innocent. But this was the way
this system of abnegation was paid for: instead of wearing
such mean habiliments as his paternal fortunes entitled him
to, he was able to appear brilliant, superb, like a young
noble of fifty thousand livres a year. It was not that he
was mean in character or humble in spirit; no, he was a
philosopher, or rather he had the indifference, the apathy,
the obstinacy which banish from man every sentiment of the
supernatural. His sole ambition was to spend money. But, in
this respect, the worthy M. de Manicamp was a gulf. Three or
four times every year he drained the Comte de Guiche, and
when the Comte de Guiche was thoroughly drained, when he had
turned out his pockets and his purse before him, when he
declared that it would be at least a fortnight before
paternal munificence would refill those pockets and that
purse, Manicamp lost all his energy, he went to bed,
remained there, ate nothing and sold his handsome clothes,
under the pretense that, remaining in bed, he did not want
them. During this prostration of mind and strength, the
purse of the Comte de Guiche was getting full again, and
when once filled, overflowed into that of De Manicamp, who
bought new clothes, dressed himself again, and recommenced
the same life he had followed before. The mania of selling
his new clothes for a quarter of what they were worth had
rendered our hero sufficiently celebrated in Orleans, a city
where, in general, we should be puzzled to say why he came
to pass his days of penitence. Provincial debauches,
petits-maitres of six hundred livres a year, shared the
fragments of his opulence.
Among the admirers of these splendid toilettes, our friend
Malicorne was conspicuous; he was the son of a syndic of the
city, of whom M. de Conde, always needy as a De Conde, often
borrowed money at enormous interest. M. Malicorne kept the
paternal money-chest; that is to say, that in those times of
easy morals, he had made for himself, by following the
example of his father, and lending at high interest for
short terms, a revenue of eighteen hundred livres, without
reckoning six hundred livres furnished by the generosity of
the syndic, so that Malicorne was the king of the gay youth
of Orleans, having two thousand four hundred livres to
scatter, squander, and waste on follies of every kind. But,
quite contrary to Manicamp, Malicorne was terribly
ambitious. He loved from ambition; he spent money out of
ambition; and he would have ruined himself for ambition.
Malicorne had determined to rise, at whatever price it might
cost, and for this, at whatever price it did cost, he had
given himself a mistress and a friend. The mistress,
Mademoiselle de Montalais, was cruel as regarded love; but
she was of a noble family, and that was sufficient for
Malicorne. The friend had little or no friendship, but he
was the favorite of the Comte de Guiche, himself the friend
of Monsieur, the king's brother, and that was sufficient for
Malicorne. Only, in the chapter of charges, Mademoiselle de
Montalais cost per annum: -- ribbons, gloves, and sweets, a
thousand livres. De Manicamp cost -- money lent, never
returned -- from twelve to fifteen hundred livres per annum.
So that there was nothing left for Malicorne. Ah! yes, we
are mistaken; there was left the paternal strong box. He
employed a mode of proceeding, upon which he preserved the
most profound secrecy, and which consisted in advancing to
himself from the coffers of the syndic, half a dozen year's
profits, that is to say, fifteen thousand livres, swearing
to himself -- observe, quite to himself -- to repay this
deficiency as soon as an opportunity should present itself.
The opportunity was expected to be the concession of a good
post in the household of Monsieur, when that household would
be established at the period of his marriage. This juncture
had arrived, and the household was about to be established.
A good post in the family of a prince of the blood, when it
is given by the credit, and on the recommendation of a
friend, like the Comte de Guiche, is worth at least twelve
thousand livres per annum; and by the means which M.
Malicorne had taken to make his revenues fructify, twelve
thousand livres might rise to twenty thousand. Then, when
once an incumbent of this post, he would marry Mademoiselle
de Montalais. Mademoiselle de Montalais, of a half noble
family, not only would be dowered, but would ennoble
Malicorne. But, in order that Mademoiselle de Montalais, who
had not a large patrimonial fortune, although an only
daughter, should be suitably dowered, it was necessary that
she should belong to some great princess, as prodigal as the
dowager Madame was covetous. And in order that the wife
should not be of one party whilst the husband belonged to
the other, a situation which presents serious
inconveniences, particularly with characters like those of
the future consorts -- Malicorne had imagined the idea of
making the central point of union the household of Monsieur,
the king's brother. Mademoiselle de Montalais would be maid
of honor to Madame. M. Malicorne would be officer to
Monsieur.
It is plain the plan was formed by a clear head; it is
plain, also, that it had been bravely executed. Malicorne
had asked Manicamp to ask a brevet of maid of honor of the
Comte de Guiche; and the Comte de Guiche had asked this
brevet of Monsieur, who had signed it without hesitation.
The constructive plan of Malicorne -- for we may well
suppose that the combinations of a mind as active as his
were not confined to the present, but extended to the future
-- the constructive plan of Malicorne, we say, was this: --
To obtain entrance into the household of Madame Henrietta
for a woman devoted to himself, who was intelligent, young,
handsome, and intriguing; to learn, by means of this woman,
all the feminine secrets of the young household, whilst he,
Malicorne, and his friend Manicamp, should, between them,
know all the male secrets of the young community. It was by
these means that a rapid and splendid fortune might be
acquired at one and the same time. Malicorne was a vile
name; he who bore it had too much wit to conceal this truth
from himself; but an estate might be purchased; and
Malicorne of some place, or even De Malicorne itself, for
short, would ring more nobly on the ear.
It was not improbable that a most aristocratic origin might
be hunted up by the heralds for this name of Malicorne;
might it not come from some estate where a bull with mortal
horns had caused some great misfortune, and baptized the
soil with the blood it had spilt? Certes, this plan
presented itself bristling with difficulties: but the
greatest of all was Mademoiselle de Montalais herself.
Capricious, variable, close, giddy, free, prudish, a virgin
armed with claws, Erigone stained with grapes, she sometimes
overturned, with a single dash of her white fingers, or with
a single puff from her laughing lips, the edifice which had
exhausted Malicorne's patience for a month.
Love apart, Malicorne was happy; but this love, which he
could not help feeling, he had the strength to conceal with
care; persuaded that at the lest relaxing of the ties by
which he had bound his Protean female, the demon would
overthrow him and laugh at him. He humbled his mistress by
disdaining her. Burning with desire, when she advanced to
tempt him, he had the art to appear ice, persuaded that if
he opened his arms, she would run away laughing at him. On
her side, Montalais believed she did not love Malicorne;
whilst, on the contrary, in reality she did. Malicorne
repeated to her so often his protestation of indifference,
that she finished sometimes, by believing him; and then she
believed she detested Malicorne. If she tried to bring him
back by coquetry, Malicorne played the coquette better than
she could. But what made Montalais hold to Malicorne in an
indissoluble fashion, was that Malicorne always came cram
full of fresh news from the court and the city; Malicorne
always brought to Blois a fashion, a secret, or a perfume;
that Malicorne never asked for a meeting, but, on the
contrary, required to be supplicated to receive the favors
he burned to obtain. On her side Montalais was no miser with
stories. By her means Malicorne learnt all that passed at
Blois, in the family of the dowager Madame; and he related
to Manicamp tales that made him ready to die with laughing,
which the latter, out of idleness, took ready-made to M. de
Guiche, who carried them to Monsieur.
Such, in two words, was the woof of petty interests and
petty conspiracies which united Blois with Orleans and
Orleans with Paris; and which was about to bring into the
last named city, where she was to produce so great a
revolution, the poor little La Valliere, who was far from
suspecting, as she returned joyfully, leaning on the arm of
her mother, for what a strange future she was reserved. As
to the good man, Malicorne -- we speak of the syndic of
Orleans -- he did not see more clearly into the present than
others did into the future; and had no suspicion as he
walked, every day, between three and five o'clock, after his
dinner, upon the Place Sainte-Catherine, in his gray coat,
cut after the fashion of Louis XIII. and his cloth shoes
with great knots of ribbon, that it was he who was paying
for all those bursts of laughter, all those stolen kisses,
all those whisperings, all those little keepsakes, and all
those bubble projects which formed a chain of forty-five
leagues in length, from the palais of Blois to the
Palais-Royal.
